You Can't Hide (17 page)

“Bolt the door.” She opened the door. “You’re worse than Vito ever was.”

Jon stopped in the doorway, his eyes wide. “You called home?”

Her smile disappeared. “No.”

“Tess-”

“Go home, Jon,” she repeated, serious now.

He hesitated, staring at his toe. “There’s another reason I stopped by, besides Robin’s worrying.” He blew out a breath and looked up from beneath lashes that most women would kill for. Aidan Reagan’s were longer. And darker. His eyes much bluer.

63

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Tess blinked hard, bringing Jon’s face back into focus.
Whoa. Where had that come from?
Too little sleep and too much stress, she decided. And too many nights of sleeping alone, with only the cat to keep her warm.

Jon was leaning closer. “Tess, what’s wrong? Your face just went pale.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just more tired than I thought. What were you going to say?”

“Just that Amy called me a few hours ago.”

Tess’s lips thinned. “Oh? Did she tel you she fired me as a client?”

“She said that she’d said some things she wished she hadn’t. She’d been so scared that you’d been carted off to jail by that detective, that she wasn’t thinking straight. She wanted me to find out if you’re still mad at her.”

Tess shook her head. It was like they were still sixteen and sharing a room in her parents’

house. “It didn’t occur to her to call me herself?”

“She thought you’d hang up.”

“I might have.”

“And she said she did call to make sure you got home all right, but you didn’t answer. I don’t want to be the go-between guy, so call her, okay? Tell her you want to kiss and make up. And listen to her, Tess. She knows more about this than you do. And even though she acted like a jerk, she’s a well-meaning jerk who doesn’t want to see you go to jail.”

He was right. Amy did mean well. Tess had come to that same conclusion as she’d walked the ten blocks to Robin’s bistro. “Okay. We’l kiss and make up and take you out of the middle.” But she wouldn’t promise to do what Amy said. She’d thought a great deal about it in the hours since leaving Winslow’s apartment and was more convinced than ever that her cooperation with the police was vital. But Jon did worry so. Impulsively she rose up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks.” The instant her lips touched his cheek, his back straightened and his arm went around her shoulders protectively. She fol owed his gaze and her heart took a leap. Detective Reagan stood in the hallway outside the elevator. And he didn’t look happy at all. She grasped the sides of her robe, pul ing the silk up and over her throat. It was purely instinctive. Jon had seen her scar. Very few others had.

Slowly Reagan approached, his eyes on her shoulder where Jon’s hand still clenched, his own hands shoved deep into the pockets of his overcoat. He stopped far enough away to just be respectful. Still close enough that she could smell his aftershave. Because he’d shaved just before he’d come. His face was shiny smooth where this afternoon his cheeks had been dark with stubble. “Dr. Ciccotelli.”

“Detective Reagan. This is Dr. Jonathan Carter, the col eague I mentioned.”

His nod to Jon was curt. “If I might have a word with you, Doctor.”

Jon’s fingers dug into her arm, his warning about as subtle as the ferocious frown on his face.

“Not without her lawyer here.”

Reagan’s eyes rose to meet hers, his gaze unreadable. “If that’s what you really want, Doctor, we can call your attorney.” His voice was cold enough to send a shiver of apprehension down her back. “But I need some answers to some questions tonight.”

Tess patted the middle of Jon’s chest. “I’l be fine, Jon. I’l give Amy a call. I promise. Go on home.”

“I don’t kn-”

“I’ll call you when he leaves so you’ll know I still live and breathe,” she interrupted, purposeful y keeping her tone light. “I won’t say anything he can use against me in a court of law.” She slipped from his grip and gave him a nudge, her robe still tightly clutched around her throat. “Go home, Jon.”

Jon’s parting glare was as sharp as one of his scalpels. But he said nothing and a minute later, he was on his way down the elevator.

She was alone. With Aidan Reagan and his long eyelashes. “Where is Todd?”

“Following some other leads.”

64

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

“I see. Well, are you comfortable talking in my apartment, or would you prefer to stand in the hal ?”

“That would be up to you, ma’am.”

So I’m a “ma’am” now
. Reagan’s “ma’am” sounded remarkably like an insult. “Let’s go in then. I prefer not to stand in the hall in my robe.”

He closed the door behind them. “I apologize for the late hour,” he said stiffly. “I was hoping you’d still be awake.”

She waved her free hand at the stacks of folders on her dining room table. “I’ve been going through my files. Let me change my clothes, if you don’t mind. I’l be just a few minutes.”

She was back in less than three, her robe traded for a thick turtleneck and jeans. The sweat socks stayed. She found him standing in her living room, examining the framed pen-and-ink sketches on her wall. “Can I take your coat, Detective?”

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

“Then can I get you some wine, or are you still on the clock?”

He turned around, his eyes lingering on the two wineglasses on the dining room table before moving to her face. “No thank you.” His voice was polite, but coldly distant. “Are you going to call your attorney now? I’d like to get this done.”

“No. Go ahead and ask your questions, Detective. If I can answer, I will.”

The flicker of surprise in his eyes was so brief she wondered if she’d imagined it. “You told your boyfriend you were cal ing her.”

“And I will. After you’ve gone. My attorney and I don’t have the same working relationship with the police, Detective.” Her mouth bent in a rueful smile. “And I don’t think she’s my attorney anymore, anyway. We kind of had a fight.” She lifted a brow, watching his face careful y. “And Dr. Carter is not my boyfriend.”

This time the flicker in those blue eyes was a flash, unmistakable. Intense. His gaze caught hers and for a long moment it was like they were in the stairwell all over again. Then the moment was over.

He looked away, pinning his gaze on the stack of folders on her table. “Did you find anything?” he asked, his voice rough.

Tess drew a breath. The sudden spike of oxygen served to kick her brain back into gear. Amy’s warning crawled back into her mind, that Reagan would use his looks to get her to drop her guard. For that one moment, her guard had been annihilated and the notion left her shaken.

“Before I answer, Detective, I have a question of my own.” She waited until he once again met her eyes, his brows raised, waiting. “Do I need a lawyer?”

He didn’t flinch. “No.”

She weighed the risk, then went with her original plan. “Okay. I went through the files. I was primarily looking for the trials where a conviction hinged on my testimony. Of the thirty-one convictions, there were five. All male. Four of them were homicides, one rape.” She shook her head, pragmatically skeptical. “But none of them struck me as having the intellectual capacity to stage something like this. These guys were thugs, not criminal geniuses by any stretch of the imagination. And, besides, all five should still be in jail unless some parole board really f-I mean messed up.”

She thought she saw his lips twitch at her near slip. “We’l look at their families,” Reagan said. “See who’s been actively campaigning for a new trial.”

Tess’s stomach clenched. “So we’re looking at appeals?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I’l bet Patrick Hurst is not a happy man tonight.”

“You’d win that bet, Doctor. Have you heard of Soma?”

His sudden change of topic had her blinking. “Yes. It’s a muscle relaxant.”

“Have you ever taken it?”

65

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

She nodded slowly. “Yes. I had an accident last year.” A con with a chain, the memory of which still had the power to turn her gut to water. She focused on Reagan’s eyes, willing the panic back. “My back went out and my doctor gave it to me then.”

“How long did you take it?”

His expression was once again unreadable, and once again Amy’s voice loomed.
Don’t be an
idiot, Tess.
“Off and on for about six months. Why?”

“Do you still have it? The prescription.”

“No. I didn’t want it anymore. It made me too groggy to work.” Even though the pain had been excruciating and at times still was. “Why are you asking about Soma?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Because traces were found in the bottles we found in both victims’ apartments.”

Her knees simply failed her. Clutching the table’s edge, Tess lowered herself to the dining room chair, unable to look away from his face. “The ones with my prints.”

“Has your apartment ever been broken into?”

She shook her head, eyes widening at the thought of that sadist in her own apartment, her own space. “No. No, I would have reported it.”

“What happened to the bottles?”

She stood up, suddenly restless and cold. She paced from the table to the window, rubbing her arms, blindly staring at the traffic on the street below. “I can’t remember. I must have thrown them away.”

She heard him moving and then he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, warm. Strong. Warmth moved down her arms and back and for one weak moment she wished she could turn and feel his arms close around her. Wished she could lay her head on his wide shoulder. But wishes were just that. Reality was this… a nightmare that got worse with every new piece of information.

“Sit down,” he murmured. “You’re pale.” He gently pushed her back down in the chair and crouched in front of her, blue eyes narrowed. “Are you all right?”

Numbly she nodded. “This makes it look like I did it even more.”

He stood up and said nothing.

Swallowing hard, she lifted her eyes to his. “I didn’t.”

He didn’t blink. “Has anyone ever threatened you, Doctor?’

“When do you mean? Like, ever?”

“In the last… year.”

His meaning hit her like a brick. “You mean since the Green trial. You mean… cops.” Her gut churned at the very thought. “Oh my God.”

Again he said nothing, which said more than a simple confirmation ever could.

“I got some letters,” she said. “None of them signed. Most of them were personal insults, a lot of name-calling. ‘Baby killer.’ ‘Cop-killer.’” The names had hurt at the time. They still did. “There was one person who wrote more than one. Said I’d be sorry. A month later I got a letter saying my contract was not being renewed. I thought that’s what they meant. Somebody threw a brick through my car window when I was in the mall, but they never caught the person. I thought that might have been part of it, too.”

Reagan looked angry. “Did you report any of this?”

“The broken window I did. Not the letters. There was no physical threat.”

“Do you still have the letters?”

“Somewhere. I’m sorry. I’m having trouble thinking right now.”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Take your time.” He picked up the wine bottle. “Do you want some of this?”

“No.” She focused on her thoughts, willing them to slow, picturing herself receiving the letters and filing them in the cabinet in her office. “Wait here. I remember what I did with the letters.”

66

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Aidan watched her retreat, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. Knowing he’d smell her on his palms if he gave into the urge to drag them down his face. The last fifteen minutes had certainly proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a man of self-control. Coming off the elevator, seeing her in that red silk robe had sent a jolt of pure lust to his groin. Seeing her rise up and kiss that blond doctor’s cheek had sent a surge of jealous fury that for a split second had hazed his brain.

Hearing her say the blond guy wasn’t her boyfriend made him want to drag her against him and find out if that long look in the stairwell had affected her as much as it did him. Just putting his hands on her shoulders made him want more. If he’d touched her like he’d wanted to…

But he hadn’t and he wouldn’t. He looked around at her apartment. Situated in one of Michigan Avenue’s ritzier neighborhoods, her apartment alone would run a cool mil, not including the furnishings and the art that would send his interior designer sister Annie into spasms of delight. A woman accustomed to living like this wanted more than Aidan Reagan was prepared to give. This Aidan had learned the hard way. Fool me once…

The thought evaporated, along with every drop of moisture in his mouth.

“I found them.” Ciccotelli emerged with a large envelope, her tongue licking at the adhesive strip, and his system went into overdrive.

Willing his hand to take only the envelope, he reached-and was stopped. Her exclamation caught him by surprise as did her hand on his. “What did you do?”

Aidan drew a breath. His knuckles were raw and scraped, compliments of one of the lowlife friends of Danny Morris’s father, the man they suspected of smothering his son then tossing his body down a flight of stairs. Aidan had stopped in Morris’s main haunt after leaving the office. Morris’s low-life friend was now in a holding cell after throwing a drunken punch at Aidan’s face. Morris himself was stil nowhere to be seen. Morris’s wife sported a new black eye but still denied her husband’s involvement in her little boy’s death. And Tess Ciccotelli was still holding his hand.

“I hit a brick wall,” he said, shocked his voice was still level. His heart sure as hell wasn’t. He tried to tug his hand free, but she held firm. She looked up, her dark eyes filled with concern.

“Was that wall somebody’s face?”

“No. It really was a brick wall. A suspect resisted and I scraped my hand trying to cuff him.”

He gave another tug and she let him go.

“Was that suspect on this case?”