Her Lawman on Call

by Marie Ferrarella

  The kiss deepened, taking him on an exhilarating ride that demanded more. He could almost hear a small voice in his head crying: Again!

  Her arms were around his neck, her body pressed close to his. So close that the coat she was wearing and the jacket he had on seemed to burn away at the first sign of contact.

  She didn’t want this to stop. She wanted to make love with Tony again. Here, now, in the hall, it didn’t matter where as long as it happened.

  Quickly.

  Where had her common sense gone? Her restraint? Her grasp of decorum?

  All of it seemed to have burned at the very first contact of his mouth to hers. It was as if her very body was on fire. She needed to feel his hands on her. To feel them skimming along her curves.

  To feel his body, his skin, hot and hard, against hers.

  Sasha moaned as the kiss made her head spin and her breathing become labored. She didn’t want this to end. Not yet. She needed to store up the wild, erratic emotion coursing through her veins. Store it up for when there would be nothing again.

  It took them both a second to realize that the door to the apartment had opened.

  Tony was the first to sense the difference, to feel the slight shift of air that indicated the change of surroundings. Pulling back from Sasha, his hand flew to the hilt of his weapon in a motion that defied visual verification. One second he was holding her, the next, he had his gun out and trained on the opened doorway.

  Natalya swallowed a squeal, her initial reaction to seeing the drawn weapon. Instead, she quipped, “Get a room, you two.” There was no denying that she’d been waiting for the sound of Sasha’s return. This stalker business had all of them nervous. “Preferably Sasha’s,” she told Tony, then nodded at the weapon. “Or a firing range if you’d feel more comfortable.”

  Tony holstered his firearm. He wondered if Sasha’s sister knew how close she’d come to needing medical attention.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “You move too quietly.”

  “Maybe you were too busy to hear me.” And then Natalya looked at the gun that was now safely holstered. “And then again, maybe not.” She shifted her attention to Sasha. “You’re late. Call next time.”

  “Since when?” Sasha wanted to know.

  They never called one another to say that they were going to be extra late. It was understood that erratic hours went with the territory. That was one of the reasons they had all moved in together instead of remaining in their parents’ house in Queens—the freedom to come and go as they needed to with no explanations. The close proximity to the hospital was just an added bonus.

  For once, Natalya’s expression was very serious. “Since you started being stalked.”

  “There’s still no indication of that,” Sasha was quick to remind her. “The fact that we’d all worked together that one time could just be a coincidence, especially since that woman’s husband can’t be connected to any of the killings.”

  Tony found himself exchanging looks with Natalya. He realized that Sasha’s sister didn’t believe in coincidences either. But for the time being, he let Sasha’s protest go. He walked into the apartment after Sasha.

  Sasha paused to close the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony slip the chain into place. “Tony’s staying the night,” she told her sister.

  Natalya nodded, as if to say it was about time. “Good.”

  “In an official capacity,” Tony felt compelled to clarify.

  At that, Natalya’s serious expression vanished. “Hey, whatever rings your chimes,” she said. “Me, I’m catching up on my favorite show thanks to the magic of VHS recording and then going to bed.” She flashed a wicked smile at Tony. “I’m a very sound sleeper,” she confided.

  “I’ll be on the couch,” Tony responded.

  Natalya’s grin grew larger. The look in her eyes said she didn’t believe him for a minute.

  “Of course you will.” She paused to look at Sasha before going to her room and the wide-screen TV she’d treated herself to. “G’night.”

  “Where’s Kady?” Sasha called after her. There was no light coming from beneath Kady’s door to indicate that she was home. And Sasha felt certain her sister would have come out to join in the second she’d heard voices in the living room.

  “At PM. She just got called down about twenty minutes ago. One of her patients had a minor Transient Ischemic Attack. Nothing serious, but the man’s wife wanted Kady to check him out.” There was an unmistakable touch of pride in her voice as she added, “Wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Well, good night again. Happy guarding, Detective,” she said with as straight a face as she could manage. And then she was gone.

  Sasha turned away from the hall and saw that Tony had walked over to the sofa. He looked about to plant himself there for the duration of the night. She knew he’d remain there, too, unless she said something.

  “You know,” Sasha began innocently, “if guarding me is your intent, you could probably do a better job if you were closer.”

  He wasn’t the kind who was schooled in the games that men and women played. But he knew an invitation when he heard one. It took him less than thirty seconds to debate the merits of remaining on the sofa or of staying in her room. It really wasn’t much of a contest.

  “You might have a point,” he allowed, rising to his feet.

  Sasha laughed. “I’m the doctor. I always have a point.” She held out her hand to him.

  The next moment, Tony laced his fingers with hers and allowed Sasha to lead him to her room. Where he guarded her. Up close and very personal.

  Leaving the delivery room, Sasha wiped her brow with the side of her forearm. She was exhausted. Not as exhausted as Edie Wilson, she was willing to bet, but still pretty exhausted.

  Edie Wilson had gone into labor at 6:32 a.m. when her water had broken as she was getting out of bed. This was her first baby and she panicked. Her husband, Miles, broke all the speed postings and got to the hospital in record time, leaving more than a few drivers, she was willing to bet, cursing in his wake. He needn’t have bothered hurrying, because Edie’s labor went on and on. And on.

  With each hour that went by, the frustration and the pain seemed to grow, as did Edie’s feelings of hopelessness. Sasha had attended her first thing this morning. But after an hour and a half, when it appeared that Baby Wilson was not about to make an appearance any time soon, Sasha had gone to her office—only after swearing that she would check in on Edie at regular intervals.

  The hospital, she’d reminded Edie, was only five minutes from the office by foot. Three if those feet were running.

  At six that evening, with Edie’s screams ringing in her ears, Sasha made a decision that it was time to seriously consider performing a C-section. To her surprise, Edie said no. Edie, it turned out, was terrified of surgery.

  Another forty-five minutes of labor had her changing her mind. The woman begged her for either the C-section, or death. Sasha assured her that the C-section was by far the better option.

  Just like her labor, Edie’s surgery turned out to be not without its tricky moments. The monitor indicated, as they were about to begin, that there was fetal distress. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck.

  Because of the monitor, Sasha had a neonatal team in place, ready to take the baby the moment he made his entrance into the world. The team did what needed to be done in order to bring him around. There were some very tense moments before the ultimate happy ending.

  Sasha found herself on the receiving end of an incredibly fierce hug from Edie’s husband once he’d heard his son let out a lusty wail for the first time.

  “Thank you. Thank you,” Miles had sobbed. “Isn’t that the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard?” he’d demanded happily.

  That would change soon, Sasha thought. She nodded, allowing him to have his revelry without comment. It looked, she thought while pulling off her surgical mask and letting it hang about her neck, as if mother and baby we
re going to be just fine.

  It was a good feeling.

  So was finally going home. Sasha made her way to the locker room, her feet shuffling along on the freshly washed floor, too tired to lift them properly.

  Stripping off her surgical livery and changing back into her own clothes took more time than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t realized just how drained she felt until this very moment. Until the drama was over.

  When she was finally in her street clothes, the light green surgical pants and top stuffed into the laundry hamper in the corner, it vaguely occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten lunch yet. It was hours past dinnertime, but for some reason, she wasn’t hungry.

  She supposed that she’d been running on the high she’d sustained in the delivery room. Each and every successful birth left her feeling as if she could walk on clouds for the next hour. The miracle never left her untouched, never grew old.

  But its effects were fading now, leaving her craving her bed and sleep. Taking out her purse, she closed the locker with her elbow and began to rummage around, looking for her cell phone. She’d promised Tony to call once baby made three.

  Tony had opted to stay late in the squad room, instructing her to give him a call once she was finally finished. For the first time in a week, he hadn’t brought her in this morning. She’d gotten the call from Miles Wilson while Tony was in the shower. She’d left him a note and quickly left for the hospital. He hadn’t been happy about it when he’d finally connected with her.

  She knew that he didn’t want her going home alone, but she didn’t want to leave her car in the structure for the night. Besides, it had been quiet this last week, with no sign of the killer. She was certain that he had probably been intimidated by the presence of the police and the extra security at the hospital.

  Maybe he’d decided it was too dangerous to continue and had aborted any plans to continue his spree, she thought hopefully.

  There was no need to bother Tony, she told herself. Closing her cell phone, she dropped it back into her cavernous purse. He’d been looking exhausted himself lately. And that was because he’d been putting in what amounted to double duty. He worked on the case all day and then spent the night with her. Not necessarily sleeping.

  She’d woken up several times in the last week to see him sitting in a chair, wide awake. Guarding her. Each time she’d urged him back to bed, and he’d slip in between the sheets. But as soon as she was asleep, she knew he got up again. The man definitely deserved a night off, she decided.

  Sasha pulled her coat closer around her as the elevator doors opened on the lower level. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and then hurried to get to her vehicle. She’d managed to get a parking space near the elevator door this morning. That meant she didn’t have to walk too far.

  She walked quickly nonetheless, every step she took echoing endlessly through the structure.

  The parking facility was far from deserted, even at this time of the evening. But it was filled with vehicles, not people. She would have rather it’d been the other way around.

  There it was, she thought, seeing her car in the distance. She already had her keys in her hand and she pointed it toward the vehicle, pressing on the alarm deactivator. She heard a distant “click-click.”

  “Where’s your shadow?”

  The voice came from behind her. Sasha swallowed a scream as she swung around. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the sound duplicated and echoing in her ears.

  The next moment, she was silently calling herself an idiot. She found herself looking into the face of Walter Stevens, the security guard.

  She could have hugged him.

  Hiking her purse strap up higher on her shoulder, she slipped her hand over her heart for a second. It was still pounding hard.

  “Oh God, Walter, you really scared me.” She took a deep breath in an attempt to regulate her pulse. “My shadow?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, that police detective. The one who’s doing the investigation.”

  She smiled fondly. “You mean Detective Santini.” Funny how her tongue seemed to enjoy wrapping itself around even his surname. “He’s not here tonight.”

  Walter looked at her with mild interest. “Off investigating another homicide?”

  “Not that I know of. Although I guess he could be,” she admitted. “I just decided to give him the night off.”

  The guard nodded, a slight smile forming on his cherubic face. “Figured you would, eventually. And that I could wait you out. You’re the important one, you know. The main one.”

  Sasha was about to ask him what he meant by that, but the words died in her mouth. She saw him slip his hand over the hilt of his weapon, his fingers curling around the handle.

  There was a look in his eye that made her blood suddenly run cold.

  Chapter 15

  How long did it take for a baby to be born? Tony wondered irritably after checking his watch again. He’d done it so many times in the last couple of hours, he’d lost count. It seemed as if the minute hand had been dipped in molasses. As had this baby who refused to come.

  Tony flipped the file closed. Pages slipped out, scattered by the sudden movement.

  The last he’d heard from Sasha, or rather, from her nurse who’d said that the doctor had asked her to call, she was going back to the hospital because the woman who’d gone into labor early this morning was still in labor.

  By now, he knew how Sasha operated. She wasn’t going to leave the hospital until that baby had left the womb. And who knew when that would be?

  How long did these things take, anyway? he thought again irritably.

  He took a sip of his coffee and frowned. He had this uneasy feeling that refused to recede. It had been riding him all day. The same kind of uneasy feeling he’d had just before he’d learned that Annie had been in a fatal car crash.

  He wasn’t the kind of man who was superstitious, but something was wrong. Something, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Probably being paranoid, he told himself. What was more likely was that Sasha might just get it into her head to go home without him after she was finished, if only to prove that she could. He both loved and hated her independent streak.

  One thing he knew for sure, this wasn’t the time to prove things. Not with a killer with an agenda loose, he thought darkly.

  He heard a chair over to his right squeak. Glancing in that general direction, he saw that Henderson was on his feet.

  “Dunno about you, but I’m going to call it a night and go home,” Henderson told him. “There’s a piece of Boston cream pie in the refrigerator that’s been calling to me for the last three hours.”

  Tony eyed his partner’s expanding girth. When they’d first been partnered, Henderson’s waist had measured five inches less than it did now. “Tell it that it has the wrong number.”

  Henderson feigned indignation. “Hey, we all can’t be Mr. Universe.” He crossed to his desk. “If not for us pudgy, out-of-shape guys, guys like you wouldn’t look half as good.”

  “Whatever.”

  Sideways logic. It was what Henderson was good at. But right now, he wasn’t in the mood to hear it. He was going to call her, Tony decided, taking out his cell phone. And keep calling her until she or someone else around her finally answered.

  But before Tony could press the first button to her number, he saw Simon Anderson come barreling into the squad room. The university professor looked as if he was scanning the area. The man stopped just long enough to talk to the first person he encountered. The exchange was too far away to hear, but Tony saw the detective he was talking to point in his direction.

  Tony flipped his phone shut, tucked it back into his pocket and braced himself.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Anderson demanded as he crossed the room, heading straight for him with the rhythm of an oncoming freight train.

  “Detective Anthony Santini,” Tony replied calmly, then nodded at the battered nameplate
sitting on the front of his desk. “It says so right there.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Santini,” Anderson warned. He was as big as Henderson and in far better shape as he eyed the other detective. “I should sue your ass off. Yours and the whole damn police department’s.”

  “The department doesn’t have an ass,” Tony replied, his tone low. Nothing got his back up more than being threatened. “Want to tell me what the problem is?”

  “The ‘problem’ is that you’ve been digging into my finances,” Anderson shouted. “I just got home and played my messages. There was a call from my bank, saying that the police department requested a statement showing all my transactions for the last year. They’re putting a hold on my loan application until this ‘matter’ is resolved to their satisfaction.” By now, he was all but breathing fire. “You have no damn right to be disrupting my life this way.”

  Tony remained sitting, his face impassive. He was aware that Henderson looked as if he was ready to spring into action at the least sign of trouble.

  “It’s just routine, Professor Anderson, nothing personal.” Each word was slowly measured out. “We wanted to make sure you hadn’t made any large withdrawals lately.”

  “And what business is that of yours if I had?” he wanted to know. “Is this because of my wife, is that it?” He spat out the question contemptuously. “You want to harass someone about knocking off people who were in that operating room, talk to my father-in-law. He’s the one who went berserk when Gloria Jean died.”

  Tony’s back straightened. This was the first they’d heard of the woman having any other family members beyond an apparently not-so-grieving husband. He glanced toward Henderson before looking back at Anderson.

  “Her father?”

  “Yeah.” The strained relationship was evident in the single word. “He’s got the brain of a flea, but he took her death hard. Hell, the last I heard, he’d even taken a job at the hospital, saying something about being around the last place where Gloria’d been alive. I figured he went over the deep end.”

  Tony was on his feet. The uneasy feeling he’d been harboring all day mushroomed into overwhelming proportions. “What’s your father-in-law’s name?”