The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (16 page)

"That won't be necessary, unless you have something to
hide," Gideon added. He stared at Jenny for a while. His eyebrows were
raised in an intimidating way.

"Who are you?" Jenny asked. "You were following
me today, why?" Jenny looked him straight in the eye, waiting for his
reply.

Bronk rocked back in his chair and watched the exchange
between the two. He waited for Gideon to answer, and wondered what reason he
would give for the surveillance.

"Gideon LaMont, I'm working the case."

"What case, and why am I here?" she asked.

"How well did you know Delaney Conovers?" Gideon
asked finally after a long silence. He looked out the window, finding it hard
to focus on the woman in the chair.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders. "What do you mean?"

Gideon took the defensive. "You were at the hospital
yesterday. Why did you go to see him?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"He was using your husband's identity. Did you know
that?" Gideon watched Jenny intently. He wanted to see how she reacted to
the questions. It would tell him if she was lying.

Jenny's eyes darted around the room while her fingers played
with her purse strings. She did not want to commit to anything yet. How much of
what he knew, she was not sure. She glanced around the room nervously and took
a few quick breaths. She knew he was only fishing for information, if she
stayed calm they would have to let her go.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Bronk asked.

"Please," Jenny replied, hoping to buy time to
regain composure.

Bronk got up, was out the door and back within minutes. Jenny
took the glass from him and gulped the water. It was not enough, but would have
to do. She set the glass down, and then leaned back in the chair as she waited
for the next onslaught of questions to begin.

"How much do you know?" Gideon asked. He was no
longer standing at the window, but now leaned on the desk in front of her. All
he wanted to do was touch Jenny and see if she was real. But his job forced him
to continue.

"I didn't know anything about him until a few days
ago."

"How did you find out?"

"A nurse came to the University, she gave me a
note," Jenny said nervously. "It was," she took a deep breath
and then continued, "it was supposed to be from my husband."

Gideon turned suddenly to Jenny. "Your husband's
dead..." Gideon did not say more, his face turned white and something
flashed before him and then it was gone. And he tried desperately to remember
what it was, but Jenny cut in.

"You are the second person to tell me that this
week," Jenny replied sharply. Her face flamed with anger while a tear
escaped. "How come the government still has him missing in action?"
Jenny wanted answers. Delaney could not give them to her, maybe this man could.

"I can't answer you that," Gideon finally said.

"You expect me to believe you?" Jenny snapped
sarcastically and then turned away. But before Gideon or Bronk could say
anything she turned on them again. "For more years than I care to
remember, I've been told John was missing in action and there was nothing more
to be done. Now, within the last thirty hours two men enter my life and tell me
he's dead."

"When you were at the hospital, did Delaney say anything
more to you?"

"Like what? It was bad enough that he told me John was
dead. There was no time," but then she stopped.

"No time for what?" Gideon asked.

Jenny did not want to tell him she watched him die, that was
why the man could not tell her more.

"Nothing," she said finally. "I have no more to
say to you." She turned to Bronk, who was as startled with her outburst as
Gideon. "If you're not going to arrest me, I'm leaving."

Jenny got up, but before she could walk out the door Gideon
had her by the arm. She turned on him with all the anger she could muster as
tears streamed down her cheek. "Why didn't they tell me?"

Jenny collapsed in Gideon's arms, weeping uncontrollably for
the man who no longer existed in her life. And as she felt the strong arms
around her, she was somehow reminded of the love that had long since been
denied her.

CHAPTER 16

The mist turned to pelting rain and flashes of lightning shot
across the night sky, followed by the clamor of distant thunder. There had been
no letup in the questions they'd asked. Jenny relived the last moments of
Delaney's life over and over until she could not stand it any longer, and
feared she'd tell them more than she dared. Resting her elbow on the desk, she
leaned her head into her hands and rubbed her forehead while avoiding either
man's gaze.

Bronk got up from his desk. "Let me get this straight.
The man tells you your husband is dead, and you don't even stick around for
more answers?"

"Like I said he kept dozing off," Jenny replied
nervously twisting the strap of her purse.

"How did you talk?" Gideon asked.

"He wrote on a pad." Jenny replied, not looking up.

"There was no pad in the room," Gideon snapped. He
walked over to the desk glancing down at Jenny.

"I don't know what happened to it," Jenny said
nervously.

"Are you telling us everything?"

Jenny looked up with pleading eyes. "I'm tired, and it's
late. Unless you're going to arrest me, I'm going home."

Neither man argued because it was useless. They were at an
impasse with Jenny and, at the moment, neither side was giving in. Finally,
exasperated and tired, Bronk glanced over at Gideon, who had tried to keep his
distance throughout the whole interrogation.

"Why don't you take Mrs. Hamilton home?" Bronk
asked, but actually he was telling.

Gideon turned. He almost pleaded with Bronk not to make him do
this. But Bronk had work to do and it did not include chauffeuring Jenny back
home. Besides, there was the glass sitting on his desk that he wanted dusted
for prints. Unless they could get the goods on Mrs. Hamilton, she was not going
to talk. All it would take was an hour, and the next time they called her in,
Bronk was sure she would tell them everything they wanted to know.

"The car was impounded," Gideon said hoping it was
enough to get out of what was asked.

"Parked illegally again." Bronk reached in his
pocket and tossed Gideon the keys to his car.

"I was in a hurry." Gideon put the keys in his
pocket, and mouthed the word "thanks," while faking a smile.

"How much longer are you staying in town?"

Gideon glanced at Jenny and then turned to Bronk. "A few
days. Tell Beth I'll call her later, when I have time."

Jenny let herself be lead out of the station house. She did
not say a word as Gideon helped her into the police car. Jenny watched as he
walked around to the other side. There had been something about the tall
stranger that troubled her, and it bothered her more now. When he looked at her
it was as if he expected her to know him, but she did not.

Gideon quickly put the car in gear and spun onto the busy
street. Horns blared, tempers flared, but he did not care. Lights blurred
through the evening rain. Gideon thought about John Hamilton and felt a
terrible pain grow. He turned to the woman next to him, but the pain only
worsened. It was when Jenny turned to him and looked into his eyes that he felt
his insides want to explode.

"I don't even know where he's buried," Jenny said,
hardly above a whisper.

Gideon swerved in and out of traffic. Lights blinded him for a
second. He recovered, and then turned to her. "His body was never brought
back."

Jenny just stared at Gideon. "How can you be so sure he's
dead?" she asked wanting to know everything, yet not sure she should
believe or trust anyone.

"Because," Gideon hesitated for a moment before
continuing, "I was with him when he died."

Gideon startled himself when he said those words. He knew in
fact they were true. In that instant he saw John Hamilton and felt his last
breath leave his body. Gideon stopped the car and hung onto the steering wheel
tightly. Blood was everywhere. It was John's blood on his hands that he could
not get off. Gideon found it hard to breathe. He wanted to forget, but could not.
The vision would not go away. Horns blared, and Gideon shook his head as he
stepped on the gas.

"How did you get out?" Jenny asked.

"I escaped with the help of some villagers." Gideon
took a deep breath, and then thought for a moment. He could not remember all of
it, just bits and pieces. Once he regained control he continued. "I guess
they thought if they helped me, the Americans would stop the bombing of their
village." He turned to Jenny and quickly added, "I was the only
survivor out of the unit."

Gideon thought for a moment. It was what he remembered, but
then he could not have been the only survivor, how else could Delaney be
explained, or Jimmy, for that matter. Gideon rubbed his temple, but nothing
made sense. He struggled now that the floodgates were opening. He saw visions
of the faces of all those young boys, the body of Hamilton, and the man who
took his life. Gideon stared straight ahead as if in a trance. Finally, he
turned to Jenny.

"He was fortunate to have you."

"There's so much I want to know," Jenny fought back
the tears. "Did you know him well?” she asked, staring at Gideon closely.

"Only at the end. Over there you tried not to get too
close, there was so much death, so much pain," Gideon said as he stared
off in the distance. The blood was everywhere. In the darkness he tried to rid
his hands of the sticky red liquid but nothing helped.

"John never wrote about the casualties." Jenny
glanced out the window at the pedestrians scurrying about. She took a deep
breath before turning back to Gideon. "Mr. LaMont, how did he die?"

Gideon stared straight ahead at the traffic coming toward them
while avoiding her gaze. The muscles in his cheeks tensed. He found it
difficult to speak, but then swallowed hard and turned to Jenny. He caught his
breath. God, she was beautiful.

"Did Delaney talk much about John?"

"I told you, he kept dozing off." Jenny looked at
Gideon, was uncomfortable with the question about Delaney.

"You said you still have the letters?"

"Yes, I kept all of them."

Gideon pulled into MacDougal Alley; he double-parked next to a
black sedan. The street was deserted. The only light came from the lamppost on
the corner. He turned to Jenny.

"Is this the place?" Gideon asked.

"You should know."

"How did you know we were following you?"

"It was obvious," Jenny said, laughing at the idea.
"By the way," Jenny glanced quickly at Gideon. "How did you know
where to find me?"

"Your name was in Cindy Malone's pocket."

"It
was
her
then?" Jenny stopped and suddenly became weak.

"You know she's dead?"

Jenny caught her breath and then whispered, "Yes. I was
bringing her uniform and shoes back when I saw the cops outside her
apartment."

"We found them in the dumpster in the alley where you
tossed them."

"I was scared and didn't know what to do." Jenny
hesitated a moment. "Do they know who killed her?"

"Not yet."

They sat there in the silence for the longest time, and then
Gideon finally turned to Jenny. "Bronk said he would stop by to see you in
the morning."

"Why?" Jenny asked quickly. "Haven't I been
through enough?"

"He has contacts in the Army. I think he wants to help
you get this cleared up about John's death and them still having him listed as
missing in action."

"I was wondering how that would be taken care of."

"He said he'd do what he could," Gideon leaned over,
reached for the door handle and pushed open the door.

Jenny quickly got out and walked up to the entrance. She
reached in her purse, but before she could walk away, Gideon took the keys out
of her hand and took her arm. They slowly walked up the flights of stairs to
her apartment.

Gideon stopped outside her door, Jenny wondered how he knew it
was her door, but before she could ask, he put the key in the lock and opened
it. Jenny reached in, turned on the light, and as if the last few days were not
enough, what waited for her inside reinforced the fact it would only get worse.

Pictures were off the walls, the couch was cut to shreds,
pillows were ripped open and stuffing was pulled out while the lamps were now
just wires dangling loose from rods. The residue on the floor was a mixture of
clothes and food. The cupboard doors in the kitchen were all open. Kettles,
pots, and pans lay on broken dishes, mixed with food.

Gideon reached for Jenny. She struggled to free herself and
then ran to the bedroom, stumbling as clothes tangled around her feet.

"Don't touch anything." Gideon yelled to an empty
room.

"Trish!" Jenny screamed while frantically searching
the room but the noise from the living room caused her to turn and rush back.
Jenny stared at Gideon, who had Benjamin pinned to the wall. He'd kicked
Benjamin's feet apart and was frisking him for weapons.

"What are you doing?" Jenny ran up, struggled while
pulling Gideon off Benjamin.

"He attacked me," Gideon snapped while turning to
face Jenny. Blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth.

"Benjamin is my neighbor," Jenny yelled, and then
quickly looked at Benjamin. "Did you do that?"

"I thought the guy was back."

"What guy?" Jenny asked.

"Trish and I were coming home when we saw this guy
walking out of the apartment."

"What did he look like?" Gideon asked.

Benjamin turned to Gideon, "I am not talking to no one
but the cops."

"I am the cops," Gideon snapped, not wanting to
explain who he actually was.

Jenny turned to him; she was sure he was not with the NYPD.
Actually she did not know whom he was with. He'd never really identified
himself.

"I didn't know you were a cop," Jenny said.

Gideon rolled his eyes, and then nodded toward Benjamin. He
turned and asked Benjamin. "Now what did the guy look like, or should I
take you down to the station and have you personally talk to the cops?"

"White hair, about six two, mid-thirties."

"Ian," Gideon said out loud.

Jenny stared in disbelief. "You know him?" Jenny
asked.

Gideon shook his head, "What?" he replied glancing
at the two, and then realized what he'd said.

"You said Ian, do you know this man?" Jenny asked.
Her heart raced thinking about the name Delaney wrote on the pad.

Gideon ignored her question. He walked over to the couch and
then reached down into the rubble. He picked up the sketch Benjamin had done of
Jenny years ago. He shook the dirt off the piece of parchment. Gideon stood
staring at the charcoal lines. Then he glanced at Jenny.

"This is you, isn't it?" His voice quivered as he
said the words.

Jenny shook her head. "Who else would it be?" She
looked over his shoulder at the soiled piece of paper. "It's ruined."
Tears filled her eyes when she turned and saw John's on the floor.

"Here give that to me." Benjamin said. He quickly
took the sketch from Gideon. "I can fix it."

Jenny reached down and pulled the sketch of John out of the
rubble and handed it to Benjamin. "Would you do this one too?"

"Maybe it's time we put it to rest."

"Please," her eyes glassed over as she looked
pleadingly at Benjamin. "Where's Trish?" Jenny asked, wiping away the
tears.

"In my apartment."

Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. She stood there for a brief
moment, watching Gideon reach down and pull at a wire that in time produced the
telephone. Gideon picked up a rag from the floor, and then picked up the
receiver. Quickly he dialed a number, and then waited.

"Bronk." There was a pause before Gideon continued.
"You better get over to Mrs. Hamilton's apartment right away." He
hesitated, glancing around the room before staring at Jenny. "Someone made
a real mess of the place." He motioned to Jenny not to touch anything.
"Yes, dust it for prints. You may want to talk to her neighbor."
Gideon turned to Benjamin. "You going to stay put?"

"Yeah," Benjamin replied, and then turned to Jenny.
"You can stay with me."

"No," Gideon interrupted.

Jenny turned to him. "I'm a big girl. Neither of you need
to bother."

"You can't stay here, not tonight," Benjamin
replied.

Gideon put the receiver to his ear again. "She will come
with me tonight." He stared at Jenny for a moment. "Okay, we will see
you in fifteen minutes." Gideon hung up the receiver, he continued staring
at her.

"I can't go with you," she said firmly.

"You have no choice."

Slowly, Jenny walked around the apartment and tried desperately
to assess whether anything could be salvaged. She was unable to touch a thing
for fear of disturbing the mess. It was difficult walking over the food, dirt,
and garbage spewed on the floor. She tiptoed into her room. Clothes were taken
out of the drawers, some cut, and other ripped, mixed with soil from the
plants. The Boston fern she nursed from a small sprig was now crushed into the
clothing on the floor. Jenny searched the room for the note pad Delaney had
written on, but it was gone.

Gideon followed her into the room, stood at the doorway.
"Why don't you try to find a few overnight things?" Gideon said.
After getting no response he walked up to Jenny and touched her on the arm.
"Are you okay?"

"Sure, everything is just peachy!"

Jenny lashed out at him for all the hurt of the last few days.
All she wanted was to punish someone for the pain she felt. It was not his
fault this happened to her. Gideon was not the one who did this to her
apartment. But he knew John was dead and, for a moment, all the years of
hurting inside came rushing out.

Gideon took her by the arm and guided her from the room.
"I'll stop off someplace and get you a few things to wear."

"You don't have to."