by Ana Leigh
Vic came over and took a long look at the team baseball shirt and cap Doug had on. "Looks like the game went into extra innings."
"So fill me in," Doug said, ignoring the gibe.
"Same M.O. as Gilbert. A floater. Hands tied, plastic bag over his head." Vic nodded when Doug arched a brow. "Yeah, you've got it, partner. Looks like we've got a serial killer on our hands."
"Or a crusader," Doug murmured.
They questioned the spectators and the young couple who discovered the body. Nobody was able to offer any other information.
"Let's check out his place," Vic said.
"Give me a few minutes to change my clothes."
Vic nodded. "Take a couple more to take a shower. Your perfume is turning me on, McGuire. I'll meet you at the station."
* * *
Vic was waiting in the Crown Victoria when Doug drove into the police lot. He parked his car and climbed in beside Vic.
"So you've finally nailed Judge Jessica, huh, Wolf Man?" Vic said as they headed out.
"Who said I was with the judge?"
"It's the talk of the precinct. I can't believe you took her to the softball game."
"So what? Does that mean I'm sleeping with her?"
"Partner, either you slept with her tonight or changed your shaving lotion."
"Gee, Officer, we're both over eighteen."
"Hope you know what you're doing, McGuire. You and the judge don't exactly travel in the same circles."
"I don't need you to tell me that."
"I just don't want to see you screw yourself up, partner."
Vic was his best friend. Doug knew eventually Vic would get the whole story out of him, but right now he wasn't ready to talk about Jess to anybody. He didn't understand his relationship with her himself, so he couldn't try to explain it to Vic. Fortunately, they'd been partners for so long that Vic knew how far he could push Doug's buttons. That was the beauty of their partnership.
Vic pulled up in front of a cheap hotel on the lower East Side. The desk clerk recognized the detectives, from their previous investigation of Bellemy, shoved a passkey at them and then went back to sleep.
A search of Bellemy's one-room apartment produced nothing more than a half dozen porno pictures of children.
Incensed, Vic tore them down. "God, what a perverted bastard!"
"I think most of this filth is computer-generated now," Doug said. "But the city still ought to pin a medal on the guy who whacked this pervert."
"Who said it has to be a man? A woman could stick a needle into him to immobilize him, tie up his hands and then put a plastic bag over his head."
Doug doubted that. "She'd have to be damn strong to get his body into the river."
"I figure a gal in good condition could do it easily," Vic pressed.
"I don't doubt that there's a long line of women who'd like to try."
"The judge for one. Of course she's in the clear. She was in bed with a detective."
"What are you getting at, Vic? Why would the judge be a suspect?"
"She had to throw Gilbert's and Bellemy's cases out of court, didn't she? Good reason to take the law into her own hands."
"If that's your argument, they were our cases, too, so either one of us could be the killer. And don't rule out the Tate girl's mother or dad."
"I can see the Tate kid's parents knocking off Bellemy, but not Gilbert," Vic said.
"We don't even know for certain what time Bellemy was killed."
"The M.E. said there was no rigor mortis and there was still blood pooled on a couple of scrapes on his arms, so without an examination he figured it couldn't have been much more than an hour."
Doug chuckled. "Then that leaves you and the Tates our only suspects, Vic, 'cause Jess and I have an alibi."
"Jess?" Vic snorted. "Sounds like the two of you are getting real tight, partner. Let's get out of here. This joint stinks."
* * *
Night had slipped into daylight by the time they returned to the precinct. While Vic wrote up a report, Doug pulled Kellie Tate's file. Although every detail was still clear in his mind, he read it again. His stomach knotted when he looked at the photographs of the lifeless body of the adorable eight-year-old. He and Vic had worked their butts off tracking down her killer. And even though Sam Bellemy had confessed to the sadistic rape and murder of the child, he later denied it and walked on a technicality.
Doug closed the file and reached for Cindy Fire's. Her slaying at the hands of LeRoy Gilbert had been just as brutal. These two cases, above all others, had really gotten to him. No matter what he'd said to the contrary, he'd felt guilt for being indirectly responsible that the two killers had gone free. And it was little consolation to know both of them had finally paid for their crimes.
Frustrated, he shoved the files aside. He'd had it. He was sick of dealing with the dregs of society: pedophiles molesting children, junkies robbing and killing to support their drug habits, spouses killing one another in domestic disputes. Gang wars. Hate crimes. Murderous rages. Perversion. Revenge. Hatred. Greed. How many ways – and reasons – could people find to kill each other? Lately it was getting harder and harder to look into the pained faces of the loved ones of the murdered victims. It was time he gave it up. There sure as hell had to be something better in life than this. Putting pieces of the puzzles together wasn't doing it for him anymore. He reached for the files again.
From what he could tell at this point, the only link between the two victims was that he and Vic had been the arresting officers on both cases. What if Crusader Rabbit decided that he and Vic deserved the same fate for fouling up the arrests. "Yeah, well come and get me, you damn scumball."
Vic glanced up. "What?"
"I was thinking aloud, Vic. What if whoever's out there playing 'I, the Jury' gets the bright idea to blame us for these guys getting off and decides to try and whack us?"
"He can try."
Doug was suddenly struck with another damning thought. Jess! "Or the judge who let them walk?"
Vic sighed deeply. "McGuire, did you ever think of spending your nights sleeping instead of screwing your brains out?"
Doug wasn't giving up on the idea. He decided to bounce it off Jess. He reached for the telephone, and slammed it down when all he got was the steady drone of a busy signal. It gave him an excuse to see her. Doug bolted to his feet. "I'll be right back."
He made it to the high rise in seven minutes flat. Charlie, the security guard, shook his head when Doug entered.
"You just missed her, Detective. The Judge drove off a couple minutes ago."
Dammit! "Thanks." He went back to his car. He'd give her a few minutes and then call her. Besides, Vic was right. He was grasping at straws. He had nothing to go on except a hunch, so why alarm her?
* * *
Jess was late. She'd overslept and Liz's call had detained her more. She could see it now. With Liz home sick today, the office would be in turmoil. Liz always kept things running as smoothly as a well-oiled machine.
As usual she thought of Doug. These days he was all she thought about. She'd discovered that there was a lot more to Doug McGuire than great sex. He had an incredible sensitivity under that tough shell he wore like a suit of armor. She'd witnessed it the night he'd told her about Kate Harrington and her son Danny; she'd felt it in the way he made love – as much of a desire to satisfy as to be satisfied.
Jess pulled into her reserved spot in the parking garage and turned off the ignition. Deep in thought, she sat with her arms slumped over the steering wheel.
Doug McGuire was an enigma, all right. And every time they were together she found herself more and more aware of how vulnerable this tough detective really was. Was he afraid of being hurt? What in his life had caused this distrust? Clearly he was far from admitting that what was between them was developing quickly into a feeling much deeper than sex. The question was would he ever admit it to himself – much less to her?
Getting emotionally involved wi
th him was the very thing she had hoped to avoid. A seven year relationship with Dennis Wolcott had foolishly led her to the naive belief that she was sophisticated enough to play these bedroom games. But Doug McGuire was no Dennis Wolcott.
"Judge Kirkland, are you okay?" The rapping on the car window startled her out of her musing. Stanley Haley was peering worriedly into the window. "Are you okay, Judge Kirkland?"
She opened the car door. "Oh, good morning, Stanley. I'm fine. I'm just wondering how I'll get through the day without Liz."
"Did something happen to Ms. Alexander?" the young man asked as they walked to the elevator.
"She's not feeling well, so she won't be in today."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"What's your workload, Stanley?"
"I'm scheduled for your court," he said.
"That would work out perfectly. Stanley, I've got a lot of paperwork to clear off my desk today. Would you consider covering Liz's desk when we're not in court?"
Stanley grinned widely. "I'd love to, Judge Kirkland."
* * *
The morning was passing swiftly. In between her two court sessions, Jessica tried unsuccessfully to read a previous transcript of the case next on her docket but her mind constantly drifted to thoughts of Doug. She finally gave up trying.
Shoving the transcript aside, she picked up the telephone and dialed Liz to find out if she needed anything. All Jess got was an answering machine and a promise of a call back. She then tried her father to unload her woes on him, and struck out at both the restaurant and his house. She went back to trying to concentrate on the transcript.
Jessica struggled through the afternoon session, thanked Stanley for his help and sent him on his way. Deciding to leave, she tried to reach Liz and ended up talking to the answering machine again. Frustrated, she reached for the stack of telephone messages Stanley had put in front of her and discovered four of them were from Doug. No call back number. She telephoned his precinct, only to be told Detective McGuire was out of the office.
Since it definitely wasn't her day, Jessica decided to leave. She pondered whether to check on Liz. If she was too sick to answer the telephone, she might need medical attention. They had exchanged keys years ago in case of emergencies, and kept them in Liz's desk. To Jess's surprise there must have been a tagged key for half of the people who worked in the courthouse in the lower drawer of Liz's desk. She finally found Liz's house-key among them.
* * *
There was no sign of Liz at home and the answering machine was blinking. Jessica's anxiety increased. Curious, she played the messages; they were the same two she had left, which meant that Liz had never played them back. This was cause for alarm. If Liz had ended up in the hospital, surely someone would have notified her by now. Jessica tried unsuccessfully to reach Doug again. Then she called her father and finally reached him at the restaurant.
When she told him of her concern, he sounded remarkably calm, and tried to reassure her that there was nothing to be concerned about. He convinced her into coming to the restaurant. As soon as she drove up, he came out to meet her. Seeing her distressed expression, he put his arms around her.
"I'm so worried, Dad. What could have happened to Liz?"
"Sweetheart, I'm sure it's nothing serious. She probably just stepped out for a while."
"But she hasn't even listened to her incoming calls."
"Knowing Liz, she probably just didn't want to talk to anybody. Haven't you ever felt that way?"
As a matter of fact that was exactly what she'd done all day. For a long moment she remained in his arms, drawing on his strength and the conviction of his words.
"Come on inside and have dinner with me. You can call Liz again."
"Tomorrow is our dinner night."
"So is there a law against a father and daughter having dinner together two nights in a row, Your Honor?"
Jessica smiled and slipped her arm around his waist. "There probably is somewhere, but let's live dangerously."
* * *
Doug and Vic finished canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who might have seen Bellemy last night and returned to their car. Just as he was about to drive off, Doug saw Jess pull into the parking lot of the Water Street Bistro. When the old guy rushed out and took her in his arms, Doug clenched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
So what's it to you, McGuire? You gonna deck the old guy? He belongs in her day world – you're just good for her nights.
Hell, wasn't that what their relationship was all about from the beginning? Great sex was all they owed each other. When it burned out they'd go their separate ways with a thanks for the memories.
Vic was right. He should never have taken her to that softball game. She and the old guy were probably having a good laugh right now about it. Or maybe she kept Detective Doug McGuire – her boy toy extraordinaire – a secret from the poor sucker.
"It ain't getting any earlier, McGuire," Vic groused, beside him.
Doug turned on the ignition and pulled out. He glanced in the side-view mirror and saw Jess slip her arm around the guy's waist. He had nothing to say on the way back to the precinct.
After parking the car, he signed out, stopped at a drive-through for a burger and fries and topped them off with a can of beer when he got home. He switched on the tube, listened to Sherilyn Matthews for all of sixty seconds, then turned it off and headed for the bedroom and a shower.
He let the hot spray of water hit him in the face for about twenty minutes. A waste of time and water – it didn't help. What were she and the old guy doing right now? Sitting in that fancy restaurant sipping glasses of hundred-dollar wine, or had they moved on to her apartment and were… He turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
He tried another beer and the television again. Neither worked. His three-room apartment had suddenly shrunk to one room with the walls closing in fast, and he had to get out of there. He headed for The Precinct, figuring he'd sit in on the Sheepshead game. As he drove past the Water Street Bistro, he saw Jess's Park Avenue was still in the parking lot.
Without conscious intention, he ended up at Jess's highrise. It was time they spelled out the game rules. He nodded to the security guard and took the elevator up to her floor. He'd been a cop too long not to know how to trip a lock.
Doug checked out the bedroom first to make sure he wasn't interrupting anything. He'd be making a real ass of himself if he'd walked in on them.
He could feel her aura in the pale green and cream serenity of the room, smell the faintest hint of her perfume. He shifted his gaze to the bed. His loins knotted as he recalled the last time he was in it with her. He left the room hurriedly, went into the den and turned on a lamp. Then he sank down on a couch that conjured up a very torrid memory and reached for the television remote.
* * *
"Doug, wake up." He opened his eyes and sat up. Jess was standing in the room's doorway. "Doug, what are you doing here?"
Glancing at his watch, he discovered he'd been asleep for the past two hours. "I guess I dozed off."
"That doesn't answer my question." Her body language said it all when she walked over, picked up the remote and zapped the picture on the tube. "How did you get in here?"
She was ticked off all right. And he felt like a damn fool. Of all the dumb moves he'd made in his life, this one was right up there with the dumbest.
"I thought we needed to talk."
"I want to know how you got in here."
He tried to lighten her mood with a grin. "Trade secret." Dumb and dumber. She wasn't amused.
"Who do you think you are? Get out of here, Doug. I won't stand for you entering my apartment uninvited."
She didn't give a damn what he wanted to talk about, and was making it clear she was the piper, and he had to waltz to her tune. Well he wasn't buying it. When he was on the dance floor, he did the leading.
"I don't think the issue is who I think I am, but more what you th
ink I am. What happened, Your Honor, didn't things go your way tonight? Can't the old guy get it up on a full stomach?"
Jess turned white. She was too much of a lady to smack him in the face, but he could tell she sure as hell wanted to. Anger? Fury? Shock? Whatever she was feeling, anyone who was as idiot as he'd been to make such a crack was too stupid to figure it out anyway.
She squared those classy shoulders of hers and raised her head with that intrinsic dignity she possessed. "That old guy happens to be my father, Detective. Now please get out of here or I'll call security and have you thrown out."
Her father? The old guy was her father! This time he'd really blown it! He was a loudmouth smart-ass. He knew it, and now she knew it, too. He raised a hand to reach out to her, but she turned away, walked to the door and opened it.
Doug had no choice but to follow, and then paused on his way out.
"Jess, I'm—"
She closed the door.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
Doug had lost count of how often he'd glanced at the clock. He still had a couple of hours before it was time to get up. It was a mistake to lie in bed waiting. It gave your thoughts the chance to really screw you up – like they'd been doing all night.
He got out of bed and put on his sweats and sneakers. He'd try jogging. He'd always been good for about four miles. Maybe that would be enough to run it off. Like hell it would. It'd take a damn sight more than a four-mile jog to get over Jess.
Once outside he headed east toward Lake Michigan. By some quirk after a couple of miles he ended up smack in front of Jess's high-rise on Lake Drive
.
The security guard buzzed him in and Doug stopped at his desk.
"Don't you have a home, Charlie? Seems like you're always here."