Beneath the Cracks (19 page)

"Her toes, of all places.  Helen was
convinced that because of the way the victims were left posed, that
the guy suffered from some sort of weird fetish thing.  There
wasn't a natural hair or a fiber to be found on any of the
victims.  Believe me.  We looked.  Ten times. 
Each."

"And you thought it would be a foot
fetish?"  Johnny's hand crept a little higher on my thigh.

"I didn't have a specific one in mind, but
it made sense that there had to be something.  He wasn't
keeping their hair after he shaved it all off.  What cued me
in on the last body was her toes."

"Yeah," Maya snorted.  "Helen thought
she saw evidence of stubble on this poor shaven girl's toes. 
So she suggests that I swab the toes for saliva and skin cells that
weren't the victim's, and wouldn't you know it?  There it
was.  Hell, we found his DNA under her toenails.  Who
would've thought this guy would think to shave a woman's
toes?  Who knew women had hairy toes?"

"You're the medical doctor," I said. 
"You should know that just like the fingers, fine, nearly invisible
hairs aren't uncommon on toes.  If he hadn't shaved all their
body hair off, I wouldn't have noticed the slight irritation on the
toes."

"All their body hair?" Forsythe
shuddered.

"Head, arms, pits, pubes, legs and yes, even
their toes," Maya said.  "It was the weirdest thing I'd ever
seen.  Of course, the cops in Baltimore County didn't realize
the first vic had been shaved.  He put them all in wigs, you
see.  Always the same shoulder length, strawberry blonde
wigs.  Expensive too.  They had these suction things that
attached the hair to the scalp so the wig wouldn't fall off."

"That should've made him easier to track,"
Johnny said.

"You'd think.  We were stunned at how
many of the damn things were sold.  Apparently, they were made
of real human hair and could be dyed different colors in lieu of
buying the rainbow," I said.  "This guy bought a bunch of
different lighter shades and dyed them all strawberry blonde. 
It didn't look like one person ordered eight or ten of the same
color."

"Different names and addresses?" he
asked.

"It was a store, a physical address locally
that sold them," Maya said.  "He went in on behalf of some
charitable organization that leased wigs to women going through
chemotherapy."  She fell silent.

"Hey," I moved from Johnny's lap back to the
bed.  "Not all women lose their hair during chemo.  And
those who do, usually get the thickest, most luxurious mane when it
grows back."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. 
"I'm gonna be some sickly hag in a turban for three months before
my hair starts growing back."

Forsythe perched on the other side of the
bed and gathered her in his arms and let her weep.  "Come back
tomorrow," he said.  "She'll be fine.  She just needs a
good cry."

Chapter 16

Johnny waited until we were in the elevator
before he slipped one arm around my waist and tugged me close to
his side.  "Forsythe's right; she needs time, Helen. 
This was a horrible blow from out of nowhere."

"I shouldn't have let her think about that
case," I said.  "I should've seen where it was going, that
she'd start thinking about those poor bald girls on her autopsy
table and relate it to what she's facing."

He pressed his lips to the side of my
head.  "She's got a lot to process.  What you said was
true.  She won't know how she's going to handle chemotherapy
until it starts.  And when that happens, she's got you and Ken
and a heck of a lot of other people who care about her,
Helen.  She's not going to go through this alone."

Kind of like how he managed to worm his way
into everything and I no longer felt so alone.  Part of me
still wanted to protest.  The other part, tired and still a
little chilled and a lot hungry, was grateful for the
companionship.

"You're not thinking of dinner out, are
you?"

"Whatever you want."

"Chinese," I leaned into his side. 
"I'm so tired, I don't think I'm up for public dining
tonight.  Actually, I planned on going home and rehydrating in
the sauna after soaking in a boiling hot bubble bath for an
hour.  Tony and Crevan plan to check in later.  I hope
I'm still awake."

"Where'd you park?"

"Basement level.  You?"

"Around the corner down the street. 
How about if I walk you to the Expedition and you give me a ride to
the Crown Vic?"

"Sure."

He held the door open for me when we reached
my car, but swooped in for a quick kiss before I could climb
in. 

"I think," he said softly, "that you've
earned the night off, Doc.  How about if you go home and have
your hot bath and sauna, a nice glass of wine, some Chinese, and go
to bed?  I can stick around and talk to Tony and Crevan and
get the update for you."

"Oh."

"Or better yet, I'll call them on the way
home and tell them to let you rest tonight."

I shrugged.  "I guess."

Johnny grinned.  "Now I know you're
exhausted.  The day you're too spent to argue with me is one
for the history books."

We rode in silence out of the garage, around
the corner until his car came into sight.  Tentatively, I
stroked the back of his hand.  "Are you sure this is what you
want tonight?"

"I'm sure it's what you need.  There's
no crime in taking care of you, Helen.  I could see how tired
you were when you walked in Maya's room.  Her feelings at the
end seemed to zap whatever kept you going today right out of
you.  You should take the night off and recharge."

"But I…"

"You what?"  He lifted my hand to his
lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. 

"Nothing.  You're probably right. 
A quiet evening, an early bedtime, it's exactly what I need."

"Hey, you're not worried that I won't tell
you what if anything Tony and Crevan have to report, are you?"

"Of course not.  It's not like I won't
see them first thing in the morning anyway."

A curious expression flitted over his
face.  "True, but I'd tell you anyway."  Johnny leaned
over for another kiss.  "See you soon."

The odd sense of deflation, disappointment
even, lingered on the drive back to Beach Cliffs.  It
surprised me a bit how the idea of spending the evening alone
didn't sit well with me at all, when less than a week had passed
since my reluctance to have more than Maya in the sanctuary of my
home.

I stopped at the front gate and depressed
the remote clipped to the sun visor.  "Now what?" I
groaned.  Headlights followed me up the driveway.  I
drove to the garage before reality sunk in and I recognized the
car, had just dropped Orion off at it half an hour ago.

Melancholy transformed into fluttering in my
belly.  I opened the second of three doors on my garage and
waited for him to park before closing them.

Johnny rounded the car and swept me into his
arms.  "Hi."

"Hi."

"I have some good news."

"Oh?"

He nodded.  "Joe called me. 
Remember the other night when we talked about his connections in
Washington?"

I already knew what he was about to say, but
suddenly wanted to give him the pleasure of delivering the news
himself.  "Yeah…"

"I called him about this Seleeby prick
harassing you.  He was not pleased.  So, he called his
pal, who immediately got their mutual friend on the phone, and
wouldn't you know it, guess who left Darkwater Bay yesterday with
his tail between his legs?"

I was glad he told me.  It gave me the
chance to thank him for giving me a little peace of mind.  My
fingers danced down the front of his shirt.  "Thank you,
Johnny."

"Joe said the director was so pissed off,
Seleeby will be lucky if he's not following up on fertilizer sales
in North Dakota for the next five years.  It seems that there
were quite a few people in the bureau who were not happy about
losing you last spring."

Other than David, I couldn't think of a
single person who cared.

"More than David," he said.

Did I say that out loud?  "Johnny
–"

"It's all right, Helen.  I'm glad he
stood beside you through that mess with your ex-husband.  I'm
not sorry that you left the FBI or that George Hardy finally did
something right and wooed you out here, but I can't stand thinking
about you going through all of that alone."

I believed him, without suspicion, without
an ounce of doubt.  Johnny hooked his arm around my waist and
opened the door to the house. 

"Why don't you go undress while I draw you a
hot bath?"

"You don't have to do that."

He gripped my shoulders and steered me
toward the dressing room.  "I know, but I
want
to do
it.  It wouldn't kill you to be pampered for an evening. 
Who knows?  You might find that you like it."

I listened to the water running in the
bathtub and Johnny's deep baritone hum while I deposited my suit
into a bag for the dry cleaner and slipped into an enormous fluffy
micro-fiber robe.  The bathroom was empty when I stepped out
of the dressing room.  I was up to my chin in bubbles with the
whirlpool thrashing the knots out of my muscles when Johnny came
into the bathroom with a human-sized portion of red wine in a
glass.

In other words, it wasn't half a bottle
poured to the rim of the deepest wine glass I own.

He offered it to me and said, "Lean
forward."

My arms draped over knees, and Johnny
started scrubbing my back gently with the long handled loofa
brush. 

"Mmm…that feels nice."

"If you're really good, and by good I mean
do more than rearrange dinner and actually
eat
something, I
thought you might like a long relaxing massage later."

"That sounds fantastic."

"If you eat."

"I said I'm hungry.  Or did you gloss
over that part with all this plotting about how you planned to
pamper me all night?"

"Just making sure you didn't forget." 
The gentle circular motion of the brush slowed, dipped lower into
the water.  "I suppose I'll concede that I was a little more
focused on getting you here and talking you into a little TLC than
anything else."

I peeked over my shoulder. 
"Honestly?  I thought you were sending me home alone after we
left the hospital, Johnny."

His lips grazed the back of my neck. 
"And I told you that we'd get to a point where nothing could make
me leave you.  Remember?"

"The famed point of no return, eh?  You
sure got there fast."

Johnny's goatee tickled my shoulder and
elicited a shiver.  "I lied last night."

"Really."

"Uh-huh.  I was already there,
Doc.  I've been there all along, just praying that at some
point, you'd open your eyes and see it."

I fell silent, letting the reality of my
life and the inevitability of lies and misdeeds catching me no
matter where I ran erode the illusion of happiness that Johnny
wanted.  There was one thing that would make him leave
me.  My throat tightened.  No amount of lust or
loneliness or fear could justify letting Johnny go down this
path. 

His soapy fingers gripped my jaw and turned
my eyes upward.  "What's wrong, Helen?"

"I can't do this to you," I whispered. 
"You're one of the truly good guys, and…you deserve better. 
You deserve someone who can –"

"Shh.  I don't want someone else. 
Honey, do you think I'm stupid?"

"What?"

"Do you think I don't know what Seleeby was
really doing out here, why you really left the FBI?  I know,
Helen.  I know what they think you did."

"And…and what if they aren't wrong?"

His eyes bored into mine.  "You didn't
do it.  Just because you bailed on the marriage doesn't make
you responsible for what Sully Marcos did to him, Helen.  You
couldn't have stopped it if you tried.  It was Hamilton's
choice to climb into bed with crooks.  It was his choice to
lie to you."

"Johnny, you don't –"

"I do understand.  I know why you're so
guarded, and why you're afraid to let people get too close. 
I'm not afraid to love a woman who got duped by her mobster
husband.  I don't see that as your fault."

Would he see it in the same light if the
truth of my cold-blooded crime ever became exposed?  Would he
understand the kind of betrayal that ultimately pushed me over the
edge and turned me into a carbon copy of my father?  No, more
likely, he'd hate me for being just like Rick.  The irony was
that I never loved Rick, and there was little doubt left in my
heart that Johnny's feelings for me were genuine.

He pried the wine glass from my
fingers.  "I'll turn the sauna on and go order dinner. 
No wine in there, okay?"

I nodded.

"And after dinner, you can turn in
early."

Tears started dripping from my chin. 
The urge to talk to someone, to tell Johnny the truth burned inside
me.  It warred with the ever present fear of being caught, or
actually confessing the crime I committed.  I wanted to dredge
up every justification imagined by man, reasons to hold back, to
keep the lie alive.

In the end, there were only his eyes, and
the soft words that were about to tear the truth out of me whether
I wanted to tell it or not. 

"Hey," he murmured, "whatever it is, Helen,
you can tell me.  If you don't talk to someone, this is just
gonna keep eating you up inside."

Johnny slipped his hands under my arms and
lifted me out of the tub.  My fluffy robe wrapped around me,
followed by his arms.  "Talk to me.  You can tell me
anything.  It won't make me love you less."

"
Ha
!" the single sound barked from my
parted lips.  "That's what you think now, but it's not true,
Johnny.  You'd read me my rights and arrest me.  You'd
have no choice."