But she should have guessed. An abuser as vicious as Virgil Budge wouldn’t have limited himself to one victim.
She leaned over to kiss the raised scar on his shoulder blade. A parallel scar lay below it. A few of the other lines were in pairs, too, as if they’d been inflicted by . . . She closed her eyes as her mind filled in the rest. He’d said his mother had been strangled with a belt.
Oh, Max.
He stirred beneath her at the same time his thoughts responded to hers. He rolled over, looped his arm around her back, and pulled her sleepily to his chest.
She crawled on top of him, spreading her arms and legs as if she could shield him with her body. His mother had lied at his trial, but her betrayal had begun far earlier than that. She hadn’t protected her child from a monster. Delaney pictured the boy he used to be, his eager smile, his patience and kindness and generosity . . . and his too-big clothes that had covered the brutality he kept secret even now.
Her lungs heaved. Max!
“You’re way ahead of me,” he murmured. He grasped her hips and moved her in a slow circle, angling himself to meet her. “Give me a minute to catch up.”
“I saw what he did.”
“Hell, you’re not remembering stuff now, are you?”
“I’m not talking about Stanford. I meant your stepfather.” She kissed his neck. “He’s the one who gave you those scars, isn’t he?”
He went still.
“You must have known I would see them. Why didn’t you tell me all of it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter? I’d say it’s a major factor when you’re talking about your life.”
“That part of it is over.”
“I’m sorry, Max. I’m so sorry. You were right. I’ve been too obsessed with remembering my own past when I should have been thinking of yours.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. I don’t want to remember mine. And I don’t want your pity.”
“I don’t pity you. I admire you.”
“There’s nothing admirable about being a drunk’s whipping boy. It didn’t require any special talent.”
“You don’t realize how exceptional you are. The more I learn about you, the more I understand why I love you so much.”
He slid her off his body, got out of bed, and scooped his jeans from the floor. He dressed without looking at her.
She wasn’t sure what more she could say. She already knew that words alone wouldn’t turn back the clock or undo the hurt that Max had suffered. His emotional wounds went deeper than she could have conceived. He had every reason to mistrust the concept of love. She could be driving him farther away each time she declared her feelings. She swung her legs off the bed.
Damn, she wished this wasn’t so complicated.
The noise of slamming car doors came through the open windows. Moments later, knocking resounded through the house.
“Willowbank Police. Open the door, Harrison.”
Max swore and headed for the staircase. Delaney pulled the sheet around herself as she moved next to the nearest window.
Three patrol cars were angled in the driveway and across the yard to block off Max’s Jeep. Two uniformed officers, their hands on their holstered sidearms, jogged around the house toward the back. Two more policeman stood in the driveway.
The pounding resumed. Delaney stepped closer to the window so she had a view of the front steps. Though she only saw him from above, she recognized the balding man at the door. It was Toffelmire.
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE TRAFFIC LIGHT TURNED AMBER AS DELANEY NEARED the intersection. She pressed the accelerator to the floor and sped through.
Leo clutched the dashboard. “Delaney, slow down!”
“It’s been more than four hours.”
“For heaven’s sake, they’re only questioning him, not executing him.”
“Don’t joke about it, Leo. He shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
“John Harrison is no stranger to police procedure. He should be able to cope.”
She shot him a glance. “Then you already knew about him before I called you.”
“I thought it wise to do a thorough check on his background after his heroic rescue of you last week. I know the details of his criminal record.”
“Good, then you understand what we’re up against.”
“You’ve always had a soft heart, Delaney, but don’t you think you’re taking your gratitude too far?”
The tires squealed as she braked behind a slow-moving station wagon. She pounded the horn as it crept forward. Unlike the other time Leo had accompanied her to the police station, she felt no uneasiness about driving. There was no room for it. It wasn’t her nightmare she was worried about stirring; it was Max’s.
Toffelmire hadn’t needed the show of force that he’d brought to the house. Max had offered no resistance when they’d asked him to accompany them downtown, even though it was obvious to her that he was being railroaded. “My personal feelings are immaterial. The police are singling him out unfairly because of his reputation. He’s done nothing wrong.”
“As far as you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“He has a history of serious violence, he was in close proximity to the crime scene, and who else would have had a motive to attack Elizabeth?”
She spun the wheel to turn onto a side street. “That ‘history’ doesn’t tell the whole story, and it certainly doesn’t explain why he would want to hurt her.”
“It could have been retaliation. She hit him with her car.”
“First of all, he wouldn’t do that. Second, it’s far from certain that she had anything to do with the hit-and-run that injured him.”
Leo clutched his shoulder belt as she took another corner. “The police must have some reason to suspect Harrison. Detective Toffelmire struck me as competent enough, though somewhat averse to going beyond the minimum required for his job.”
“He has an old grudge against Max. He’s not being objective.”
“And you are? Frankly, Delaney, I’m worried the stress of the situation has affected you. All this concern for a veritable stranger . . .” He paused. “Why did you call him Max?”
“That’s his middle name.”
“Yes, but why would you use it?”
She replied with complete honesty. “Because that’s what he asked me to call him when we met. We’re friends.”
“This friendship developed rather quickly, didn’t it?”
“Not really. In fact, on some level I feel as if I’ve known him all of my life.” She spotted an empty parking space on the opposite side of the road, pulled a U-turn at the next intersection, and maneuvered the car to the curb. She shut off the engine and turned to Leo. “And it’s because we’re friends, I want to help him. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”
“Of course.” He opened his seat belt. He kept his gaze on the buckle. “Harrison’s appearance is quite striking, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“I saw his photograph on the Internet while I was checking his background.”
“There’s much more to him than meets the eye, Leo.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for that.”
“I hope you do.” She touched his sleeve. “Despite what you must have read about him, he’s a good man, and he deserves a good defense. Thank you for agreeing to represent him.”
“It’s only temporary. I expect he’ll want to retain counsel of his own as matters progress further.”
“I understand, but I’m hoping with your intervention, things won’t go further.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“I appreciate it more than I can say. It’s a terrible imposition for me to ask you to extend your stay here. I realize you have other clients.”
“None are as important to me as you are.” He squeezed her fingers against his arm. “You must know I would do anything for you, Delaney.”
&n
bsp; His tone made her uncomfortable. So did his grasp.
Would he really do anything for her? He’d made no secret of his antagonism toward Elizabeth and was vehemently opposed to the idea of settling with her. He’d known where Elizabeth was staying and could have followed her. He even was aware of Max’s record of assault and could have guessed the police would have a convenient scapegoat . . .
The direction of her thoughts sickened her. She didn’t want to believe she could be that wrong about her friend. Leo might be overzealous at times, but she couldn’t picture him resorting to physical violence any more than she could picture Elizabeth committing a hit-and-run. Anxiety and lack of sleep were making her paranoid. She withdrew her hand. “Thanks, Leo.”
He cleared his throat and leaned forward to retrieve his briefcase from between his feet. “I will, of course, be adding this to your bill.”
THE ROOM HAD BEEN PAINTED GREEN SINCE THE LAST TIME Max had been interrogated here. It was a sickly color, sloping more toward the yellow end of the spectrum than the blue. The fluorescent bulbs in the overhead fixture killed any life there might have been in it. The digital tape recorder was new, but the table appeared to be the same, a small square of gray steel that was bolted to the floor next to the wall. There was only space for two chairs. His was facing the door. It was a small mercy. It helped him to hold the claustrophobia at bay.
“Why did you do it?” Toffelmire asked. “You just can’t resist beating up women, is that it?”
“I didn’t touch Elizabeth Graye.” It was the same reply he’d given at least a dozen times.
“You were there when she was found.”
“She was found by an old lady walking a poodle. Did you roust them out of bed to question them, too?”
“That’s some coincidence you happened to be nearby.”
“I was taking a walk. You saw where I live.”
“You were visiting Delaney Graye, weren’t you?”
There was no point lying. She hadn’t tried to hide herself when Toffelmire had shown up at daybreak. Instead, she’d made no secret of her support for Max. Her presence seemed to have fueled the cop’s suspicions. “Yes, I went to see her.”
“You claimed a week ago that you didn’t know her. Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t lie. I told you that we’d just met, and we had.”
“Then you worked fast. Mrs. Graye is an attractive woman. Her husband left her extremely well-off.”
That hadn’t been a question, so he remained silent.
“Recent widows can be lonely. Easy prey for a man with no sense of morals.”
Max kept a tight grip on his temper. Toffelmire was baiting him, hoping to provoke a reaction he could twist against him later.
“Elizabeth Graye was suing her stepmother. She was threatening to take away her fortune. I wonder how far a man would go to protect a meal ticket as promising as Delaney Graye.”
“You’re chasing the wrong rabbit with that, Detective. I’ve got plenty of money.”
“That remains to be seen. I’m in the process of getting a court order to inspect your accounts.”
“Be my guest.”
“I also have men searching your house as we speak.”
His gut clenched at the thought of a bunch of cops violating his home. It was his sanctuary. Every square foot of the place was the way he wanted it to be. “Make sure they wipe their feet. I hate cleaning those floors.”
“Aren’t you worried about what they’ll find?”
“No, I’m not. I’ve got nothing to hide. That’s why I agreed to this interview in the first place. The sooner you get this stupidity out of your system, the sooner you can get on with a real investigation. You thought Delaney was the target of the hit-and-run last week. Didn’t you notice her resemblance to her stepdaughter?”
Toffelmire scowled. “What are you getting at?”
“Did it never occur to you someone is still targeting Delaney? They could have attacked her stepdaughter by mistake.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Do you have any idea how idiotic you’re sounding?”
“How long have you been having an affair with Mrs. Graye?”
“I see no point to that question.”
“Oh, there’s a point, Mr. Harrison. A man looking to protect his potential meal ticket would have a good motive to attack Elizabeth Graye. A man protecting his lover has an even better motive.” He paused. “Or was it a lovers’ quarrel? Was it too dark to tell them apart? Is that why you hit her?”
Max ground his teeth. His cooperation was getting him nowhere. He would have more luck talking to the wall. He focused on Toffelmire’s mashed nose. “Get much sinus trouble, Detective?”
Toffelmire switched off the recorder, braced his forearms on the table, and leaned forward. “You got off easy last time because of your age. Your sentence was a joke. Instead of being grateful for the break you got, you transformed yourself into some grand artiste and came back to town to rub your success in our faces. You might have fooled some people, but I knew you’d slip up sooner or later.”
“I haven’t done anything. If you could see past your nose, you’d know that.”
Toffelmire smiled. “No, I’ve got you this time, Harrison. You got cocky and signed your work.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
The door swung open. Another cop stood on the threshold. Behind him was a large man with the rumpled appearance of a college professor.
Toffelmire twisted in his chair. “What is it, Frank?”
“This guy says he’s Harrison’s lawyer.”
“I’m Leo Throop,” the rumpled man said. “Unless Mr. Harrison has been charged with a crime, you have no right to detain him.”
Max recognized the name. This was Delaney’s lawyer. That figured. He should have known she wouldn’t be sensible enough to keep out of this.
“Then allow me to correct the oversight,” Toffelmire said. His chair scraped across the floor as he got to his feet. “John Maxwell Harrison, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Elizabeth Graye. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right . . .”
Metal rattled. Max glanced down just as Toffelmire snapped a handcuff around his wrist.
His flesh shrank. Despite the open door, there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill his lungs. The past wasn’t staying buried. It rose to embrace him like a rotting corpse.
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE SHE HAD INHERITED HER husband’s fortune, Delaney was grateful to have the money. Because of it, she’d had no difficulty posting Max’s bail.
Leo wasn’t certain he was innocent. Delaney had seen it in his face, and she was sure Max couldn’t have missed it, either. Leo’s personal opinion hadn’t prevented him from doing his professional best, though. He’d used every means available to ensure Max wouldn’t spend the night in jail. Delaney was grateful for that, too. The effect that only eight hours behind bars had had on him was heartbreaking.
She stole a glance at his profile. A band of illumination slid over his chin as they passed a streetlight. He could have been a marble statue, except a sculptor would have given him more expression. She kept her hands on the wheel and slipped him a mental caress.
There was no response. His mind was closed tight, as it had been throughout the day. It was different from the blank she’d sensed when he’d been sleeping. There was no lack of activity in his head; it was the other way around. Emotions were seething inside him. Every now and then a spark escaped to burn a bright spot on her vision, but it was quickly doused. He was channeling all his energy into control.
She slowed as they approached the lane to Max’s property. “I’m staying with you.”
“Good.”
His ready agreement surprised her. She’d been prepared for resistance.
“You’ll be safer with me at night,” he said. “Your grandmother’s place is too easy to break into.”
She started up his driveway. “Do you think I’m i
n danger?”
“Yes.”
“Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”
“No. We made a bargain.”
She dropped her hand on his thigh. “I don’t care about the bargain, Max. My only concern is you.”
“Watch out!”
Delaney braked hard. Broken glass glittered in the headlights. The pieces were thick and brown, like the glass from a beer bottle.
Max threw open the door and got out. She locked up the car and followed, picking her way through the scattered shards to where he stood beside his Jeep.
It sat lower than it should. All four tires had been slashed to the rims. A message had been scratched into the paint on the side: “BURN IN HELL.”
Delaney groped inside her purse for her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
“Save your breath. They’re not going to do anything.”
“We need to report it.”
“This isn’t the first time my place has been vandalized.” He aimed a kick at one of the larger chunks of glass. It arced into the shadows. “I just hadn’t thought it would happen so soon. Word must have traveled fast.”
Another bottle had been smashed against his front door. There was a splintered dent in the wood and more glass lay on the steps. He cleared them aside with the edge of his shoe. The windows she could see from here appeared to be intact. Helen had mentioned he’d replaced them with Plexiglas. Wasn’t that fortunate? Delaney fought back the need to cry.
She lost the battle as soon as he opened the door.
His beautiful house was in shambles. Every cabinet in the kitchen had been emptied. The bookshelves were bare. The living room furniture had been upended and cushions strewn across the floor. Even the painting of the storm over the fireplace had been taken down.
But the front door had been locked. The police themselves had been responsible for the condition of the interior. They’d had a legal search warrant.
Delaney reached for her phone again, not to call anyone but to use its camera to take pictures. This had been more than a search; it had been a vindictive invasion of an innocent man’s home. She wanted to make a record of what had been done. Toffelmire and his cronies shouldn’t get away with this. Leo could file a complaint. Too bad her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t steady the phone.
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