You Can't Hide (8 page)

Amy lightly grasped her elbow and propelled her toward the front door. “My new cashmere sweater?” she asked, but the cheer in her voice was strained and Tess knew she was keeping up the routine for any ears that happened to be listening. “Your boobs are bigger than mine. You’l stretch it.”

Hearing her best friend strive for merriment served to sour Tess’s mood further. The situation was very serious. When this got out, her reputation as a psychiatrist would suffer and in turn, so would her practice and her patients. That it would get out she had no doubt. There wasn’t a cop around that wouldn’t jump for joy to see her private practice dashed on the rocks. After Harold Green, they’d seen to it that her contracts with the states attorney’s office had not been renewed. And seeing her charged and tried? That would just be icing on the cake. “Don’t be selfish, Amy,” she said caustically. “Not only will your black sweater keep me warm, it will complement the black prison stripes. Which, thank God, at least are slimming.”

“Tess, hush,” Amy murmured. “This looks bad now, but we’l work this out. You’l see. Let’s go get you something to eat. You haven’t eaten today, have you?”

“No.” Murphy had offered to get her a sandwich while she’d waited for Amy, but she’d refused. Her stomach had been too upset to eat, but even if it hadn’t been she wouldn’t accept any help from Todd Murphy. Not again.

“Well, I’ll take you to my place and make you some soup.”

The thought of Amy’s soup made Tess queasy all over again. “No thanks. Just take me home. I’l be fine.”

Amy bit her lip. “Tess, if you don’t eat, you’l make yourself sick again.”

Tess felt her temper simmer and clamped it down. Amy meant well. She always meant wel .

“I’ll eat. I promise. Now leave it alone.”

“Doctor? Dr. Ciccotelli?”

Tess stopped, not because she wanted to talk to the woman who’d called her name, but because the woman had stepped in front of the glass door, blocking her way. She was young, twenty-five maybe. Studious-looking with her wide gray eyes and narrow glasses. A long blond braid hung over one shoulder and a slight dent creased her chin. The drawl in her voice said

“southerner.” The gleam in the girl’s eye screamed “reporter.”
Here we go,
Tess thought and wondered which of the cops in the precinct had set aside his distaste for the press and sicced this piranha on her tail.

“My name is Joanna Carmichael. I’m covering the Adams case for the
Bulletin
. You were at the scene of the Adams’s jump just after midnight last night. Can you comment on the police’s position that Miss Adams’s fall was coerced?”

Amy’s arm came down in front of Tess. “No comment,” her friend growled. “Step out of the way. Now.”

Tess regarded the young woman’s eyes thoughtful y and made an instant decision. Joanna Carmichael didn’t know she’d been questioned or she would have asked her question very differently. When this got out, it might not hurt to have a mouthpiece in her own corner. “Give me your card,” she said. “If I have something to say, I’ll call you.”

Carmichael dug in her pocket and came up with a card. “Thank you.”

Outside, Tess dragged the cold, fresh air into her lungs. The gray sky was almost exactly the same color as the reporter’s eyes. But the thought of eyes brought Aidan Reagan’s to her mind, piercing blue and accusing.

30

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

She was free to go. That she might not have been was a thought she hadn’t allowed while sitting in the interrogation room. She’d channeled her emotion into the cold fury that sustained her for most of the hour she’d sat there, feeling Reagan watch her through the glass. Anger was a safer emotion than fear. But now that she was out under the open sky, the fear hit, sending a shiver down her rigid spine.

This nightmare wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. “I need to go home,” she murmured.
I have
work to do.

Chapter 4

Sunday, March 12, 6:30 P.M.

Aidan stepped out of the cold evening rain and into his parents’ warm laundry room. He shivered even as the smell of something delicious teased his nose. It would be the pot roast his mother had made for Sunday dinner and… he sniffed again with appreciation. Pie.
Let it be cherry,
he thought, stripping off his drenched overcoat. He grabbed a faded towel from a basket and briskly whisked his head dry before going into the kitchen where his mother stood at the sink loading the dishwasher. From the stack of plates they must have had a ful house, he thought wistful y, wishing he’d been there, too. It had been some time since the whole family had been together on a Sunday afternoon. They were all so busy with their lives. Becca Reagan looked up and a smile lit her eyes, for some reason making his heart squeeze in his chest. The picture of Cynthia Adams lying dead on the street filled his mind, along with Ciccotelli’s voice.
She has no next of kin,
she’d said. No mother to smile when she came home and only monstrous memories of a father that abused her. Then the mental image became that of a child homicide he’d been working before taking the Adams call. A six-year-old boy killed by the boy’s own father. After Ciccotelli and her lawyer had gone, Aidan had visited the boy’s mother. The mother knew where the father was hiding, but she protected the brute when she hadn’t protected her own son.

If he tried to understand, he’d lose his mind. So he focused on his own mother’s voice, warm with welcome.

“Aidan! I was wondering when you’d come by.”

Aidan kissed her cheek. “Hi, Mom. Anything left?”

She looked him up and down, careful y scrutinizing. It was a familiar look, the one she’d given his father every day after he’d returned home from a day on the streets. After a career of CPD service, Kyle Reagan now enjoyed his retirement. She dried her hands and cupped Aidan’s cheek in her palm, her eyes understanding. She’d ask nothing unless he offered. It was one of the things about her he loved most. One of the things he’d never found in another woman. God only knew he’d tried. Which was why he was still single at thirty-three, he supposed.

“There’s a plate of leftover roast in the fridge. Pie’s still cooling.” She lifted a brow. “Your timing’s as perfect as ever it was.”

He managed a tired smile. “Excellent.”

“Your head’s all wet, boy. You’ll catch pneumonia, you know.”

He opened the refrigerator door. “That’s because it’s raining, Mom. And the Camaro top sprang a leak on the way home.”

She sighed. “It would do no good to tell you to get a sensible car.”

He just grinned and sat down at the large kitchen table. “The Camaro’s got two hundred and ninety horses.”

She rol ed her eyes, accustomed to his response. “Your father has some duct tape in the garage. Eat your supper then go fix that heap of yours.”

31

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

“Already did,” he said with his mouth ful . “Stopped by the store for tape on my way over here.” When he’d cleaned his plate she took it away and deposited a new plate filled with a large wedge of pie.

“You missed Sean and Ruth and the children. Abe and Kristen are stil here,” she said. “Your father’s trying to teach the baby about point spreads.”

His fifteen-month-old niece, Kara. His goddaughter. His heart squeezed again, thinking of the happiness his brother Abe had finally found. “I know. Abe’s SUV’s taking up the whole driveway, which is why I’m parked in the street. Where’s Rachel?” His sixteen-year-old sister was growing up entirely too fast for his liking.

“She’s at a friend’s house. She’l be home by nine. I think she’s got some boy trouble, but she hasn’t told me.” She lifted a brow. “Maybe you can talk to her.”

Aidan grunted. “About boys? Hell, no. If I was Dad I’d keep her locked in her room till she was twenty-five then nobody would have to worry about those boys.”

“You were one of
those boys
once.”

“My point exactly.”

She sipped at her coffee, her eyes sobering. “I saw Shelley’s mother last week, in the beauty parlor.”

Aidan’s jaw clenched. Shelley St. John was an off-limits topic. “Mom, today is not the day for this.” Becca nodded. “I know. But I didn’t want you to hear this from somebody else and be unprepared. She’s getting married.”

Once he’d felt hurt. Now he felt only disgust. “I know.”

His mother’s eyes flew open. “You do? How?”

“She sent me an invitation.” One final, well-placed jab in a line of so many. Shelley had been well-versed in the art of backstabbing and betrayal. “Now drop it, please.”

Becca sighed. “Eat your pie before your brother realizes I’ve cut it for you.”

“It’s too late,” Abe growled from the doorway. “Dammit, Aidan, you’re eating it all.”

“You snooze, you lose,” Aidan replied smoothly.

Grumbling, his brother snatched a plate and sat down at the table. “What happened to you?

You’re all wet.”

Becca set the coffeepot between them. “It’s raining, Abe,” she said and Aidan smiled in spite of himself.

But Abe wasn’t smiling. “You haven’t slept, have you? You still working the Morris boy?”

Aidan shook his head. “Me and Murphy spent all yesterday afternoon tracking the slimy SOB

of a father, but he’s gone under. We picked up a new case just after midnight. Kept us busy all day.” Abe frowned. “The only new case on the board from last night was a jumper.”

Aidan focused at his dessert. “It wasn’t a suicide. Not really.”

“How can it not really be a suicide?” Becca wanted to know. “Isn’t that like being a little bit pregnant?”

“Who’s pregnant?” His sister-in-law, Kristen, entered the kitchen, holding a baby with red curls. She narrowed her eyes at the remaining slice of pie, then at Abe. “Hey.”

“Talk to Ma,” Abe said with a shrug and reached for the baby.

“Who’s pregnant?” Kristen repeated, joining them at the table. Abe bounced Kara on his knee. “Nobody. Aidan grabbed a jumper last night.”

Kristen grimaced. “Tough night.” His sister-in-law knew all about tough cases. A prosecutor for the states attorney’s office, Kristen saw her share of bodies daily. Aidan sighed. “You don’t know the half of it. This woman was being treated by a psychiatrist who-” He stopped when Abe and Kristen flashed each other a look.

“Tess Ciccotelli,” Kristen said flatly. “So
you’re
the one who dragged her into Interview this afternoon. Hell, Aidan.”

32

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Aidan looked from Kristen to Abe. Kristen looked furious and Abe was fiercely concentrating on retying the bow in Kara’s curly hair. Aidan knew he was on his own. “How did you know?”

“My boss cal ed me this afternoon. Told me the basics and asked me to take the case, to talk to the cops who’d brought her in for questioning. I told him I couldn’t. Tess and I have worked together for years. We’re friends.”

“You and everybody else it seems.” Aidan jabbed at the pie, annoyed. The woman had more allies than NATO. “Wasn’t anybody else sitting in that courtroom when she absolved Harold Green of all responsibility for murdering three little kids and a cop?”

Kristen went still. “She did not absolve him of responsibility, Aidan.”

“You weren’t there, Kristen,” Aidan said, warning in his voice. “I was.”

“Not in the courtroom, no. Before, after, yes. She came to me, Aidan, torn up about what she had to do. She knew what the backlash would be. She could never have testified to Green’s incompetence to stand trial if she hadn’t believed it completely. That’s not the kind of woman she is. You spent hours with her this afternoon. Surely you saw that.”

Aidan shifted in his chair, uncomfortable because he still was unsure exactly what he’d seen and heard. “She’s a shrink, Kristen. She can make people see what she wants them to see.”

Kristen shoved her plate away. “She’s a psychiatrist, not a witch doctor. You’re wasting your time, Aidan. Find out who else wanted that woman dead. And find out who hated Tess enough to drag her into the middle of it.” She stood up, breathing hard. “You’l find out the list is a hell of a lot longer than you think.”

Aidan rubbed his tired head. “Kristen, please.”

“Please, what, Aidan? Please look away while you indulge your petty prejudice? I don’t think so. Did you know that Tess Ciccotelli lost her contract with the city because the cops’ union protested her?”

He thought about the Mercedes she’d driven the night before. “No, but she doesn’t appear to be hurting for income.”

Kristen’s eyes narrowed, dangerously. “Well, then, did you know that she nearly lost her life because some cop didn’t act fast enough to protect her from one of those nutcases in Interview?”

Aidan flinched. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“Ask Murphy. He can tel you what happened. Tess Ciccotelli has paid enough for doing what was right. I won’t sit by and see her charged for this. There is no fucking way she did this and you know it as well as I do.”

Becca gasped and Aidan blinked, shocked at the word that rarely came from his sister-inlaw’s mouth, while Abe’s hands came up to cover Kara’s ears. “You said the f-word,” Abe said slowly. “In front of the baby.”

Kristen pursed her lips, visibly trembling, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry for that, Abe. But I’m not sorry for any other part of it. Talk to Murphy, Aidan. Then run a list of all the criminals Tess has helped us put away. Then you look me in the eye and tell me that there’s no one who wants to see her suffer enough to set her up like this.”

“Kristen,” Abe murmured. “Calm down. Aidan will get to the bottom of this.” He sighed and jiggled the baby on his knee. “You are going to take this case, aren’t you?”

Kristen shook her head. “No. I can’t be objective when it comes to this. I think the whole business has been so patently unfair. Patrick said he could be objective, so he’l take it from here.” She leveled a serious look at Aidan. “Unless the investigation absolves her from responsibility.”

Aidan met her gaze. He’d never known his sister-in-law to be wrong about someone she fought for so passionately. She, more than anyone else, lent weight to Ciccotelli’s innocence.