Closer Than You Think

by Karen Rose

  ‘It wasn’t stupid,’ he said firmly. ‘It wasn’t your job to see it. It was the job of the cop who took your statement. You’d been contemplating leaving Miami for months because he was stalking you. What made you finally decide to leave a month ago?’

  She looked down at her hands, front and back, as if seeing something he could not. ‘My boss was murdered. His blood was on my hands.’

  Deacon frowned. ‘Literally or figuratively?’

  ‘Both.’ Her mouth twisted bitterly and her green eyes filled with self-contempt. ‘I tried to save him, but he bled out before the EMTs arrived. Gordon was a good man. Decent. He had two kids and a pregnant wife. He didn’t deserve to die because of a bullet meant for me.’

  Deacon sat back in his chair, studying her. There wasn’t an iota of melodrama in her eyes. She was coldly, brutally serious. ‘How do you know it was meant for you?’

  ‘Because a few days later, Combs shot at my car and tried to force me off a bridge.’

  Hiding his shock, Deacon had to take a moment to decide which question to ask first. He needed to know how and when, he needed to know if she’d been injured in any of the attempts. He needed to know what was wrong with the cops who’d taken her statements that they’d let this go on, but mostly he needed to know why.

  Because although his emotions were worrying about the woman, his mind remained rational. Stalking her would have been bad enough. Attempted murder – several times – was unexpected. Being sent to prison wasn’t normally enough to motivate such violence. If it were, cops would have a hell of a lot more homicides on their hands – and cops and prosecutors would top the list of victims. Therapists seemed like they’d be at the bottom of the list.

  What would drive Combs from stalking to repeated attempted murder? This was . . .

  Personal. Deacon’s gut did a slow roll as he thought about the accusation Combs had made during his trial – that Faith had been his lover. Looking at her now, he couldn’t believe that.

  No, he thought. He didn’t want to believe it because he genuinely liked her. He was letting his feelings take the reins, and this he couldn’t allow.

  ‘Maybe we should start further back than your inheriting the house,’ he said carefully. ‘Let’s go back to Combs. He was your client, right?’

  Revulsion flashed across her face for a split second before her expression flattened to that of a statue, every flicker of emotion disappearing from her eyes. The transformation made him want to flinch. He didn’t, of course, keeping his own expression passive as he waited for her answer.

  She leaned back in her seat, mimicking his pose as she studied his face, and he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like her answer.

  ‘You think I somehow brought this on myself,’ she said. ‘And now you think that Detective Kimble was right, that I may be compromised after all. You might even think Combs was telling the truth about me.’ She smiled at him mockingly. Coldly. ‘Do you know what I think, Agent Novak? I think I should get a lawyer. Now.’

  Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 10.40 P.M.

  Faith was furious. Partly with Novak. Mostly with herself. She’d kept telling herself that she wouldn’t fall for a cop’s BS again, yet here she was.

  ‘You’re not a suspect,’ Novak said, but she could tell that she’d surprised him. He’d thought she’d just spill her guts because he’d been kind enough not to alert the press to her presence. Because he’d made her feel safer.

  ‘Goody for me,’ she said sarcastically. ‘But you also said you wouldn’t tell me when I became one, and I appreciate the warning. I’ve been on this carousel before. I’m done here.’

  His eyes flashed, darkening as they narrowed. She’d made him angry. Good. ‘Were those just pretty words, Dr Corcoran? Are you willing to let a rapist go free? Are you willing to allow Corinne to die? You had a bad experience and I’m sorry, but that wasn’t Corinne’s fault.’

  ‘It wasn’t mine either,’ she shot back, slapping her palms on the table, then sucking in a pained breath as she pressed her bandaged hands between her breasts. ‘Dammit,’ she breathed quietly. ‘What happened to not jumping to assumptions based on my background?’

  ‘I hadn’t. Yet.’

  ‘Yet. But it was coming.’

  He shook his head. ‘You don’t know that. I don’t even know that. What I do know is that a young woman will die if we don’t figure out who took her and what he’s done with her.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with what happened to those girls. I don’t know who took them. He got my name off the deed. Just because I had the bad luck to inherit that damn house doesn’t mean I can help you. I don’t even know why you’re here.’

  ‘What if he didn’t get your name off the deed?’ Novak asked quietly. ‘What if he does know you? What if he came here because of you?’

  Faith’s mouth dropped open as his words sank in. ‘What? What are you saying? That Combs is here? That . . . that he took those girls?’

  He braced his forearm on the table, leaned forward. Invading her space. ‘Is it possible?’

  She stared at him, wondering if he could be serious. He stared back, his mesmerizing eyes full of challenge. His lips formed a hard line within the frame of his white goatee. His jaw set like granite. This is the real Novak, she thought. He was grim, hard, large, and intimidating. And desperate. He cared about those two women.

  ‘Of course it’s possible,’ she said. ‘But it’s highly unlikely. You’ve made a connection that doesn’t exist. It’s like . . .’ The connection she sought snapped into her mind. ‘It’s like the wolf beating me to Grandmother’s house, for God’s sake. You’re crazy.’

  He leaned closer. ‘I might be crazy, but you’re a coincidence. I don’t like coincidences.’

  ‘I can’t help what you don’t like.’ Her heart began to race as she considered the possibility of what he was suggesting. Combs here. In my grandmother’s house. Waiting for me. And torturing two young women as he did. ‘There isn’t a single shred of evidence to back it up.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Faith. You did the right thing tonight. You stood guard over Arianna and made sure that whoever hurt her couldn’t hurt her again. Do that now. At least help me rule Combs out so I can focus on another suspect. Please.’ He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, then slid it across the table until it was right in front of her. ‘Please.’

  Don’t look down. Do not look down. But Faith’s eyes did not obey, and a second later she found herself staring at one of the photos taken of Arianna Escobar lying in the road, covered with Faith’s wool coat. The girl’s face was crisscrossed with shallow cuts and bruised beyond recognition, her mouth bleeding and swollen. She’d been abused so cruelly.

  Faith closed her eyes, knowing he’d won. ‘Goddamn you, Novak,’ she said wearily.

  ‘Then you’ll talk to me?’ he asked, his voice deep and quiet. She’d expected to hear elation. Maybe smug pride or victory. But all she heard was grim determination.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I need to know why Combs hated you enough to terrorize you, to try to kill you. Maybe enough to follow you here. It’s personal, isn’t it?’

  She opened her eyes to find him only inches away. Watching her. ‘Yes, but not the way you think. I didn’t sleep with him.’ She hated that her voice trembled. Hated that she needed Novak to believe her. ‘I despised him. I despised all of them.’

  His expression softened. ‘All of who, Faith?’

  She clenched her jaw. ‘Every last sonofabitch pervert who walked into my office.’

  A frown creased his brow. ‘But if you hated them, why did you treat them?’

  ‘Because of the victims. The children. I wasn’t there to “cure” the offenders. I don’t believe there is a cure, at least not for most of them. I was there to help the victims. Any way I could.’

  ‘I don’t understand, but I want to. Help me understand.’

  ‘Right out of college, I worked in a rape crisi
s center. I’m good with kids and teens, and was getting a lot of referrals. I took my first offender because of the little girl, his daughter. She was only five, and so broken. I can still see her face.’ She could still see all their faces. The memories still broke her heart. ‘Her eyes were dead, you know?’

  He nodded, so close that she could see the striations separating the blue and brown in his irises, like shattered glass. So close that she could see the pain flitter through his eyes. ‘Yeah. I know.’

  ‘Her social worker begged me to take her case. I initially refused because it was a court-mandated family therapy. To help the child, I had to take on the father.’

  ‘At the same time? The victim had to sit in your office with the offender?’

  ‘Oh no. The appointments were separate, but the court wanted the same therapist working with each individual in the family unit. For continuity. I bit back my distaste for the father and focused all my energy on the little girl. And she made progress. Enough that I got more referrals. Soon those were the only cases I was getting. My boss at the time was thrilled – the contracts he signed with the court system were our practice’s bread and butter.’

  Novak tilted his head a fraction. ‘But you could have quit.’

  ‘I wanted to, but I realized that the kids who came to my office through the court-mandated programs weren’t likely to get therapy otherwise. So many of the mothers were in denial or such dependent personalities that they would have allowed their partners to do anything to their children as long as they stayed. Those mothers wouldn’t get their children the help they needed.’

  ‘Unless they were forced by the court,’ he murmured. ‘I understand now.’

  She nodded, relieved. ‘I got the rep of being the best sex-offender rehabilitator in the county. It made me want to scream, because I knew I’d become part of the problem. If there were no therapy programs, judges wouldn’t have it as a sentencing option. But it’s moot. Judges do have the option and they aren’t going to give it up easily, especially not with the prisons as overcrowded as they are.’

  ‘But if you’d walked away, the victims would have had no one.’

  She nodded again, feeling the old helplessness rise to choke her. ‘It’s a vicious circle.’

  ‘But you counseled dozens of offenders, Faith. What made Combs different? What made him hate you so intensely?’

  Faith hesitated, knowing what her honesty would cost her. ‘They all hated me.’

  His eyes grew sharp, sensing her evasion. ‘But only Combs tried to kill you.’ He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. ‘Why?’

  She steeled her spine. ‘Because I stalked him first.’

  Chapter Nine

  Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 10.50 P.M.

  Now I’ve done it, Faith thought miserably. She’d just given Agent Novak the ammunition to destroy her career. She’d never planned to tell another living soul what she’d done to Peter Combs. That she’d told Novak after knowing him only a few short hours meant he was that good or she was that tired. Or maybe she’d simply been ready to tell.

  Novak didn’t blink. ‘You stalked Peter Combs first? How? Tell me exactly.’

  Faith opened her mouth to answer, but was spared a reply by a knock at the door. It opened and a woman peeked round. ‘Can I come in?’

  Novak frowned in frustration. ‘No. Come back later.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ the woman said. ‘I came down here for you.’

  Faith knew it was cowardly, but she welcomed the chance to organize her thoughts before she laid them bare in front of Novak. ‘Come in,’ she said.

  Novak shot Faith a knowing glare, but waved the woman in. ‘Sure. Yeah. Come.’

  ‘Well, hello to you too, sunshine,’ the woman said dryly, closing the door behind her before turning to face Faith. ‘Dr Corcoran, I’m Dr Novak. What seems to be the problem?’

  Faith stared, aware that she was gawking, but unable to stop herself. In her early thirties, the woman was of average height, but that was the only thing average about her. Her long black hair bore a two-inch streak of bright white that framed both sides of her face. Her skin was the color of café au lait and her mouth curved naturally, as if she smiled without thinking about it. But it was her eyes that were the focal point of her striking face. With a slight upward tilt, one was a vivid blue, the other a dark chocolate brown.

  And then what the woman had said sank in. Dr Novak.

  Novak had said they went way back. Well, duh. That they were siblings was unmistakable. The white hair, the heterochromatic eyes. Novak’s were far more interesting than his sister’s, though. Hers were the more common occurrence, one of each color, while his were that amazing half-and-half.

  Faith turned to Novak with a frown, the motivation behind his choice of doctors suddenly clear. ‘She’s your sister,’ she accused.

  Dr Novak turned to her brother. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

  He shook his head, his expression unapologetic. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’ Dr Novak asked.

  ‘Because he wanted me to trust him,’ Faith snapped. ‘He figured that if he told me he’d called you, I’d suspect he’d get you to reveal my personal information and refuse to come.’

  The doctor frowned at her brother. ‘Is that true?’

  Novak nodded once, not even trying to hide his duplicity. ‘Yes.’

  His sister frowned. ‘Shame on you, Deacon. Wait outside.’

  ‘How long will you be? I need to run to Tam—’ He cut himself off. ‘Out to Norwood.’

  ‘Give us thirty. Now go.’ Dr Novak closed the door behind him. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Corcoran. I didn’t know he’d been so stingy with information.’ Smiling warmly, she pulled out a chair. ‘He’s a good guy really. But he gets all cloak-and-daggery sometimes. Makes me nuts.’

  ‘I suppose that comes with being an FBI agent,’ Faith said. ‘I apologize. I was rude after you came in on your night off to help me. Thank you.’

  ‘Not a problem. I assure you that I will keep your medical information confidential. He can bribe, beg, and cajole all he wants, but my lips are sealed.’

  Faith believed her. ‘Thank you.’

  The doctor scanned the chart the nurse had filled out. ‘Dr Faith Corcoran. May I call you Faith?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And you should call me Dani. Deacon said that you were in an accident. What happened?’

  Faith recounted the accident as the doctor pulled on a pair of gloves with a snap.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Dani said when Faith was done. ‘You walked away from that wreck with barely a scratch. I get so many accident cases who have far more serious injuries than you have.’ She shone her penlight in Faith’s eyes, then probed the back of her skull and neck with gentle hands. ‘Headaches?’

  ‘Just one named Deacon.’ Faith liked the name. It fit him somehow.

  Dani’s lips twitched. ‘Any headaches not named Deacon?’

  ‘Not really. He gave me some pain reliever and that took care of most of it.’

  ‘Did you lose consciousness?’

  ‘For maybe a few seconds. No more.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The radio was on. A song was playing when I saw the girl in the road and it was still playing when it was all over and the airbag deflated. I may have missed a line of the chorus.’

  ‘Which song?’ Dani asked.

  Faith grimaced. ‘”Live Like You Were Dying”.’

  Dani snorted. ‘Sorry. That’s just dang ironic.’

  Faith had to smile. Novak’s sister had put her at instant ease. ‘Ain’t it just?’

  ‘I used to cry when I heard that song on the radio. Now, thanks to you, I’ll probably laugh and people will think I’m a sociopath.’ She held up her index finger. ‘Follow the finger with your eyes,’ she said, putting Faith through her neurological paces. ‘I don’t think you have a concussion. Just take it easy for the next forty-eight. Get lots of rest. That means n
o computer, no day at the office, no reading books. Rest.’

  Faith thought of the army of law enforcement on her grandmother’s front lawn. Somehow she didn’t think resting was in her immediate future. ‘Sure. You got it, Doc.’

  Dani rolled her eyes, then stood to remove the bandage from Faith’s forehead. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she pronounced. ‘I can close this with some superglue and you’ll be good as new.’ She proceeded to clean the wound. ‘So are you angry with my brother?’ she asked as she closed it.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m trying not to make assumptions based on his background.’

  ‘His background? What background?’

  ‘That he’s a cop,’ Faith said flatly.

  ‘Ah. Cops are wired differently from the rest of us. You know, seeing bad guys everywhere they turn. And they’re so darn bossy.’

  Faith chuckled. ‘I know.’

  ‘He didn’t mean harm, I can promise you that,’ Dani said quietly. ‘He’s a good man.’

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ Faith murmured. She’d all but confessed to stalking her own client, which could mean the end of her license. What he’d do with that was anyone’s guess.

  ‘He called me because he’d already called the ER and found out that the wait time was three hours,’ Dani said. ‘He just wanted to get you in and out of here quickly.’

  ‘I can accept that.’ Faith thought of the desperation in his eyes as he’d begged her to help him find Corinne. ‘He definitely wants to protect the woman who’s still missing and get justice for the one I found.’ The doctor said no more, leaving Faith to study the white streak in her hair as she applied the glue. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘You can ask,’ Dani said pleasantly.

  ‘Your hair. Is it natural?’

  Dani leaned back to wink at her. ‘Mostly. This is how it looked when I was sixteen. The streak was there at birth, but started to spread when I was in my late teens. I liked the streak but didn’t want to be all white. So the black’s from a bottle.’ She grinned as she resumed her task. . ‘It allows me to channel my inner Rogue.’