by Julie Miller
“Hell.” Eli reached for his beer, uncomfortable with the subtle expression of gratitude and praise. “I haven’t been there for anybody lately.”
Holly shook her head, stirring her short, dark hair. “Let’s see… who registered for legal guardianship of his two teenage sisters so that the three of us could stay together? Who played tough guy at Jillian’s first intervention—”
“—which didn’t take—”
“—And who took a second job while he was in school so we could keep the house?”
“We all worked.” He insisted on sharing the credit.
“You posted bail after Jillian’s last arrest and testified on her behalf at the trial.”
“So did you.”
“And how many times have you called the Boatman Clinic to see how Jillian’s rehab is going?”
“You know we can’t contact her for two weeks.”
Holly focused in on his belt. “How many times have you had your fingers on the phone wanting to check on Jillian?”
It was Eli’s turn to shake his head and slip his sibling a wry smile. “Very perceptive, Dr. Phil. And how many times have you wanted to call?”
Holly’s smile widened. “About as many times as you have.”
Some of the guilty tension inside Eli relaxed. “Are we ever going to get over worrying about her?”
“I don’t think you get over worrying about people you love.”
Eli reached across the table to touch Holly’s hand. “I worry that I don’t check in on you enough.”
She turned her hand to squeeze his. “We’re both adults. We have demanding jobs that take a lot of our time and energy. We lead our own lives.”
“I just don’t want you to think that…you know…”
“That Jillian’s the only sister you care about? You invited me to dinner, right?” Holly winked. “And you’re paying, aren’t you?”
“It’s definitely my treat. To spend time with you,” Eli added, blending his compliment with sarcasm, just as she had done earlier.
But Holly stopped smiling as she pulled away. “You still can’t say it, can you?”
He wouldn’t feign ignorance and pretend he didn’t know which three words Holly was talking about.
“I love you, too, big brother. Your actions have always shown me how much you care. And if Jillian’s head were clear, she’d see it, too.” She toyed with the condensation rolling down the side of her glass. “But you know, I think being able to tell a person you love them is as important to you as it is to them. You’re admitting it out loud. Owning that feeling. Taking responsibility for it.”
“You’re a forensic pathologist, right? Not a psychiatrist?”
Holly grinned at his deadpan refusal to let her probe any deeper into his emotions. She sat back as the waiter arrived with their dinner. “All right. Enough of the mush. What do you want to know about the Baby Jane Doe case?”
Chapter Four
Shauna dragged her feet across the parking garage at St. Luke’s hospital, carefully assessing that hers were the only footsteps to be heard.
A second straight day of meetings, ending with this after-dinner visit with the two injured guards and their families, left her brain cranking out a to-do list that never seemed to end. But the long days had dulled her body to all but the single goal of getting home and getting comfy—whichever she could manage first. If the concrete floor weren’t stained with oil leaks, old gum and the sticky residue of a discarded soft drink, she’d pull off her high heels and walk to her car barefoot.
Not that she didn’t appreciate a pretty shoe. But with each year on the force, the days seemed to get longer. Or maybe it was each new layer of responsibility added on with each promotion that made her long for hot baths, foot massages and snuggles with Sadie to ease away the strain of the day.
Responsibilities like listening to the father of the young guard with the lacerated face and eyes who expected an answer when he asked why his son had been hurt. Who expected justice to be delivered on his son’s behalf. Responsibilities like knowing someone had such disregard for a little girl’s life that he’d throw her away with the trash. Like fearing the children of Kansas City weren’t as safe as their parents thought because the real killer was still out there.
A killer who taunted Shauna as though getting away with murder was a game he wanted her to play. And if she couldn’t beat him, there’d be a horrible price to pay for losing.
This was the kind of day that made everything from her feet to her heart ache. The kind of day that made her question whether Edward Brent had been in his right mind when he’d scribbled that memo recommending her as his successor. That had been after his first stroke, while he could still write. Before the other strokes had hit and he’d been incapacitated and she was thrust into the job. She’d gone from negotiator to executive advisor to commissioner in the span of two years. And she was tired.
But just as when her husband had cleaned out their savings and lost their family home on the promise of the next “sure thing,” there was nothing Shauna could do but hold her chin up and move on. Her own needs had to be secondary to the job at hand. She’d had children to raise and provide for back then. Now she had an entire city to look after.
A pair of aching feet and a stomach with nothing but worry to fill it wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done.
The night sky filtered in and shrouded her vision, despite the yellowish glare of the garage lights. With her purse tucked beneath her arm and her keys gripped firmly between her fingers, Shauna picked up the pace and strode with purpose toward her car. She could drive through somewhere to grab a bite to eat, and still have time to reread more of the task force’s report before hitting the tub and trying to relax enough for a decent night’s sleep.
Relax? Ha. Not since she took this job. Not since the messages had started.
Her steps stuttered when she heard a car squealing around the garage’s sharp corners. She paused beside a concrete pillar. Was the car racing toward the street exit? No. It was coming up, coming closer. Grinding through the gears, tormenting the suspension. She braced one hand against the clammy concrete, breathing harder with the sense of disaster barreling toward her.
It was on the level below her now, picking up speed in the straightaway. Braking and screeching up the ramp. She caught a glimpse of blue fender veering around the corner before she dove behind the pillar and prayed for solid engineering.
Ignoring the burning pain as concrete scraped off a strip of her knees, Shauna curled into a ball and braced for the impact, swearing when another woman might have screamed. But the driver raced on by in a blur of sky-blue, never swerving, never slowing, never looking back to see how close he’d come to hitting her.
“That son of a…” She scrambled to her feet and ran out from her hiding place into the pungent aftermath of burnt rubber and spent gas. “Idiot!”
Shaking off the remnants of self-preserving adrenaline, Shauna wondered if it was worth the bother to try to get an ID from the two numbers she’d deciphered off the license plate. She glanced down at her bloody knees and ruined hose and swore. She was relieved that it hadn’t been a personal attack, that the veiled messages of the past few weeks hadn’t progressed into violence. But it irritated the hell out of her that fear for her own safety had been her first reaction. That she had believed she was under attack.
That he could make her afraid.
“You’re losing it,” she chastised herself, hurrying toward her parking space, heedless of sore feet and turbulent thoughts now. The blue sedan was probably a kid out joyriding, or a desperate family member using speed to relieve the stress of worrying about a hospitalized loved one. “There’s absolutely no reason why…”
“Shauna!”
Shauna jerked, halted, slipped her hand into her purse and wrapped her fingers around her gun. Damn it, she was spooked.
“KCP—” was as far as she got.
“What the hell was that? Are you
all right?” A tall figure emerged from the shadows and jogged toward her Lexus. Broad shoulders took shape. Dark gold eyes narrowed as Eli Masterson stepped into the light, blocking her path. “First Powell, now this? I got the make and plate, but I couldn’t get a good look at the driver. Dammit, you’re hurt.” He knelt at her feet.
“Get up!” On emotional overload, Shauna smacked the first thing she could reach, which happened to be his shoulder. The immovable object simply absorbed her frustration, shredding the last of her self-control. “What are you doing here? Spying on me? Why aren’t you chasing down that jerk and giving him a speeding ticket?”
Ignoring both the outburst and the subsequent apology, Eli inspected her wounds and announced she’d be wanting soap and water and a couple of aspirin for the aches that would surely follow. Then he stood and backed away. His breathing had regulated far quicker than her own. “I did give chase. I know you think I’m good, but even I can’t catch a speeding car on foot.” He wasn’t joking and he wasn’t retreating. He snatched a note off the windshield of her car and waved it in her face. “You didn’t tell me this was personal.”
Oh, God. Fear and temper vanished in a heartbeat and she grabbed the paper from his hand. “No, I didn’t.”
Take the hint. Let it go.
She turned away to inspect the wrinkled page. The plain type was big enough to read without her glasses.
Ms. Cartwright,
I said you was wrong about Baby Jane Doe and you didn’t lissen. Peeple who make mistakes have to pay for them. Your the only cop I see talking about it, so I guess it has to be you.
Donnell Gibbs is a stupid man, and I expect he’s guilty of something. But not this.
I said I’d be watching to make sure you do your job right.
Come find me.
Before I have to come find you.
Yours Truly
Even with typos, the message was clear.
“Damn.” Shauna automatically went on guard, scanning the silent cars and empty drive around her. She even checked the bright lights of the hospital windows across the street, searching for any curious voyeur or telephoto lens that might be trained on her.
Eli’s voice droned behind her. “I’ve been here twenty minutes. Scouted the area. Whoever left that note isn’t here anymore.”
So he was a mind reader. No, he was a note reader. Trouble wasn’t watching; it was right here beside her. Carefully folding the note into her purse, Shauna skirted around Eli. She needed to get out of here.
“This isn’t the first time he’s contacted you, is it?” Shauna opened the door, but a bigger hand was there to push it shut. “Is it?”
She spun around, pressing her hips against the car to force distance between them because the big galoot wasn’t budging. “You’re familiar with insubordination, aren’t you, Detective?”
“You’re familiar with ‘suicide by cop,’ aren’t you, boss lady?” His lips danced before her eyes, articulating each word. “‘Come find me?’ He’s too big a coward to turn himself in, but he’s got no problem terrorizing you into tracking him down.” Eli braced a hand on the roof of the car beside her, leaning close enough that his body heat radiated between them. “Don’t play his game. Report him.”
“It’s just a bunch of talk.”
“Bull. That’s why you jumped like you’d been shot when I ran up a minute ago. ’Cause you’re scared of talk.”
“I don’t respond to threats. From him or you.” Shauna flattened her palm at the center of Eli’s tie and shoved, barely forcing an inch more space between them. “Trust me. I know this is no game. He might be Jane Doe’s real killer, or he might just be a crackpot on a power trip. Either way, I’m not going to hunt him down and grant him his wish. I’m not going to let him call the shots. If he’s our murderer, I’ll prove it and he’ll go on trial in Gibbs’s place. If he’s not, then he’s not a priority right now, and I will deal with him once—”
“—he’s made himself a priority.” She was pushing against a breathing brick wall. “You can’t ignore him, or he’ll bring the battle to you. You’re a trained negotiator. You know that when a perp decides getting blown away is the punishment he deserves, other people get hurt. It escalates into a hostage situation, or he shoots first.” Eli pressed into her bracing hand. The rhythm of his breathing and the hum of his voice vibrated through her fingers and palm, tingling up her arm and waking something deep inside her. “If the guy has a death wish, gunning for the commissioner is a damn sure way to get KCPD on his tail.”
The intensity of those golden brown eyes skittered along the same path his voice had taken. Her temperature rose, even as the autumn air cooled the night around them. She should be shivering, but all Shauna felt was raw, charged heat.
Anyone driving past would think they were a couple stealing a private moment. Standing nose to chin, their gazes locked. Her fingers clutched around his tie, holding him close—his arm, wrapped around her shoulder, shielding them from curious eyes.
Instead, they were locked in battle. Two strong wills, talking business, not pleasure. Fighting, not flirting.
She’d embarrass herself if she confused the two. Shauna had to be a boss, not a woman. She had to remember that Eli was a younger man more interested in making a point than in scoring points.
She needed to hear the words. Interpret the innuendo. Ignore the heat that surged inside her and quit craving the sense of shelter his tall form and tough hide provided.
“You think Richard Powell was there for me at that robbery, don’t you?” Matching wits with Eli demanded concentration. Besting him demanded something more. “I appreciate your concern for my safety, but if Powell wanted me to shoot him, why wear a Kevlar vest? If that maniac driver wanted to provoke me into pulling my gun just now, why have such lousy aim? Believe me, you’re the only thing I’ve been tempted to shoot lately.”
A little logic and a hint of humor eased the tension beneath her hand, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “All right. So Yours Truly isn’t Richard Powell, and it probably isn’t that guy in the Buick. We don’t know who he is.”
“Right.”
Eli should have backed away. Shauna should have pushed. Neither of them moved.
“But he sure as hell knows who you are. He knows the car you drive. He knows your itinerary—or he’s able to follow you without being detected.”
Eli was killing the mood that shouldn’t be brewing between them in the first place. “A lot of my appearances are public knowledge. And I promise to do a better job of looking over my shoulder.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been doing that for a while already?” Couched in that soft, rumbly whisper, Eli’s deep voice completely short-circuited whatever resolve Shauna had left in her.
For a few precious seconds, she wasn’t the commissioner. She wasn’t a cop. She wasn’t a mom. She was just…a woman. Her pulse tripped along in her veins and she felt feminine, vulnerable, needy. And when the rough pad of Eli’s thumb wiped a smudge from her cheek, she leaned into the caress. He opened his palm, tunneled his fingers into her hair.
“This can’t be happening.” She said the words she knew she should, but her brain was disconnected from the need inside her.
“I know.” Eli’s voice sounded just as constricted as hers.
He brought his other hand up to frame her face, to tilt her mouth up toward his. He brushed his thumb across the curve of her bottom lip and studied her breathless reaction. She felt hot. Unbearably, inordinately hot. Even in the early days with Austin, before the debts and shame and scandal, she’d never reacted like this. So fast. So completely. To just a touch. A look. Her fingers curled deeper at his chest, catching silk and crisp broadcloth and the solid muscle underneath in her needy grip.
He leaned in.
“Shauna…” Years had passed since she’d kissed a man in passion. She hadn’t known how much she wanted—needed—to be touched by passion. Desire had never slipped past her contro
l like this. He blinked slowly and halted his descent. “What else has this guy said to you?”
There would be no kiss. Passion crashed and burned and rational thinking fought to resume its rightful place.
“Nothing.” Her tongue felt dry in her mouth.
Eli arched a dark brow. Yeah, he believed that one.
His hands on her face seemed more of an embarrassing trap than a sheltering caress. She swallowed hard, regaining more of her voice. “Just that he’s watching. This is only the third personal note in three weeks.”
“Only?”
Forcing discipline back into her body, she flattened both palms against his shoulders and pushed. “Is there a reason you’re here, butting your nose into my business, Detective?”
Detective was as effective as a slap in the face. Conceding that things had gotten too personal between them, Eli swept his hands out to either side of his body and backed away. Cynicism returned to the set of his eyes and mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
Missing his heat and the heat he stirred inside her, a suddenly cold Shauna hugged her arms around her middle and waited for an explanation.
He smoothed his tie until it looked as though she’d never had her hands on him. “I wanted to let you know I’m ready to start asking questions. I spent the day looking at Dwight Powers’s case. By the way, the D.A.’s office isn’t too thrilled that you’re having second thoughts about Gibbs’s guilt.”
“Dwight Powers is more dedicated to justice than any man I know. Besides, he owes me one. He’ll cooperate.”
“Fine. I’ll start digging tomorrow. But I want access to the task force members’ personnel files before I start interviews. See if there are any personal issues that might make them vulnerable to outside influences.”
