Dying to Know (16 page)

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“All right, Bear,” she said. “From the top.”

“Damn, Cap, again?”

Her frown made the question moot. He began, “Been here a

couple times since yesterday and came back an hour ago. No an-

swer again. It’s been two days and no one’s been home so I

thought I’d better check. The office manager let me in. I found

this place like this—torn up. She was in the back room and I

called for backup. No signs of forced entry. Just all this.”

“All this” was a war zone. The hall closet door was open and

its contents strewn on the floor. Bookshelves were emptied onto

the living room floor. The contents from end table drawers were

littered everywhere. The kitchen was the same. Someone was

looking for something they wanted very, very bad.

“And you saw nothing al the times you came by?” Captain

Sutter knew the answer. It was obvious she’d gone through Bear’s

report before. “Think. Anything at all?”

“Nothing.”

“Think.”

“That’s it.” Bear waved his hand around the room. “You have

all I got from the neighborhood canvas. No one saw shit. Same as

always.”

“Yeah they did.” Spence strode past a uniformed deputy at the

front door waving his notepad. He was still writing, and when he

looked at Bear, he grinned. “You forget something?”

I hated that grin. It always came with an overdose of irrita-

tion.

“What?” Captain Sutter demanded. “Fast.”

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“Bear’s a real celebrity, Captain.” Spence flipped his notebook

closed. “Two of the neighbors saw him coming in and out—a

lot—over the past few weeks. At least three times in the last two

days. Earlier today, around three, he came back. Mrs. Shannon,

who lives across the parking lot, got a good look at him. She saw

him sitting in his car two nights ago, too. She was about to cal

911 when he left.”

“So?” Bear stepped toward Spence. “Just what the hell are you

saying, Spence? I already went over this.”

“You left out the part about visiting so much. Several times,

and not just yesterday and today.”

Bear reared up. “Go to hell—that was personal. She’s been out

of work and Angel asked me to check on her. I did. What of it?”

Captain Sutter turned to Angel. “How long was Carmen out

of work?”

“Two days,” she said. “I called her but she never returned my

calls. When she didn’t come to Tuck’s service, I asked Bear to

check.”

Spence cocked his head. “If you were so worried, why didn’t

you call the police?”

“I did. I called Bear.” Tears welled in Angel’s eyes.

“Sure, right, okay.” Captain Sutter threw a look at Spence that

said, ‘shut up.’ She nodded to Angel. “We have to check every-

thing. Too many incidents like this lately and they’re all centered on you.”

Angel flushed. “I know that. That’s why I asked Bear to check

on her. That’s why he was here.”

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“Sure, sure.” Spence sealed his fate. “Unless he already knew

she …”

“Bastard.” Bear’s powerful hand snatched Spence by the shirt,

and dragged him close. “I’m getting real tired of your bul shit,

Spence.”

“Enough,” Captain Sutter said, then waited until Bear shoved

Spence back two steps. “Spence, take Clemens and finish the can-

vass. Check for any security cameras in the neighborhood.” She

turned to Bear. “You need to explain the missing details.”

“I can. But later, okay, Cap?”

“My office.” She frowned as her cell phone buzzed. “Sutter.

Yeah, right. Good—no great … okay. Put a uniform on her door

and don’t let her out of sight.” She flipped her phone closed.

“Is that about her?” Angel asked. “Is she …”

“She’s awake—concussion and some broken ribs. She’s dehy-

drated from being tied up for two days. She’ll be okay but she’s

pretty shaken up and doesn’t remember anything.”

“Thank God.” Bear touched Angel’s shoulder. “She’s lucky.

Whoever did this must have been scared off before he could fin-

ish her.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Captain Sutter said. She threw a

chin toward a pile of china and books in the middle of the room.

“He had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted—kill her or

worse. He knocked her out and tied her up instead of outright

killing her. No, I think he came here for something else.”

Angel asked, “Do you think she saw him?”

“Fortunately no,” Captain Sutter answered, “or she’d be dead.

Unfortunate for us, though.”

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“Leaving her alive was a hell of a chance.” Bear walked to the

back patio doors and brushed the blinds open. “He had to be

sure she didn’t see him. Or, maybe I scared him away by banging

on the door. I’ve done that a half-dozen times in the past two

days.”

“I think he was here,” Sutter said, “waiting for her when she

got home.”

I leaned close and whispered to Angel.

“Oh my God, no,” Angel whispered as her face contorted. Her

words didn’t escape notice. All the eyes fell on her. “I mean, oh

my God, maybe she was taken from campus. That would make

sense, right? The night it rained?”

“Why do you say that?” Sutter asked. “That’s the same night

you were attacked.”

“I spoke with her that afternoon. That’s the last time I heard

from her.”

Bear glanced at her. When their eyes met, he cocked his head.

“Angela, are you okay? I know a lot has happened, but …”

“I’m fine. Real y.” She held up her hands and closed her eyes.

She did that when she was flustered and confused. “I’m just, you

know … never mind.”

Angel was in denial and I guess I didn’t blame her. As much

as we’d bonded in the rain that night, she was still unsure and

confused. Doc said I’d been gone two days since her attack. Dur-

ing my absence, someone tried to kill Carmen Delgado. I guess

now wasn’t the time to try and convince her I was truly back. As

hard as it was, I stayed quiet and listened.

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Bear waited while Angel composed herself, and when she

looked up at him with a forced smile, he said, “It does make

sense, Cap. The last time anyone saw her was at work that night,

late. Her car is out front here, and no one has seen her around.

I’ll have someone check the campus security tapes.”

“Run everything—and I mean everything.” Sutter regarded

Angel with a hint of doubt in her eyes before lifting her phone

again. “I’ll have the uniforms start tracing her movements all

week.” She nodded to Angel. “And we’ll start at the university.”

A uniformed deputy emerged from the rear of the apartment.

He handed Captain Sutter a large, clear plastic evidence bag. In-

side was a folded, tan bundle. “Here you go, Cap. Her raincoat all bagged and tagged. Might have some trace.”

I knew the coat on sight—it haunted me from my vision. Doc

was right all along. I hadn’t witnessed what I thought that night. I didn’t understand. I got it wrong—all wrong.

Angel closed her eyes. “Oh, no.”

“She was wearing this.” The deputy threw a thumb toward the

rear bedroom. “Paramedics cut it off to work on her. I bagged it

right away.”

“Thanks, Don.” Captain Sutter handed it back to him. “Get

this to the lab ASAP.”

“That’s my coat,” Angel whispered, the words catching in her

throat. “She sometimes uses it if she forgets hers. It’s always hanging in my office.”

“She was wearing your coat?” Bear asked. “From campus?”

Angel nodded.

147

All eyes fell on her again and she looked away. The same

question formed in everyone’s mind but no one dared ask it. No

one had to.

Was Carmen Delgado the real target or was Angel?

148

t went y-six

The drive home was solemn and silent. Angel looked out the

window and Bear focused on the road. I stayed quiet in the back

seat. Angel was distant, more than I’d seen in a very long time.

She was worried about Carmen, of course. When Bear dropped

her off at our front door and offered to make dinner, she just

shook her head and bolted from the car.

She didn’t even wave back to him.

Hercule was watching out my den’s bay window and that sig-

naled all was fine inside. No monsters roamed. No killers waited.

If Hercule was happy, all was safe.

The uniformed patrol sitting curbside helped, too.

As soon as the front door closed, Angel dropped to her knees

in the foyer and burst into tears. Her body quaked as the tension

and horror, kept well hidden at Carmen Delgado’s home, burst

out. Since my murder, she’s been shot at, attacked, and nearly ab-

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ducted, and now Carmen lay broken but alive in a hospital bed. It

was too much for her now.

Hercule moaned and leaned into her, offering his strong,

warm body as comfort. His head went over her shoulder and she

enveloped him in a tight, soothing hug. Her emotions drained

over him. He moaned and rubbed his head against her, lapping at

her face and erasing the sadness dampening it.

I cried, too. My tears were not fear or sorrow, but anger. So

much was swirling around her, so many dangers, and so few an-

swers. I was powerless to comfort her. I sat down on the stairs

facing her. There was nothing for me to do. Nothing to say. No

way to console her—no way for anything. I felt a nasty brew of

rage and sadness starting to boil over, and its scent was revenge.

I wanted to reach out and tell her I was right beside her but

feared making things worse. Her worries might explode out of

control if I lumped more onto them. Doubt—doubt about me—

might push her over the edge. Just now, I had no idea how close

she was to it.

Hercule looked over her shoulder at me. As always, he always

saw me, always heard me, and always knew my presence. His tail

swayed as his big, dark eyes captured mine. He blinked several

times and with each one, sadness ebbed out.

“Hercule, thank God for you. Take good care of her, boy. I

can’t.”

Woof.

Angel relaxed her embrace and Hercule lapped her face again.

It took a while, but final y her laugh signaled her weeping was

over. He ran into my den and retrieved his favorite ball. I’d

150

learned a long time ago that playing ball was not for the dogs, but for us. It was therapeutic. They just let us think it was for them.

“No, boy,” she said, rolling it back when he tossed it. “Not

now. We’ll play later.”

He picked up the ball again, this time turning to me where I

sat on the bottom stair. He was eye-to-eye with me as he gyrated.

His friendly eyes sent me a message that I just couldn’t receive.

“Herc, what on earth?” Angel sat on the hardwood and

scratched his ears. “What are you doing, boy? What is it?”

He never broke focus on me and let out a low, even moan.

Then he barked and flipped his ball onto the floor and rolled it to my feet. He looked at Angel, back to me, back to her, and moaned

again.

I touched the bal , feeling the wet, slimy rubber tingle on my

fingertips. Without thinking, I rolled it back to him. He caught it in his powerful mouth, flipped it back at me as he’d done so many

times, and I returned it. The game continued.

We played ball.

“Oh, my God.” Angel slid back across the floor and rose to

her feet, watching the ball traversing between us—three times,

four. “Tuck? Are you here? Tuck?”

Oh, crap, Doc was going to be pissed.

“Oh, Tuck.” A smile erupted on her face. “God, I miss you.”

Hercule picked up his ball and lay down. He tucked the bal

between his paws, mission accomplished, and let out another low

moan, pointing his nose at me.

“Babe, do you hear me?”

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She turned and retreated to the door, grabbed the doorknob,

and closed her eyes. Instead of running from the house, she

turned back to Hercule. “Damn you, Herc. You had me going

again.”

I went to her. When I touched her hand, the sparks singed us

both. Her eyes closed and her head drifted down against her

chest. “Please … That night, in the rain … did I imagine that?

Was it you? Did you rescue me? Am I insane?”

“Yes, it was me. Do you feel me? I’m right here—
try
.” I kissed her cheek.

She lurched back and choked in air. “Oh, God. Is it real? Are

you?”

Okay, so I’m thickheaded in life and in death. Doc Gilley

warned me about pushing things, and the last time got me a two-

day suspension. Nevertheless, a time out is a good place to rest,

too. So, I was fully charged and ready to rumble. What would

happen if I screwed things up again? Would it kill me?

I touched her cheek. “Angel, it’s me.” I took her in my arms—

moving in close. With every emotion, I willed myself into her.

Then, from mortal habit more than any spirit wish, I kissed her

on her lips. The familiar scents of bath oil and perfume sent a

shiver through me and for a second, the lingering taste of tears

wet my lips. Then, it happened—something I’d not felt before.

Something pul ed me, twisted my senses, and drew me out. An-

gel’s eyes closed. She was willing herself to me—me to her—crav-

ing the union that we’d shared for years and that now eluded us. I felt her thoughts; felt her strength inside. She was calling me—