by Jamie Hill
She ran a hand over his cheek. "What is it?"
He hesitated, but knew he had to tell her the story he'd never told anyone else in his life. "You know my mother died when I was two."
"I'm sorry about that. It's so sad."
"What you don't know is how she died. I didn't know for a long time, either. At some point in high school I started asking questions. I guess my folks figured I was old enough to know by that time."
"Your grandparents?"
"Yeah. I called them Ma and Pop. Anyway, this story is entirely from them, because obviously I don't remember any of it."
"Of course not."
"My mom was sixteen when she met a boy that her parents didn't approve of. I guess she fell hard for him. Started skipping school and all that. Eventually she dropped out and ran away with him. They didn't know where she was for months. She finally called them from Des Moines, which is about forty minutes from home. She was pregnant and the guy had left her."
"Jerk," Mel interjected. "Oh, sorry. I guess that's your father I'm talking about."
He smiled sadly. "I wish. Ma and Pop went to get her. She'd been hospitalized. She lost the baby about halfway through her term. They took her home and nursed her back to health. Said she was thin and scrawny, probably hadn't eaten a decent meal in months. It was no wonder she miscarried, really."
"How awful." Mel looked confused.
"It gets worse. When she recovered, they tried to get her back into school and a normal life. But sometimes, there's no going home again. She couldn't handle it. Wanted to be out on her own again."
"Since she handled it so well the first time."
Nate smiled. "They didn't hear from her again for three years. They hired a private investigator and he searched for a while, but she never turned up. Until she died."
Mel bit her lip.
"Pop got a call one day from the Des Moines police. It seems my mother had been working as a prostitute in the city. She'd had a few minor run-ins with the law, so they had her records on file. They told Pop some guy had picked her up off the street corner one night, and she never came home. Found her body in an alley the next day. She'd been strangled and stabbed."
Tears streamed Mel's cheeks. "No." She reached for his hand and held it.
"When the cops went to her last known address they found three working girls living in the small apartment, and two children. A baby and a two-year-old. They took turns watching us when they weren't working."
She squeezed his hand.
"The Department of Children and Family Services took the kids and ran some blood tests. I don't know who the baby belonged to, but I was the child of Ellen Willis. DCFS gave the report to the cops, who tracked down Ma and Pop. They came and got me, and we went home."
"You were okay? You weren't hurt or abused or anything?"
He shrugged. "Not that I know of. I've thought about it a lot over the years. My earliest memory is pushing a wagon in the yard at Ma and Pop's. I don't remember anything before that. I considered getting some therapy, then I figured what for? It wasn't going to change anything. I turned out okay."
She drew him into her arms. "You turned out better than okay. You're an amazing man, Nathan Willis. Ellen must have done something right."
"Most of the credit goes to Ma and Pop. I'm fortunate they accepted me unconditionally." He pulled away and looked in her eyes. "We have no idea who my father is, Mel. Some John who either lived or passed through Des Moines, Iowa. Not much to narrow it down."
She held his face. "Your folks didn't care. You were Ellen's baby. They loved Ellen. They loved you."
He felt a tear escape and tried to shrug off her grasp to wipe it, but Mel wouldn't release him.
"I don't care either, Nathan. Who you are has little to do with DNA. It's more about the man you've become."
"I went a little nuts there at first. It wasn't an easy story for a kid to hear. I rebelled some, before it occurred to me that rebelling was what got my mother into the situation she ended up in. That's when I decided the army might be the way to go."
She nodded. "I believe that was a good move."
He looked into her eyes. "DNA does matter though. My father hired prostitutes. Maybe he did other weird shit. We'll never know."
"We don't need to know. I don't care. Are your Ma and Pop still alive?"
He smiled. "Oh yeah. Griping that I don't come home often enough. Patiently waiting for me to bring home Miss Right."
"Did they like Rita or what's her name, Connie?"
"Carol. They didn't meet Rita or Carol. I never took either of them home. I never told either of them that story. You're the only person I've ever told."
A pleased expression crossed Mel's face. "I'm glad you told me, because I want to know everything about you. But it doesn't change a thing."
"I wanted you to know before things got too serious. If it does matter, just say the word and I'll understand."
She blinked. "Before things got too serious? Um, as you said last night, that ship has sailed. This is as serious as it gets." She reached for his hands and threaded their fingers through each other. Raising both hands above his head, she pressed them into the pillow and straddled his body. "If you told me that story to scare me off, it didn't work. I want you now more than ever. And you know what else I might want?" She rubbed her body against his.
He eyed the gorgeous breasts wiggling in front of him and some thoughts came to mind. "I can think of a few things."
She grinned. "You'll never guess this because I've never said it to anyone before tonight, either." She lowered her face until they were almost nose to nose. "I think I might want a little dark-haired boy who looks just like his daddy. And a pretty little girl with her daddy's eyes. We could name her Ellen."
Nate held his breath. Kids had never been part of his mind-set. The concept had neither occurred nor appealed to him. Suddenly, it was doing both, and the idea was terrifying. "Well, I don't know."
Mel gazed at him levelly.
He smiled. "I think she should have her mama's eyes. There's nothing prettier in this whole wide world."
She exhaled and let loose a low, seductive chuckle.
He jerked his hips so she could feel his rampant erection.
Mel released one hand so she could reach for a foil packet on the nightstand.
Nate took advantage and flipped her onto her back, straddling her in return. "Gotta keep your guard up, Detective." He took the packet from her and ripped it open with his teeth.
"Prick," she teased.
"Yeah, I got one. You want it?"
"Oh yeah." She watched him sheath himself and gripped his arms as he drove forward.
Nate held her close, cradling her in his arms. "Thank you, Mel. Thanks for accepting me for who I am."
She slid her arms around his waist. "I love who you are."
They pulled away and grinned at each other.
"That was freaking close," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "I know, right? What was I thinking?"
* * * *
Nate showered quietly the next morning but Mel never stirred from her sleep. He gathered their clothes from the floor and piled them neatly on the dresser. Before he left he took her gun and set it on the nightstand next to her, leaving her phone in the kitchen so it wouldn't ring and wake her. He pulled the bedroom door shut and crept out.
He was halfway to the department when he remembered he'd left his back-up gun in the bureau drawer. He had his Glock, so it didn't really matter.
The homicide bullpen was quiet, a few people working, but most not in yet. Nate poured a cup of coffee and stood in Reeder's doorway. "Morning."
"Hey Willis. Any progress?" The captain had a bottle of antacid on his desk. Either it was always there, or it was already a bad day.
"Some." Nate nodded. "I'm expecting a call from one of my analysts. I hope that'll shed some light on things."
"Keep me posted. This is nasty business. I don't like it at all."
"IA sent me a memo. Curtis' hearing is tomorrow at one p.m."
"Tomorrow." Nate inhaled. "That's not much time."
"They can't keep this out of the press any longer. The media already knows we picked up someone in the slasher case, and had to let him go. It's going to get uglier from here on out."
"Understood." Keeping the press at bay was one of the most frustrating parts of his job, too.
"If you talk to Curtis, have her call me. She'll need some character witnesses to speak on her behalf at the hearing. We need to get together and pick some names."
"I will." He ducked out of the office and entered the war room before many more people showed up. He glanced at his watch, knowing it was still too early to call Mel. They were up late into the night and she needed her rest. Besides, once she woke she'd have nothing to do but worry. The longer she could sleep, the better.
Stone joined him. "Morning."
"Henry," he acknowledged.
"How's Mel?" He took a seat.
Nate shrugged. "Keeping her spirits up so far. Reeder just told me her hearing is tomorrow afternoon. We've got twenty-four hours to crack this case. After that, Mel is screwed."
Stone frowned. "As much as I hate to say it, I like Tanner for this. He's the only one with means and motive that I've come across so far."
"Maybe." Nate nodded, and his phone rang. He punched the talk button. "Willis."
"Hey, it's Marshall. Sheila woke up."
"How is she?" he asked excitedly.
"Like a burned piece of toast. Can't remember anything and the doctor says it's possible she never will. But physically she's going to make it."
Nate sighed. "Well, that's the important thing. Give her my best."
"You don't understand. She doesn't remember anything. Me, you, even who she is. The chick is totally fried."
"Jesus." Nate shook his head.
"They're going to keep her here for a while. I told the doc I'd get Social Services involved and maybe we can help her when she's ready to get out. Find her a place to stay and all that. We'll have to see how she does, and if she ever remembers anything."
"Okay. Thanks Marshall."
"Anything you need me to do today?"
"Not that I can think of. If I do, I'll get back to you."
"You bet."
Nate ended the call and relayed the information to Stone.
"Poor Sheila. This case just gets sadder and sadder." Stone said.
"Burton Webb and his money strike again. I would really like to get my hands on that man."
"And his sleazy son. I'm still stunned that we had to let him walk. There was so much evidence against him. We saw it. Now that means nothing."
"It still means something." Nate clenched a fist. "We know Dick Webb is our man. We just have to find a new way to prove it. After we take care of Mel, that is."
"Of course."
Willis' phone rang again, and as he took the call from Steve, Stone left the room. Nate jotted notes and details down in his notebook. Steve and his team had been running credit card records on everyone in the WPD. Most showed typical weekday purchases, food, gasoline, groceries. One card had recently been used to purchase an expensive Prada handbag, several thousand dollars' worth of clothes, and an upcoming trip to Jamaica.
Nate had his first glimmer of hope by the time the call ended.
He took a moment to compose himself and gather his thoughts. He had to handle this tactfully and very carefully. When he was ready, he walked to the door and looked at Samantha Becker. "Becker, could you give me just a minute, please?"
She glanced up at him and smiled. "Of course, Agent Willis. I'll be right there."
He nodded and returned to the room, continuing to organize his words. It took him a while to realize that several minutes had gone by and she hadn't joined him. He walked back over to the door.
Becker was gone.
"Where is she?" he asked Stone at the next desk.
Stone glanced around. "No idea. I thought she went in there."
Nate asked loudly, "Anyone see where Becker went?"
The detectives at surrounding desks all shook their heads.
He pointed to a thin, dark-haired woman he'd met once or twice, "Megan", her nametag read. "I need you to check the ladies room, please."
"Sure." She strolled in that direction and returned just as leisurely. "Nope, not in there."
Nate went to the desk closest to the elevator. "Did you see Becker come this way?"
"No," another woman said.
He turned to Stone. "Where else could she go? What's the alternative way out?"
"The stairs are that way," Stone pointed. "They go all the way down to the patio in back where people smoke or take a break."
"Go!" Nate commanded.
Stone took off running.
Nate looked at Reeder who was standing in his office doorway. "Call downstairs and tell them to stop Samantha Becker if she tries to leave. I'm guessing she'll use the back exit, but with her kind of moxie I wouldn't be surprised if she waltzed out the front god-damned door."
"I'm on it," Reeder called.
Nate rode the elevator to the first floor, tapping his foot impatiently the whole way. Becker had a jump on them, but if her lead wasn't too much, he might still have the advantage since she took the stairs.
The elevator doors opened and he had no idea where to go from there. He followed a long hallway, stopping to check the doors on either side along the way. Most were locked. When he found one unlocked, he drew his weapon and nudged it open. It was a storage room. Nate flipped on the lights and confirmed the place was empty.
He continued down the hall, frustration welling in his gut. He should have asked for more help. Time was wasting as he checked each door. Becker could already be outside, strolling down the sidewalk.
Most of the remaining doors were locked. The last one before the hallway branched off was open, and he peered inside. A conference room. He slapped on the switch at the same time something whacked him up the side of the head.
Nate staggered for a moment as Becker rushed past him and out of the room.
He raised his gun and stepped into the hallway. "Freeze!" His eyes were blurry but he could get off a shot in her general direction if he had to.
Becker threw her hands in the air. "I'm unarmed."
Nate paused a moment for his vision to clear. He felt a trickle of something warm running down his temple and realized he was bleeding. He wiped it with the back of his arm. Not much blood. He'd be fine.
"Sorry about that." She giggled.
Bile rose in his throat. All the trouble she'd caused, and now she stood giggling like a school girl. He wished he could pull the trigger or at the very least, slap her. He never would. He resorted to his only recourse, questioning her. "What were you thinking?"
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "When I carried that bag to work, I don't know what I was thinking. Just wanting to show off a bit, I guess. That was my mistake, wasn't it?"
"One of many. I think accepting money from Burton Webb to lose the evidence was a bigger mistake."
"That's your opinion. You know how long it would take me to earn a million dollars working here?"
"About an hour, it would seem." Nate whistled. "A million dollars, huh? Webb spared no expense. He knew how bad the case was against his son."
She smiled. "He offered me half a million. I jokingly told him to double that and I'd take it. He did it, and here we are."
Nate shook his head. "Off and running and you never looked back. Only stopped long enough to throw Mel under the bus."
She screwed up her face. "Mel, Mel, Mel. I'm sick of hearing about poor Mel. She has everything and she doesn't even know it. A father who loves her, a good job where she gets lots of respect—"
"You had that too. Everyone told me how sharp you were. A real up and comer, they said. You were going places in the dep
artment."
"Only if I could get away from my alcoholic father who drank my pay as fast as I earned it."
"I'm sorry about that, Sam. It sucks, it really does. But this isn't the way to handle it."
She cocked her head at him quizzically. "And along came you. I practically threw myself at you, but the hotshot agent only had eyes for Mel. Mel wins again. I was sick of it. Something had to be done."
A door opened in the hallway branch beside her and it captured both of their attention for a moment.
Stone raced in from the stairwell exit and stumbled into Becker.
She grabbed him, wrestling the gun from his hand and pressing it to his temple. Her eyes focused on Nate. "Well now, this makes things more interesting, doesn't it?"
Chapter Twelve
Mel yawned and stretched. She felt so good, she almost forgot the trouble she was in.
"Now that is a pretty sight. I could sit here watching you sleep all day."
She rubbed her eyes and smiled. It took her the briefest of moments to register it wasn't Nate's voice she heard. Gathering the covers around her neck, she glanced toward the foot of the bed.
Dick Webb had pulled a kitchen chair into the room and was sitting in it, arms folded across his chest.
Mel froze, panic welling within her. She knew she needed to keep a clear head, so she tamped the fear down. "How did you get in?"
He showed her a small, curved blade. "Glass cutting tool. Remarkably easy, really. Find a window on the back side of the house and cut a hole in it. Reach in, unlock it, and shove it open. Works every time. Nice and quiet, too."
She blinked. Had he used that trick on his other victims? Most of them had been street walkers, and he hadn't needed to. She made a mental note to check out that MO when she got to the office. If I get back to the office.
She tried to glance toward the nightstand without his noticing, but he didn't miss a thing.
"I've got your gun, and your phone. Might as well put those out of your mind, Mama."
Mel gazed at him. Naked with just the covers between them, she was vulnerable and exposed. If he wanted to rape her, there'd be nothing stopping him. Her gut clenched and for an instant she thought she might be sick. Talk to him. It was her only option. "I'm not your mother. You know that, Dick."
