Diagnosis: Danger (10 page)

“No.” Abruptly, he handed the reports over to Louis. “Take these back to the squad room.” Stepping into the street, he held his hand up for the benefit of the cab in the distance. “I’m late.”

Louis stared at him, bewildered. “For?”

“I’m taking some personal time,” Mike told him. The cab pulled up practically at his feet. Mike opened the door. “Already cleared it with the captain.”

“I’m your partner,” Louis complained as Mike got into the taxi. It was a known fact that Louis hated being left out of anything. “You’re supposed to share.”

“I’ll bring back doughnuts. We’ll share that,” Mike promised, his words trailing after him through the open window. He gave the driver the address as the man pulled away from the curb.

Because of traffic, Mike missed the service. But he managed to make it to the cemetery before the priest arrived.

Paying off the driver, he got out of the cab and began to walk across the field. He could see a number of people gathered around the open grave site. stopped beside a headstone with an angel arched on it.

He’d wanted to be there for Natalya, but it looked like a lot of people had had the same thought. She didn’t really need him, he told himself. If he were smart, he’d just double back across the field and leave.

Looking at the faces of the five women around her, he figured they had to be Natalya’s family. Although there appeared to be six different shades of hair colors, the features were close enough to label them as sisters. All except for the shortest one. She had deep black, straight hair, worn short in a style that seemed to pop up every decade or so. It vaguely reminded him of a Dutch boy. The more rounded figure and somewhat older face told him that she was probably Natalya’s mother. Although the woman didn’t look all that much older than her daughters.

Mike was about to retreat from the cemetery when Natalya suddenly looked up. Their eyes met and held. He watched surprise, and then pleasure, wash over her face. Even at this distance, it managed to send chills down his spine.

Was she like that when she made love? Or was she so skilled at the art that nothing surprised her?

Whoa! Where did that come from?

He was standing in a cemetery, for God’s sake.
You weren’t supposed to have those kinds of thoughts in a cemetery.

He saw her say something to the woman beside her and suddenly they were all looking at him. All six women and the one lone man who stood among them.

Natalya’s father, he guessed.

The escape he’d meant to make slipped through his fingers. Detected, he had no recourse but to stay where he was as Natalya made her way to him.

She laced her arm through his the moment she joined him. “I didn’t expect you to come.”

“I thought maybe you needed someone.” He looked at the group she’d just left. “Not exactly an original thought I guess.”

“That’s just my family,” she told him needlessly. “They all knew Clancy. And liked him. He didn’t have to put on his act around them,” she added. “I knew he’d like seeing them come to his funeral.”

Mike looked at her for a long moment. What was it like to have that kind of faith? Much to his mother’s dismay, that sort of belief didn’t enter into his life. “You believe that.”

“With all my heart,” she said with feeling, then looked up at him, curious. “Why? Don’t you?”

“My mother says, if I’m not careful, I’ll wind up in hell.” His mouth curved slightly. “I’d be worried if I believed there was such a place.”

“I don’t know about hell, but I know there’s a heaven.”

Natalya sounded absolutely certain. He couldn’t help the amusement that came into his eyes. “You’ve got proof.”

“Yes.” Natalya tapped her heart. “In here. I’ve felt it. But you didn’t come here to talk theology—or lack thereof.”

“No,” he admitted. “I came for you.” He realized from her smile that he had said that out loud.

Belatedly he noticed that not only was she holding on to his arm, but she was leading him back to where her family was standing. The priest had arrived and he had taken his place at the head of the grave, his Bible opened to his selection.

The protest that might have come never surfaced. After all, he’d come to the funeral to give her moral support. He might as well take his place by her side—despite the fact that he was being scrutinized by seven sets of eyes. Even the priest sent a penetrating look his way before beginning to read.

In a soft cadence, the priest said the words that would accompany Natalya’s childhood friend to his final resting place. For her sake, Mike did his best to look as if he believed in what was being said.

T
he service was brief, simple. Just the way she knew that Clancy would have wanted it.

All the while, Natalya was very aware of the tall man standing beside her.

After the service, she quickly introduced Mike to her mother and sisters. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father slip the priest an envelope, a gratuity for his time. She silently blessed him. Her father was one in a million. Both her parents were.

But that didn’t mean she was going to allow her mother to have her chance at Mike.

Very subtly, she slipped her arm through his and began walking toward the parking lot. “Thank you
for coming,” she whispered. “You didn’t have to, but it was really very nice of you.”

He didn’t want her making a big deal out of it. For one thing, he’d wanted to see her again, however briefly. He just hadn’t realized that her whole family would be there.

Mike shrugged, passing off her words. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I’m having everyone over to the apartment for some sandwiches and coffee.” She stopped walking and looked up at him. His presence made the overcast day feel a little less dreary. “Nothing fancy. You’re welcome to come.”

He would have been tempted—if the word
everyone
wasn’t part of the invitation. And besides, he’d only signed out for a couple of hours. “Thanks, but I have to be getting back.”

“Of course.” She’d forgotten about that. The funeral had thrown everything off-kilter for her. She had another doctor covering for her today. She knew her sisters had done the same.

Natalya resumed walking, tucking her arm back through his. When they reached the parking lot, she was aware that her family was behind her, but their pace had been slower so they hadn’t caught up yet.

“Did you find out anything when you talked to Tolliver? I know you’re not supposed to talk about an ongoing investigation, but…” She let her voice trail off. And then she lifted her head, raising her eyes to his.

The hope he saw there was hard to miss. He found himself getting imprisoned in the green orbs without hope of parole.

She wasn’t going to like this, he thought. He hadn’t mentioned it to her because he knew it would make her angry. But maybe she deserved to know. “Tolliver told me that he was getting ready to fire Clancy.”

This was a surprise. There’d been no love lost between the two, but Clancy had been a good worker, had taken pride in doing the best job possible no matter what it was. “Fire him? Why?”

“Tolliver said it was because of improper behavior on Clancy’s part.”

Clancy had known better than to hit on anyone he worked with. Not everyone was as tolerant of his ways as she was.

“With who?” she wanted to know.

He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to tell her, to shatter whatever image she had of her friend. But he couldn’t not tell her at this point. “Some of the bodies he prepared for embalming.”

Her eyes widened in horror. Outrage was swift and immediate. The bastard, spreading stories about Clancy now, when he couldn’t stand up for himself.

“Necrophilia? Clancy wasn’t like that.” Indignation vibrated in her voice. “He liked partners who were breathing. What a disgusting thing for Tolliver to say. He’s throwing up a smoke screen,” she insisted. “To hide whatever it is that he’s up to.”

Mike had his doubts about that. “Natalya, are you sure that Clancy maybe—”

Her eyes narrowed, drawing her eyebrows together. “Don’t even finish it,” she warned. “Tolliver’s lying. I would stake my life on it. And if he’s lying about this, then he’s probably lying about other things.” It only made sense to her. “Clancy said he was on to something—” she reminded him.

Mike nodded. “Yes, I know.” And he had pulled every string on that he could. “But there wasn’t anything underhanded about the books. Every charge, every body was accounted for.”

She refused to give up. “Then it’s something else.” She tried to think, desperate to pull a rabbit out of a hat. And then it suddenly hit her. “Maybe Tolliver’s selling body parts. Maybe—”

Mike looked at her sharply, his head snapping up. “What did you say?”

“Maybe he’s selling body parts,” she repeated. Having caught his interest, her mind raced to find embellishments. “Like the urban legends. You know, people getting killed so that body parts could be harvested. Body parts for dying, rich people who would be willing to pay any price for a kidney or a new heart or a lung—” She realized she was getting carried away. She didn’t want him to think that he was talking to a lunatic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to babble.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it babbling.” His expres
sion was thoughtful. “Besides, maybe you are on to something.”

“I am?” She could see he wasn’t just humoring her. “What do you know?” she asked eagerly.

But he had already said too much. He straddled his motorcycle. “I’ve really got to go.” And he did. He needed some time to think. There were pieces he needed to find and match up.

He was about to start his motorcycle, but he had hesitated a bit too long. Apparently thinking she’d stood on the sidelines too long, Natalya’s mother finally made her way over to them.

She smiled broadly at Mike. It was one of the kindest smiles he had ever seen. “Natalya, maybe your young man, he would like to be coming with us? Have something to eat?” The woman looked at him with hazel eyes that seemed to draw him in.

He saw where Natalya got it from. The woman must have been something else when she was younger. The beauty, a little faded, was still there, like a lingering melody of an old popular song that could still stir feelings when played.

“That’s a tempting offer, Mrs. Pulaski,” he told her, “but I have to get back to work.”

Magda was not deterred. “Perhaps I could call your boss—”

Natalya cut in, knowing that the longer Mike hesitated, the tighter her mother’s web was spun. “She
would, too.” She tapped the motorcycle handle. “Quick, make your getaway before it’s too late.”

“Natalya.” Magda pursed her lips. “Is this a way to talking about your mother?”

Natalya spread her hands wide. “If the shoe fits…”

Her mother looked down at her footwear, confusion gracing her brows. “My shoes fit.”

Natalya laughed for the first time that day. “Never mind, Mama.” Nodding at Mike, she slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

“Right.” With a pending sense of urgency, he started up his motorcycle. He saw Natalya’s mother eyeing his bike with interest and approval as the rest of the family came to join her. Time to go, he thought.

“We have a wedding,” Magda called after him, raising her voice. “Would you like to come?”

He turned just before leaving the lot. “Already said yes.”

Magda clapped her hands together. “Wonderful.” She looked at Natalya meaningfully.

Natalya rolled her eyes. “I’d like to go home and die now, Mama.”

Her mother shook her head, frowning. “Such a thing to saying. When you have everything to live for.” They began to walk to their own vehicle. “What did you say his name was?”

Her father, bless him, came to her rescue. Or tried to. “Magda, leave the girl alone.”

Magda shrugged away her husband’s request. “If she had wanted to be left alone, she should have been born an orphan.”

The funny thing was, Natalya thought as she opened the rear passenger door of her father’s car, her mother actually believed that.

Sasha looked at her reflection in the mirror. Daylight came through a small, stained-glass window, pushing its way into the room. She pressed her hand against the delicate lace that lay against her empty, knotted stomach.

Makeup or not, she looked pale, she thought. Pale enough to pass for Snow White. Snow White about to have a nervous breakdown.

The vestibule within St. Joseph’s Church was crowded with her sisters, wearing pale blue, floor-length bridesmaid dresses, and her mother, who was stunning in a sapphire blue gown. It seemed to Sasha as if they were all talking at once, their voices dissolving into a sea of chatter. She couldn’t make out a single word.

Her head was spinning.

Magda came up behind her, giving her arm a squeeze. Their eyes met in the mirror. There was concern on her mother’s face.

That made two of them, Sasha thought. Was this a mistake? Would all her happiness dissolve the moment she said “I do”? She loved Tony, but she just
didn’t know if this was the right thing. She didn’t want to love just to lose. Not again.

Sasha blew out a breath, still pressing against her abdomen. “I don’t think I was this nervous even before I delivered my first baby.”

“Everyone is afraid,” Magda assured her. Her voice was kind, yet authoritative. “It is only normal.” She winked. “Remember, my darling, the first one hundred years are the hardest. After that—” she waved one hand grandly “—piece of bread.”

“Cake, Mama, I think you mean cake,” Natalya interjected as she threaded her way through her sisters to Sasha’s other side.

Magda’s small shoulders rose and fell carelessly. “Cake, bread, what is the difference? You can eating both.” And then she looked at Sasha, her heart swelling. She took her face between her hands. “You were his before he ever asked you to be.”

Sasha looked at her mother for a very long moment. And then she smiled. “You just want to have grandchildren.”

Magda inclined her head. “There is that, too.”

“Well, the priest is going to have a cow if we’re not all out there in a couple of minutes,” Natalya informed them after glancing at her watch. “He has another wedding in an hour.”

“Drive-through weddings have finally hit New York,” Tania quipped with a laugh.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Natalya urged, shooing her
mother and sisters out of the room. “Take your positions.” Only when the vestibule had cleared did she turn to Sasha to snare one last moment alone with her sister before she became Tony’s wife. “God, but you are beautiful. I’d hug you but I’d wind up crushing the lace on your bodice.”

Right now, human contact would be more than welcomed. “What’s a little crushed lace between sisters?” She put out her arms. “I need a hug.”

Natalya obliged, then stood back and looked at her older sister in wonder. “Sasha, you’re shaking.”

Sasha took another deep breath then let it out, trying to steady her pulse. “Maybe I need a shot of whiskey besides the hug.”

Natalya shook her head as she began to fuss with Sasha’s veil. “What you need, O lion, is to tap into your courage. You love him, he loves you. God and Mama—not necessarily in that order—just want to make it official, that’s all.” She stopped and looked at her sister. “Tony’s a good guy, Sash. He’ll make you happy.” And then she grinned. “And if he doesn’t, threaten him with Mama. That’ll put the fear of God into him.” Natalya suddenly paused, cocking her head as she listened. “They’re playing your song, kid.” She nodded toward the doorway. “Time to make an honest man out of Tony.”

But as they started to leave the room, Sasha stopped her for a second, placing her hand on her arm. “I love you, Nat.”

“Yeah, I know.” And then she looked down at the hand that was still on her arm. “I also know that if you don’t get yourself moving, you’re going to die of frostbite. God, your hands are cold. Let’s go and have Tony warm you up.”

Natalya hustled her sister out of the vestibule carefully holding up her train and veil. She wanted nothing getting in the way of her sister’s wedding.

The music, warm and sensual, wrapped itself around them. It was a song Mike vaguely recognized, although the words were missing. What mattered was that the song was slow and that he was holding Natalya in his arms.

He could feel her breathing. His gut tightened as her breasts softly rose and fell against his chest with each breath she took. It was hard to keep from squeezing her hand as he held it tucked against him.

“What?” Natalya asked. When he raised a silent eyebrow, questioning her query, she said, “You have a funny expression on your face.”

Had to be all the feelings scrambling inside of him. But he wasn’t about to admit anything just yet. This was too new and as far as he knew, it could fade away the next moment.

So he went with flattery, because that had always seen him in good stead. “I didn’t realize just how pretty you were until just now.” Which was the truth. Seeing her in the formfitting blue gown, flowers in
her hair, had hit him with both barrels. “I’d say that you are the prettiest one here.”

Her eyes held mischief in them, there was no other way to describe it. “You mean other than you?”

Her response was unexpected. She’d thrown him for a loop. “What?”

“Mama thinks you’re pretty,” she told him. She knew that wherever Magda was in the large ballroom, her mother was watching her. “Maybe a little too pretty.”

He wasn’t sure how to take the comment. Maybe where Natalya’s mother came from, that was a compliment. “Never had anyone’s mother say that before.”

Natalya’s smile began in her eyes. There was deep affection in her voice. “Mama’s kind of in a class by herself. Not to mention outspoken.”

Mike laughed as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I noticed.” He realized that Natalya made no protest as he tightened his hold around her waist, drawing her closer. “You know, I wasn’t really sure just what to expect, coming here.”

She knew all about the stereotypical image he was undoubtedly laboring under.

“This can’t be your first wedding, so I’m guessing this is your first Polish wedding.” Amusement filtered all through her. She’d long since stopped taking offense. Humor was a great defuser. “Were you looking for accordions?”

Actually, he had, but he knew to say so might be
insulting to her since it was so utterly stereotypical. Still, he didn’t want to actually lie, either. So he shrugged casually as the music continued to weave seductively around them. “Maybe not accordions, but at least a few polkas.”

“Wait, they’ll come.” Her father had insisted on it, saying it couldn’t be a real Polish wedding without at least one decent polka. He intended to dance it with Sasha. “And a tarantella, as well.” She saw a smattering of disbelief cross Mike’s face. “Tony’s Italian, remember?” Her parents deeply believed in honoring heritage as well as their adopted country. “New York City is just a huge melting pot, after all.”