Fall Into Me (22 page)

Angel could only imagine. She smothered her snippy retort and tightened her hold on her arms. She’d come to do this and she was just going to do it. “I’m pregnant.”

Jim scowled and threw out his hands. “So?”

Anger dazzled through her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean, ‘so’? So you might be the father.”

A rude snort exploded from Jim. “More likely it’s that boy from the sheriff’s department you’re fucking around with.”

She dug her nails into her own skin. She was not going to go white-trash-crazy-ex-girlfriend on his ass, no matter how badly she wanted to or how badly he deserved it. Instead, she settled for a too-sweet smile. “Hardly, since I was already pregnant before I ever slept with him.”

“Well, you said
might
.” He spit into the neat mulch surrounding the oak tree. “Goddamn, Angel, how many of us
might
there be?”

At the insult, she straightened her shoulders. “Just one other, and to tell you the truth, Jim, I hope to God it’s his.”

“Yeah, I’m not that lucky.” Hands propped at his hips, he glared at her. “So it’s not too late for an abortion, right?”

The air whooshed from her lungs and she tried to quell the crushing pain and fury his callous comment brought. Okay, even she’d thought that at the beginning and she was seriously complicating his life, but overlaid with his hard reaction was the memory of Troy Lee leaning down to whisper a kiss and words of love and acceptance over an unborn child that wasn’t his.

“I mean, that’s what this is about, right?” Jim’s jaw tightened, taking on a pugnacious angle. “You want money for an abortion?”

She stared, sure her mouth was hanging open. He thought she wanted…? She laughed, although it was an ugly, derogatory sound even to her. “I don’t need your damn money, Jim Tyre. Hell, the club brings in more on a good Saturday night than you make in a month—”

“Lord, you’re a bitch.” Anger flushed his face, his nostrils flaring. Yeah, it was a good thing she’d chosen to tell him here. Somewhere private and she might have ended up like one of those poor girls her mama was always talking about from the Nancy Grace show, the pregnant ones whose former lovers murdered them and tossed the bodies. “Then what the fuck do you want from me, Angel?”

What had she ever seen in this selfish bastard? Maybe it was what she’d hadn’t seen, all the pettiness and the innate self-centeredness that she hadn’t really perceived for what they were, until Troy Lee and his open, giving presence in her life.

She shook her head. “I don’t want anything from you, Jim. I just…I wanted to do the decent thing and tell you.”

“Decent.” He looked away, his shoulders shaking on a silent, repulsive laugh. “Like you even know what that word means—”

“Stop.” She shoved the word out from between clenched teeth. “I did what I came to do. You know, and that’s it. You’ve made it really plain you want nothing to do with this baby if it’s yours, and that’s fine with me.”

“Yeah, you say that now, but when it’s here, you’ll be asking for child support, just wait and see.”

“Sign off on your parental rights when it’s born and I won’t ask you for a dime.”

“Get me the papers and it’s done.”

Would it really be that easy to have him out of her life, out of the baby’s? She wasn’t going to push the point further today for sure. “I’ll talk to a lawyer, see what we have to do.”

“You do that.” With a hard nod, he turned away. After a couple of steps, he spun to face her. “You listen to me, Angel, and listen good—as far as Rhonda and I are concerned, this baby doesn’t exist. Hell, Rhonda doesn’t even need to know. You got that?”

“Yeah, Jim, I get it.” She waited for him to walk inside and slowly uncurled her aching fingers from around her arms, surprised to find her hands shaking and red spots of blood under her nails. She expelled a trembling giggle that was closer to a sob.

Lord help her, she still had to tell Cookie.

“Here you go. That’ll be one-thirty-six.” Shanna leaned on the diner counter while Mark pulled a couple of ones from his wallet and scrounged for a penny. A speculative light glinted in her startlingly blue eyes. “So I hear Tori got a ring for Christmas.”

He handed over the money. “Um, yeah.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when you’d get married.” Shaking her head, Shanna opened the till and made change. He waved it back at her and she slid it into her apron pocket. A grimace twisted her mouth. “Of course, I never thought Tick would either.”

He reached for his coffee with a noncommittal sound. Shanna had been Tick’s current trying-to-forget when Falconetti had come back into his life, and Mark wasn’t touching that comment. He lifted the large cup in a farewell gesture. “Thanks, Shanna.”

At the door, he picked up a copy of the local complimentary real estate magazine. Tori was hell-bent they were going to live on the lake after they were married, and since she had him wrapped around her finger alongside her brothers, he might as well start looking. Scanning the listings on the glossy back cover, he nudged the door open with his elbow and took a cautious sip of the strong, freshly brewed coffee. God, he needed the caffeine jolt today. Since the confirmation of Jenny’s death, sleep had been hit-or-miss, and he was feeling the miss bad this afternoon.

Huh. This one possessed potential. Three bedrooms and a study, a hundred feet of lake frontage, dock already in place…

“Cookie?”

He startled at Angel’s hushed voice, coffee sloshing dangerously. He held the cup aloft, steadying it. “Hey. Troy Lee’s not with me if you’re—”

“No, I was looking for you.” She darted a look around, the street and sidewalk quiet and nearly deserted on this Saturday after Christmas, her bright yellow Mustang the only vehicle parked on this block, other than a couple of county employee vehicles. “Have you got a minute?”

“Sure.” His instincts pricked up. Something was off—she was pale, looking everywhere but at him, rubbing her palms over her elbows in a nervous, repetitive gesture. If her red-rimmed eyes were anything to go by, she’d been crying. “What’s up?”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip and shook her head. Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes.

Oh, hell. He did a quick visual survey of her, looking for anything to explain her distress. Other than her tears and overall shakiness, she looked like the same Angel he’d always known—turquoise boots, a brown print dress, silver hoop earrings. The only thing missing was her customary denim jacket, and she had to be cold, with her arms bare like that—

Little red bruises, fresh ones, dotted her arms, the skin broken in a couple of places. Like someone had grabbed her, hard. Scenarios flipped through his brain, none of them pretty.

“Angel? What happened?” He set his coffee on the windowsill of the vacant building next to the diner and reached for her arm with a gentle hand, turning her slightly to give him a better look at the marks. Son of a bitch… “Did someone hurt you?”

She burst into tears.
Shit
. He caught her chin as gingerly as he could and tilted her gaze up to his. “Angel, I need you tell me what happened. I can understand if you don’t want Troy Lee, but if it will make it easier for you to talk to me, I can call Tori—”

“No!” She tugged her arm free and covered her eyes in an obvious attempt to get herself together. A spurt of hysterical laughter burst from her lips. “God, no.”

“Okay, but you have to—”

“I’m pregnant.” She dropped her hand and met his gaze, a hint of defiance in hers. He stared back at her, his lungs refusing to work at all. Everything rolled a degree or so off kilter, but the weekend activity of Coney continued around them—a semi loaded with chickens rumbling through the intersection, a pair of women walking laps around the First Baptist parking lot, even a couple of birds chirping in the big oaks behind the sheriff’s department.

His chest tightened further, until he thought for sure he’d suffocate. Hell, he remembered this feeling from the day Jenny disappeared, when the realization that she was really missing, that she wasn’t coming home, slammed into him with the deadly devastation of a speeding freight train.

He’d felt like this the day Tori had told him they were over too, when he’d believed he’d lost everything pure and good and wonderful that had come into his life.

“What?” Eyes narrowed to slits glittering with unshed tears, Angel glared at him. “You don’t want to ask me if I’m looking for money for an abortion?”

His lungs uncramped long enough to let him pull in a modicum of oxygen. His gaze dropped to her arms, folded tight, her fingers digging into the skin above her elbows. She looked even more off-balance than he felt.

He dragged a hand over his nape. “Is that what Jim did?”

“Yeah, and I’m a selfish bitch, out to ruin his life.” Something bitter and ugly, like hatred, dripped from her voice. “Like I asked for this.”

“Did he do this?” He indicated the marks on her arm.

“No.” She shook her head, her expression set in tense, dejected lines. “I did.”

“Angel, I—” He rubbed his mouth. A sigh worked its way up from his aching chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, there’s another difference between you and Jim.”

He darted a look at her. “I’m sorry he gave you a hard time.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Hell, neither was he. His knees wobbled, wanting to give out on him.
Shit
, what was he supposed to do with this?

What was Tori going to do with this?

The question sent fear crashing through him. She was already insecure where his involvement with Angel was concerned, and even though she’d shocked the hell out of him by bringing Angel to sit at their table the night before, he didn’t have a clue how she’d react to this.

“I don’t expect anything from you.” Angel spoke in a low, intense voice, hurrying the words out as if she wanted this over and done, wanted to crawl away and hide to nurse invisible wounds. “But I had to tell you. I need to tell my parents and I didn’t want it to get back to you through the gossip grapevine.”

He nodded, his brain having a hard time sifting through the input. A thought reverberated through his head, offering another explanation for her tears. “Does Troy Lee know?”

“Yes.” The first hint of real calm flickered in her eyes. “He’s known, almost from the beginning. I don’t want you to be angry with him. It wasn’t his place to tell you—”

He waved her to a stop. “I’m not angry with him. I’m just…hell.” A rough laugh scraped his throat and he rubbed at his mouth. “My brain doesn’t want to work.”

“I’m sorry, Cookie.” Absolute misery coated her words.

“Don’t be.” He attempted a smile, but was pretty sure it came off more like a grimace. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I don’t want her to be someone’s problem, Cookie. It’s not fair to make that her life.” A hard swallow flexed the muscles in her throat. “I understand if you’re not interested in being involved.”

“Her?”

One corner of her mouth lifted and she gave a half-hearted shrug. “Troy Lee thinks it’s a girl.”

Even with the surreal quality of the conversation, the reality of the situation was settling in around him, on him, heavily. “Angel, I need some time to get this straight in my head. Can you give me that?”

“Sure.” She tilted her chin toward her car. “I promised my mama I’d come by today and I need to get myself together before I do, so I’m going.”

“Yeah.” He tried to shake himself out of the walking-through-gelatin sensation. It didn’t work. “Drive carefully.”

“I will.”

He closed his eyes. Her boots thumped on the sidewalk then stopped. “Cookie?”

His lids felt too heavy to lift, but somehow he managed. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He frowned. “For what?”

Sadness glimmered in her eyes for a split second. “For being you.”

With that cryptic statement, she spun and strode to her car. The engine fired and she pulled out, soon disappearing down Durham Street.

God. Mark pressed the heels of both hands into his eyes. What was he supposed to do now?

The familiar landscape of Long Lonesome Road flashed by and he braked for the next drive on the left. An ironic laugh scoured his throat. Like he’d find any answers here, of all places.

Regardless, he turned down the long gravel drive. Tick’s truck was absent, but Mark pulled to a stop behind Falconetti’s Volvo. The quiet murmur of the river beyond the tree line greeted him when he stepped from the vehicle. Some of the comfortable calm surrounding the home settled into him.

He rapped a quiet knock at the back door and waited. Moments later, Falconetti appeared, warm welcome blooming on her face. “Hey, Cookie.”

“Hey.” She stepped back to let him enter and he rubbed at his jaw, trying to pull himself together. He glanced around the living area. “Where’s the rugrat?”

“Asleep. It took me half an hour to get him settled.” She pointed at the bassinet next to the leather chair. “Please don’t wake him up.”

An unwilling smile pulled at his mouth. How Tick, of all people, had fathered an infant with a temperament like unstable nitroglycerin was really beyond him.

“Do you want something? Coffee?” She pulled a couple of mugs from an overhead cabinet, movements colored by her easy elegance.

“Sounds good.” He’d never finished the cup he’d gotten from the diner. Hell, he didn’t even think it had made it into the car with him. He couldn’t remember. He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and surveyed the array of photos lining the living room wall. His gaze fell on a snapshot of Tori and Tick sitting on the dock at their mother’s home. Her eyes sparkled with good humor, the impish smile he adored curving her pretty mouth. His chest seized up all over again.

“Here you go.” Caitlin presented him with a painted mug full to the brim with steaming black coffee. She gestured with her own cup of milk. “Would you prefer to sit in the living room or at the dining table while you spill your guts?”

He darted a glance at her, the cup halted halfway to his lips. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please.” She pinned him with her Fed look, not softened at all by her casual appearance—jeans, thin T-shirt, hair piled in a haphazard knot. “You’re not here looking for Tick. So you just stopped by in the middle of a shift to admire Lee? I don’t think so. I’ve interviewed death-row inmates hours before execution who looked less haggard and shell-shocked than you do right now. Something is wrong and you’re looking for someone you can trust.”

He released a shuddery exhale. “I hate when you do that.”

“So I’ve heard.” She tilted her head toward the table. “So sit and spill it.”

With one last glimpse at Tori’s image, he obeyed. He wrapped his hands around the mug, hoping the warmth from the pottery would transfer to his chilled spirit. It didn’t. Caitlin didn’t speak, the silence around them broken only by the slight whistle of the wind whipping under the eaves and Lee’s occasional snuffle.

He sipped. The hot liquid didn’t soothe his too-tight throat, either. He chafed his thumbs around the rim. “I just had a conversation with Angel Henderson.”

“Should I know her?”

“She owns the Cue Club.”

“The cute blonde with the turquoise boots.”

“That’s the one.” He felt Caitlin’s steady gaze on his face but didn’t look up. Instead, he bracketed his mug with both hands and studied the pattern of veins and lines and scars on their backs. “I’ve known her a long time, since she bought the bar. When I was at DCPD, the guys and I would hang out there on our nights off, play pool, watch the game, that kind of thing. Angel and I…we flirted. She was engaged, I wasn’t interested, it didn’t mean anything, you know? It was just some stupid thing we always did.”

He lapsed into silence. Caitlin didn’t prod him, but sat patiently, sipping her milk. From the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of sunlight over Tick’s rings on her hand. He cleared his throat.

“So a couple of months back, one night she tells me her engagement’s off. He’d married someone else on a lark while he was in Biloxi. So I said, hey, why don’t we go out sometime then. I wasn’t expecting her to take me up on it.”

“And she did.”

“Yeah. I thought, why not? It’s just dinner and a movie. Except I got called out to work a domestic at the ER with Tori and…I don’t know. Angel made a move and I followed through on it. It was the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve ever done.” He propped his elbow on the table and buried his mouth in his hand. “She’s pregnant.”

“Oh my God.” Caitlin’s dismay didn’t make him feel any better.

“If this baby’s mine, I can’t turn my back on that.”

“Of course not.” She folded her fingers around his. “No one who knows you would expect you to.”

He looked up then, into dark green eyes soft with concern. “You believe in fate, Falconetti?”

“Not per se.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But I agree with Tick, that there’s a plan for our lives if we look for it.”

“Part of me keeps hanging up on the insane idea that somehow, I’m being given back what was taken from me.”

“Just not in the way you expected.”

“Right.” He dropped his hand from his mouth and glanced away. “Crazy, huh?”

“Not at all. Makes perfect sense to me.” Her gaze dwelled a moment on the nearby bassinet before tracking back to his. “You said if it’s yours. Is there a question?”

“It could be the ex-fiancé.” The memory of Angel’s defeated demeanor, her tears and hurt, swam in his mind. “Might be better for most everyone if it’s not.”

“For most everyone?”

He scuffed at his nape and stretched back in the chair, seeking movement to relieve the god-awful tension gripping him with iron tentacles. “This could…I don’t know how Tori will take this.”

“I wondered when we’d get to that.”

Eyes closed, he fought the squeezing sensation in his chest again. After a moment, he lifted heavy lids. “She could leave me.”

“Yes, she might.”

Reaction to her calm statement crashed through him, a torrent of hurt and anger and fear. “Damn it, Cait, you’re supposed to tell me she won’t.”

“You came looking for someone to trust, Mark, not to bullshit you.” She didn’t look away. “She’s unpredictable, and I can only begin to imagine how she might respond.”

“Shit.” He leaned forward, face pressed into both hands.

“Does Tori know you slept with her?”

“Yes.”

“How did she react to that?”

“Not well.” He lifted his head. “She’s insecure about Angel. I thought she was moving beyond that, but this might be too much.”

“She’s insecure about Angel,” Caitlin repeated. “Not other women in your past?”

“No, not really.”

“So her uncertainty is fixated on Angel.” She tapped a fingernail on the table, her brow wrinkling in familiar concentration. Mark shook his head. Nice to know the soap-opera nightmare his life had turned into in a matter of minutes could provide fodder to hone her profiling skills. “Who just happens to be the last woman you had sex with before becoming involved with her.”

Maybe she’d just rather open his wrists for him. “Falconetti—”

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?” he snapped.

“She’s experiencing a sexual awakening with you, but she probably hasn’t come fully into her sexuality, not yet. It’s still too soon. She’s missing the confidence that comes along with that, and Angel represents everything she’s not.”

“It’s great that you figured it all out, Falconetti, but how does that help me?”

“It doesn’t.” She bit her bottom lip and her apologetic gaze met his. “You’re probably screwed.”

“Great.” He’d been afraid of that. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“You have to tell her, today, before it gets out and she hears it from someone else.”

“Yeah.” He let his lashes fall briefly. “I know.”

The distinctive rumble of Tick’s truck sounded in the drive, and Mark tried not to cringe. Shit, no telling what trouble this was going to cause there either. He could see the rift in their partnership getting wider by the second. Damn it, all of this because of one careless, stupid action, because he’d been—

“Cookie.” Caitlin touched his wrist, brought him out of the self-recriminations. “Don’t.”

He nodded, taking a quick moment to gather himself. A key grated in the lock, and the door swung open.

“Hey, precious.” Tick dumped his keys, the mail and a grocery bag on the island. The small box he juggled on his forearm toppled to the floor with a quiet bang. In immediate response, a coughing cry rose from the bassinet, building rapidly to a wail. “Holy hell, I didn’t mean to wake him.”

Caitlin slanted a you’re-a-dead-man look in Tick’s direction and hurried to lift the angry baby into her arms. “You must find a quieter way to enter this house, Lamar Eugene.”

“Hey, Cookie.” Tick leaned against the island, handheld radio near his ear. “What are you doing here?”

“He dropped by to see me.” With the baby tucked beneath her chin, Caitlin swayed him from side to side.

“You’re not listening to this?” Tick pointed at the radio and adjusted the volume higher.

“No, I went 10-6 for a while.” He patted his side, where his radio should be. Hell, had he left it in the car? Was he that far gone today? “Left my radio in the car. What’s going on?”

“You never leave it in the car.” Tick looked at him askance then shrugged it off. “10-80 out of Whitman County, that new guy who’s been over there less than a month. Just came across the river bridge, headed this way. He’s requesting interception.”

Mark frowned. “Who’s he chasing?”

“Late-model red F-150 with Chandler County tags. Deb’s running them, since he’s going through our dispatch now.”

Oh, hell. A new red Ford? Foreboding hurtled through Mark. Surely not…

“Chandler to Whitman 806, registration comes back as James Isaac Bostick, 113 Schley Road, Coney. No wants or warrants on the vehicle.” Deb’s calm voice filtered through the slight crackling.

“10-4, Chandler. Continuing pursuit, approximately two miles from county line, request assistance.”

“Damn it,” Mark muttered. Ten to one, Paul Bostick was driving, even with his license suspended. Apprehension curdled in his gut. This was not going to be good. He lifted his gaze and found his own uneasiness reflected in Tick’s dark eyes.

“Chandler C-13 to Whitman 806.” His tone cool and capable, Troy Lee broke into the radio silence. “Discontinue pursuit. Suspect won’t stop if you continue. We’re aware of the suspect’s domicile, will 10-91.”

Mark nodded along with Troy Lee’s suggestion. He didn’t see Paul stopping, and they could easily pick him up at home.

“Negative, C-13.” A siren wailed behind the Whitman deputy’s voice. “Suspect is traveling in excess of ninety.”

“806, suspect is known and will not stop. Repeat, suspect will not stop. Discontinue pursuit at the county line.” Natural authority laced Troy Lee’s voice.

“Negative again, C-13. Just crossed the line, passing Long Lonesome Road.”

“What?” Tick frowned at the radio. His gaze jerked to the windows. “There’s no way. We’d have heard them come by and even at ninety—”

“He’s confusing Old Lonely with Long Lonesome, which means he’s chasing that kid straight onto Highway 3, north of the second S curves.” Disquiet shivered over Mark’s already stretched nerves. “Tell that son of a bitch to stop and get Troy Lee’s twenty. Chris’s too.”

“Chandler C-2 to Whitman 806, cease 10-80 immediately. Repeat, cease 10-80 immediately. C-2 to C-13 and C-5, 10-20.”

On his feet, Mark tagged Tick’s chest as he headed for the door. “Come on.”

“Precious, I’ll be back.” Radio at his ear, Tick followed him outside as Chris responded with his location.

“C-5 to C-2, southbound on Highway 3, approximately seven miles north of the Flint crossroads.”

Troy Lee keyed in behind him. “C-13 to C-2, northbound on Highway 3, just passed PSC Road.”

“They’re gonna cross over each other.” Mark strained his ears, listening for sirens. Nothing. “If he was passing Old Lonely Road, doing ninety, they should be…where?”

“Hell, I can’t do that math in my head. Probably…near the Flint crossroads. Troy Lee’s closer than Chris.” Tick lifted the radio to his mouth again. “C-13, can you intercept with the spike strip?”

“Negative, C-2. If they passed Long Lonesome, suspect is headed in opposite direction. C-5 should be able to intercept.”

Mark ground his teeth. “But he didn’t pass Long Lonesome—”

“Whitman 806 to Chandler, suspect traveling south on 3, in excess of a hundred.” A buzz of static accompanied the deputy’s voice.

“That son of a bitch didn’t stop when I told him to, in my county?” Tick bounded down the back steps two at a time. “I ought to kick his ass.”

“We’ll do it together.” Mark jogged to the driver’s side. He fired the engine and pulled into a three-point turn. He tried to pin down a mental map of the county. His back tires squalled on the pavement as he entered the roadway. “They’re going to cross over Troy Lee near the curves, but they’re going that fast, no way he has time to put out the strips.”