The Burden of Desire

by Natalie Charles

  “Ben.” Her voice had assumed a smooth, glassy tone, and her eyes were wide. “I’m going to level with you. I love my job, and I’m trying hard to save it.”

  The note of desperation in her voice tugged at him. Damn. She hated him, but he didn’t hate her. He didn’t want her to lose her job, and he certainly didn’t want to be perceived as being responsible for something like that. “I’m just reviewing the file, not making any recommendations. I would never recommend that you lose your job.” There, that should settle it.

  But she continued to watch him, unblinking. He released a sigh. “You may as well come out and tell me what you want me to do. I’ve never known you to hold back.”

  She raised her chin. “I want to conduct the follow-up investigation with you. I need to know what went wrong, and if I can, I need to fix it. I need to save my job.”

  “You want to doctor the file? Cover your tracks?” He shook his head. “I can’t agree to that. No way.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Jack is locking me out of this case, shutting the whole thing down. But, Ben, the forensic evidence is strong. Mitch Kruger killed someone, I know it. I need a second bite at the apple. I need a chance to prove my case.”

  “I think you’re going to have a hard time convincing anyone here to bring Mitch Kruger to trial again.”

  She chewed her bottom lip while she considered this. “You’re probably right. My credibility is shot.” Her long lashes fluttered as she turned her gaze to him. “But yours isn’t.”

  “Now wait—”

  “I can help you review this file. I know everything about it, and you can provide the second set of eyes that Jack feels is needed. If I can convince you that Mitch Kruger committed murder, you can convince Jack that my judgment wasn’t off. Not entirely.”

  “And you can keep your job.” Ben crossed his arms. “But Jack won’t like this. He wants an independent review.”

  “Fine, make it an independent review. Just let me tag along, treat me as a partner. A consultant. Tell Jack that it’s too complicated and you think my input would be valuable.” He caught the sweet scent of her hair as she leaned forward. “He’ll listen to you. Besides, it wouldn’t be strange for two colleagues to consult with each other. Not if we’re already partners.”

  “Sally, I realize you don’t want to lose control of the file—”

  “You want to cut a deal?” She squared her shoulders. “Fine. Name your price.”

  “A deal?” He started. “What kind of deal are we making here?”

  “You let me in on your review process and convince Jack to make me your partner. Give me a chance to save my job and make my case. I’ll give you something in return. So what do you want? I’ll do your dry cleaning, buy you coffee for a month...what?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  He didn’t care about dry cleaning or coffee. He allowed his gaze to venture lower, skimming the edges of her dress, the elegant curves of her body. There’d been a time in law school when he’d thought he could fall in love with Sally Dawson. Smart, quirky Sally, who was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Then he’d gone and ruined it. But now she needed him. Now he finally had an in. So what did he want?

  “All right, Sally,” he began coolly. “I’ll talk to Jack, tell him I want your help. I’ll let you tag along on my review interviews, and I’ll promise to keep an open mind. If you can convince me that Mitch Kruger committed murder, I’ll help you plead your case to Jack. But if I’m not convinced, or if I think an error in judgment was made...I can’t promise results.”

  “Fine, I get that. And in return?”

  He moved his hands to his waist. “Anything, right?”

  She peered at him from narrowed eyes. “Keep it family friendly, Ben.”

  He lowered himself toward her, watching her eyes widen as he reduced the distance between them. “You sneer at me.”

  “I don’t.” But she blinked several times and leaned slightly away from him. Busted.

  “You know you do. You’ve barely spoken to me since the first year of law school. You can hardly stand to look at me now, and we’re going to be working across the hall from each other.”

  “Well, and so what?” She folded her arms across her chest like a belligerent child.

  “So what? The ‘so what’ is that now you want something from me. You made my welcome as cold as possible this morning, and now you suddenly want us to work together.”

  “You’re mad that I didn’t smile at you enough?” She rolled her eyes. “This is great. So what? You’re going to get even, I suppose. Humiliate me? Make me wash your car in a bikini?”

  That was an image worth dwelling on, but he had to stay focused. “Worse. I want a second chance.” He pulled his back straighter. “I want you to have dinner with me.”

  * * *

  It was as if someone had hit an erase button in her mind. She lost her words, her thoughts slid away into some great expanse of forgotten information, and all that came out of her mouth was, “Ha!”

  Have dinner with Ben? Oh, that was rich. She’d put that one in her diary and read it the next time she needed a laugh.

  His face was unmoving. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What else is there to say? How about, ‘thank you, but I’d rather set my hair on fire.’”

  “That seems like a dramatic response,” he said mildly, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He turned and walked toward the door, leaving her standing there dumbly. “That’s it? Suit yourself?”

  He paused to issue a second nonchalant shrug. “That’s the deal. If you’re not willing to bargain, then we’re done.”

  “And...what? What happens to your review of my files?”

  “I’ll proceed as Jack requested. I’ll conduct some interviews, check under rocks for missing clues, exactly what you’d expect.” He pulled at the knot on his tie. “I’ll submit some kind of report to Jack, let him know how, exactly, a murder victim walked back into town. He’ll take it from there.”

  Sally’s stomach worked itself into a ball. “Without me? You mean you’re going to cut me out? But I can tell you the subtleties of the case, who to talk to.”

  “I’ll interview you, of course.” Now he turned his gaze directly to her. “You’ll be a part of my inquiry. But I’ll do the rest independently, just as Jack requested. You were a brilliant law student, and I’m sure you’re a good attorney, Sally. You shouldn’t have anything to be worried about.”

  Her pulse quickened. He was going to complete a review of her file, and she’d have to sit back and wait for the result? Torture. She couldn’t trust Ben with her job like that. What if he overlooked something obvious, and she was left formulating a defense? She had to maintain some control.

  “I’ll talk to Jack myself,” she announced. “I’ll explain the need to help you with your investigation.”

  “You can do whatever you want, but I think we both know that he’s not likely to be receptive. But if I suggested it, on the other hand, told him that I thought it would be valuable to have your input at all stages of the review, given the time pressures...” His voice trailed off.

  Sally opened her mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut again. Ben was right. If she asked Jack again to be involved in the follow-up investigation, she’d appear self-serving and even suspicious, as if she was trying to hide something. He’d already turned her down once. If Ben insisted that he needed her help, well, that just might work. Jack wanted an answer, and quickly. He would probably be open to anything Ben suggested as long as it might speed up his review. She frowned. “You’re blackmailing me.”

  “Now wait a second.” Ben spun to face her. “This exchange was your idea. You know my terms. If you don’t want to do it, no problem. I can promise you I’ll be a complete professional in my review.”
/>   “But your terms are...unseemly.”

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry you find the idea of having dinner with me so offensive.”

  She balled her fists. He knew how she felt about him. He knew this would be the one thing she couldn’t take, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

  She could do this. Yes, it might be awkward to go out with him—the idea made her palms sweat—but she’d live. She could even fake a headache and leave early. No appetizers, no dessert. Really, what was the big deal? She’d suffer through an evening with him in exchange for having more control over a file she cared about. Dinner in exchange for information that she could use to save her job, repair her reputation and bring Mitch Kruger to justice.

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ll have dinner with you.”

  He didn’t smile. She didn’t expect him to. Her tight-jawed acquiescence wasn’t a victory by any measure. Instead he nodded slowly and turned back to the door. “Then I’ll speak with Jack about getting you involved with the investigation.”

  “Great. At least one of us will enjoy this.” She flung her gaze to the far wall, directing her words to a large potted plant on the bookshelf.

  Ben stood in place, and when he spoke, his tone had softened. “Listen. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. I was hoping that I could do this to make it... I’m not doing anything to hurt you.”

  “You want me to give you a second chance by coercion. That may work on other women, but it won’t fly with me.”

  “Sally. Come on now. That was ten years ago—”

  She wasn’t listening as she bustled around her office. “I don’t have time for soliloquies. I’m meeting Dennis Marlow and Ronnie Kruger downstairs.” She picked up a few scattered pens on her desk and dropped them with a thud into the pen holder. Then she swept round her desk.

  Ben stepped into her path. “Hold it.”

  He was in her way, his broad figure blocking her retreat. She had no choice but to stop. “What?”

  “It’s not just your file anymore. I’m going to that meeting, too, and I’ll be going to any meeting that comes up. From now on, whether you like it or not, when it comes to the Kruger case, there’s only ‘us.’ Got it?”

  His hands were on his hips, his stance wide as he towered over her. Sally stared right through him without saying a word. Then she swept past him and out the door, as if he hadn’t been there at all.

  Chapter 3

  Sally’s angry head start didn’t matter in the end. Ben caught up with her in three easy strides down the hall. Maybe the heels had been a mistake, after all.

  “We’ll take the stairs,” he announced. “And on the way, you can explain your theory of this case to me. Give me your elevator pitch.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Veronica Kruger disappeared almost a year ago. Vanished. Apparently she had a nasty fight with her husband, Mitch. Next thing we know, she’s not showing up at work. The police investigate and their kid tells us he hasn’t heard from his mom in a few days.”

  “Their son? How old?”

  “Teenage son, sixteen at the time. His name is James. That’s James, not Jim. He was set to testify that he came home late from a party on the night his mother disappeared, sneaked into the house and went straight to bed. The next morning his dad told him that she’d packed up and left after an argument. While he was at the party.” Sally sighed. “James didn’t believe it, and things between father and son have been tense. James was going to testify against his father. He thinks Mitch killed his mom. Thought. He’s been living with a friend.”

  They reached the staircase and proceeded down it. Their voices echoed against the metal stairwell and cinder block walls. “But you weren’t basing your entire case on James’s testimony.”

  “Partly,” she admitted. “But we’re basing it in larger part on the forensic evidence. The police found an area rug in a Dumpster behind a store that Mitch passed each morning on his way to work, months after we first suspected murder. A store employee called it in because... God. You should see the pictures. It just looks like someone bled to death on it.”

  “And he threw it out? In plain sight?”

  “A store employee saw it, and surveillance footage confirmed it. It was rolled up, but still messy. We think he may have hidden it in a storage unit and dumped it after the preliminary investigation cooled and the police gave him some breathing room. James identified it. He said the rug had been missing since the night his mom disappeared.”

  “It’s like he wanted you to find it,” Ben mused. “So that’s your case? Missing woman and blood on an area rug?”

  “The lab ran DNA tests. It’s Mrs. Kruger’s blood, and the amount on that rug proves a fatal injury. Police found blood spatter on the wall consistent with a gunshot wound. The blood had been cleaned up, but the evidence was not completely destroyed. Between all of that and James’s testimony, we have ourselves a murder. I mean, we thought we had.”

  “Hmm.”

  Sally glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “What?”

  “Just thinking,” he replied.

  “No.” She opened the door to the landing, then froze in place. “We’re partners now, remember? I told you my theory, so what are you thinking?”

  He leaned into the door she held. She was surprised to see his forehead crease as he thought, evidence that he was taking this case, her case, very seriously. “I’m thinking about how a massive amount of Ronnie Kruger’s blood could be on an area rug while she is still alive. Sounds like a lab error.”

  “Impossible. I’ve checked and triple-checked everything with the lab and the detectives on the case. I was about to go to trial, Ben. I know there wasn’t a mistake.”

  “I’m not saying anyone’s at fault,” he said mildly. “I’m only suggesting that something was missed or maybe overlooked. In any case, the good news is we may have just found Ronnie Kruger’s body.” He gave Sally a wink as they exited through the door. She tried not to roll her eyes yet again.

  Marlow was already in the conference room when they arrived. “Sorry I’m—we’re—late,” Sally said. Ben shut the door behind them.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” the defense attorney said, rising from his seat and extending his hand to Ben. “I’m Dennis Marlow, and this is Veronica Kruger.”

  “Ronnie.” The woman didn’t exactly smile, but she wasn’t unpleasant, either.

  “Ben McNamara.” He shook hands with Marlow and gave Ronnie a polite nod. “Ma’am.”

  Sally slid into a seat and studied Ronnie from across the table, trying to wrap her head around the idea of her. Ronnie Kruger had haunted her nightmares. Sally had imagined her screams and her fear. She’d hounded the police detectives about her, wanting them to extend searches for her body so the poor woman could receive a proper burial.

  Sally had tried not to think about the grisly details of her death. Blood spatter patterns at the Kruger household had been blurred by aggressive cleaning, but illuminated by luminol, and they indicated Mrs. Kruger had been shot multiple times. A bullet recovered from the fireplace contained Ronnie’s blood and confirmed the weapon had been a .357. Sally couldn’t think about that final, awful end when the bullets had torn into her body. She knew some of her colleagues, like many homicide detectives, had to crack jokes to distance themselves from the daily horrors they witnessed. They called people “vics” and “perps” and used cold, impersonal language to describe the crimes. It was their only armor against evil.

  Sally wasn’t quite there yet, psychologically, although she supposed she might have fewer nightmares if she were. Instead, when she had a new case, she thought of clothes. This was what gave her insomnia: victims’ clothing. When she looked at crime scene photos, she’d stare at the person’s shoes and think about how aliv
e he or she had been at the moment they’d dressed. At the darkest points of the case, when she questioned her abilities and her energy to continue, Sally had thought about Ronnie selecting her white blouse and beige khakis, not knowing those would be the clothes she would die in. Then Sally had fought on.

  She blinked. But none of that was true anymore. Ronnie Kruger had dressed that morning, and she’d lived to see hundreds of more days, while Sally had worked to bring her nonexistent killer to justice. She tried to identify the source of the tension that balled the muscles around her neck. Was she actually angry that Ronnie Kruger was alive? Sally rubbed at her temple, where a headache had started to throb. No need to engage in psychotherapy right now. There were more pressing concerns.

  Ben made his way around to her side of the table. Had he always been so broad-shouldered, or was that the marine in him? He carried himself as if he owned the room. She’d have to remind him that he didn’t.

  “I’m new to the office,” he explained in an easy manner as he slid into the chair beside her. “Sally’s showing me the ropes.”

  He gave her a smile. She gritted her teeth. “Mrs. Kruger,” she said in a voice that sounded almost calm. “First of all, I’m glad to see you’re doing well. It would be an understatement if I said that I was very concerned about you.”

  “And I feel terrible about that, believe me.” The woman’s hand flew to her heart, and her blue eyes widened. “Mitch and I had a terrible argument, and I’m ashamed to say I went a bit out of my mind.” Her eyelids lowered and she shook her head contritely. “I left my son. My poor boy, James, was so worried. I had no idea.”

  Sally reached for the box of tissues beside her when she noticed that tears had started to well in Ronnie’s eyes. “Please, help yourself. We’re always well stocked with tissues around here.” She slid the box across the table.

  “Thank you.” Ronnie took one out and proceeded to dab at both eyes and blow her nose. “The idea of Mitch being on trial for my murder? Well, I came home as soon as I found out.”