“I certainly hope so,” she replied. “I certainly hope so.”
With one last lingering look over his shoulder, Louis mumbled his goodbye to Mike and went on his way. The desk sergeant awarded them one last, exasperated glance and then returned to the report that had been the focus of his attention when Natalya had walked in.
She felt the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach settle slightly. The detective took her elbow and guided her toward one of the benches that ran along the side of the wall facing the desk sergeant.
“First order of business,” he began once they were seated, “is for you to tell me your name.”
There was something about the way he said it that had Natalya temporarily wondering if she’d made a mistake coming here and not trying to track Tony down to ask for help. The next moment, she told herself she was being paranoid and banked down the feeling.
She put out her hand to him. “I’m Dr. Natalya Pulaski.”
“Pulaski,” he repeated as if he was already familiar with the name. “You’re kidding, right?”
Chapter 3
Natalya looked at him for a second. What an odd thing to say. “Why would I kid about something like that?”
Now that he thought of it, Vinnie had said something about Carol’s doctor being a knockout, but he hadn’t paid much attention. Vinnie was definitely guilty of understatement.
“You are Dr. Pulaski?” He realized how dumb that probably sounded to her, but for the most part, he was a man who didn’t believe in coincidences. Yet what else could this be?
Natalya looked at him a little uncertainly. She’d just said as much. Maybe she should have tried harder to find Sasha’s fiancé. Good-looking or not, Detective Mike DiPalma might not exactly be the sharpest scalpel on the surgical tray.
“Yes. Why?”
He grinned and a ripple went through her that, had this been any other time or occasion, she would have recognized for what it was—pure, unadulterated chemistry. “You delivered my brother Vinnie’s baby last year.”
For a second, despite the anxiety that was steadily mounting within her stomach, Natalya allowed herself a slight smile. This happened every so often. People not only confused her with Sasha, but with Kady, as well. Once her last two sisters were ready to hang out their shingles, there’d be no end to the confusion. It wasn’t exactly the most common name in the book.
Natalya shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
Mike didn’t follow. She’d just said she was a doctor. “But—”
“That was my sister. Sasha,” Natalya clarified before he could ask any more questions. “She’s the obgyn in the family.”
In his family, everyone had different occupations. He couldn’t imagine any of his brothers being on the force. “There are two of you?”
“Actually—” Natalya’s smile widened “—there’re five of us.”
He stared at her, a little stunned. Two doctors in the family was somewhat unusual. Five was close to unbelievable. “Five doctors?”
Natalya inclined her head. “Doctors or almost-doctors.”
At any other time, she might have enjoyed this. Enjoyed talking to a man who was good-looking enough to knock the socks off a barefoot woman. Enjoyed exchanging personal data, piece by piece, like some sort of trade of vital information.
But right now, she couldn’t seem to still the uneasy feeling inside her that Clancy was in trouble. And that he needed her. She was the only one who could help him. Or cared enough to help him. She was fairly confident that his mother wouldn’t even notice he was missing until it was too late.
So it was up to her to make sure that it didn’t get to that point.
“I’ll introduce you to the whole lot of them,” she suddenly promised. “After we find Clancy.”
The use of the pronoun stood out in ten-foot letters. He had to set her straight before this got out of hand. As a rule, civilians were not included in police business. The rule was rarely broken.
“There is no ‘we,’ Doc,” he informed her quickly. He saw her look at him in surprise. “You give me as much information as you think will help, including his cell phone number, and I’ll see what I can do.” There was a favor he could call in that might solve everything, he thought.
The look on the doctor’s face told him that Natalya had other ideas on the matter. “This isn’t official, is it?” she asked.
Mulroney had it right. Her friend wasn’t considered a missing person until more time had gone by. There was only one exception to that rule. “Not unless your friend is under twelve.”
“Then if it’s not official police business yet, I can come with you. Clancy might be hurt.” God knew he sounded as if he was when he’d called. “And I’m a doctor,” she reminded Mike.
It occurred to him that he didn’t know what discipline she practiced. For all he knew, she could be a psychiatrist, which wouldn’t be very helpful unless her friend was suffering from hysterical amnesia. “What kind of a doctor?”
“A good one.” The answer evoked a tolerant smile. She knew he was still waiting for an answer he could work with. “A pediatrician.”
“Little people.” His tone told her that he didn’t see that as exactly being very useful in the present situation.
“Who are often treated for the same things as big people—and more.” Natalya straightened her shoulders. “I can be helpful,” she insisted.
Mike looked at her, debating whether or not to relent. He was not unaware that the desk sergeant was periodically eyeing them both. He hated having anyone looking over his shoulder. It had led to more than one fight when he was a kid. Before he found other ways to handle things than with his fists.
Mike rose to his feet. The doctor followed suit. “All right, come upstairs with me. You can give me some information about this Clancy and I can see if I can get a location on him for you.”
The suggestion got him a smile that was the closest thing to lethal he’d seen in a very long time.
“Thank you.”
He began to lead the way to the rear of the building. “Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t found him.”
They would, she thought. They had to. “But you’re looking.”
Her gratitude embarrassed him, which was a first.
Instead of taking the stairwell, the way he always did, Mike opted for the elevator. When he pressed for the car, the doors opened immediately. The ride up gave him a sufficient amount of time to get the information he needed about her missing friend. As they stepped out of the elevator, Natalya took a photograph out of her wallet and passed it to him.
“Clancy?” It was a rhetorical question. The man looked rather unremarkable. His expression was almost self-conscious, Mike thought. He held on to the photograph as he led the way down the corridor to the squad room he’d vacated less than a half hour ago.
“It’s the most recent photograph I have of him,” she said.
He nodded. “That’ll help. If it gets to that.”
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but held her tongue. She didn’t want him to think she was being antagonistic in any way. After all, he was going out of his way to help her.
Natalya made herself as comfortable as possible in the small glass-walled cubicle within the squad room that smelled of musty papers, mustier sweat and Pine-Sol. The weekly cleaning crew had apparently just been through here. Not a shred of paper resided in any of the wastebaskets.
She watched as the detective made a phone call. She saw him smile as he managed to catch whoever it was he was calling. The broad-shouldered man created a hell of an imposing impression, she thought.
Mike could picture the annoyed look on Caleb Brown’s face once hellos were exchanged and he’d identified himself. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along. Caleb’s mind clocked out the moment his day ended. He didn’t like putting in a minute of extra time.
“Need a favor, Caleb.”
“I’m meeting friends at the Watering Hole,” the deep voice ove
r the phone protested, referring to the bar and grill where tired, overworked police personnel let off a little steam before going home and trying to fit back into their private lives.
“The friends and the Watering Hole will keep,” Mike assured him. He could hear another protest in the making as Caleb drew in his breath. “Unless you want a certain story about you and what happened in the evidence room to make the rounds…” He let his voice trail off. It’d been his good fortune to walk in on Caleb and the officer in charge of the evidence room. Officer Serena Daly filled out her uniform more pleasingly than most.
Mike heard the creak of a chair. Caleb had sat back down again. “Okay, okay, what d’you need?”
“I need a trace done on a cell phone.”
“Only works if the phone is on,” Caleb told him tersely.
Mike glanced at Natalya. Caleb’s voice was loud enough to carry, even though the receiver was against his ear. She nodded. “We’re thinking it is.”
“Okay,” Caleb reluctantly surrendered, “what’s the number?”
Mike read off what the woman with the killer legs had given him, starting with the 718 area code.
“Got it.” There was no mistaking impatient urgency in Caleb’s voice. Mike wondered if he was meeting Officer Daly at the Watering Hole. “Give me a minute.”
“Take as many minutes as you need, Caleb,” Mike told him.
“Very generous of you,” Caleb retorted sourly. The sound of typing and then more typing was heard as the man on the other end triangulated the signal associated with the cell phone number he’d been given. “This program is amazing,” Mike heard him murmuring under his breath. The last keystroke sounded as if finger met keyboard with a flourish. “Got it!”
The declaration was followed by silence served in a container. “Would you like to share what you just found with the class?” Mike coaxed.
“Does this get me off the hook?” Caleb wanted to know.
Unlike Caleb, he wasn’t about to be bartered with. “We’ll talk,” Mike promised.
The man on the other end sighed loudly. “Di-Palma, I can’t go through life with you holding that over my head.”
He would have thought by now Caleb would have realized that he really wasn’t the type to point fingers—or ruin a man’s marriage.
“You won’t, I promise.” He glanced at the woman sitting by his desk. She was on the edge of her seat and looked ready to spring up to her feet. He caught himself wondering what she’d be like in bed, then pushed the thought to the side. “Now, if you don’t mind, what’s the address?”
“Looks to me like the guy you’re after is in Soho.” Caleb recited a more precise address.
Mike wrote it down, then nodded. “Thanks. One more thing, is he moving?”
There was a pause. “Doesn’t look like it,” Caleb said finally. Mike heard the sound of the computer being closed down for the night before another request could be made. “So when do you finally owe me?”
He could have told him that they were even, but that meant that he’d have to resort to something else whenever he needed a little extra help under the table. The police department was strangling itself with red tape these days and he had neither the patience nor the temperament to play along a hundred percent of the time.
“Next early frost in June—we’ll talk about it then.” Mike broke the connection before the inevitable barage of words flowed out to bury him. Caleb could be extremely long-winded when he felt the occasion warranted it.
Turning, Mike handed the address he’d just written down to Natalya. “Looks like Clancy went to that opening without you.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” she insisted defensively. And then she looked down at the paper and actually read the address. She shook her head. “This wasn’t the place. We weren’t going there.” But she was going there now, she thought. Folding the paper, she rose to her feet. She held it up for a second before pocketing it. “Thank you for this.”
Mike pushed back his chair and rose. He made the natural assumption. “You going down there?”
She saw no reason to deny it. This was why she’d come in the first place. To find out where Clancy was. If Clancy turned out to be all right, she was going to read him the riot act. Just before she pounded on his head. “Yes.”
He’d thought as much. “You have a way to get down there?” he asked as he escorted her out of the small cubicle.
Like Sasha, she had a car. Unlike Sasha, she rarely used hers. She tended to be preoccupied, not the best state in which to drive a vehicle. “New York City has a great transit system,” she commented.
The doctor didn’t look like the type to hang on a bus strap, or sandwich herself between people on a subway car. “I’m still off duty,” he reminded her. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Natalya hesitated. He’d already done so much, she didn’t want to put him out any further. Besides, if Clancy did turn out to be all right, he’d be chagrined by all the fuss. He didn’t mind a fuss being made, but for the right reason and privately.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she could handle it from here. But somehow, she heard herself saying, “That would be very nice of you.” Just in case, she added silently, everything wasn’t all right.
Glancing over his shoulder as he held the elevator door open for her, Mike flashed a grin that accentuated two deep dimples, one in each cheek. “My mother says I’m a nice kind of guy.”
She stepped in and the doors closed. “I think mothers are obligated to say things like that. My mother says the same thing about me.”
Amusement highlighted his blue eyes. “That you’re a nice guy?”
“No.” She laughed. “That I’m a nice girl.”
In the corridor now, he glanced at her just before he opened the main front door. “I think your mother’s probably an excellent judge.”
For one of the few times in her life, Natalya was at a loss for a comeback. Fortunately, she didn’t have to say anything because they had just stopped by a motorcycle parked right in front of the precinct. The detective took a lock off the rear wheel.
“This is your ride?” She tried not to sound as incredulous as she felt.
Mike nodded. He ran a loving hand over the visor. “Has been ever since college.”
“What does your mother have to say about that?”
Josephine DiPalma had been far from thrilled the day he rode the bike home. But he was over eighteen and it had been purchased with his own money. There was little she could do except cross herself and pray.
“That I’m going to wind up breaking every bone in my body. She’d be thrilled if she knew I’d just met a doctor whose mother thinks she’s a nice girl.” It was a teasing remark, with more than a little truth at the bottom. His mother would have loved nothing more than to have him bring a physician home and announce his engagement right then and there.
And then he became serious. “If you’d rather not—” Mike nodded at the motorcycle, his meaning clear “—I could sign out one of the department’s cars and take you in that—”
But she shook her head. The motorcycle had surprised her, but it hadn’t displeased her. “I love motorcycles,” she told him. Her expression was soft as she added, “I like to feel the wind in my hair.”
“No wind in hair,” Mike countered. There were times when he took chances, but they didn’t include his motorcycle, or people he allowed to accompany him on the bike. Opening the black leather case strapped across the rear of the seat, he took out a spare helmet and handed it to Natalya.
Her eyes smiled as she accepted the helmet. “You’re not as daring as you look.”
Strapping the helmet on, she got on the motorcycle behind him. She tucked her arms around the detective’s waist, lacing her fingers together, leaning in closer to keep from falling off.
Mike revved up his motor. Looking up, he saw Caleb exiting the building. The software tech looked in his direction and their eyes met. The expression on the other man’s face was
decidedly envious. He pointed toward her and mouthed the words “That one.” Mike knew that he was asking to be introduced to Natalya.
Some people, he decided, were just incorrigible. They also never learned.
He figured Caleb wasn’t going to readily believe him when he got around to telling the man that the redhead leaning into him with her arms around his waist was not his date.
For a Friday evening, crosstown traffic was not as heavy as it could have been. Weaving his motorcycle in and out between lanes of cars with the ease of a tailor plying his needle, Mike managed to make amazing time. They reached the gallery in less than twenty minutes from the moment they left the curb.
The gallery was hardly more than a storefront. It was wedged in between a trendy restaurant and a store that sold overpriced shoes. There was a sign that proclaimed that there was more parking in the rear. Since both sides of the one-way street were filled to capacity, not even leaving space for a prayer, Mike had no choice. He followed the once white, now weather-beaten arrow halfway down the block, turned right and then snaked his way down a narrow passage that had been built before things such as SUVs had captured the country’s fancy.
When he pulled his motorbike into the lot, Mike looked around. The lot attendant was nowhere to be found. Never hesitating, Mike made his way into the heart of the semiempty lot, choosing a place that was close to the gallery’s rear door. As he waited for the woman behind him to release her hold and get off, Mike felt her body stiffen against his back. He heard a sharp, pained intake of breath behind him.
“What’s the matter?” Squinting, he looked around to see what had upset her.
Natalya didn’t answer. Instead, she jumped off the bike. Turning around, Mike saw her running to the other end of the lot.
A streetlamp in the middle of the block was casting an irregular pool of light just within the confines of the small lot.
“Doc?” he called after her.
Natalya heard a faint noise behind her, but she didn’t turn around to acknowledge it. She was completely focused on what she’d thought she saw several yards away.
Diagnosis: Danger Page 3
