by Molly Rice
Nico felt the thermos fall from his hand but he didn’t hear it hit the floor of the car, perhaps because the pounding of his blood was so loud in his ears.
As if controlled by invisible strings, they moved simultaneously, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion, their mouths joining hungrily.
They might have lost complete control, forgotten they were in a very visible car on a public street, but just then the glare of a spotlight washed over them, causing them to guiltily jump apart.
There were two officers in the squad car. One of them, in plain clothes, was Joe Lake.
Dana could see the embarrassment color his face as Joe recognized them.
“Sorry, we thought you were a couple of teenagers,” he said, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Come to that, what are you guys doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“I…we…you see—”
Nico interrupted Dana’s stammering attempt to find a plausible story.
“We were supposed to meet a witness here, but the guy never showed. We were just getting ready to give up, call it a night.”
Joe looked at the uniformed driver and turned back, shrugging. “Not smart to sit out here at this hour, this is a rough neighborhood.”
“Aren’t they all,” Nico commented dryly. And then, as if an afterthought, asked, “What are you doing out so late, Lake, and in a squad car? Been demoted?”
Joe looked past Nico to give Dana a pained look. “I was keeping a promise to a friend.”
Dana felt a wave of nausea stir in her stomach, sickened by having been discovered in a compromising situation by Joe. On the other hand, maybe it required something this drastic to convince Joe that there was absolutely no future for them. Maybe now he really would start looking for the right woman for him, one who deserved him.
They were silent as they watched the squad car move down the street. An uncomfortable silence. Nico pulled away from the curb and kept his eyes on the road until they were back on the freeway.
“I’m sorry, Dana, I don’t know what got into me back there.”
“‘Don’t be silly, Nico, that was as much my fault as yours,” Dana snapped.
He decided not to argue the point. Beside, she was right, they were mutually culpable. Further proof that they were an accident waiting to happen when they were in close proximity to each other.
JOE LAKE CALLED the next morning, just as Dana poured the first cup from the pot and settled behind her desk.
“Just thought I’d fill you in on the details of our little impromptu inspection last night,” he said, his voice as cheerful as ever.
“I…well, I just want you to know I’m grateful for the extra time and effort you’re making, Joe,” Dana said.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure you owe me any thanks. We really didn’t accomplish much. We questioned the skeleton crew that work the graveyard shift and discovered nothing new. But I’m not giving up, Dana. I’m going to show up at odd intervals until they get so tired of me, somebody talks. Or maybe I’ll get lucky and walk in on something going down when they least expect me. Any little misdemeanor and maybe I can scare them into revealing something concrete.”
Dana thanked him again. Profusely.
He interrupted her speech. “I just want to add one thing, Dana. Leave the surveillance to the cops. It’s our job, not yours, and not the job of that toy cop you hired.”
“What does that mean?” Dana held her breath.
“It means I know you, girlfriend, and I know when you have a bee in your bonnet.” He hung up before she could protest.
“Well, at least our friendship seems to be intact,” she said aloud to the empty room as she hung up the phone.
“You talking to me?” Nico asked, coming through the door with a handful of computer printouts.
“Please don’t feel you have to knock before entering,” Dana snapped. “After all, since we’re joined at the hip, I shouldn’t expect to have any privacy.”
“Bad night, boss?”
“In your dreams, Scalia.”
“And so you were, love, which is why I’m in such a good mood this morning. Willing to overlook your grumpy disposition.”
“I was perfectly happy until—”
The phone rang, causing Dana to flinch. She grabbed it up and swiveled away from Nico’s smug gaze.
“This is whom?” she asked, sure she’d misunderstood.
“Alphonze Caprezio, Ms. Harper. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
And when would be a good time? Dana silently asked. Aloud, she said, “What is the reason for your call, Mr. Caprezio?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Nico was making some kind of hand gesture. She swiveled another couple of inches, ignoring him.
“I was just thinking how much we have in common, Ms. Harper, each of us ending up a single parent, sharing the worries that brings. I know the expense of raising children, the joy when they do well, the heartache when they get in trouble. How is your lovely little girl, by the way? Krystal, isn’t it? A beautiful name.”
“What do you really want, sir?” Her hair seemed to rise on the back of her neck as she listened to the old don gush in her ear. How did he know Krystal’s name, what she looked like?
His tone rang falsely, with pain, or disappointment. “It must have been difficult for you after Zack’s death, raising the little one on only one income, and without even the emotional support of a husband and father. Having a child of my own, I’m more sensitive to other parents’ needs.
“I thought there might be some way I could help you, Mrs. Harper, help ease your load.”
Dana was silent a moment, trying to shift through the words to find the hidden messages of threat, collusion. Zack! He’d referred to her late husband by his first name. What did that mean?
Rage, outrage, indignation. Emotions warred with reason—and won.
“Attempting to bribe—or threaten—an officer of the court is a criminal offense, sir, and I warn you that if you call again, I’ll be ready. Our next conversation will be taped.”
She slammed the phone onto the cradle and spun around to find Nico shaking his head, his arms crossed, his eyes glinting disapproval.
“What?” Dana asked through clenched teeth.
“Do you think that was a good idea? The Caprezios have escaped conviction over and over, but it’s widely believed that they’ve been behind most of the major crimes committed in this state, not to mention a few in Wisconsin, Iowa, the Dakotas, and even Illinois. The don is reputed to have a long memory and a deep thirst for revenge.”
“Are you saying you think I should have played into Caprezio’s hands, tipped the trial in Marcus’s favor in exchange for what—a life of luxury? If I wanted that, we could be living on my parents’ estate, with never a care in the world but what we want to order for dinner.”
Nico chuckled. The sound didn’t ring with humor.
“I was suggesting that you needn’t have blown the don off so brutally. A little soft soap and tact could have accomplished the same thing, without offending the man.”
“‘The man,’” she emphasized, “is a scuzz, a lowlife murderer with or without the convictions, and I wouldn’t humor him if he had me tied to a rack with a lit fuse of dynamite under my butt!”
It was obvious they were never going to see eye-to-eye on this subject, Nico realized. Using the kind of diplomacy he’d wished her to use on Caprezio, he held up the printouts.
“I could use your help deciphering some of your notes,” he said, “but if this isn’t a good time, I can come back later.”
“No. Let’s get this over with now, I have a ton of work ahead of me and I have to fit a couple of witness interviews and a deposition in, as well.”
THOUGH THE SUBJECT hadn’t come up again, it seethed, unsettled, between them whenever they saw each other through the day and on the silent drive home at the end of the day.
A note from Heather, propped on the kitch
en table, didn’t improve Dana’s mood.
It read, “Hi, guys. I’ve taken Krystal to the early showing of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and pizza afterward. We should be home around nine. Heather.”
Dana crumpled the note, threw it in the wastebasket and stomped up the back stairs.
Nico retrieved the note, smoothed it out and read it. “What the hell?” he muttered. There was nothing in the note to set her off again, he mused. But maybe he was missing something here. Whatever. He knew exactly what Dana needed after a long and frustrating day. He set about to make arrangements.
Upstairs Dana turned the jets up high and swore under her breath.
“I wanted to take Krystal to see it, myself,” she stormed, throwing a sopping loofah at the wall. It sprayed water, emphasizing her anger.
“What right does she have to take my child anywhere without consulting me first?” she demanded of the wall, sending a bar of soap after the loofah.
She snatched up a water-laden washcloth, aiming it at the abused wall.
Just then she caught her image, reflected in the huge mirror over the double sinks. Suddenly the rage seemed to explode and diminish like a huge bubble in her chest. She dropped the cloth back in the tub, turned off the jets and sank down, immersing her head in the hot water until she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She came up gasping, sputtering, and laughing all at the same time.
Sinking back against the plastic headrest that hooked over the back of the tub, she pondered the extremes of emotion she’d experienced through the day. All out of proportion to what was warranted, she recognized, and all inspired by one single emotion she’d been afraid to examine too closely.
Love. Wasn’t it petty to be angry at Heather for doing something nice for Krystal?
Love. Nico was right, she tended to overreact without considering consequences. There was a better way to deal with people like Caprezio.
Love. Maybe she could show Nico she was sorry for her temper tantrum. She’d go down and fix something really special for him for dinner, for a change. Since it was just the two of them they could eat in the living room, maybe light a fire.
He was already in the kitchen when she came downstairs in blue satin pajamas and matching robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. He’d set out a tray with cheese and crackers, and two wineglasses. He was opening a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, her favorite, and she could smell something exotic cooking on the stove.
“If I’d known this, I’d have dressed. Can you wait a minute while I run up and ch—”
“No need,” Nico interrupted, “you look beautiful, your outfit brings out the blue of your eyes.” They exchanged a look of awareness. Nico was first to look away.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible for this meal.”
He handed her the bottle and led the way into the living room, carrying the tray. The fire was already lit and the logs were chirping as flames nipped at the bark. Dana sank into a wing chair flanking the fireplace and set the bottle down on the low serving table that separated her chair from its twin.
Under Nico’s thoughtful nurturing, Dana’s mood continued to improve and her energy renewed itself. When he removed the cheese tray and brought out plates of stirfry spooned over lo mein noodles she gasped in wonder at his instinct for picking just the right meal for her every mood.
“How do you do this?” she asked.
“In a wok,” Nico retorted.
Love. The word seemed to be attacking her from within at every turn.
“‘Not what I meant, Scalia, but forget it. I should know not to ask anything about your secret life in the kitchen.”
He laughed and the sound thrilled her, reminding her she still wanted to do something nice for him. Nothing came to mind except apology.
She made it prettily, adding, “I know I have to work at controlling my temper.
“Don’t worry about it, Dana, I understand.”
“Yes,” she said, searching his face, “I guess you do.” Love. He just wasn’t like most men, she decided. She wondered why no woman had snatched him up long ago. This was a guy who would take out the garbage without being asked, seemed to have none of the usual ego hangups, didn’t ascribe to separate male and female roles, and could be totally understanding and sensitive. She wasn’t even going to touch his incredible sexuality. If she belabored that one in her mind, she’d lose it.
“This is so sweet of you, Nico,” she said, lifting her glass in a toast, “and more than I deserve.”
“This isn’t a reward for anything, Dana. This is just a little bit of buttering up the boss.”
They grinned at each other over their glasses.
A sudden gust of wind blew down the chimney, scattering ashes and sending flames shooting up with a roar. Nico knelt on the hearth and adjusted the damper.
But Dana was focused on the sound of that roar. It reminded her of the roar of fury she’d heard in her mind as she listened to Caprezio Sr.
“Nico, I know I overreacted to Caprezio’s call. You were right and I was way out of line.”
He brushed ash off the knees of his chinos and took his seat. “It wasn’t that bad. You could say I overreacted a little, too.”
He replayed the incident in his mind. A flash of inspiration struck.
“Come to think of it, Dana, I don’t think it’s Caprezio Sr. who wants you out of the way, or wishes you harm.”
“How did you arrive at that?”
“Well, the don would know you’d only be replaced by another prosecutor, so it’s not as if your death would exonerate Marcus. On the contrary, if anything happens to you, the Caprezios would be the cops’ number-one suspect and the rumors alone would prejudice the jury.”
Dana considered that. She started to agree. “Maybe you’re right…but…”
“But?” Nico prodded.
“What if the don thinks—even knows—that he can control my replacement. Maybe he already knows who that would be.”
“Do you know?”
“Of course not. We don’t have understudies as they do in theater.”
“Then the only way Caprezio could know is if he’s in cahoots with Yearling. Does that feel right to you?”
“No way!” Dana almost leaped to her feet in defense of her boss. “If there’s one thing I’d stake my life on, it’s that John is clean. Maybe he’s a little too politically ambitious, but he’s not without integrity.”
“Okay. Scratch that for a minute. How likely is it that the Carter clan would go after you?”
“In a fit of rage? Plausible. But as part of a long-range, premeditated plan? Not likely. They aren’t bright people. I don’t think they could think ahead and come to the conclusion that taking me out would do them any good.
“We have so much physical evidence on the boys that even the most corrupt prosecutor couldn’t let them get away, and they still don’t believe that.
“But Pa Carter is like a keg of dynamite waiting to blow, so if—no, when—the boys go down, he might well want to take his vengeance out on me. Do you see what I mean? They’re the kind of people who react to stimuli, real or imagined, but that’s after the fact. They’d be my last choice for threatening notes, leaving abstract messages, or setting up a plan.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Even the crimes they’re accused of are based on impulse, spur-of-the-moment violence.”
Dana nodded. “The worst kind of killer. You never know what will set that type off and where he’ll attack next. And two of them on the loose is twice as frightening.”
“Yeah, the intelligent killer works within a prescribed pattern you can ultimately figure out.”
Dana sighed. “Does it feel like we’re on a treadmill, working our buns off, not getting anywhere?”
“Hmm. Wait. I’ve just thought of something.” He went to get his briefcase from the console in the foyer.
“Here it is,” he said, pulling a page of notes from the case and going back to his cha
ir.
He read from the page. “‘You have more to lose than I do.’” He looked up. “His exact words?”
Dana nodded.
“An oblique threat,” Nico mused.
“Not if you understand. Win or lose in court, Donegan for instance has already forfeited the trust of the financial world. But if I lose the case, it’s a direct hit at my record.”
“That doesn’t add up to a threat on your person. A guy like our Charlie would count loss in terms of dollars, or real property.”
“Treadmill. Back to square one.” Dana moaned.
Nico shoved the notes back into his case and stood. I’m going to get the coffee. Why don’t you refill our wineglasses?”
Dana watched Nico leave the room, carrying their empty plates with him. Watched the way his cute, tight buns moved beneath his chinos, the long stride that moved him quickly but always with grace.
She stood and stretched and then poured the last of the wine. Looking around, she decided the room could do with less light. She turned off the lamp on the table beside her chair, pleased with the way the fire lit up the little area there and left the corners of the big room in shadow.
Getting down on the floor in front of the fireplace, she removed the terry turban and let her hair cascade to her shoulders. It was still damp. The heat of the fire would dry it in no time.
Nico returned with the coffee and stopped short in the doorway, taken aback at the sight of Dana’s natural beauty, enhanced only by firelight.
As if in a trance he set the tray on the table and knelt in front of her. He touched her hair, a golden web with individual strands of red glinting in the firelight. His eyes filled with wonder and desire and his breathing turned shallow.
Dana saw the change come over him. Love, she thought. I love this man. The room felt charged with their chemistry.
They were both relieved when they heard the car pull in and the garage doors open. A moment later Krystal called out, “We’re home, Mommy. Where are you?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Close call,” Nico muttered, passing Dana as she went up to tuck Krystal in. He was on his way to her study, a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.
