by Sharon Sala
Minute after earth-shattering minute, he took her up, then eased her down, bringing her to the brink of a climax so many times that her whole body was one solid ache.
“Bodie…Bodie…please,” she whispered.
His answer was another kiss, taking the words right off her lips, and an increase in the pressure between her legs.
A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She was on fire from the inside out, and still she wanted more and more.
Ah, God. Let this feeling last forever.
And just when she thought it might, she shattered.
Abruptly.
Completely.
With a small, choking scream and the sensation that she was flying, she rode the bone-shattering spill all the way to the top and then, in a free fall, all the way down.
Bodie was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. The need to be inside her was next to maddening. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.
“Good, baby?” he asked softly.
“Yes…oh, my God…yes.”
He nuzzled the side of her neck, right below her ear.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“Alive. I feel alive.”
Officer Nora Watts had shed the dark wig and the bandages hours ago, and was hanging out in her sweats behind closed curtains. This stakeout in Maria Slade’s hotel room was a good gig and a welcome break from her normal job riding shotgun with her partner on Tulsa’s south side.
She’d ordered steak and a baked potato, compliments of the Tulsa P.D., and while a nice glass of wine would have been good to go with it, she was still on duty. A big glass of sweet tea had been a suitable substitute.
When she heard thunder rumble overhead and then the sound of rain blowing against the windows, she hunkered down into the bed, thankful she wasn’t out on patrol on a night like this. Satisfied and sleepy, she was thinking about turning off the TV and trying to sleep when someone knocked at the door.
She thought about alerting the cop on stakeout in the room next door, then changed her mind, grabbed the remote and hit Mute, reached for her gun, then quietly moved to the door on bare feet.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“Bellman. You have a message from someone in Montana. Shall I slip it under the door?”
“Just a minute,” she said.
The woman she was impersonating was from Montana. Nothing seemed out of order. Her gun was in her hand, her finger on the trigger, as she stretched to look through the peephole.
Franklin’s eyes were focused on the tiny hole in the door. From out in the hall, he could see nothing but a tiny hint of light. The moment the light was blocked, he knew right where Maria Slade was standing.
Confident that his shot would not be heard, he put the gun with the silencer up to the peephole and pulled the trigger.
At the same time he fired, a shot came from inside the room—a bullet shot through the door, slicing Franklin’s side and then the wall behind him.
The shock of what had just happened was enough to stifle his scream of pain. But the sound of gunfire exploded in the hallway, which was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen. Blood was already dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet as he bolted toward the elevator he’d wedged open. He pulled out the length of pipe he’d shoved in the door and punched L for Lobby, ripping off his undershirt as he rode and shoving it against the wound in his side. He could tell by feel that the bullet had only grazed him, but he was bleeding profusely.
His heart was racing as the car neared the lobby. He couldn’t exit the elevator dripping blood, even if he was wearing a raincoat. Horrified that he was leaving his DNA all over the place, he came up with a quick change of plans as he rode. He stopped the car on the second floor, got out on the run and headed for the stairwell. By the time he reached the ground floor, he was shaking, but made himself walk in a calm, ordinary manner as he exited into a side hall, then left the hotel.
He’d stuffed the pipe into the top of one of the hiking boots he was wearing, the gun was in a shoulder holster under his raincoat, and he was walking as casually as he could out onto the street and then toward the parking area to his car, still holding the makeshift pressure bandage against his side.
He made it a point not to make eye contact with anyone, although he doubted his own mother would have recognized him. It was amazing what a wig and a little stage makeup could do.
His side was on fire as he got into the car, and his clothes were slowly being saturated with his blood. He drove cautiously through the rain-slickened streets, making sure he didn’t get stopped for speeding. By the time he reached his house, he was trembling from blood loss and shock.
He pulled into the garage, waited until the remote-controlled door rolled down behind him, then staggered into his house. By the time he got to his bedroom, he was on the verge of passing out.
Cursing his continuing run of bad luck, he managed to clean up the wound, pack it with gauze, and then dig some antibiotics out of the medicine cabinet, left over from a sinus infection he’d had a couple of months ago. He downed three of them at one time, then began looking for painkillers. He found a couple of good ones left over from a root canal and swallowed them, as well. He didn’t know if they would work, but going to a doctor was out of the question. Finally he fell into bed, telling himself that as soon as he rested, he would go back and clean up whatever blood he’d left behind downstairs and in the garage. His housekeeper came every other day, and since she’d been here today, he had a day’s grace to get himself and the house back in order.
Confident he was safe, he closed his eyes and passed out.
The rain had passed over Tulsa on its way across the Oklahoma/Arkansas border. Sam was in his motor home. Although he was dozing in his recliner in front of the TV, he was having a hard time sleeping. After so many years of quiet at the lake, he was no longer used to the sounds of the city.
Inside the house, Maria had fallen asleep in Bodie’s arms. Bodie was a light sleeper by nature, but now it felt as if every nerve in his body was on alert.
Every time the house creaked, the ice maker in the kitchen made a new batch or the clock chimed the hour, he would open his eyes with a jerk. Each time he quietly reassured himself that all was well, that his gun was on the table beside the bed and Maria was not running a fever, and he made himself relax. Common sense told him they were safe, but it was better to err on the side of caution.
Just as the digital clock registered 12:08 a.m., his cell phone began to ring.
The sound was rude and startling, and awakened him instantly. He grabbed it on the second ring, but not before it had awakened Maria, too.
“Sorry, baby,” he said softly, rumpling her hair, then put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Bodie. It’s Dave. Are you all right?”
Bodie slipped his arm out from under Maria’s neck and swung his legs to the floor.
“We’re fine. What’s wrong?”
“Nora Watts is dead.”
Bodie inhaled sharply as he bolted to his feet.
“How the hell did it happen?”
“We don’t know details, but we do know someone knocked on her door, and when she looked through the peephole, they put a gun up to the hole and pulled the trigger.”
“Jesus…oh, Jesus,” Bodie muttered, as he turned back toward Maria.
“What?” she asked.
He held up one finger and kept talking.
“Who found her?”
“The cop who was in the next room heard a shot and ran through the connecting door, but it was too late.”
“He took her by surprise.”
“That’s the thing. Not entirely, he didn’t. She had her weapon. She must have seen something when she looked through the peephole, because she got off a shot before she died. Her shot was the one her partner heard. We’re guessing the killer had a silencer.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. That bastard knows too many tricks. It�
�s as if he knows what the police are looking for. We have security tape from that hall, but he was obviously disguised. No way he can be identified from that. However…thanks to Nora, we got his DNA. He bled like a stuck pig all the way out of the hotel. By the time the other cop got out in the hall, the elevator was already on the way down. He ran to the stairwell and somehow beat the car down to the lobby, but when the doors opened, no one was inside. We found blood on two, so we think the killer got off there and took the stairs down—probably right behind our guy. At least Nora didn’t suffer. The bullet went straight through her eye and blew out the back of her head.”
Bodie closed his eyes, picturing the fun-loving cop who pitched softball at the policemen’s picnic every summer, remembering the way she’d been laughing when she left the hospital room. He felt sick for the loss—and guilty because he was relieved it wasn’t Maria.
Dave cleared his throat. “Look, the lieutenant wanted us to give you a heads-up, because as soon as the story gets out, the killer will know he failed again.”
“Isn’t there some way to keep it quiet that it wasn’t Maria?”
“No. That’s not the way the chief wants to play it. He’s up in arms, going to have a press conference in the morning, and Nora’s family has already been notified.”
“Dammit.”
“Yeah,” Dave echoed. “So Lieutenant Carver says stay safe and keep out of sight.”
“Will do.”
Bodie snapped the cell shut, then laid it on the table as he sat back down on the bed.
Maria had scooted to the side of the bed, and she put a hand on his thigh.
“What happened?”
“Nora Watts…the cop who was your decoy. She’s dead.”
“Oh, my God,” Maria gasped, remembering the woman and the smile on her face as she’d left the hospital room. What was it she’d said? I’ve got your back. “She died because of me. Oh, my God…oh, my God. She died because of me.”
Bodie grabbed her. “No! She was a cop. A good cop. She died doing her job. And it wasn’t because of you. It’s because a killer is panicking. The good news is, Nora got a piece of him before she died. They’ve got his DNA. Hopefully we’ll get a match.”
But that didn’t help Maria. Guilt swept through her in waves as she covered her face and sobbed.
Bodie groaned, then wrapped her in his arms.
Morning couldn’t come too soon.
Morning was somber. Maria walked through the rooms as if Nora’s body were laid out nearby. There was nothing Bodie could say to make things better for her. She just couldn’t get over the weight of guilt.
Finally Bodie sat her down on the sofa and put her cell phone in her hand. His voice was stern. The usual glint in his eyes was missing.
“Call your sisters. Call Bud. Talk to them. Listen to them. Feel their love, baby…’cause you’re sure not feeling mine.”
Then he walked away.
The first call was to Bud. Then to Savannah, then finally to her older sister, Holly. And oddly enough, it was Holly who finally got through, and in a tone of voice she rarely ever used with anyone. When she lit into Maria, she was close to shouting.
“Maria! You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve been saying,” Holly said. “You know what I believe. That we choose our lives before we’re born, and that whatever awful things happen to us while we’re on earth, they’re things we’ve already chosen, either because we want to learn something more about ourselves, or because we need to teach something to someone else. You’ve heard me preach this all our lives, and you’ve always laughed. Well, stop laughing now and think! If I’m right, then your mother’s death was preordained, along with everything that’s happening to you, including that gorgeous man you hinted about, including the policewoman who died in the line of duty. It’s happening everywhere all over the world right now. Soldiers are dying in wars. Children are dying from abuse and hunger. People are dying from diseases that can’t be cured. What’s happening to you is horrible, but don’t let it beat you. You’re alive because you’re supposed to be! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and learn what you’re supposed to learn from this, then let it go!”
Maria flinched. It was like a long-distance slap in the face, but a much-needed one.
“Okay. I get it,” she said, and then wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
Holly sighed. “You should be in my shoes, honey. It looks like my mother’s fears were right. I think my father was that serial killer all of St. Louis was looking for.”
Maria gasped. “Oh, my God. Have you talked to him?”
“Lord no! I’m not playing cop. The St. Louis police are all over it, but I’m trying to stay out of the line of fire. It would be good if you tried to do the same.”
Maria hiccupped on a sob, then blew her nose again.
“Okay. I love you, Holly. Thank you for being the best big sister ever.”
Maria could hear the laughter in Holly’s voice.
“I do what I can. Call me again soon.”
“You, too,” Maria said.
There was a click in her ear, and then the line went dead. She dropped the phone in her lap, and then leaned back and closed her eyes.
Bodie came back to check on her only after he could no longer hear her talking. He paused in the doorway to the living room. All he could see was the back of Maria’s head. He wasn’t sure if she was sleeping, but if she was, he didn’t want to wake her.
“Stop tiptoeing around and come sit with me,” she muttered.
He blinked, then did as he was told.
“How did you know I was in the doorway? I’m in my sock feet, and I wasn’t making any noise.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I have good mothering instincts. Maybe this proves my kids are never going to be able to put one over on me. Okay?”
Bodie slid an arm behind her neck and nuzzled the spot below her ear.
“Not ‘your’ kids—‘our’ kids, remember? Are you mad at me?”
Maria turned and crawled up into his lap, then tucked her head beneath his chin.
“No. You have very good instincts. I do listen to you. I guess I excel at guilt, okay?”
“Are you going to be able to be married to a cop and live with the knowledge that danger is a constant?”
She shrugged. “As my sister Holly just pointed out to me, people die every day, no matter how careful they are or what they’re doing. When it’s their time, it’s their time.”
Bodie pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms.
“Becky called while you were on the phone. She’s coming over later. I didn’t think you would mind.”
“That will be great. Does Sam know…about Nora?”
“I told him.”
Maria couldn’t hold back a shiver. “What did he say?”
“That she must have been a damn fine cop to get off a shot anyway.”
She sighed. “I guess that’s a really good way to look at it, isn’t it? That she was still doing her job when she took her last breath.”
Bodie closed his eyes, unwilling for her to see his tears.
“Yeah, baby…that’s exactly right. She was one damn fine cop, and the department is going to miss her.”
Dave was at his desk the next afternoon, finishing up the paperwork on a hit-and-run, when his phone began to ring.
“Homicide. Booker speaking.”
“I’m Sheriff Fraley out of Rogers County. I’m calling to update you on the status of Tom Jack Bailey, the man you wanted for questioning.”
Dave sat up in his chair. “Great. Do you have him in custody?”
“We have him all right…or what’s left of him.”
Dave’s expectations shifted. “What happened?”
“Well, judging by the bullet hole in Tom Jack’s fore head, our best guess is someone shot him and tossed him in his own farm pond. Some neighbor kids snuck over the fence to go fishing. Thought they’d snagged the giant catfish known to inhabit said
pond and pulled up a piece of Tom Jack, instead. They’re pretty upset, as you can imagine. Anyway, he won’t be doing any talking. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Dammit,” Dave said. “But thank you for letting me know. Does the M.E. already have the body?”
“Yeah. Hauled it off about an hour or so ago. Told him you’d be wanting a copy of the autopsy…when he gets around to it.”
Dave grinned to himself. The sheriff did have a way of imparting information.
“Thank you for the call.”
“No problem. Happy to help.”
Dave hung up, then glanced toward the lieutenant’s office, making sure he wasn’t on the phone, and headed that way.
Sam was in Bodie’s kitchen watching Becky take a cake out of the oven. Maria was on a stool near the counter, licking the spoon Becky had left sitting in the bowl of cake batter. Becky set the cake down on a rack to cool, then grinned when she saw what Maria was doing.
“Still have that sweet tooth, don’t you, honey?”
Maria grinned. “It’s chocolate. For that, no excuses are needed.”
The front door slammed.
Sam stood abruptly and bolted out of the room.
Maria tilted her head slightly, then took another lick from the spoon. “It’s just Bodie.”
“How do you know?” Becky asked.
“I can tell by the sound of his walk.”
Becky nodded knowingly. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Maria looked startled, then almost blushed, but she was saved from answering when Bodie strode into the room with two sacks of groceries in his arms.
“Man…if I knew my house could smell this good when I come back, I’d leave more often.”
Maria pointed. “Becky made a chocolate cake.”
Bodie sat the sacks down on the cabinet, then swiped his thumb across Maria’s nose.
“And my Maria is eating what’s left over, isn’t she? Did you save some for me?”
Maria eyed the last bit of batter, then extended the spoon toward his mouth.