Don't Tell (9 page)

„You were never normal, Max,“ David continued and Max could hear the tears clogging his brother’s normally resonant baritone. „You were just my brother.“ He withdrew his hand and Max felt bereft.

The two stood until the silence became uncomfortable.

Max cleared his throat. „Are you busy for dinner tomorrow night?“

„If you’re cooking, I am definitely unavailable.“ David’s voice was light, but forced.

„How about I buy us a pizza?“

„Then I’d say you have yourself a date.“ David paused. „Five or so?“

Max nodded, still facing away from his brother and the open door. „Five is good.“

The door closed and Grandma Hunter’s house… his own house was quiet. He listened to the roar of David’s classic car in the driveway until the sound died away. Then he wiped the moisture from his face. He was home. Finally.

Chapter Five

Chicago

Tuesday, March 6

10:55a.m.

Caroline closed the door to Eli’s office with a quiet click, then turned and leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She didn’t like this. Any of this. Not one little bit. The whole man-woman-seek-and-chase thing was highly overrated. Especially when the man was as shallow as a pond in summer and the woman foolish as a teenager.

She drew a deep breath through her nose, seeking the tang of the lemon furniture polish and Eli’s Old Spice that always soothed her nerves in the past. Instead she smelled the woodsy scent she’d so quickly come to associate with Max Hunter and her pulse quickened in response. In one day this room had ceased to be Eli’s, the safe haven she’d come to treasure. Now it was Max’s. She was interloping. Intruding.

Fantasizing. Oh, boy. She let out the deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the content of her dreams from the night before rushed through her head, leaving her shaken, her skin sensitized, her body throbbing where she’d never felt any such sensation before. Woman-low. Now she knew what that phrase meant. On one hand she wondered how she could have become thirty years old without feeling her pulse throbbing deep within the most private reaches of her body. On the other hand she wished she’d gone another few years without knowing exactly what she’d been missing. It was primitive. She shuddered and squeezed her legs together.

Mercy.

It was also devastating, because now she also knew the meaning of „unrequited love.“ Well, unrequited lust, anyway. She breathed deeply again, trying to still her racing heart, feeling more foolish by the moment. Foolish and angry. And hurt. Mostly hurt.

Max wasn’t here. He was still in class, chatting it up with the two voluptuous beauties that sat in the front row, hanging on his every word. Missi and Stephie. Caroline rolled her eyes, remembering the way they’d laughed at his every joke, not so surreptitiously crossing their long legs, bared up to the hem of their barely decent miniskirts. Not a wrinkle. Not a scar. Probably didn’t even have tan lines marring the skin they’d kept golden through the cold Chicago winter, courtesy of the off-campus tanning salon. Young, leggy, graceful. Caroline frowned, feeling her forehead bunch against the smooth wood. And they got decent grades to boot. They didn’t even have the decency to be stupid blond bimbos that would flunk out and be forced to marry men fifty years their senior.

Caroline had waited a few minutes after class, planning to walk back to the office with him. Be honest with yourself, Caroline, she chided herself harshly. Who was she kidding anyway? She’d lingered, hoping to steal a few minutes alone with him, hoping to see those enigmatic gray eyes focused on her in that same intent way he’d looked her up and down the day before, assessing her… attributes.

She blew out a sigh, cooling her heated forehead. How ridiculous she was being. One time, one lousy time she was the subject of a man’s heated stare and it went to her head. She’d thought of nothing else the entire night. And silently cursed the knowing grins Dana tossed her way during dinner. Well, she allowed the curses that had become not so silent once Tom had gone to bed. Dana just grinned some more and reminded her to wear black the next day. Even offered to touch up her roots for her.

„I’ll touch up my own damn roots,“ Caroline muttered. And she had. And for what? So Max Hunter could completely ignore her and moon over girls half his age? Well, two-thirds his age. He was thirty-six. She’d checked.

Although what did it matter? Sudden embarrassment at her own foolishness overwhelmed.

„I can’t believe this, Eli,“ she murmured. „I’m jealous. I am jealous of a man who has done nothing more than smile at me.“ But what a smile Max had. „I’m pathetic, Eli.“ She shook her head, pivoting her forehead against the door. „I’m simply pathetic.“ She swallowed hard to relieve the sudden constriction in her throat. „And I’m lonely,“ she admitted in a barely audible whisper. „I’m so tired of being alone.“

She straightened and turned to look across the office her late friend had occupied for forty years. Max’s computer table now occupied the space where Eli’s marble chess table had stood. Many were the days Eli and Wade had sat here bickering over the next move, arguing about politics, about who was the greatest singer in the Rat Pack, about who would get her last homemade pastry. She’d loved to listen to them talk. Her days just weren’t complete without Eli.

Dana was right. She’d surrounded herself with safe, unavailable men. And she would continue to do so, likely with Max Hunter’s help. He may have stared a bit yesterday, measuring her up, but as soon as he got a view of the young women on campus, she’d drop to the bottom of the heap.

It was just as well. She was in no position to flirt with a man like Max Hunter anyway, with any man for that matter.

But it sure didn’t hurt her ego when he looked. As long as that was as far as she let it go.

Her eyes dropped to the box on the floor beside Max’s desk. His office supplies had arrived.

„Time to stop your woolgathering and earn your paycheck, Caroline,“ she murmured, hiked her black dress up past her knees, then dropped to kneel beside the box.

Asheville, North Carolina

Tuesday, March 6

11 A.M.

Steven Thatcher paused in the doorway, surveying the Asheville PD’s homicide division. It was a bullpen setup with maps and pictures of the area’s most wanted posted all over the walls, like hundreds of other police divisions across the state. Phones rang, a printer droned and he caught the occasional flash from the copy machine from the corner of his eye. The aroma of stale coffee and microwave popcorn teased. He drew a deep breath, mentally settling in for what might be a long investigation. Be it ever so humble…

Steven stopped at the closest desk with an inhabited chair, its occupant intent on typing on an ancient manual typewriter, his thick forefingers hunting and pecking a letter at a time. Steven watched for a moment, surprised to see one of those old machines still in use. The nameplate on the large man’s desk read „Det. B. Jolley.“ One could only hope he would be. Jolly, that was.

„Detective Jolley?“

Jolley looked up from his two-fingered typing, his eyes narrowed beneath bushy gray brows, his face tightened in a scowl. He is not, Steven thought, a faithful representation of his name.

„Yes?“ Jolley rumbled back, his voice deep and gravelly. His eyes zeroed in on Steven’s briefcase, then raised to meet Steven’s eyes. „What do you want?“

„I’m looking for Lieutenant Ross.“

Jolley leaned back in his chair, his head slightly tilted, his gaze still narrowed. „Her office is over there.“ He gestured to the far wall. „Who are you?“

Steven pulled out his badge. „Thatcher, SBI.“

A dark flush started on Jolley’s cheeks, quickly travelling to his fleshy neck. „He didn’t do it.“

Steven’s brows shot up. „Excuse me?“

Jolley stood and Steven found himself eye to eye with six feet four inches and two hundred fifty pounds of belligerent detective. „I said Winters didn’t do it,“ Jolley snarled, his body leaning forward, his face close enough to give Steven a clear view of bloodshot eyes. Purposely intimidating. This was more than a hostile glance, and more than Steven had expected. „You might as well turn around and head back to wherever you crawled here from.“

Steven drew a breath, rapidly concluding it would be unwise to tell Jolley he’d ended a sentence with a preposition. „Look, Detective, if you’d just step aside. I have an appointment with Lieutenant Ross.“

„Ben.“ Another detective appeared just behind Jolley’s right shoulder. „Sit down and take a break. I mean now, Ben.“ The newcomer clapped a hand to Jolley’s shoulder and pushed him into his chair, briefly closing his eyes when Jolley grudgingly complied. He opened his eyes and in them Steven saw unveiled relief. „This way, Agent Thatcher. Lieutenant Ross has been expecting you.“

Steven followed, noting the way the man’s hands clenched at his sides. They stopped just outside Ross’s office door and the detective turned to face him. „I hope you’ll excuse Ben Jolley. He and Rob Winters have been friends for as long as I’ve been on the force. Ben was Rob’s support when his wife and boy disappeared seven years ago. Ben defended him then and is primed to do it again. Knowing it’s starting up again has most of the guys… touchy.“

Steven studied the detective’s face, his perfectly combed golden hair and wide blue eyes. He might have appeared boyish, perhaps even effeminate, but for the linebacker brawn in his shoulders and worry-worn lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. „And you? Are you touchy?“

One corner of the detective’s mouth lifted. „I think I’ll let you determine that fact yourself. I’m Detective Lambert, Jonathan Lambert. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you while you’re here.“ He turned and lightly rapped on Ross’s door, pushing it open in the same motion. „Toni, the SBI Agent’s here. Special Agent Thatcher, meet Lieutenant Ross.“ And with a nod he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Steven watching his back with a frown.

„Special Agent Thatcher?“

Steven jerked his attention back to the woman standing before him. So this was Lieutenant Antoinette Ross. He’d gotten an earful from Lennie’s counterpart in the Asheville field office, all of it exemplary. Ross was a good cop, principled. Tough. Steven raised a brow. She didn’t look all that tough, although she did look fast, her lean body that of a runner. A glance to the far wall confirmed his impression. Ross followed his eyes and a fond smile bent her lips as she looked at the photo of a runner wearing a number on her chest. „I came in two hundred and sixty-second. It was always a dream of mine, to run the New York City Marathon.“

„It was always a dream of mine to finish one without a heart attack,“ Steven quipped and Ross chuckled and gently pushed her door closed.

„Have a seat, Special Agent Thatcher. Thank you for coming.“

Steven folded his body into a straight-backed chair as she lowered herself into her padded one. He slipped out the folder Lennie had provided from his briefcase. „I read the file. Not a whole lot of information.“

Ross frowned and pulled on a pair of glasses. She unlocked a drawer next to her knee and withdrew a gray envelope. „No, there’s not a whole lot here, either.“ She glanced at Steven, a mild frown scrunching her brows. „I have some photos and a few transcribed witness accounts. I know there was more.“

Steven tilted his head back, returning her frown. „You were on the case seven years ago?“

„No, but I remember hearing about it. I was working undercover at the time. Narcotics.“

So she was tough. „Not an attractive assignment even in a town the size of Asheville.“

Ross slipped the glasses from her face, set them on her desk and massaged the bridge of her nose. „No, no it wasn’t. At any rate, I wasn’t physically here in the precinct every day, so I don’t have a very detailed memory of what happened. But there was more.“

Steven settled in the hard chair, resting one ankle on the opposite knee, watching her all the while. „Why did you call in the SBI, Lieutenant Ross?“

Ross returned his gaze. Steadily. „I’ve always had a… gut feeling about Winters, Agent Thatcher. He… bothers me. I don’t know if it’s warranted or merely my very human reaction to the fact Winters disrespects me daily. I wrote him up for insubordination six months ago.“

„Can I ask why?“

Ross pushed herself to her feet. Turning, she fixed her gaze on the budding trees outside her window. „It wasn’t easy becoming a black woman lieutenant.“

„I guess not,“ Steven murmured, a little surprised to hear Ross express herself so candidly.

„Let’s just say Detective Winters called my methods for advancement as well as my commitment to the sanctity of my marriage vows into question.“

„Unwise,“ Steven remarked, paying close attention to the rigid line of her spine.

„To my face in front of my men,“ Ross said softly.

„Unwise and stupid.“

Ross turned from the window, her face set in a determined line. „He publicly challenged my authority. His reprimand was equally public. Everybody here knows that. I want justice for Mary Grace Winters and her son. If Winters has involvement, I want to know that, too. But I also want to be very sure this investigation is conducted in a way that maintains Winters’s civil rights and the credibility of this office. This assignment will not be pretty, Agent Thatcher.“

„I didn’t expect it would be, Lieutenant.“

„Many of my men will treat you with derision and disrespect.“

„Like Ben Jolley?“

A rueful smile bent one corner of her mouth. „You’ve met him, I take it.“

Steven rose to his feet, placed both hands on her very cluttered desk and leaned forward, directly meeting her troubled brown eyes. „I’m not here to win a popularity contest, Lieutenant. I’m here to get to the bottom of what happened to that woman and her child seven years ago.“ He let his eyes soften. „So let’s get this show on the road, shall we?“

Chicago

Tuesday, March 6

11:15 a.m.

Max hurried from class, as fast as he was able. He’d thought those young women would never leave. All giggles and coy smiles. But that’s the way they always were until they got a good look at the cane, until they watched him struggle to cross the room while leaning on the damn thing. He didn’t know why he’d remained sitting behind his desk, cane out of sight until the girls walked away. He supposed it was some kind of residual ego, one that still hoped he could make a sexy woman turn her head.