The Burden of Desire

by Natalie Charles

  She paused to tilt her head at him. “It’s not like that, Ben. James Kruger is sensitive. He fears his father, that’s all. Anyway, I prosecute violent criminals. That’s what I do. So now I’m supposed to be afraid to prosecute them because they might get angry about it?” She scoffed. “It’s my job to not care what they think.”

  “But this is different.” He set his jaw. “There’s something wrong here.”

  “And what do you care, Ben?” The words came out in a flash, riding the tide of anger that swept through her. “Since when do you care so much about who’s threatening me or what cases I work on? You spent nearly three years in law school making it clear how little you think of me, so why the sudden change of heart?”

  His mouth tensed, but he didn’t say a word. He just stood frozen in place. Sally’s frame trembled beneath her clothing. She wished she could be honest with him and tell him how terrified she was, without fearing that he’d use her own words against her to push her off this case. But she couldn’t trust Ben with her feelings.

  She pulled on her coat and marched up to him. “We’re going to be late. Are you ready to go?”

  He looked conflicted as his gaze darted to her face. “This isn’t done yet, Sally.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” she replied as she turned off her light and stepped out into the hall. “In the meantime, I’m going to do my job.”

  She’d taken only two steps when he fell into pace with her. “Wait. It’s not about you or me, remember? We’re a team now.”

  She brought her shoulders back and lifted her chin, but didn’t verbalize a response. They walked in sync down the hall, their footsteps falling at the same time and in the same rhythm. She could feel Ben’s tall presence beside her, and for the first time, she felt grateful that she’d been given a partner despite her protests.

  Chapter 6

  The lights on the BMW convertible flashed as they approached. Sally cleared her throat. “I should warn you, I’m a terrible driver.”

  Ben sucked in a breath. “Nice car.” The vehicle was gorgeous. Sleek black exterior with gray leather seats. A convertible wasn’t a sensible choice for the climate, but he wasn’t about to complain.

  “It’s a rental,” she explained as she opened the door. “Some guy rear-ended me at an intersection. It wasn’t my fault,” she added.

  “Is this part of you being a terrible driver?”

  “More like unlucky. The string of vehicular homicides makes me a terrible driver.” He must have made a face because she started laughing. “I’m kidding! Geez.” She slid into the seat as he opened the passenger door. “But seriously, buckle your seat belt.”

  She wouldn’t need to tell him twice.

  Ben started to climb into the car, but stopped. Had she been transporting small children? The seat was positioned only inches from the dashboard. He leaned in and pulled a lever to move it back, but was only partly successful. He sighed and climbed in, folding himself nearly in half. Then he fastened his seat belt.

  She backed out of the space and pulled onto the street. They drove in silence for a few minutes. Thanks to the warning Sally had given him, Ben was hyperalert to her speed and the position of the vehicle on the road. She drove with something close to passion, throwing her entire body into each curve and every shift of gear. She used her turn signal to switch lanes, and she checked her mirrors. Sally wasn’t a bad driver, just a fast one. A very fast one. His right foot reflexively jammed the nonexistent passenger side brake pedal more than once before they reached the highway.

  “Now that James claims to have seen a body in his living room, we’ll test that claim with the science,” he said. “The way I see it, that was the foundation of your case.”

  “No body. Science is all we had to go on,” Sally agreed. She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “You can move your seat back, you know.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  He kept his gaze forward. The black ribbon of highway was damp from the morning rain and spattered with red and gold leaves. As they drove, the compartment filled with Sally: her sweet smell and the humming under her breath, as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. He couldn’t place the tune. He listened for a minute or so, but then she stopped.

  “What did Jack say yesterday?” Her voice sounded uncertain. “I mean, when you suggested that I help you?”

  Ben kept his face turned toward the road. “I told him that if he wanted an answer quickly, I needed someone who was familiar with the case. He agreed.”

  She smoothed a hand over her hair. “So Jack must not think I messed up too badly if he’s willing to let me help with the investigation. He must suspect that something more is going on here.”

  Ben shifted slightly in his seat, suddenly feeling as if he was sitting naked on pinecones. “I think he agreed that he needs an answer quickly,” he said softly.

  “Oh,” was her soft response.

  Ben felt her disappointment in his gut. “Look, it doesn’t matter what Jack thinks or doesn’t think. We’ve got a kid who says that he saw a body in his living room. Let’s focus on proving or disproving that for now.” He didn’t want her to worry about losing her job when there were a hundred more important things to worry about. Her life, for example.

  “We should talk to the detective about any Jane Does,” she said. “We’ve been keeping an eye out, hoping that Ronnie Kruger’s body would turn up.” She laughed drily. “I guess she did, didn’t she? But if anyone else has been found, we need to know about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She slowed suddenly and narrowed her eyes to stare at an empty cardboard box on the side of the road. Then she sped on without comment. Ben studied her. “Uh, everything okay?”

  Her cheeks grew pink. “Yes, fine.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear.

  She didn’t offer an explanation, but Ben wasn’t about to let that slide. He ran an index finger beneath the thick shoulder strap of his seat belt, loosening its hold. “Let me guess—you lost a cardboard box and you thought that was it? Or maybe you’re moving and in need of boxes.” He sat up straighter. “If you’re moving, I can give you some of my boxes. I’m in the middle of unpacking, and I’ve got enough cardboard to move a thousand designer handbags.”

  She tightened her lips. “You’re bad at guessing.”

  “Cardboard box rescue, then? I could tell you’re a Good Samaritan.” He grinned when she shot him a look. She was fun to tease.

  Sally shook her hair and focused on the road, shoulders bunching up around her ears. “An elementary school friend of mine found a litter of abandoned kittens in a cardboard box once.” Her face pulled into a frown. “I just think about it sometimes.”

  “So you were looking for kittens in that box?”

  “No.” She glared at him and pursed her mouth. “I wasn’t looking for kittens.”

  He shifted to face her fully. “You were looking for abandoned kittens.” He laughed from the bottom of his belly. “That’s adorable. Do you always do that when you see a cardboard box on the side of the highway?”

  She sighed and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I told you. I wasn’t looking for kittens.”

  Their conversation lapsed into silence again. He didn’t know what she was so uptight about—he liked that she looked for kittens in cardboard boxes. He suspected he could spend a lifetime with her and be continually charmed by the little surprises that comprised her personality. His pulse quickened as he thought back to the first semester of law school and the nights they’d shared together. He’d lusted after Sally from the second he first saw her in their contracts class, dressed in designer clothes but talking with their classmates as if she was one of them. He’d quickly learned that she wasn’t. She was bright and dynamic, with a dramatic streak that any reality television show exe
cutive would fall over himself to capture. She could be sweet or haughty, and either mood had turned Ben on.

  Then he’d gotten her alone. In his apartment. They’d had sex in the galley kitchen, her on the countertop, her long legs wrapped around his waist. He’d been sober for a change. They both had been, but he’d told himself that whatever they’d shared had only been casual. They’d continued dating. He’d treat her to dinner, lingering for hours over coffee and conversation, and then they’d go somewhere to have mind-altering sex. That was the pattern, and it worked just fine for him. Then Sally had gone and told him that she was in love with him.

  Looking back, he figured maybe he’d shared similar feelings, but at the time, he’d panicked. He’d drunk himself into oblivion that night, then the next day seduced a classmate who’d been coming on to him—all to prove that he hadn’t felt anything for Sally. Feeling anything for her would leave him raw, exposed and open to pain. He’d already had too much pain.

  He swallowed the tightness in his throat. The years he’d been abroad, in the middle of a war zone, he’d thought about Sally Dawson, hot and sweet and pressed against his body, or whispering some shared secret in his ear. He’d crafted an apology note a hundred times, but each draft fell flat. How was he supposed to apologize for the hurt he’d caused her? He’d spent so much of his life trying to numb his senses—how was he supposed to explain that he’d wanted to shame her for making him feel something for a change? Now the sight of her humming quietly to herself dragged to the surface the ache he’d long ago tried to drown.

  “Sally.” He scratched his eyebrow, not knowing where to start. “I appreciate that you’re okay with us being partners on this case.” As difficult as it was for him to look at her and to be reminded of his past insensitivity, it must be a hundred times worse for her.

  “I’m not okay with it,” she replied brightly. She reached for a dial on the dashboard and turned up the heat. “I don’t like having a partner, and I don’t need one. Even if I did need or want one, I’d prefer to partner with someone I could trust. But it’s not up to me.” She gave him a withering smile. “We have a business arrangement, that’s all.”

  Her nonchalant delivery knocked him back against his seat. At least she’d stopped humming. “I don’t bite.” Damn, he sounded injured, and that wasn’t what he’d intended. “It’s been a long time since...you know.” Since we had the hottest sex of our lives on my counter and then I stopped talking to you. “Since law school.”

  “Has it? Seeing you again brings it all back like it was yesterday. Funny how that happens. Besides—” she swept one long, elegant index finger across the corner of her mouth “—you’re lying about not biting. I’ve been bitten by you before, and I’ll be damned if it happens again.”

  His forehead tensed, but he didn’t respond. He’d enlisted in the marines knowing that he’d be sent to war, part of him hoping he’d be punished for what he’d done. He’d hated himself enough to want to die. If she wanted to hate him, too, she was entitled.

  He settled back against his seat. She didn’t want to talk about it, and any apology would go unheard. Maybe another time. “You know, you’re not a half-bad driver,” he said. “You just have a lead foot.”

  * * *

  She clung to the steering wheel, robbing her knuckles of color. He was looking out the window as if they were on a pleasant Sunday drive and she hadn’t just given him a piece of her mind. Was this his new angle, that he was going to take the insults? Disappointment tugged at her. Not fighting back took all the fun out of it.

  She had a hundred angry things to say to Ben about their new and weird partnership. For starters, how dare he? How dare he come back into her life in this way after humiliating her all those years ago? She was embarrassed to admit how hard she’d fallen for him in law school. He was charming, smart and funny. He’d listened to her as if she had something important to say, and she’d bought it. As soon as she’d confessed her feelings, he’d jumped into bed with another woman. Even now, her face grew hot and her pulse beat an angry staccato in her chest at the memory. He was the type of person who used others and abused trust, and she’d never let him forget that she was onto him.

  “I don’t have a lead foot,” she grumbled, needing to release her anger in some way. “I’m going the speed limit.”

  Then she looked at the speedometer. Scratch that; they were traveling at almost twenty miles per hour above it. Okay, well...she conceded nothing. She eased off the gas pedal.

  “And what gives you the right to say anything about my driving?” He wasn’t her boss, and he was sitting in her rental car, all smug and self-satisfied and talking about how she drove too fast.

  How dare he?

  He continued to not respond, to sit and stare out the window. As the seconds dragged into minutes, Sally’s pulse stopped its angry sputtering and slowed to a normal pace. Maybe he was thinking about the few choice words she’d broken off for him a few minutes ago. Ruminating on her sharp rebukes and backing off with his tail between his legs. Somehow, she doubted it.

  Ben shifted again to face her. “I agree with you.”

  She started. “You do? About what?”

  “This case. I think there’s much more than meets the eye.” He was animated, gesturing with his hands as he continued. “This is a murder investigation, and you had lots of eyes on these facts. Everyone agreed that the case could proceed to trial, even without a body. You have blood on a rug that matches the alleged vic’s blood, and a suspect who looks like he was covering his tracks by disposing of the rug and cleaning up blood on the floors and walls. As of this morning we even have a son who’s ready to testify that he saw his mother’s body.” Ben frowned. “Once I started to dig into the notes you’d prepared, I understood why you brought this case. All of the signs point to Ronnie Kruger’s murder.”

  “Exactly!”

  “Except she’s not dead.” Ben reached up to rub at his temple. “She’s not dead, and we have to start over. Toss that assumption out the window. We need to find something new by coming at the case with a different perspective,” he said thoughtfully. “Once we stop assuming that Ronnie Kruger was murdered, we’ll finally see what really happened.”

  Sally stole a glance at him as she exited the highway. His face was relaxed, and his hands rested on his legs. Huge hands with strong, capable fingers. She thought about those hands on her bare skin, how it would feel if she pulled over to the side of the road, stopped the car and eased herself into his lap. How she might respond if he tucked those hands under her sweater, slid them deliciously up her back....

  Now her pulse was skyrocketing again. She needed to get a grip. Ben McNamara was a heartbreak wrapped in sexy packaging. She was so finished with heartbreak.

  Silence hung heavy between them until they pulled into the parking lot for the Connecticut Forensic Science Laboratory, and then walked through the lot to the front desk. “We have an appointment with Fritz Kilburn,” Sally informed the woman sitting at reception.

  “I’ll let him know you’re here,” she replied with a stony smile, and picked up the phone. “You can have a seat.” She pointed to a cluster of chairs and a small end table in the corner of the room.

  Ben and Sally wandered over to the spot but didn’t sit. She fidgeted with one of her earrings as they waited, listening to the echoes of the vast, empty space. Then the door opened, and police detective Dan Maybury stepped through.

  “Detective.” Sally rushed toward him, relieved to be in the company of a person with whom her relationship was blissfully uncomplicated. “Glad you could make it.”

  He was young for a police detective, maybe in his mid-thirties, with dark brown eyes and light brown hair. They hadn’t spoken yesterday, but Sally could see from the circles under his eyes and the seriousness of his face that the sudden turn in the Kruger case had weighed heavily on him, too. She g
estured to Ben. “This is Ben McNamara. He’s helping me to investigate this case. Damage control. You know how it is.”

  The men shook hands, and then Dan returned his gaze to hers. “What the hell is going on with this, anyway? Is Ronnie Kruger a zombie?”

  Dan didn’t mince words. Sally sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Do you want to sit down? Because this morning I got a visit from the son, James Kruger, who now claims to have seen a body in the living room.”

  Dan rubbed at his eyes. “Can he explain how that body bled Ronnie Kruger’s blood?”

  “I didn’t get the impression he was a forensics expert,” Ben said. “Although he seems to know a little bit about illegal chemicals.”

  “He was high,” Sally explained with a sigh. “And a little drunk. He’d been smoking pot and doing shots of tequila.”

  “Perfect,” Dan said with a roll of his eyes. “We love eyewitness testimony from stoners.”

  “Sorry I’m running a little late.”

  They heard the voice behind them and turned to see Fritz Kilburn come out to the reception area with a genial wave and a smile. He was a compact man with thick glasses and short, spiky hair that looked more white than blond in the glaring light of the lab. After completing introductions, he led them back to a conference room where he’d set up a series of boards containing evidence that would have been used at trial.

  “We have a problem, Fritz,” Sally began.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he replied. “Looks like it’s back to square one, with a lot of blood on an area rug and...well, that’s it, really. We don’t even need to worry about the missing persons report.”