Crimes of Passion

by Toni Anderson

  Michael understood she’d call him for the results. They stood next to the motorcycle, and she shivered, already chilled by the cold autumn wind. Her old friend hugged her. “You be careful,” he said.

  “You too. If anything odd or suspicious happens—anything at all—contact Curt Dominick right away, okay? I’m so sorry to do this to you.”

  He chucked her under the chin. “Are you kidding? I’m an epidemiologist. This is seriously exciting stuff for me.”

  She lowered her voice. “Raptor doesn’t play games. I don’t want you to get hurt. If they find out what you are doing… What are you doing, anyway?”

  “I need to get the lab techs to run cytokine assays on your blood, looking for evidence of recent infection. I can turn it around in twenty-four hours. Raptor will never know.”

  “Good.”

  She climbed on the bike and tugged on the helmet. In minutes she was back on the freeway. She’d lied to Curt about her location. She’d never gone near Lake Michigan or the lakeside cottage community. She’d spent the last three days in a dingy Lansing motel. Today she’d head south, then east, for a rendezvous with Jeannie. If Evan had been telling the truth and Jeannie was still alive, Mara had a plan to find her. Jeannie had some serious explaining to do.

  ***

  THAT EVENING SHE STOPPED AT A LIBRARY in Toledo and logged into her Twitter account for the first time in months. She sent a simple direct message to Jeannie: “You’ve really hit the jackpot. We need to talk.” She was in and out of the library in less than five minutes. Now all she needed to do was get to the rendezvous location and wait.

  She had no doubt Raptor would see the message and trace her login to Toledo. She needed to put miles between herself and the library before she stopped for the night.

  Four hours later, she settled in a Pittsburgh motel room and called Curt. Cold, tired, and knowing he’d flip if he knew what she was doing, she inserted buoyancy into her voice and described the flight of birds across the Lake Michigan sand dunes. Remembering the forecast for western Michigan, she added, “I think it’s going to snow soon.”

  “Do you like snow?”

  “Living in Hawaii, I missed skiing and ice skating, all the things I did as a kid.”

  “I like snow for about three days. After that, I’m done for the season.”

  She flopped back on the motel bed, closed her eyes, and focused on his voice. “Do you ski?”

  “I love skiing. I just hate dealing with snow when I’m not skiing.”

  “We should go togeth—” She stopped herself. She’d entered the unspoken forbidden zone—talk of a future that included them spending time together.

  “I’d like that,” he responded, crushing the boundary with ease.

  She rubbed her temples and felt the shimmery ache of wanting the impossible. “Are you any good? Because I’m a black-diamond girl.”

  “Mara, haven’t you figured out yet I’m good at everything I do?” The flirtation in his tone sent a rush of heat to her center.

  She let out a long, slow breath. “You’re killing me here, Dominick.”

  “Me too.” He sighed. “I wish we’d met in a different way. If things had gone as I’d originally planned, we’d have met when you were deposed.”

  But what could have been wasn’t any better than what was. “I’d have been hostile toward you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d have been awed by your strength, intelligence, humor, and your seriously stupendous body.”

  Mara glanced down, surveying her attributes. “You like my body?”

  “Fishing, Mara?”

  “A girl likes to know she’s attractive.”

  “Throw me a bone first. What would you have thought of me if we’d met over a deposition?”

  “One glimpse of your cocky grin and I’d probably have melted at your feet,” she said.

  “If we’d met over depositions, after the trial I’d have asked you out on a date.”

  She sighed. “But I’d be in Hawaii, or Cambodia, or God knows where.” But definitely not in a dive in Pittsburgh.

  “This is my fantasy, and in my fantasy, you’re still in DC.”

  She laughed. “Okay, in that alternate universe, I’m in DC, but I’d probably say no.”

  “I’d ask again.”

  “Persistence. I like that.” Mara wished they were talking on an old-fashioned, corded landline, like the one on the nightstand next to her. Her fingers itched to thread between the loops of the cord, as she’d done when she was in high school and talked to a boy.

  “I’d win you over with Redskins tickets.”

  She sat up sharply. “You can get Redskins tickets?” She loved football, and her two favorite teams were the Detroit Lions and the Washington Redskins.

  “Mara, I’ll do whatever it takes to get tickets if it means securing a date with you.”

  “Okay, so we go to a game. Are we talking playoffs?”

  “Not so fast. Our first date wouldn’t be the game. The game is the second date. I’ll only take you to the game if you go out to dinner with me first.”

  “Clever. That way I can’t use you to get to the game, then ignore you the whole time.”

  “Exactly.”

  She dropped back onto the lumpy mattress. “I bet you’re actually a decent lawyer.”

  He laughed. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “So where do you take me for dinner?”

  “My place?”

  “No way. Too obvious you’re just trying to get in my pants.”

  “But that is what I’m trying to do.”

  She’d been chilled from the ride on the motorcycle, but his voice had a strong warming effect. “I bet you can’t cook.”

  “I was hoping you’d cook for me.”

  She laughed. “On our first date? No way.” God, she was enjoying this game.

  “Okay, so I take you someplace nice, but not quiet or formal. A loud, crowded restaurant with great food.”

  “People will recognize us there.”

  “They’ll recognize me. In this fantasy, you weren’t arrested in North Korea and are still anonymous.”

  “What do people say when they recognize you?”

  “Women say hi, then slip me their card in a way that makes it clear what they want.”

  “So I’ll see what a hot commodity you are.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you act apologetic about it—these women pursuing you, when it’s obvious we’re on a date?”

  “I think it would be smarter of me to put an arm around you.”

  A thrill shot through her, and this wasn’t even real. “So you’d be sending the women a signal and have an excuse to touch me.”

  “I am known for my intelligence.”

  She laughed. “You win. It would work. I’d probably crawl all over you to stake my territory.”

  “Naturally.” His low voice held an irresistible confidence.

  “Where does your plan go from there?”

  “A moonlit walk through the monuments?”

  “In late November? It’d be freezing.”

  “You’d need my arm around you.”

  She smiled, since he couldn’t see it, but assumed a stern voice. “Let’s get one thing straight, Dominick. You may think I’m easy based on past behavior, but in this scenario we barely know each other. I’m not sleeping with you on the first date.” As if. She’d totally jump him given the opportunity.

  “Fine. We’ll take a cab to your place, and I escort you to your door.”

  “But when I’m in DC, I usually stay at my uncle’s.”

  “So you’re staying at a hotel, or you’ve rented a place. Wait. This is my fantasy. In my fantasy, you’ve moved to DC.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Well, there was this hot prosecutor you met, and he lives in DC.”

  “No. This is our fantasy, and in our fantasy there is no way I’d quit my job and move here before our first date. I’m staying at a hotel.
” She glanced around the motel room, taking in the twenty-year-old industrial carpeting, the cracked green plastic patio chair and table, and the lingering scent of cigarettes, even though it was supposed to be a nonsmoking room. “A really nice one,” she added. “Very expensive. Paid for by your office because you dragged me there to testify.”

  “My office can’t pay your bill after the trial is over—”

  She huffed a sigh. “Fine. I stayed after the trial ended on my own dime, because there was a hot prosecutor who called me the day the trial ended…”

  “After sentencing, you mean. Damn, we really should wait until after the appeal—”

  “Do you even know what the word fantasy means?”

  He laughed. “Oh, Mara, we really are screwed, aren’t we?”

  Eyes closed again, she said, “Leave reality out of it. I’m enjoying this. Okay, we get out of the cab at my hotel…”

  “My arm is around your shoulders, and I’m wondering if you’re going to let me explore your stunning cleavage. We walk toward the entrance, but I pull you to the side.”

  “Where are your hands?”

  “I pull you against me so we’re chest to chest. My arms are loosely around your waist, my hands flat on your back.”

  “Nice.”

  “I tell you I had a great time, and that I’m picking you up at ten for the game the next day.”

  “Do you kiss me?”

  “No.”

  This time her gasp was indignant. “Why not?”

  “Because you kiss me first.”

  “Oh. You know, you’re right. I probably would.”

  “What do you think as you kiss me for the first time, Mara?”

  That moment would forever be vivid in her mind. “Your mouth on mine makes me feel alive again.”

  His breathing turned ragged. “And I feel like I’m kissing lightning. Every touch burns.”

  She paused. “Seriously? You expect me to believe that’s what you thought?”

  “Well, that sounded better than admitting the way you sucked on my tongue made me wonder what else you could do with your mouth.”

  She chuckled. “Point taken. Okay. I’m lightning. And by the way, since you mentioned it—I can do a lot.”

  He groaned. “Damn, woman. You are cruel.”

  “Thank you. And on that note, I thank you for a lovely evening and escape into the hotel.”

  “Fine. Then I dive into the Potomac River and, finally cooled off, take a cab home.”

  She laughed again. “Goodnight, Curt.”

  “Goodnight, Mara.”

  ***

  CURT SET THE PHONE on the bedside table and fingered the football tickets he’d secured with her in mind, hoping with all his heart Mara could come out of hiding in time to use them.

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE US ATTORNEY’S OFFICE was busy at eight o’clock on a Thursday night. Curt didn’t have the luxury of keeping courtroom hours and usually put in six to eight hours in the office after court adjourned at four. His private line rang, and for a moment his heart picked up speed in the hope it was Mara, then slowed knowing she wouldn’t call his work number.

  The caller was Palea. “I’m having one badassed lolo day.”

  “What’s wrong?” Curt asked.

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

  “Bad.”

  Palea snickered. “Should have guessed. I got the report from evidence. Garrett’s hard drive was wiped clean. Professionally.”

  “They finally delivered on the subpoena?” Curt asked. He’d been waiting for the FBI to give Palea access to Mara’s computer since last Friday.

  “That was the good news.”

  Curt grunted. “That’s the crappiest good news I’ve ever heard. They stopped stalling on the subpoena only to tell us we can’t get anything from the hard disk?” Dammit. He’d really been hoping Mara’s photos from Egypt would be the key, and the fact that her hard disk had been cleaned while she was in North Korea only confirmed his suspicions.

  Palea cleared his throat. “Curt, if you know how to get in touch with her, find out if she backed up online or to a hard disk. The wipe was thorough. I want to know what Evan was so anxious to get rid of.”

  ***

  “I KEEP A FIREPROOF BOX in the crawl space. Before a deployment, I back up everything and the hard disk goes into the box,” Mara said to Curt when he finally got to speak with her later that night.

  Her answer surprised him. “Why don’t you just store the computer in the fireproof box?”

  “Theft is rampant on Oahu, and my house is vacant for months at a time. I’d rather lose the computer than force a meth-head to search for the valuable stuff. It’s in the back corner of the crawl space, obscured by a bunch of worthless crap.”

  “You’re very careful.”

  “My next-door neighbor’s house was broken into a year ago. I don’t have much of value, but there is some heirloom jewelry and my father’s watch.”

  “Did Evan know about the firebox?”

  “He would have called me paranoid—he always grabbed at any excuse to bring me down—so I didn’t tell him.”

  If the man’s head hadn’t been blown off, Curt would gladly have decked him. “Hiding a backup hard disk is brilliant, not paranoid.”

  “Thank you. I think so too.” Her low voice was filled with warmth that carried over the distance between them and settled in his chest. She continued. “It came in handy too. Twice I came back from deployment to a crashed hard disk.”

  The mellow feeling left in a flash, and Curt sat bolt upright. “Twice? Before or after Egypt?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “It was an operating system failure…” Her words trailed off.

  “Before or after Egypt?” he asked again.

  “Shit.” He could imagine her sitting there, eyes closed in resignation as another violation by Raptor became clear. “After.”

  “Both times you restored the data with your backup disk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Evan must have wondered where the hell your backup was. Let’s pray he didn’t find your hiding place this time.” He glanced at the clock. He wanted to stay on the phone with her and enjoy this, his favorite part of his day. But the case took precedence over imaginary dates with a beautiful woman. “I need to call Palea. It’s early enough in Hawaii. Maybe he can get the hard disk tonight. Can I call you later?”

  “You sound tired.”

  He was tired but thought he’d been hiding it well. “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.”

  He yawned. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Date three. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “It’s date four, and I’ll pick you up at ten. Dress is formal. Very formal.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “THE PROSECUTION RESTS, YOUR HONOR.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dominick. Mr. Sherrod, is the defense ready to present their first witness?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Excellent. We will take the lunch recess. At one thirty, we will continue with the defense’s first witness. The jury may be excused.” The gavel fell, and the jury silently filed out of the room.

  Juror seven looked pleased—possibly relieved at reaching a trial milestone. Two weeks into the proceedings and the prosecution had presented their case. The jury had been sequestered since opening arguments, and it was beginning to weigh on them.

  Curt hated sequestering juries. But this trial had gotten so much press, it was inevitable. The jury, of course, hated him for it. He was the one who’d filed charges, he was the one who made them give up Halloween with their children, to try a man who’d been a beloved national figure.

  This afternoon, the defense would have their turn. Right now it looked like Stevens would take the stand on Monday, and the trial would go to the jury Tuesday or Wednesday. The end was in sight, and then he could focus on Robert Beck and Raptor.

  Curt’s alarm went off at four every morning, and most night
s he was lucky if he made it back into bed before midnight. Each day he managed over three hundred and fifty lawyers, ran a media circus of a trial, and spent the spare moments in between haggling with the FBI over search warrants and the Raptor investigation.

  It was no wonder his nightly phone dates with Mara were the highlight of his day. The surprising part was that he’d successfully convinced himself to stop questioning his sanity and just enjoy…her.

  And tonight, he had a special date planned.

  Far too many hours later, he was settled on his couch with a glass of champagne in his hand and a beautiful woman on the phone. “Okay, then. On what date do you intend sleep with me?” he asked. He was starting to feel strangely desperate.

  “I’m not sure.” Mara’s smooth voice never failed to turn him on.

  “You mean I could get lucky at any time?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I still say the football game was a date.”

  “Lee and Erica were there. I never agreed to a double date.”

  “But we didn’t go with them. Lee has season tickets, and he hooked me up with the guy who holds the tickets for the seats next to his.”

  “And how does a US attorney justify buying scalped tickets?”

  “They weren’t scalped. I bought the tickets at face value.”

  “And the ticket holder’s daughter’s artwork for an exorbitant sum. That’s scalping.”

  “I happen to think the five-year-old has talent,” he said dryly.

  Mara laughed.

  Curt grinned. Her laughter, her voice, everything about these conversations made him feel vibrant. Alive. A warm buzz that had nothing to do with the champagne and everything to do with her. “Fine. Our second date was the Smithsonian American Indian Museum.”

  “You really got off cheap on that one. A free museum.”

  “Hey, I spent a fortune on a little girl’s artwork so we could go on a nondate to a football game.”

  “I thought it was an investment.”

  He chuckled. “It was. In you.”

  “Ohhh. Good one. Okay, I’ll let you cop a feel.”

  “Before or after dinner?”

  “Depends. Where are you taking me?”