by Mary Burton
“I’m ready to talk now.”
He scrambled through his papers for a pen. “You name the time and place.”
“There’s a house I know. In an hour.”
Donovan scribbled the address on the edge of the morning newspaper. “I’ll be there.”
He hung up the phone and let out a whoop.
Since he’d read the article, Garrison had been thinking about Eva all morning. He’d called the pub but the line was always busy. That son of a bitch Donovan had opened the door for every nut-job and copycat to come after Eva. He feared this kind of media glare would send her running to the next town.
His phone buzzed and he snapped it up. “Garrison.”
“There’s a Ms. Rayburn down here to see you,” the officer at the front desk said.
“I’ll be right down.”
He pulled on his jacket and hurried down the stairs to find her standing in the lobby, clutching her backpack. Her back was rigid with tension. “Ms. Rayburn.”
“Detective Garrison.” She moved toward him in quick efficient strides.
“How are you holding up after Donovan’s article?”
“We closed at one today. A television news reporter made the day miserable.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll survive. But I’m worried about Bobby and King. They shouldn’t have been dragged into my mess.”
This would all blow over eventually, but the interim could be miserable and destructive. “I’ve not been able to remember anything about the other man in the sketch. But I want to help you find this guy.”
“Come up to my office. I want to show you something.”
“Sure.”
He opened the door for her and followed her up the stairs to his office. “Another woman was murdered six weeks ago. She wasn’t branded but her wounds make me think she’s connected to the other killings.” He reached in the file and pulled out a picture. “This is her DMV photo.”
“Okay.” She slid slender fingers into her pockets.
He laid the picture on his desk.
Eva studied the image for a little more than a second before she said, “Eliza Martinez.”
Unexpected excitement rushed through him. “You know her?”
“She cleaned the sorority house.” She picked up the picture. “Her hair is grayer, but she looks almost exactly the same. How did she die?”
“She was stabbed. Four times.”
“The number four again.” She traced Eliza’s face with her fingertip. “Why would anyone want to kill her?”
“I’m hoping you can tell me.”
“She was a nice lady. She even taught me her empanada recipe.”
“Where was she the day Josiah died?”
“She’d been at the house cleaning all day. There was a lot to do since most of the girls had moved out for the summer. I remember she left early because her daughter was ill.”
“No one made threats? No run-ins with Josiah?”
“I never saw anything. But I wasn’t always in the house. I do remember her daughter had a little crush on Josiah at the beginning of the school year.” Memories flickered on the edge of her mind. “Josiah liked Eliza. He called her his little mother.”
“Little mother.”
“Said she reminded him of his mother.”
Garrison rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Micah Cross said their mother died when they were about thirteen.”
“That would be about right. I saw her gravestone a few days ago.”
“You went to her grave?”
She shrugged. “I wanted to see Josiah’s grave. Both his parents’ graves were beside it. I don’t know anything about her.”
Tension tightened around his spine—a sign he was missing something. But nothing flickered. “You shouldn’t go back to the pub for the next few days. It’s not safe. Is there anywhere else you can stay?”
“No.”
“What about Angie’s house?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s your sister.”
“Yeah.”
“Call her, Eva. She wasn’t mentioned in the article, and staying with her will be safest for you, King and Bobby.”
Detective Deacon Garrison’s presence consumed the front seat as he drove Eva to her sister’s. Energy radiated from him. However, instead of intimidating Eva, his closeness left her a little breathless. She realized she liked having him close.
She smoothed her hands over her worn jeans. “Thanks for doing this, Detective.”
“It’s no problem. And you can call me Deacon, if you want.”
“Okay.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “And stop with the Ms. Rayburn stuff. Eva will do.”
“Right.” He maneuvered the car easily in and out of traffic. “Angie said she’d meet us at her house.”
“Yes. She was really sweet about it.” The concern in her sister’s voice still humbled her. “She’s got to get back to court, but said I could stay as long as I wanted.”
“Good.”
He drove down the tree-lined street and within minutes they spotted the one-level brick house. The lawn was well manicured, but no flowers filled the beds and the table under the big oak tree was blanketed with leaves. When Garrison pulled into the gravel drive, Angie came out the front door. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she wore a dark business suit.
As Eva got out of the car, Angie smiled and crossed the lawn toward her. She hugged Eva. “I’m so glad you called.”
Eva studied her sister’s face. “Are you sure? If this doesn’t work …”
Angie squeezed Eva’s shoulder. “Don’t say it. I want to help.”
Tears tightened Eva’s throat. “Thanks.”
“I wish I could give you the grand tour, but I’ve got to be in court in a half hour. The second bedroom on the right is yours and the refrigerator has got the basics.”
Garrison moved behind Eva. “Thank you. ”
Angie glanced up at him, no hint of the defense attorney in her gaze. “Thank you for making her call me. I’ll be back late.” She kissed Eva on the cheek and headed toward her BMW parked in the street.
Garrison lingered and Eva was glad for it. “Want me to stick around a few minutes?”
She released a sigh. “That would be great. This is all a little weird for me.”
“I’ll make you coffee, provided your sister has it.”
She nodded and they moved inside the house. Only one area rug warmed the hardwood floor in the living room but it anchored the sofa, coffee table and two end chairs. Above the simple hearth hung a gilded mirror that caught the light from French doors that overlooked the backyard.
“Simple, tasteful and very Angie,” Eva said. “Her father’s family always seemed a cut above.”
“You’re half sisters.”
“Yes. Angie lived with her dad most of the time. She visited Mom and me occasionally. When Mom died, I went to foster care. Angie was in college on the West Coast.”
“Angie’s father didn’t consider taking you?”
“No. I’m not sure of the details, but I think my mom left him for my dad. I look like my dad so I guess having me around was a bad reminder.” She set her backpack beside the sofa and moved into the kitchen. Angie had left the lights on. The granite countertop was polished to sparkling and cluttered with only a microwave and a coffeemaker.
Eva opened a cabinet door and found coffee and filters. “Looks like we’re in business.”
Garrison shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chrome chair, which was part of the dinette set. “Coffee is a specialty of mine.”
“Great.” She moved to the refrigerator. “She’s got cold cuts. Want a sandwich?”
“Sounds good.”
They both worked silently at their tasks and soon sat at the dinette set. For a moment neither spoke but ate, understanding that opportunities to fuel up shouldn’t be bypassed.
“You were right about Lisa’s book. It was a
simple code and we broke it easily.” He carefully and deliberately set down his sandwich half. “She says that she met Darius Cross last year.”
“Really?”
“She said they were lovers.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“He didn’t recognize her at first. When he did he felt duped and got angry. She told him about The Secret.”
“You mean Kristen’s baby?”
“I don’t think so. I’m willing to bet if he knew about the baby, he’d have moved heaven and earth to find it.”
“He put a great deal of stock in blood relations. Blood is thicker than water. Josiah said that several times.” She picked at the crust. “So if not the baby, what secret?”
“I don’t know.” He shoved out a breath. “I also had a fire investigator look at the photos of the sorority house. She doesn’t think the fire started by the hearth but by the back door.”
“I don’t remember the fire starting. I just remember the flames.” She closed her eyes, willing the haze to fade from her mind so that she could remember. “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve tried to relive those moments. But I always come up blank. Have you talked to Kristen about any of this?”
“Her cell went to voice mail. She’s in New York.”
“She’s got a wedding to plan.”
Garrison let the comment hang in the air. “What kind of relationship did Micah and Josiah have?”
“I happened by a chemistry lab and heard fighting. I poked my head in and saw the two of them going at it. Micah said he wished Josiah had never been born.” She shook her head. “When Josiah lunged for Micah, I screamed and the two brothers saw me. They were furious and told me to leave.”
“When did that happen?”
“A couple of weeks before the end of the semester.”
“You see Micah after that?”
“He caught up to me on campus a couple of days later. He wanted to apologize. He seemed more concerned that I not share what had happened with anyone.”
“Did you?”
“No. What does Micah have to do with any of this?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t seem to get the guy out of my head. He’s not what he seems.”
“That should have been the motto of the Cross family. ”
“What about the kids on campus? Any like or dislike Josiah?”
“Some hung around because of his connections, but I doubt any had great loyalty for Josiah.”
“Can you remember any of them?”
She nibbled on the edge of the sandwich bread crust. “Brad Morgan. He was on the football team with Josiah. Mike Wells. Joe St. John. Those are the faces I remember seeing in the crowd when I sat in the back of the ambulance after the fire. There could be more but I don’t remember.”
“They’d be worth talking to.”
“Why are you digging this up?”
“The killings are all connected to that night of the sorority house fire. The killer has chosen the star for a very specific reason.”
“But Kristen and I are still walking around.”
“Maybe your time hasn’t come yet.”
Kristen was still alive. Lisa had talked about The Secret. Theories that had been brewing inside her, begged to be voiced. “I’m starting to think Kristen set me up.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Why do you say that?”
“I was always a means to an end to her. I know now she was never my friend. She used me to improve her grades and to get into graduate school. Maybe she used me to get rid of Josiah.”
“There’s no evidence of that.”
“I know. But then she’d have been careful.”
“It’s worth investigating.”
She searched his gaze. “You believe me?”
“Yes.”
He’d spoken his answer clearly and without hesitation. Having him believe in her meant more than she realized. Nervous and anxious to move, she raised her plate. “I’ll clean this.”
He reached out and took the plate from her. His fingers brushed hers and for a minute electricity shot through his body. He stared down at her and for an instant the sudden urge to touch her hit him like bricks.
She released the plate but didn’t move to step away from him or avert her gaze. This close he could feel the heat from her body. Christ, he needed to get a hold of himself. As much as he wanted to touch her right now, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Too many had taken from her and he’d be damned if he’d join the list.
“I’m not made of china,” Eva said. “I’m pretty tough.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
“You want to kiss me.”
“I do.”
And she wanted to kiss him. He believed her. She took the plate from him and set it on the counter. “Then kiss me.”
“Not a good idea.”
Her face impassive, she rose on tiptoe and cupped the back of his head with her hand. “Unless you have a stepladder, you’ll have to meet me halfway.”
Garrison didn’t lean forward but he didn’t move away either. The desire that had been rattling around roared inside him. “Eva. This isn’t the time or the place.”
“It’s a good time.”
“You know it’s not.”
“You don’t want me?”
He laid his hand on her shoulders. “I do. But not now. Not with all this hanging over our heads.”
She stared at him a long moment and then wrapped her hands around his neck. “Once thing I’ve learned, Garrison, you can’t count on tomorrow.”
Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him on the lips, savoring the salty taste. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. His erection pushed against her belly, setting every nerve ending in her body on fire. She wanted this. She wanted him.
Kristen lay on her back, her hands and feet shackled to the cold brick floor. The acrid scents of smoke, urine and blood assailed her nose as her unfocused gaze stared up at the ceiling’s roughly hewn beams. Four stars burned the flesh around her navel and even the slightest breeze had her quivering in pain.
She closed her eyes and for a moment let her mind float back to the first and only time she’d held her son in her arms. His little body had been neatly nestled in the crook of her arm. His surprisingly strong mouth had suckled her breast. She’d stroked the soft downy hair on his head. It had been pure bliss.
She’d replayed that moment so many times in the last decade. She’d sacrificed so much for that moment. And she knew now, what she’d done for her son years ago had brought her to this moment.
“I need you do something for me, Kristen.” The voice brought her mind back to the present, like a string jerked a kite from the air.
Her eyes remained closed, her last rebellion.
“You’ll do me a favor, won’t you? Just one more phone call.” And when she didn’t move, “I know where your son lives.”
Her eyes opened. “Where?”
“Ah, there’s a good girl.”
“Where is he?” She didn’t beg for release.
“I’ll tell as soon as you call.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
Donovan arrived at the brick house as Eva had instructed. The house looked as if it had been built in the 1920s. The overgrown bushes blocked most of the first-story windows. The front sidewalk had cracked and splintered in several places and the front handrail had fallen over.
“You sure can pick locations, Eva.”
The phone in his pocket buzzed; he reached for it and flipped it open. “Donovan.”
“It’s Eva. I’m inside. The door is unlocked.”
The woman’s voice was faint and it sounded enough like Eva for him to open the door and enter the darkened foyer. Floorboards creaked under his feet. Thanks to light streaming in through a side window, he could see the house was deserted, the furniture long cleared out. He hung up his phone. “Eva.”
“Over here.” The voice sounded older, no
t like Eva at all.
He took two uncertain steps before he felt a blinding pain in the back of his skull. He dropped to his knees, trying to stay conscious even as he realized the battle was futile.
He fell forward and passed out.
Eva took Deacon by the hand and led him down the hallway to the spare room. She pulled him over the threshold, amazed at how calm and sure she felt until she looked at the bed.
And then the uncertainty rose up inside her. She had no experience with men. And she didn’t want to mess this up. “I’ve never seduced a man,” she said. “I’m not sure what to do next.”
He laid his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything. None of this has to happen now. “ His voice sounded ragged, even a bit nervous.
She turned and faced him. “But I want this. I want you.”
He cupped her face, his expression a hard unreadable mask. She thought for a moment he’d reject her. She wondered if she could bear the rejection. It had taken so much for her to get to this moment.
And then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. The first kiss was gentle, more like exploration than grand passion. But it boosted her confidence and the courage to wrap her arms around his neck. She pressed her breasts against his chest. Her nipples hardened.
Tensing, he brushed her hair off her face and away from her neck, exposing the tender flesh. He kissed the hollow of her throat, her collarbone and then her ear. Heat bubbled inside her and she tightened her hold on his shoulders.
He backed her up toward the bed until her legs bumped the mattress. She braced, expecting fear, but none came and that gave her the courage to grab the hem of her T-shirt and pull it over her head.
Garrison’s gaze darkened as he stared at her breasts. He leaned down and kissed each soft mound and then slipped his fingers under her bra and teased the tips of her nipples until they hardened more. Eva closed her eyes, moaning her pleasure.
She fumbled with the buckle of his pants but he pushed her hands away.
“Slow.” He eased her back against the mattress and straddled her body. He ran his hands up her thighs and over her flat belly. He was in no rush.
“I like it when you touch me,” she said.
“Good.”
He reached for the bra clasp between her breasts and undid the delicate snap. He cupped her breasts as he leaned forward and kissed her.
