Hush (43 page)

Jean-Claude gazed at her in concern. ―I‘ll take him to my house. Where are you going? How long will you be gone?‖

―I just need to get away for a while, Dad. That ‘s all. Not long.‖

―With Hank in the hospital, fighting for his life?‖

For an answer she kissed him on the cheek. A lifelong avoidance tactic of Yvette‘s that worked more often than not. Now her father gave her a searching look before heading into Benedict‘s room. A moment later Benedict stumbled out, in pajamas and a coat. Yvette had packed her son a bag as soon as she got back from the hospital. Now she gave it to Jean-Claude, then looked down at Benedict with love, holding his sweet face between her palms.

―Mommy loves you,‖ she told him.

He just looked at her blankly, in the sleep zone.

Kissing the top of his head, she watched as Jean-Claude guided him out the door. Her father said to her, ―If you‘ve done something . . . if you need help . . .‖

―No, Dad. Go. I‘m okay.‖

As soon as he was gone, she sank back down at the table, wondering when he would find the gift she‘d left them tucked in Benedict‘s backpack, among his things.

As soon as Coby closed the door to her town house behind her, her cell phone buzzed. All she wanted was a hot shower. Some time to decompress and mentally put things in order. But she forced herself to see who was calling.

Danner.

Quickly she pressed the green button to answer. ―Hi,‖ she said, and heard how tired she sounded, though she tried to push some enthusiasm into her voice.

―You sound beat,‖ he said, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice.

She glanced at her bedraggled reflection in the entry hall mirror and thought,
You have no
idea
. ―Are you . . . off duty, so to speak?‖

―Yep. We‘re planning to put Sheila‘s sketch out to the media. Might as well let the public know. She‘s running already, but when the news of Lloyd‘s suicide hits, she could go into deep hiding. Wanna catch her first.‖

―Are you . . . heading home?‖

―Are you up for a late-night visitor? One who‘s about two blocks away from your place?‖

―I‘ll leave the light on.‖

Danner was there in ten minutes and Coby had barely had time to take off her coat and wipe off the excess mud. Her clothes were still spattered and stained, and for half a minute she thought about changing, but what good would that do? He was going to find out anyway, and she wanted to talk about the attack with him.

His dark brows slammed into a frown when he saw her. ―What happened?‖

―Sit down,‖ Coby ordered, and when he was still standing, she added, ―Please,‖ which seemed to do the trick, as he slowly perched himself on the edge of her couch.

She told him the tale of her adventures since they‘d split up. How she‘d run into Yvette, who‘d admitted that Hank Sainer was Benedict‘s father. How she‘d been nearly run down by a speeding driver who she believed had definitely targeted her. How it couldn‘t have been Yvette behind the wheel, though Wynona Greer was sure that it was. How Wynona had also insisted that Yvette was involved in Hank‘s accident, and how then, also at Wynona‘s insistence, Donald Greer had admitted that he‘d known it was Juliet Deneuve who‘d left the notes in the girls‘ lockers all those years ago, but hadn‘t said anything until recently. How Wynona felt all the Ette sisters got passes while no one else did, and then how she‘d finally turned her brain around to think beyond Yvette as the killer, only to land on Genevieve Knapp Lockwood.

Danner reacted several times during the narrative, but Coby kept putting up her hands and making him wait. A listener by nature, he normally could easily wait until someone was finished talking; he‘d learned it was the best way to really hear what a suspect, person of interest, or eyewitness was trying to say. But with Coby it was different. Everything about her made his nerves raw in an undefinable way that he‘d never felt before. He practically had to sit on his hands to keep himself from jumping up and grabbing her, holding her close.

―I was heading to the shower when you called,‖ she finished. ―But I didn‘t want to talk you out of coming over. Can you wait? I won‘t be long.‖

He had a few things to tell her himself. ―A shower would be good,‖ was his answer.

He saw the flash of understanding in her eyes and gave up sitting on the couch. In two strides he was across the room, dragging her into his arms.

―A shower
would
be good,‖ she repeated a trifle breathlessly. They stared at each other, then she started backing down the short hallway toward her bedroom and master bath, Danner‘s arms still around her. He moved with her, kissing her neck and cheek and any other bit of skin he could find.

Urgently, they pulled off each other‘s clothes, and just as urgently scrambled into the shower beneath a cold spray that had them both jumping away before the temperature came up and filled the glass enclosure with hot water and steam.

―It‘s been too long,‖ Danner muttered.

―Too long,‖ she repeated.

―Too . . . long . . .‖

His hands slid up her slick rib cage to capture her breasts. Coby moaned and ran her own hands down his muscled back to the curve at the base of his spine. For a brief moment she was transported back to that first time, when they‘d stumbled into his apartment after making out in the car, yanked off each other‘s clothes much like now, then fallen into bed, Danner swearing a little at their awkwardness, Coby laughing.

And then she was naked and he was, too, and though he tried to slow it down she wouldn‘t let him. They‘d made love with abandon, with more energy than finesse, and it had been glorious.

Now she didn‘t wait. She took him in her hands and caressed him and Danner sucked in a breath, muttered something impatiently, then lifted her up and pushed inside her and she was laughing again, then moaning, and they were hot and wet and slippery against the shower wall.

―Coby . . .‖ he groaned.

I’ve missed you
, she thought, but her mind was fractured.
I love you
.

And then he was moving with deep strokes and she arched her neck and met his thrusts, sensations taking over in a burst of pleasure.

They slipped down the wall, coming back to earth, and Danner reluctantly pulled away and said with concern, ―Your leg‘s bleeding.‖

She looked down. ―It‘s a scratch. I‘m not hurt. Don‘t stop . . .‖

And she put her hands on his face and brought his mouth to hers again.

―We‘ll file a report tomorrow,‖ he said, much later, after they were dried off and Coby had placed a bandage over the scratch on her knee. She looked across the expanse of her bed at Danner who, now in jeans but still bare-chested, a white terry-cloth towel slung around his neck, looked back at her.

Coby‘s mind was still pleasantly reviewing the love-making in the shower. She didn‘t want to come down to earth. She answered with a nod. He was a cop and that was never more evident than now, when he was picking up his shirt and the shoulder holster and gun he‘d discarded on the floor outside the bathroom.

―What kind of car was it?‖ he asked, and with an inward sigh, she knew this brief vacation from reality was about over. At least for now.

She didn‘t pretend to misunderstand. ―I think I know the shape of the taillights. It was light-colored.‖

―No license plate?‖

―I didn‘t get a look. Maybe it wasn‘t there? Or maybe it was. I just got a flash. I wasn‘t really thinking sharply.‖

―That‘s two attacks on you in one day,‖ he pointed out grimly.

―I don‘t know why. I don‘t know anything,‖ Coby admitted.

―Maybe you do,‖ Danner said. ―You just don‘t know that you know it. Yet.‖

―I know Yvette and Hank had an affair, that Benedict‘s Hank‘s son, and that she—probably they—saw Lucas fall. She said it was definitely an accident, and I believe her.‖

―How did he fall?‖

―That she didn‘t say, but she was with Hank that night at Bancroft Bluff, and my guess is that Lucas just stumbled upon them. Maybe they tried to talk to him and he just lost his footing?

That‘s the impression she gave. They didn‘t report his fall because Hank was with Yvette, who was underage.‖

―Maybe he would have lived, if they had.‖ Danner was grim. ―Do you believe Wynona that Yvette ran Hank off the road?‖

―That‘s extreme, even for Yvette, but maybe. She was concerned about him. She came to the hospital.‖

―And then left before seeing him.‖

―She was . . . undone.‖

Danner grunted, picked up his shirt, and pulled it over his head. Then he slipped on his shoulder holster and the black rain jacket he‘d worn the night before.

―Maybe Hank can tell us something when he comes to,‖ she said.

―I‘ll get someone to pick up those security tapes of your building. See if any of the cars that went through the gate belong to someone we know.‖

She tried to think back to the vehicles that had been at the beach house. To remember what everyone drove, but she was too tired to think clearly.

Danner suddenly stopped short in the act of running his hands through his dam p hair. ―These attacks on you started after you went to see McKenna at the Joker Friday night,‖ he said.

―Yeah. I guess so.‖

―What happened there? Anything unusual? Something you haven‘t really thought about yet?‖

―Well, no. I didn‘t expect to see Ellen and Theo, of course, but other than that, we just discussed Annette‘s death, like I have with everyone else. I was giving them information, and they were mostly stunned.‖

Danner thought a minute, then said, ―And they told you about the girl from Gresham who had the miscarriage. Heather something . . .‖

―McCrae. Heather McCrae. And the gym-rat boyfriend had two first names.‖

―Ed Gerald,‖ Danner said.

―That‘s right.‖

―I‘ll try to track him down tomorrow. What time is it?‖ He was heading out of the bedroom, getting ready to leave.

Coby glanced at the bedside clock. ―About two.‖ She followed him into the living room and to the front door.

He hesitated, his hand on the knob. ―It‘s late. I should probably go and let you rest.‖

―Do you have to?‖

Danner‘s gaze captured hers. He shook his head, then grabbed her and held her close, pushing her up against the wall. ―I should leave right now,‖ he said, his mouth hot against her arched throat.

―Don‘t you dare.‖

The knock on Yvette‘s door was soft, but it woke Yvette as if she‘d been doused with a bucket of cold water. She jerked to full attention, her head coming up from the kitchen table where she‘d laid her head on her forearms after her dad left. Now she sat up straight and alert.

Her gaze darted around the room. She needed a weapon. She‘d poked a dangerous animal tonight. There was a good chance that animal had come to make her its prey.

All she saw was the lamp on the counter, but then she shook herself back to reality. There were knives handy. A butcher knife in the sink. She was being fanciful.

Still . . .

She crept forward and peered through the peephole, and her brows lifted in surprise and consternation.

Her heart seized. Did they know about tonight? What she‘d done? Did they all know? The inn where she used to meet Hank had been a secret until Annette learned about her relationship with him. Annette had wormed information from Hank, and she hadn‘t been discreet about any of it.

Maybe it was common knowledge. Maybe the authorities were coming after her
right now
!

Except. . .

She opened the door and looked onto the darkened balcony that rimmed the parking lot below. ―What do you want?‖

Genevieve walked inside without being asked. Her face was white. ―I heard about Hank,‖

she said. ―Someone ran him off the road.‖

Yvette waited, tense inside. ―Yeah?‖

―Jarrod told me tonight that he‘s leaving me. He says I‘ve never gotten over Lucas Moore.

He said that‘s why he‘s leaving me.‖

Yvette‘s tension uncoiled a bit. This was about Genevieve. Everything was always about Genevieve. ―It‘s after two,‖ Yvette stated pointedly. She was still holding the door open, and cold and fog were wafting inside.

―I always thought you killed him . . . Lucas,‖ Genevieve said conversationally. ―And I‘m pretty sure you ran Hank off the road tonight. Annette used to talk about that inn just past the curve.

She said you were the one who mentioned it to her, and she and Dave used to go there. It was historic and had cozy bedrooms and it was off the beaten path.‖

That ratcheted her anxiety right back up. ―I think you‘d better leave.‖

Ignoring her, Genevieve sat down at the table and asked, ―When Hank wakes up, will he tell everyone that you were meeting him there tonight?‖

―Don‘t make this something it‘s not,‖ Yvette said, feeling a noose tightening around her throat. ―You‘re fucking nuts when it comes to anything about Lucas Moore.‖

―Am I?‖

Her smile was a little left of crazy, and Yvette felt a shiver start at the top of her spine and shoot down to her tailbone. Genevieve Knapp was a danger she hadn‘t even seen coming.

Kirk Grassi scratched his bare chest and yawned, stumbling over the mattress he used as a bed and staggering to the bedroom window to look out at a gray dawn. He felt completely hungover and he hadn‘t had a goddamn thing to drink. Well, okay, there was that shot of bourbon when Juliet showed up screeching like a banshee. Jesus. So he hadn‘t warned her of his plans. So what? It wasn‘t like they were married or anything, and besides, he‘d just kind of made the decision this last week since somebody offed Annette Deneuve. It wasn‘t like he‘d been planning for months.