Beneath the Cracks (15 page)

My hands crept up the front of his
shirt.

"Then you do remember."

"Did you mean what you said?"

"About falling in love with you?"

I nodded.

"Enough to walk away if that's what you want
me to do."

My heart slammed into my ribs so hard it
hurt.  "You don't mean that.  You can't mean it. 
You barely know me –"

"Helen, I'm not going to beg you to believe
me.  Either you do, or you don't.  Maybe if you'd stop
pushing me away for five seconds you'd…no.  You don't want
this."

"So I'm supposed to believe that it was love
at first sight?"

The barest hint of a smile crept into the
corners of his mouth.  "And you don't believe in it?  No,
you wouldn't of course.  It's illogical."

"I don't, so explain to me how you managed
to fall so madly in love with a complete stranger."

This time, his face split in a grin. 
"I never said I was madly in love, Helen.  I said I was
falling in love.  And I only offered that first sight nonsense
because you're so damned stubborn that you can't see the
truth."

My arms folded over my chest.  "And
what truth is that?"

"The one that has shown me little bits of
who you are every time you talk to me, that it's possible for a man
to be physically attracted to a woman before he realizes how
fascinating what's in here is," Johnny tapped one finger to my
temple.  "And maybe when he finally gets that even rarer
glimpse behind the impenetrable wall, he knows this is more than
anything he's ever felt before.  But you're not ready to hear
the truth.  So, I'm glad you're feeling better now.  I'll
let myself out."

One word fell from my lips before he was
half a step away from me.  "Please."

Johnny turned around.  "Please what,
Helen?"

I licked my lips.  "I…I want you to
stay with me, Johnny."

The urgency in his other kisses melted into
something completely tender, yet more possessive than anything
Johnny had said or done in the past.  Without breaking the
kiss, one arm slipped under my knees and lifted me to his
chest.  Johnny carried me back to the bed and stretched out
above me. 

"You sure?"

I nodded.

"Because I won't be able to stop if you
change your mind, Helen.  We'll get to a point where nothing
could make me leave you.  I'm not talking about sex.  You
get that, right?"

"I get it, but you can't possibly know
–"

One tapered finger pressed to my lips. 
"I know."  The intensity in Johnny's eyes convinced me that he
believed it, whether I did or not.  "Funny," he murmured, "but
my dad always told me that it would be like this someday, when I
met the woman who was like Mom was for him."

"Are you trying to scare me into changing my
mind?  Because I'm never getting married again, Orion. 
I'm not shackin' up.  I'm not."

"I meant someone who made everything and
everyone else fade into the background.  I haven't noticed
another woman since I met you."

"This will dull my allure, I'm sure."

Johnny tugged the tank top over my
head.  One finger traced a light line from the hollow of my
throat down to my navel.  "Not a chance, Helen."

When his body sank down over mine, I felt
exactly what he meant and wondered how a few short hours would ever
be long enough to gorge on the delicious sensations promised only
in another kiss.

My disguise and all the tools required to
achieve it were packed in the bag I carried into Downey Division at
seven sharp that morning.  Briscoe and Conall were already at
their desks when I hit the squad room.  The early morning
hours with Johnny left me feeling mellow, a deep happiness and
contentment lingering.  I'd never felt this way before in my
life.

"Yo, Eriksson," Briscoe waved me over to
their desks.  "Lou wants a word with you before we delve too
deep into this undercover job.  I think she's worried about
liability issues and the dreaded admissibility thing."

"Right.  Which way to her office?"

He pointed at a closed door.  "She knew
you'd be here at seven."

"Dr. Eriksson," she greeted me. 
"Please come in."

"Only if you call me Helen.  Tony says
you've got some concerns."

"I wouldn't say concern is the right
word.  It's not unusual for the department to utilize someone
with your expertise in forensic psychology to consult on our cases,
Helen, but putting you out on the street?"

"What do I need to sign?"  Had a few
hours with Johnny made me this willing to commit to police work
again?  Part of me resisted the notion completely, namely, my
murderous urge.  It whispered,
this isn’t part of the
plan.

She smiled, and not in a warm way. 
"I'd prefer that we formalize things beyond this case, Helen. 
I know that Tony and Crevan told you of my interest in using you in
an official capacity several months ago.  I'd be a fool not to
try to weasel some kind of more permanent arrangement out of you
now."

"I'm not interested in a permanent
position."

"And I can't let a civilian perform
undercover work.  I can't let you ride along with Tony and
Crevan while they investigate.  I can't let you talk to
suspects.  All I can let you do is see the evidence and the
notes my detectives have and formulate a profile based on that
information.  It was already a serious mistake for Tony and
Crevan to take you with them to Detective Cox's house Sunday."

"I see.  I'm sorry it's come to this,
Lieutenant Finkelstein."

"Shelly.  I insist."

The plan thrummed through my veins. 
Don’t get sucked in.  This isn’t my problem. 
"I
won't be manipulated into a contract with the Darkwater Bay police
department.  Am I particularly invested in seeing the man who
killed a police officer and at least five other men brought to
justice?  Naturally, I am.  But I'm also not willing to
make a commitment to this department in order to see justice
served.  I've seen Briscoe and Conall in action.  They'll
close this case with or without my help."  I started to
rise.  My recently tenderized heart wanted to grab whatever
she offered and sign, sign, sign.

"You wouldn't be in the regular
rotation.  Essentially, you'd have your pick of
investigations, Helen.  It wouldn't be full time by any
stretch of the imagination.  I'm only asking for a year."

"A year.  From now, or from when I got
to Darkwater Bay?"

"That's only eight months away."

I shrugged.  "Do you want my help or
not?"

"I'd want it in writing that should you
decide to stay longer than eight months, that you give me four
weeks notice before vacating the position."

"That's reasonable.  However, if I'm
done at the end of the contract, you won't try to
weasel
another commitment out of me."  I paused, "and it's going to
be left to my discretion if other divisions in the city need my
help, that I'm available to help them."

"I'll have the contract drawn up for your
review by the end of the day."

"We're really postponing this investigation
while you have a contract drawn up?"

Shelly grinned and slid a sheet of paper
across the desk.  "This is an intent to sign.  It lets me
give you a gun and a badge and put you on our insurance.  If
you're out on the street, we need to know we're not getting sued
for medical if something should happen to you."

I scratched my signature on the designated
line.  "We will close this case, Shelly.  Not just for
the cop, but for the homeless men too.  Nobody deserves to die
and be discarded like garbage."

The irony of my words pitted against my
actions stung what remained of my conscience.  I pushed the
guilt deep down in my belly where it festered with a lifetime of
lies.

"If I had one speck of doubt, I wouldn't be
offering a contract," Shelly said.  "Have the guys keep me
posted about what you learn today.  Good luck out there,
Detective Eriksson."

Briscoe and Conall were absorbed in
something so deeply that they didn't notice my departure from
Shelly's office.  I slipped away to change clothes, my newest
incarnation of badge clipped to my waist.  I stopped at the
sergeant's desk and asked where I could get a holster for the
weapon.

Half an hour later, I was back in the
detective's squad room fully in character.  The new disguise
had garnered more than a few stares, and had I not kept the badge
in plain sight, I know I would've been detained and questioned
about what I was doing wandering around the guts of Downey's police
division.

The jeans were spattered with paint,
tattered with holes at the knees and frayed strings that dragged
around my ancient tennis shoes.  Instead of wearing a belt, I
used an old trick I'd seen nurses employ on psych units where belts
weren't allowed (safety issue for patients who might be
suicidal).  I had taken a short length of silk tape and made a
disposable belt, long enough to cinch the waist between two belt
loops.  It looked ridiculous, but sufficiently poor and also
lent the notion that the owner of these jeans had either dropped a
significant amount of weight or was too poor to buy jeans that
actually fit.

A threadbare flannel shirt covered the long
sleeve cable knit sweater that had seen better days, evidenced by
yarn I’d strategically unraveled in places, one that let a bony
prominence of my collar bone peek through the dark wool. 

My hair was pulled back with a plain rubber
band, with plenty of teased strands framing my still quite
hung-over face.  I found an old bottle of gray hair paint with
the Halloween costumes rescued from the attic in D.C., and
appropriated its use in the bathroom before teasing knots into the
now gray-streaked hair.

The trick with the eyeliner accented the
tired and gaunt appearance under the eyes.  I was pretty sure
I understood another meaning for Dad's
hard liquor makes for
hard women
comment.  My skin seemed five years older, dry
and leathery after the woeful binge the night before.  The
resulting dehydration gave my usually puffy lips a decidedly
wrinkled, chaffed appearance.

Briscoe and I had lifted an older picture of
Cox from his home.  I had folded it carefully to add wear and
age.  It was stuffed into the breast pocket of the flannel
shirt.  Before I went strolling the streets of Downey, I'd put
the badge and gun away, but for now, keeping them in plain sight
helped identify me as merely a pretender to the homeless
population.

When I marched into the squad room, all eyes
followed, especially those of Conall, Briscoe and the new member of
the party, Johnny Orion.

Chapter 13

While Crevan and Tony marveled over an even
more dramatic transformation than they'd seen Sunday at my house,
Johnny focused on two things alone: the badge and the gun-filled
holster hanging over my shoulder.

"Shelly gave you a gun and a badge?"

"We'll talk about it later, Johnny."

"Like hell we will.  What's going
on?  Is this another temporary thing like the one at
central?"

I couldn't figure out why he sounded so
pissed off until Shelly Finkelstein joined the pack.  Her coup
was written smugly all over her face.  "I told you I'd sign
her first, Orion."

"The hell you will."

"It's a done deal.  For the next eight
months, Helen belongs to Downey."

His eyes impaled me with a
how could
you
expression.  How was I supposed to know that wasn't
what I was supposed to do?  "I feel like I'm missing a punch
line here."

Briscoe leaned close and murmured, "I think
they been fightin' over who would get you to commit first,
Darkwater and one of her many divisions, or OSI."

"Is that a fact?"

Orion stepped backward and kept
moving.  "This is not what you think, Doc.  One had
absolutely nothing to do with the other."

"Right.  Just business, eh, Orion?"

"Helen, we can talk about this later –"

"Oh, but you just said we would talk about
it now.  I'm thinking that now sounds like a much better
plan."  My hand curled into a fist and slugged with a sharp
jab to his chest.  "You son of a bitch.  Is that why you
thought you'd win your little bet with Finkelstein?  That's
all this has ever been about, isn't it?  OSI, your special
little police force, and getting another feather in the cap of the
governor."

He grabbed my fist before it could connect
again.  "Careful there," he murmured.  "You're assaulting
the state's highest law enforcement officer in front of
witnesses."

"You slept with me," I hissed, "and you did
it so you could manipulate me into becoming your
employee
!  That's the lowest, most despicable –"

"I would rather love you than be your boss,"
his voice dipped so low, I could barely hear it.  "Would I
rather work side by side with you on every case?  Hell yes I
would, but it would've complicated everything else.  After
this morning, it was a complication I wasn't sure I could
endure."

Doubt leeched through me, out every pore in
my body.

Orion's thumb caressed my lower lip. 
"You don't look homeless this morning.  You look like a woman
who made love for hours."

"Why are you here?"  I twisted my arms
into a defensive posture over my chest and resisted the call to
melt into his arms.  "You promised you'd stay out of this
investigation, Johnny.  Or was that a lie too?"

"You didn't have time for breakfast."

I rolled my eyes, still a little painful
from their occupation of Hangover Land.  "So much for how well
you know me.  I never eat breakfast."