Sullivan’s Evidence

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

“Not anymore,” Carolyn said, excusing herself to go to the restroom. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to look sexy, and this was the first time he’d looked at anything other than her face. Of course, it was hard to notice a woman’s body when she was perched on top of a bar stool.

  Once she’d used the bathroom, she washed her hands and freshened up her lipstick. The man she’d been so dazzled by Saturday now seemed ordinary and boring. Marcus Wright was an illusion, just someone she’d fabricated in her mind. That’s what happened when a woman became desperate. Any man that came along was filtered through her fantasies.

  When Carolyn returned, Marcus was leaning against the wall waiting for her. He glanced down at her high heels. “I was going to suggest a walk on the beach, but not in those. What about the pier?”

  Carolyn kicked her shoes off, swinging them back and forth in her hand. “The beach sounds better,” she said. “That’s where I was headed the day I met you.”

  Marcus looked uncomfortable. “I want to apologize. It just dawned on me that you may not have had dinner yet. Didn’t you say something on the phone about it being too late to eat?”

  “I’m fine,” Carolyn said, peering up with a wide-eyed look. She’d forgotten how tall he was, and in the light, he was even more attractive than she remembered. His eyes were hazel, with flecks of green in them. His hooded lids gave him a seductive look. Bedroom eyes, her mother used to call them.

  Marcus steered her by the elbow as they made their way out of the hotel lobby. “We could go somewhere and eat now, if you’d like. The Pierpont Inn is only a few miles away.”

  “The past couple of days have been terribly stressful,” she said, enjoying the brisk night air. “I’d rather walk on the beach than spend what’s left of the evening in a restaurant.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were standing beside each other in deep sand. Carolyn began shivering in her thin dress. The Santa Ana conditions they’d experienced for the past several days had passed, and the damp ocean air was chilling. Marcus opened his jacket and pulled her to his body, wrapping it around her to keep her warm.

  They stood without speaking, watching the waves roll onto the shore. She could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. His erect posture made him seem even taller, and his abdomen and back were lean but muscular. She felt safe with this man. Together, they seemed somehow whole. “Thanks for suggesting we come here,” she said. “I live close by, and I seldom take time to enjoy the beach. My work and my children consume me. I take all this beauty for granted.”

  Marcus sighed. “You’re not the only one. I don’t know where the last ten years went. I was so busy building my business, I forgot the things that are really important. That’s why my wife divorced me. The worst thing was I didn’t even miss her. I was relieved because I had more time to devote to my work. Now my life seems meaningless.”

  “What about your son?”

  “He and my daughter live back east with my ex-wife,” he told her, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “We’re not on the best of terms. Children in the midst of divorce usually take sides with one parent or the other. I suspect it’s a survival skill. Ethan did the right thing by siding with his mother. I’m the one who broke up the family. For all practical purposes, I abandoned them.”

  His words made Carolyn feel as if she were conspiring with the enemy. Frank had abandoned her and the kids for drugs. Marcus’s excuse should make him even less sympathetic, yet for some reason, she didn’t blame him. She sensed he was a decent man who had somehow lost his way while trying to provide his family with the finer things in life. When a person became involved with hard drugs, as Frank had, they intentionally plunged themselves and everyone who loved them into the gutter. Her children’s father was an educated man who knew all too well where drugs would take him. All Carolyn hoped was that John wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He was an intelligent young man who appeared to be extraordinarily gifted in math and science. Nonetheless, becoming a physicist could still be beyond his reach, and since junior high nothing else had ever interested him. “Your ex-wife,” she said, turning her attention back to Marcus, “do you still love her?”

  “No,” Marcus said wistfully. “I don’t think I ever loved her. I didn’t know how.”

  “Sad.” Carolyn’s face was pressed against his chest. She felt as if she were surrounded by him—his smell, his skin, his maleness. He wasn’t boring at all, she decided. His quiet, introspective manner was even more endearing than the fast-talking, flashy persona he’d exhibited when they had first met.

  Marcus turned and gazed at her. “You’re beautiful,” he said, running a finger down her jawline. “And you’re natural, not plastic, like so many women today. I bet you’re beautiful even without makeup.”

  “I beg to differ,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I won’t accept the compliment. Men always think women look better without makeup, for some reason. All these years, and I’ve never figured out why. It isn’t the women without makeup who attract their attention.”

  “I’m glad I came tonight, Carolyn,” he told her. “What started to be a disaster seems to be headed in the opposite direction.”

  “I didn’t smash your car up that bad,” she said, assuming he was referring to the accident. “We weren’t even going that fast, remember?”

  “That’s not what I was talking about,” Marcus said. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re complex, and at the same time, simple. Your passion for your work is admirable, as well as your concern for your children. I’m sure you can be fierce when necessary, yet you exude femininity.”

  He turned his body so they were facing each other. Carolyn released him, thinking he was ready to head back to the hotel. To her surprise, he embraced her, engulfing her in his arms and kissing her. She shut her eyes, relishing the fresh taste of his mouth and the intimate touch of his tongue. His lips were soft and moist, and she returned his kiss with fervor, placing her hand at the base of his neck and standing on her tiptoes to reach him. His hand cupped the back of her head, his other hand pressed into the small of her back.

  Carolyn felt his hands slide over her hips as he effortlessly lifted her off her feet. The next thing she knew, he had swept her up in his arms. He carried her a few feet before he carefully laid her down in the sand. First, he dropped to his knees, then he stretched out on his side beside her. He looked strange in his business suit lying in the sand, with not so much as a towel beneath him.

  They were both breathing heavy, but they didn’t speak. The moon reflected off the water a short distance away. Coupled with the soothing sound of the surf, the moment took on a magical quality. With the tips of his tapered fingers, Marcus stroked her face, her hair, the nape of her neck. His touch and the expression on his face was so tender, tears spilled onto Carolyn’s cheeks. “Tell me this is real?” she whispered, emotion welling up inside her.

  “It’s real,” Marcus told her. “I’m not certain what it is, but it’s monumental. I want you, but I don’t want you here. What I feel for you is more than sexual desire.”

  Carolyn reached out and took his hand, guiding it to her eyes so he could feel the wetness of her tears. “I’m not crying because I’m unhappy,” she said. “It’s like I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” Marcus cradled her in his arms. She slipped her leg through his, tossed her arm over his shoulder, and curled herself around him. When she fell asleep, he remained still in order not to wake her.

  After an hour Carolyn’s eyelids flickered open. Confusion gave way to contentment as she realized where she was and saw his tender gaze. “I’ve been watching you sleep,” he said. “I think I could watch you forever.”

  Her hair had formed into tight curls from the moist air. She never napped or even dozed off while watching television, and certainly not on the beach with a man beside her. “Will you?” she asked, stroking the lapels on his jacket
. “Will you watch me forever?”

  “I might,” Marcus said, smiling. He stood and helped her to her feet as he continued, “Right now, though, I think we need to head out. It’s past one, and I have to drive back to LA. I own a house in Santa Rosa, but I don’t want to fight the traffic in the morning. I have a conference scheduled for eight.”

  Carolyn felt strange but wonderful, as if they’d made love dozens of times and knew everything there was to know about each other. She could already picture him in her house, laughing and talking with Rebecca and John, wrapping presents for Christmas, planning family vacations. How could something so new feel so comfortable? “Where do we go from here?”

  Marcus removed his jacket, draping it around her shoulders as they walked through the sand toward the lights of the hotel. “We’ll figure it out. The next time I see you, the first thing I’m going to do is buy you a decent meal. Somehow we got our signals crossed tonight, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

  “I don’t know if I can see you tomorrow,” Carolyn told him. “I have problems at home I need to take care of…my son…and I leave the kids alone a lot because of my work. Maybe that’s why…” She was tongue-tied, infatuated. He had wrapped her up in a box, put a bow on her head, and she didn’t care.

  Marcus gave his ticket to the valet, then pulled Carolyn close. “I’m going away on business tomorrow,” he said. “When I call you, though, you have no choice but to see me.”

  Each time Carolyn saw him in the light, he seemed more handsome. It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying when what she wanted was to drink in every inch of him and commit it all to memory. “What does that mean? Why don’t I have a choice?”

  Marcus smiled. “Because your future depends on it.”

  She swallowed hard. He might be smiling, but she could tell he was serious. “Really? Elaborate, please.”

  “I’m a decisive man,” he said, a confident look on his face. “What’s happening to us doesn’t happen every day. You’re not going to let it slip through your fingers, are you?”

  Carolyn shook her head. When they brought his car around, she wasn’t even certain what make it was, just that it was metallic blue and looked outrageously expensive. She’d been expecting the Jaguar. “What is this, a Rolls Royce? How many cars do you have?”

  “It’s a Bentley,” he said once they were both inside. “Don’t get used to it. It’s going on the auction block next week. Business isn’t so great right now, and I may need the money to live on.”

  “Do you sell cars?”

  Marcus laughed. “Not exactly.”

  Since he didn’t remember how to get to her house, Carolyn gave him directions while she marveled at the interior of the car, which was considerably more lavish than his Jaguar. The seats were large and plush. She could tell the engine was powerful when he accelerated, but instead of roaring, it made hardly any sound at all. And she couldn’t feel the road. The sensation was similar to floating on a cloud of air.

  “Later on,” he told her, stopping at a light, “I’ll give you a code and a secure cell phone number. You probably have a GPS system on the phone you’re using now. Almost all the new phones have them. When we talk, our conversations will be encrypted.”

  Carolyn thought he was joking. “Are you with the CIA or something? I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

  “I work for a company that designs custom software for the military,” he told her, turning the Bentley onto her street. “My work is classified, so I can’t really discuss it. Rival companies, as well as people working for foreign entities, attempt to hack into our system on a regular basis. Sometimes they plant viruses that send out e-mails or make phone calls from our contact lists.”

  “I see,” Carolyn said, pointing out her house before he drove past it.

  “I’m not going to walk you to the door.” Marcus’s voice was deep and resonant. “I don’t think your kids should see us together until we’re both certain where this is going.” He kissed her as he reached across her to open the passenger door.

  When she turned to get out of the car, her fingers slid out of his hand and across the seat. She heard a pop and saw Marcus’s hair lift a bit.

  “Is this what they mean by chemistry?” he asked with a grin.

  “Afraid not.” Carolyn smiled back at him as she closed the car door, then stuck her head inside the window. “Just the imbalance of positive and negative charges. You know, static electricity. My son’s an aspiring physicist, remember?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Marcus said, laughing.

  As soon as he drove off, Carolyn felt the dew-covered grass tickling her toes. She had sand in her hair, inside her dress, and her back itched as if she’d been attacked by fire ants. Not only had the sand not bothered her as long as she was with Marcus, but neither of them had realized that she’d walked to the hotel barefoot. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaning against it to relish the moment. Not having money had its benefits. The shoes had been purchased at Payless for fifteen dollars. Not a big loss for such an eventful and promising evening. She headed to the kitchen and grabbed the box of Kellogg’s Special K cereal from the pantry, pouring it into a large coffee mug and filling it with milk so she could munch and drink it while she got ready for bed.

  It wasn’t until Carolyn stripped off her clothes, set her alarm, and slid underneath the covers that she remembered something else she’d forgotten. John’s Honda was still in a stall at the parking structure. She would have to call Veronica in the morning and ask for a ride to work.

  CHAPTER 13

  Tuesday, September 19—8:15 A.M.

  “Devil keep you up all night?” Hank Sawyer asked Charley Young in the reception area of the Ventura County Coroner’s Office. He had stopped by to see if the pathologist had any information for him on what they were referring to as the Alessandro Lagoon homicide.

  “Always,” Charley said in a slight Korean accent. “How could you possibly think we’ve had time to work up your case, Hank? I don’t have the remains, anyway. Ferguson has them. I was just about to leave to go to her lab in LA.”

  Charley was only in his mid-thirties, but this morning, he looked several years older. Even his crisp white lab coat and neatly combed hair couldn’t hide the fact that he was exhausted. “Now isn’t this grand,” Hank teased, knowing Charley didn’t want him to tag along and get in his way. “We can visit on the drive down. Get caught up on all the gossip.”

  “No way,” Charley said, making a sharp horizontal gesture with his hand. “Martha and I need to concentrate. This is tedious work, Hank.”

  “Martha, huh? Isn’t that the lady with all the bucks who went to prison?”

  “Martha Ferguson. You mean you don’t even know who you were working with the past two days?”

  “Two very long days,” the detective said, grimacing. “I’ll drive. Get your things. I can’t wait to see old Martha. We got real close at the scene. You know, standing around up to my knees in mud, inhaling fumes from the freeway, listening to her bark orders and humiliate me in front of my men. She’ll probably want me to scrub the toilet out when we get there.”

  A corner of Charley’s mouth lifted, causing his left eye to narrow. “Go there with that attitude and she’ll pitch you out on your head. Martha doesn’t like outsiders in her lab, Hank. Ferguson Labs has one of the highest ratings in the country. Nothing gets contaminated. I’m serious, you shouldn’t go with me. Concentrate on catching the killer, and let us handle the rest.”

  Hank draped an arm around the smaller man’s neck, hugging him tight against his body. “I’m your daughter’s godfather, remember? When you get called out late at night and Kim gets scared, who does she call? I’m your man, Charley. You gotta take me.” He released him when he saw a look of acceptance appear on the pathologist’s face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, guy, but after the Abernathy fiasco, I’d like to keep tabs on the evidence. You know where this place is?”


  “I’ve been there several times. The building is on a side street off Wilshire. To be sure, I mapped it on the computer.”

  An old-school detective, Hank had a high school diploma and a lifetime of experience. Today’s cops were college grads; some even had master’s degrees. Too much education gave a guy a swelled head, in Hank’s opinion. When an officer thought too highly of himself, he was sometimes blind to the obvious. To catch a killer, you had to sink down to their level, muck around in their filth, learn to think with their brain. After handling a particularly gruesome case, some of the younger officers had to visit the department shrink. Hank, on the other hand, lived for those cases.

  Charley swiped a card to open the security door, and the detective followed him down a long corridor. Most of the autopsy rooms had glass windows, and there always seemed to be a body or what was left of one on the table. Charley unlocked his own room with a key, and the two men stepped inside.

  On one wall was a workbench, fitted with a drill press, anvils, saws, screwdrivers, wrenches, mallets, and all kinds of assorted tools Hank wouldn’t have associated with forensic pathology. Charley said the abstract shapes came in handy. He occasionally became stumped as to what kind of instrument had been used to kill a victim, then discovered that one of these tools matched up perfectly. He also had catalogs from various hardware stores that he would flip through when he had a free moment, always looking for everyday objects that could be used as instruments of death.

  Then there were the machines used to grind down bones for samples: diamond-backed saws used to cut thin sections from bones and teeth in order to view them under a microscope, and the vibrating Stryker saw that Hank had nightmares about. The Stryker was used to slice off the top of the skull so the brain could be removed. Garden tools such as branch cutters were used to cut through ribs.

  In one of the larger rooms there were various types of cameras and photographic equipment, a miniature X-ray machine, as well as an X-ray duplicator that could copy X-rays like a Xerox machine.