Killing Lucas

by Dominique Eastwick

  She looked at the coffee the police officer placed on the desk in front of her and cringed; it tasted even worse than it looked. Besides, she didn’t need another cup of coffee. She needed to speak to someone in charge, someone who would listen to her without patting her hand or asking for her damned autograph.

  Lucas was in danger. She couldn’t prove it, but the fire last night at his house just hours after they’d bumped into each other again couldn’t have been an accident. Kiloran wished she hadn’t taken this gig filming in Massachusetts, but over the last few years she was always finding excuses to come back. Commercials she would never have otherwise done, TV specials she had no reason to be at, and now this film. And in the dozens of times she had been in Boston, never once had she seen Lucas Sherman. She had looked, she had hoped, and sometimes she had even prayed for just a glimpse. Then two nights ago, after filming a promo slot with a local television station, she had literally bumped right into him.

  Senses long dormant had erupted at his closeness. Her eyes had drunk him in as his unique smell had filled her senses. Reawakened memories long since buried had flooded her brain and made the room spin. And when his hands had locked around her arms, the urges and needs within Kiloran had screamed. For so long she had craved his touch and now he held her, although she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that had there had been space in the crowded club he wouldn’t have shoved her away.

  Kiloran had been completely unprepared for the sight of Lucas. That he was at a dance club was enough alone to throw her; he didn’t dance. Ever. And that wasn’t because he didn’t like to dance—he couldn’t dance. Lucas was that person people talked about when they said white men couldn’t dance. When they were still together Kiloran had never, not once, been able to get him into a club. He had said he was allergic to dance clubs, and maybe he had been; he definitely had an adverse reaction to them.

  Yet there he’d been, and if Kiloran had bumped into the Pope in the middle of the oversexed crowd, she wouldn’t have been more surprised.

  Chewing her thumbnail, Kiloran stood and paced around the table. At least if she was moving, she would be able to stop replaying the club over and over in her head, stop thinking about how much she wanted to be in his arms again.

  “Ms. O’Connor? Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Adhering to the old adage if you couldn’t say something nice, say nothing at all, Kiloran kept silent and just gave the middle-aged detective a nod. Years of acting gave her insight to people and their facial expressions; this man didn’t think she was worth his time; he was only in here because he was humoring the starlet.

  “It says here that you think a gas explosion downtown last night is related somehow to you.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyebrows raised a fraction before he tapped the pencil in his hand on the table a few times. Kiloran kept her eyes fixed on his face, watching the frustration work its way over his tight jaw and then to his pinched lips. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “Not if you have already decided I’m crazy and what I have to say has no merit.”

  “Look, lady, I don’t care if you’re the Queen of Sheba; you came to us, not the other way around, so if you want to waste my time with your delusions of grandeur, take it somewhere else. We have enough shit to deal with.”

  “How about this detective: I’ve been dealing with a bloody stalker for years now. He has threatened Lucas Sherman before, and now, not twenty-four hours since we were photographed together at a club and—” looking down at her cell phone for the exact time she added “—and fourteen hours since the same picture showed up on gossip sites and newspapers, there’s a mysterious gas explosion at his house. No, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  “I can see that you might be worried, Ms. O’Connor, but preliminary findings say it was a faulty gas line on a newly installed oven.”

  “So you won’t even take into consideration what I just said? Fine.” Grabbing her bag off the floor, she slammed her phone into the front pocket before shouldering it, standing and heading to the door. Any man with a lick of sense knew nothing was fine when that word was uttered.

  “Ms. O’Connor…”

  “Please don’t condescend to me now.”

  She threw open the door, walked out into the busy main room, and froze. Across the crowded room filled with detectives, witnesses, and suspects, stood Tony Sherman. She could only assume he was here about the “gas leak.” And if anyone would believe someone was out to cause harm to his beloved brother, it was Tony. But getting him to listen would be harder than getting the Neanderthal in the other room to believe her.

  He must have sensed her looking at him, because in a second his blue eyes met hers, followed by him mouthing words that couldn’t be flattering. It was only when Tony moved did she see Lucas sitting at a desk, writing something. Not a good decision on the police officers’ part, as no one could read Lucas’s chicken scratch. Smiling, Kiloran remembered getting the items on his shopping list and coming home with Gouda cheese when he had asked for green beans.

  “What are you doing here?” Tony demanded, stepping in front of Kiloran, his hand on her elbow and pulling her behind a column, out of Lucas’s line of sight.

  “Tony, thank God. You have to listen to me.”

  “What?”

  “I need to talk to you about the fire. I don’t think it was an accident.” That stopped Tony in his tracks and in any other situation she would have relished seeing the perfect golden boy stumble. But not today. Today, for the first time in years, they were on the same page. She could see it in his eyes. “And obviously neither did you.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “More than you might think. Please, Tony, just hear me out. The blithering idiot of a policeman in there wouldn’t even hear what I had to say. He just keeps patting my shoulder and giving me coffee.”

  “This had better be good.” Tony pushed her back into the room she had just exited.

  “Did you forget something, Ms. O’Connor? Oh, I’m sorry, is there a problem, Mr. Sherman?”

  “No there isn’t an issue. Mr. Sherman actually believes that I might have some information that might be useful.”

  “Is this the man who blew you off?” Ice would have felt warm next to the chill Tony directed at the detective. She almost felt sorry for him—almost.

  “Of course we’ll look into what she had to say.”

  “When?”

  “When? Well, once we have dealt with pertinent information and more pressing leads.”

  “What information, Officer? Information you deem necessary to an investigation you know nothing about? Go get Detective Henry and a decent cup of coffee for this lady.”

  Kiloran tried hard not to balk, but having never been on the receiving end of Tony’s defense, she couldn’t help reeling from shock. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. If you’re wasting my time, or that of the detectives, you’ll wish I hadn’t seen you this morning.” Tony motioned for her to sit down. “I need to get Lucas—stay put.”

  Grinding her teeth, Kiloran bit her tongue not to snap she was neither a puppy nor one of his legions of fawning girlfriends. But she knew better than to throw his playboy reputation in his face. He didn’t deserve it, not really. He was just as worried about Lucas as she was.

  The coffee she didn’t want arrived, but she knew now why Tony had ordered it for her; she now had something to do with her hands. And that was good, because she still wasn’t prepared when Lucas walked in. He froze and if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Tony shoved him the last few inches into the room. Lucas pulled a chair out and thumped down in it, never actually looking at her. Tony decided to hold up the walls in the corner, but she still knew him well enough to know his lackadaisical stance was all an act.

 
; A third man, who must have been Detective Henry, walked in, flipped a yellow page over on in his notepad, and threw it on the table, before pulling up the chair next Lucas. “Okay, Ms. O’Connor, I understand you have some information on who might be behind the explosion at Mr. Sherman’s home.”

  “I think I do.”

  Tapping his pen against the legal pad on the table Detective Henry looked over his notes before looking back up at Lucas. “I too believe that when the fire investigator comes back with his findings, we will determine it was arson.”

  “I don’t know exactly who is behind this.” Lucas moved to stand up and was as surprised as Kiloran when Tony’s hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down. “That’s to say I don’t have a name, but I think if you contact the LAPD you might find some similarities to other events.”

  “Meaning?” Tony asked.

  “Tony, can you let me ask the questions?”

  “Sorry, Thomas.”

  Taking a deep breath, Detective Henry refocused on her. “Meaning?”

  Kiloran tried not to smile at Tony’s soft chuckle. Say what you would, the man knew how to add some levity to a stressful situation. “Meaning for the last six years I have been dealing with a stalker. “

  “Wait a second…” Lucas jumped to his feet.

  “…that would put it before you met Lucas,” Tony butted in.

  “Tony, would you shut up and stay in the corner?” Lucas said between clenched teeth. His head whipping back to look at Kiloran before begrudgingly saying, “That would put it before you met me.”

  “Right.”

  “Right? That’s all you have to say is right?” Tony shouted before seeing the look in Lucas’s eyes and putting his hands up and returning to the corner. “Shutting up.”

  “What he said.” Detective Henry groaned.

  Looking around at the three alpha males before her, Kiloran took a sip of the horrible coffee to steady herself before reaching into her bag. She opened her wallet and pulled out a white business card of the detective assigned to her case. “Detective Henry, please contact the LAPD and they can send you the file. I think it would be easier than having me retell the whole situation. Detective Dvorski will be able to answer most of your questions.”

  Detective Henry took the card and looked at it for a second before placing it on the yellow notebook before him. “How bad is the stalking? What are we dealing with? Do we need to put a trooper on Mr. Sherman for his own safety?”

  “Like hell!”

  “The last time I was with Lucas the threats to him stopped as soon as I broke off our engagement.” She couldn’t look at Lucas but she did sneak a peek at Tony who was clearly dying to say something but managing to keep quiet.

  “Actually, as I recall, I broke up with you.”

  “So you did.” This time she did look at him but the hatred in his eyes was more than she could bear and she looked back at the cup of black sludge in her hand.

  “So when one of you broke up with the other the threats stopped. Have there been more incidence since or if this it?”

  “A dear friend of mine was killed. We can’t pin it on the stalker but there’s some reason to believe that it might be connected. Or at least I think it must be.”

  “Was this friend an intimate friend?”

  “No, he was gay.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Whenever I come to Boston, I receive a communication that they are watching me.”

  “They?”

  “He, they, whoever this is.”

  “These threats are only when you come to Boston?”

  “And once two years ago in Aspen, when the Shermans were there.”

  Detective Henry jotted down some notes before getting up. “I’m going to put a call into the LAPD and get that file. Please wait here.”

  “Thanks, Thomas,” Tony walked Detective Henry to the door, as the obnoxious officer from before tried to reenter the room, Tony shut the door on the disbelieving man face.

  Awkward silence filled the room. How many hours had she imagined having Lucas across the table from her, an arm’s reach away? But it could have been miles for as close as she felt. Kiloran didn’t blame him for the hatred in his eyes; she’d earned that. All in the name of keeping him safe. She had known then that it would break her heart, had imagined it would be difficult. And she’d assumed he would move on—get married, have babies with another woman. God, the thought made her want to vomit.

  But she’d never expected he would close up from the world, become a woman-hating shell of the man he once was. She’d underestimated his feelings for her, hadn’t taken into account that he loved her in a way she couldn’t understand or imagine. But in the end, she hadn’t just broken his heart. She’d broken him. That was her burden to bear.

  “Kiloran.” She blinked and focused on Tony’s fingers snapping before her eyes. “Are you okay? You look green.”

  “Green? Not flattening with my complexion.” She forced a weak smile onto her lips, but she could feel them trembling even as she blinked back the tears. “This is all my fault.”

  “How is some nutcase your fault?” The kindness in Tony’s voice undid her, and tears fell free over her cheeks.

  “Christ,” Lucas grumbled from across the table, she didn’t look at him—didn’t need to see the apathy. She flinched as his metal chair scraped the floor. “I need some coffee.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Tony.” Lucas’s voice held a warning for his brother, but true to form Tony didn’t listen.

  “Be right back. There are tissues in the corner over there,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

  Kiloran steadied her breathing, focused on what she had to do. She was an actress for goodness sake; she could act like she was in control. But as she looked up into Lucas’s face, everything she knew, wanted, and yearned for crumble around her.

  Remind me to kill Tony. Lucas looked at the petite woman before him. Could this week get any worse? He didn’t really want to ask that question because he was afraid of what the answer might be. He grabbed the box of tissues from the corner of the table and slammed them down in front of the sobbing woman before him.

  “Here,” he said in a voice gruff to his own ears. Why did seeing this woman in tears and in pain bother him? That it bothered him at all made Lucas angrier than he already was. She deserved not an ounce of compassion from him. Yet there she was, free of makeup and all the products of Hollywood. And in pain. She didn’t want him to see her like this, and it should have again made him feel justified and given him some sense of satisfaction, but instead it just made him uncomfortable.

  Why does Tony always leave just when you want him to stay? Lucas looked back at the door, willing it to open, willing someone to come in and deal with this. A stalker trying to kill him was a far better alternative to Kiloran across the table trying hard to conceal her sobs, her small frame shaking with every cry she muffled into her folded arms. Her long, curly, red hair, back to its natural ginger color, curtained her face but didn’t act as a sound barrier. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  She just shook her head and looked to be trying harder to control the sobs, with little effect, as they only doubled down. He had only seen her like this one other time, shortly after they’d started dating; her father had suffered a stroke and she had been beside herself, unable to get back to Dublin to be with him due to her schedule. She had cried in his arms until exhaustion had finally overcome her.

  He knew when Kiloran finally came up for air, her freckled cheeks would be splotched and her green eyes rimmed with red. She would not resemble the gorgeous actress on the screen who could cry and still retained her eye makeup. These tears were genuine, grief-driven tears, not the ones she used while filming. But unlike the last t
ime, he had no intention of pulling her into his protective embrace and holding her until she fell into a peaceful sleep. He just wasn’t that man anymore.

  And she was to blame.

  Detective Henry came back in with Tony and the bastard shrugged at him, as if that would make leaving him alone in a room with a hysterical woman okay.

  “Ms. O’Connor, can we get you something?” Detective Henry asked in the voice of a seasoned officer used to dealing with tears.

  Shaking her head, Kiloran gave a little hiccup as she lifted her face to them. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and took the bottled water Tony held out for her.

  Traitor.

  “All right, LAPD is e-mailing me their files now and faxing me the rest this afternoon. They agree this could be the same person.”

  “Hunter called while we were out there and suggested we get in touch with his old friend at the FBI, Agent Vassar,” Tony added.

  “FBI?” Kiloran asked. Lucas could well imagine she was wondering why now the FBI would be interested.

  “Well with this little arson attack, our supposed stalker crossed state lines. They might be able to cross-reference more incidents and see if anything comes up.”

  Lucas didn’t care much about the ins and outs; he just wanted a game plan. “So what do we do next?”

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” Tony asked in one of those tones that lead Lucas to believe he was brewing up something in that brain of his.

  “Honestly, there isn’t much the police can do until the perp does something again. We have very little to go on.” Detective Henry shook his head, confirming he didn’t have any real plan for them.

  Lucas took a deep breath and voiced what everyone else must have been thinking. “So we just wait for him to attack again?”

  “Or you could draw him out,” Tony said to a now quiet room.