Send Me a Hero

by Rita Herron

  “Who knows?” The woman toyed with the emerald on her left hand. “Perhaps someone found out and Mr. Miller was so distraught he killed himself.”

  Or he was in with the wrong people and they murdered him. The implication came through loud and clear. Nathan’s gut pinched. He didn’t want to tell Veronica this latest insight. If it were true, she would be crushed.

  “Was Eli here the night the Millers died?”

  “Oh, no. He was away on the campaign.” She smiled, fluttering her long gray eyelashes. “But he came back right away to check on the child.”

  Nathan stood. He’d had enough of Alma Jones and her condescending snobbery. “Is Eli here?”

  “No, he and Barbara are hosting a charity event tonight.”

  “How about Gerald?”

  As cool as Mrs. Jones appeared, anxiety streaked her face. “He’s in his office. But I believe he’s busy. You could make an appointment with his secretary.”

  “That’s okay. I think I’ll just knock.” Nathan remembered seeing an office on the main floor the night of the party. He had a feeling it was Gerald’s. “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Jones.”

  “Certainly.” The woman nodded stiffly, dismissing him.

  He found Gerald’s office and tapped on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Nathan opened the door and tried not to gawk at the elaborate furnishings. Gerald’s office contained more furniture than his entire apartment, and the price of his sleek cherry desk probably tripled the cost of Nathan’s entire living room set.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” Gerald asked with his usual smooth politician’s smile.

  Nathan made himself comfortable in one of the leather wing chairs. He gave a short rendition of his search into the Miller case. “I wondered what business you had with Mr. Miller years ago.”

  Gerald’s false smile slipped slightly. “I didn’t have business with him,” Gerald said. “I was only a young boy.”

  Nathan hesitated, remembering Alma Jones’s story. “You didn’t go to see him about a trust?”

  Gerald looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, yes, I did have a trust. I don’t remember what day it was that I was scheduled to see Mr. Miller, though. In fact, I never made the meeting.”

  “You didn’t meet with him at all that week?”

  Gerald shook his head. “Not at all. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I have an important call to make.”

  Feeling dismissed, Nathan stood and left, an uneasy premonition settling inside him. For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, he sensed Gerald was lying.

  VERONICA GATHERED the mail, and after flipping through the assortment of junk pieces and bills, stared at an unmarked envelope. Ripping it open, her chest squeezed at the sight of the newspaper articles enclosed. They were all about her parents’ deaths. She immediately glanced around her to see if anyone was watching. Who had sent the unmarked envelope? And why?

  Tired of being afraid, she summoned her courage and opened the door to her apartment. The minute she stepped inside, she knew someone had been there. Were they still there?

  The apartment smelled like a man’s cologne, but not like Nathan’s. It was some sickly sweet smell that lingered in the air like rotten fruit. And the furniture had all been rearranged in her living room. Her hands trembled and fear mushroomed in her stomach. Her sofa was against the far wall, the chairs sectioned off to form their own conversation group and the coffee table had been pushed to the side. Magazines lay scattered on the floor, and the cushions from the couch were stacked in a tall pile. Who would do such a strange thing? Was someone playing with her mind?

  Her temper flared. An intruder had once again violated her personal domain. Some sicko who wanted to drive her crazy.

  Pausing at the door, she listened for the intruder and prepared to bolt. How had they managed to get in with the new locks she’d had installed? Anger overrode her fear. She wasn’t crazy. Someone was out to get her. Maybe the same person who had killed her parents.

  A deep voice sounded behind her, and she screamed. Firm hands grabbed her.

  “Veronica, stop, it’s me, Nathan.”

  It took a second for his voice to register and when it did, embarrassment flooded her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh. No, I am.” He gently wrapped his arms around her, and she sagged against him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s going on?”

  “I just got home,” she said in a dull voice. “It looks like the new locks didn’t work.”

  Nathan cursed and released her. He drew his gun and pushed her behind him. She remembered her talk with the psychiatrist, and followed Nathan into the apartment, a mixture of anger and hurt spiraling inside her. He hastily searched her apartment, but Veronica knew it would be empty. Whoever was doing this was too clever to be caught. And right now, her heart was breaking from wondering why Nathan had seen Dr. Sandler behind her back. She’d told herself that having his comfort and body was enough, that if he walked away from her, once the case was solved, she would be fine. But she realized she wanted much more. She wanted his love. And she didn’t want him to leave. For the first time in her life, she’d started to envision a future with a man instead of being alone.

  She stood silently in the living room, one hand clinging to the sofa arm for support. When Nathan sauntered back into the room, he threw the dead bolt, then stuffed his gun inside his jacket and stared at her, fury in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Veronica nodded as her mind filled with memories of his hands pleasuring her and his arms closing around her. He was beside her in a flash, curling his hands around her arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “I went to see Dr. Sandler today,” she said quietly. “Only he told me he’d already talked to you about me.”

  The look of guilt that washed over his face only made her feel worse.

  “Why did you do it?” Veronica asked. Then she finally voiced the question that had been eating at her all afternoon. “Do you think I killed my parents?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sensing the importance of his answer to her question, Nathan considered lying. But he wanted a relationship with Veronica based on trust, and that came from being honest. So he forced a calm into his voice he didn’t feel after seeing her apartment disturbed, and stroked her arms up and down with his hands.

  “Do you?” Veronica asked. Hurt kindled in her eyes.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t.”

  He saw relief flicker briefly across her face, then the anger returned. “Then why did you talk to him about me?”

  “Let’s sit down and I’ll explain,” Nathan said, leading her to the sofa. She sank down beside him, her posture stiff.

  “I went because I’m trying to find out what’s going on here.” He motioned around the apartment. “And if your old boyfriend or one of your clients isn’t responsible, then it must have to do with your past.”

  “I think so, too,” Veronica said in a quiet voice.

  He took her hand in his, but she remained tense. “I thought it might be helpful if the doctor could give me some information about your condition when they brought you in as a child.”

  “You want to know if I’m a basket case,” she accused.

  “No, that’s not it,” Nathan said. “I want to understand you, Veronica.” He ran his finger in a circle around her palm, speaking softly. “I want to help you.”

  His comment silenced her. She simply stared at him in disbelief.

  “That’s the truth.” He squeezed her hand between both of his. “I don’t know much about amnesia, especially when it results from childhood trauma. I hoped the doctor could help me understand it.” He paused, watching her face as her anger faded. “I also thought he might have remembered something you said that could help us.”

  “That’s the reason I went,” Veronica admitted. “What did he tell you?”

  “Nothing confidential,” Nathan said.

  She smiled. “He
didn’t tell me much, either, except that I blamed myself.”

  “That’s probably normal for a child,” he said. “I know kids from divorced families who think it’s their fault.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Veronica shivered, and Nathan warmed her hands between his. “I can’t help but think there’s more to it, though.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. Just a feeling.” She leaned back against the sofa, her face weary.

  Nathan drew her into his arms. “Don’t be angry with me, Veronica. I really want to understand you.” He caressed her back with his hands, easing the tension from her shoulders with his tender ministrations.

  She gazed into his eyes. “I’m not angry. But it’s important to me that you believe me.”

  Nathan cupped her face in the palms of his hands, his mouth a whisper away. “I do believe you. And we’re going to solve this together.” Lowering his head slowly, he inhaled her intoxicating scent and pressed his lips onto the soft edges of her mouth. “You’re not alone, Veronica. Not anymore.”

  Seducing her with words felt so heavenly and so right, and as Veronica relaxed in his arms, he absorbed the excited shivers of her body into his soul. He loved her, with every breath and inch of his body and heart, and he intended to show her.

  Her hands eagerly clutched him, and when she pulled at his clothes, he grinned and bit the sensitive area of her throat, pleasuring her with his tongue as he plunged inside her welcoming mouth and thrust his body against hers. She gripped his muscles and dug her fingernails into his skin, tugging him closer, and he slid her silken blouse down until he saw the soft crevice between her breasts, the glorious peaks already rising for his attention. Pushing her lace-covered bra down to expose her flesh, he laved her nipples until she cried out and begged for more.

  “Nathan, please. I want you.”

  “I want you, too, sweetheart.” With one quick movement he shoved her slacks down her thighs, his tongue tracing a pattern from her pelvis to her delicious toes. Then he feathered kisses along the insides of her thighs. She moaned and tried to pull him up. “No, let me love you,” he whispered against her soft delicate skin. She dug her hands in his hair, and he pushed her legs open to reveal the heart of her womanhood, then lowered his mouth and loved her until she writhed beneath him. Then he drank of her heat and reveled in the pleasure of her sweet taste.

  “Please, oh, please, Nathan, I want to feel you.” Jerking off his clothes, he rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his thighs and the look of pure joy in her expression made him crazy. She tortured him with kisses.

  Her tongue caressed him and her fingers gripped his buttocks until he jerked her hands away and pulled her over him. She straightened slowly, her breasts a beautiful vision as her long hair swept against her creamy skin. And when she sank onto his manhood he moaned and clung to her, kneading her breasts, rising up to suckle the rosy tips, then pulling her down harder and faster until they were both crying out in release.

  Nathan tightened his arms possessively around her and closed his eyes. The moment was perfect. Feeling sated and still hot at the same time, he knew it would be another long night of lovemaking. He wished he’d never doubted her, wished he’d been able to say he believed her from the start, but he was too much of a detective not to question every aspect of a case. This time his investigation had led him to love.

  Should he tell Veronica his feelings, or was she too confused to know what her feelings were? He was experienced enough to know danger heightened adrenaline and sexual interest, and it was easy for a cop and the person he was protecting to get involved. But usually it didn’t last. If she had feelings for him, would she still have them when things calmed down?

  She turned to him with her dark eyes sparkling and threaded her hands in his hair. “You make me feel whole.”

  Nathan hugged her to him, touched by her admission, then carried her to bed. He had never been happier, and he wanted to tell her, but not until the case was solved and there was nothing between them. Then she smothered his mouth with a mind-boggling kiss and he forgot to talk. And when dawn broke the next morning, and she was still sleeping in his arms, he lay there watching her, savoring every moment.

  VERONICA AWOKE the next morning, patted the bed beside her and felt a moment’s disappointment when it was empty. Had Nathan left? Her heart stopped momentarily, and she realized the feeling was nothing compared to what she would feel if he left for good.

  “Hi, sleepyhead.” Nathan grinned as he carried a tray into her room.

  She tried to hide her surprise. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “I’d never leave without saying goodbye.”

  Veronica’s smile slipped and Nathan arched an eyebrow. “I told you I’m not going anywhere, darling. Trust me.” He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Now let’s eat.”

  “Eat?” Veronica stared at the tray in surprise. “You made French toast?”

  “Sure,” Nathan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m a man of many talents.”

  Veronica laughed, wrapped the sheet around her and shoved her hair from her eyes. “Okay, sit.”

  Nathan stretched out beside her. “Actually I’m so tired from slaving over the stove, I was hoping you’d feed me.”

  His puppy-dog expression and sudden look of fatigue was so comical Veronica burst into laughter. “Okay, baby, open wide.”

  Nathan did. And seconds later he had his mouth full, but the French toast sat untouched.

  Several long minutes later, Veronica lay back, thoroughly sated and Nathan once again handed her the breakfast tray.

  “It’s cold,” he said, feigning disappointment.

  “I thought it was pretty hot myself,” Veronica said.

  He laughed. “The food, silly.”

  She nuzzled his neck. “It was worth it.”

  Nathan kissed her soundly, then they both sipped juice and devoured the food. “Did you find out anything else yesterday?” Veronica asked.

  “I checked your father’s date book.”

  “And?”

  “And Gerald Jones and his grandmother both had appointments with him the week he died.”

  “Gerald? He must have been a teenager then.”

  “Eighteen. Sonny was a kid, closer to your age,” he said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “His grandmother said he talked with your father about a trust. But something about the way Gerald acted made me think I didn’t get the whole story.”

  “Hmm.” Veronica tucked the sheet around her. “That gets us nowhere. We know my parents and Eli were friends.”

  Nathan scratched his chin. “Yeah, but Eli’s mother acted suspicious to me, like she might be covering up something.”

  “Really?” She furrowed her brow. “I had an interesting chat with her yesterday myself.”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What happened?”

  Veronica told him about Alma’s less-than-friendly phone call.

  “What a witch,” Nathan said, chopping his toast into pieces.

  “Snobbery’s everywhere,” she said. “Believe me, I know.”

  “And politicians are the worst. Always worried about their image.”

  “That’s what Gerald said. It must be awful at times.”

  “It’s the life they choose.” Nathan squeezed her hand. “There’s one other family I need to talk to. And I’d like to talk to Daryl Scroggins again. He seemed reluctant for me to dig up the past.”

  “I’d like to go with you,” Veronica said.

  “Okay. You want the shower first?”

  “Who says we have to take turns?”

  Nathan laughed and motioned for her to lead the way, but as he crept off the bed, he heard a thump. Something slipped from between the mattress and boxspring and fell to the floor. A hypodermic syringe. He stared at it, his thoughts racing back to the first time he’d been called to Veronica’s apartment when she’d been attacked and
they’d found a sleep-inducing drug in her system. She had insisted she hadn’t taken anything.

  “Nathan?” When he looked up, Veronica stood beside him. He pointed to the syringe.

  She gasped. “Where did that come from?”

  “It must have been caught in the mattress. It fell out when we got up.”

  “Well, what’s it doing here?” She leaned over and started to pick it up, but he ordered her not to touch it.

  “Do you keep hypodermics here for any reason?”

  “Of course not.” Her mouth dropped open as she realized the implications. “It’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before. I don’t even like needles.”

  Nathan hurried to the kitchen, retrieved a plastic bag and sealed up the needle. When he went back to the bedroom, Veronica had her robe on and her arms folded. She glared at him. “You still suspect me?”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to have it dusted for prints. Maybe it’s the missing clue we’ve been looking for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember that night you were attacked?”

  “I’ll never forget it.” Veronica shivered, and he hated that he’d reminded her of that horrible night.

  “The report confirmed a sleep-inducing drug in your system. But you insisted you didn’t take any sleeping pills.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, maybe someone helped you along.”

  AFTER DROPPING OFF the needle at the lab, Nathan drove to Daryl Scroggins’s house. For a retired cop, he certainly seemed to have done well for himself. The thought hadn’t occurred to him the first time he’d visited Scroggins, but this time a seed of awareness niggled at his consciousness. How had Scroggins been able to retire and pay for this place on a cop’s salary?

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Nathan asked as he parked and faced Veronica.

  “Yes.” She gave him a brave smile.

  “It can’t be easy for you to hear about your parents.”

  “It isn’t,” Veronica said. “But it’s important I do. I’ve been running from it long enough.”