My Sister, Myself

by Alice Sharpe

  Answers Ryan knew she would detest.

  He found Tess out in the hall by the phones. Once again she’d tried to reach her mother and once again had ended up leaving a message.

  “Give me the word and I’ll make a few calls,” he said, taking Tess’s hand and leading her out of the hospital. She’d left the crutches in the car. It was an underground parking area, and he’d let Tess off by the elevator. It was taking a chance, they agreed, that whoever was behind the earlier attack hadn’t followed them into the hospital. But Tess couldn’t very well show up feigning injuries at the hospital. She wore a scarf over her red hair.

  On the drive back to Katie’s apartment, Detective Donovan finally returned Ryan’s call. Both Doyle and Kinsey had been cleared right after the fire. Donovan wanted to know why Ryan was looking into this angle of the affair when it had proved to be a dead end.

  Ryan hemmed and hawed a bit, finally saying he was helping Matt Fields’s other daughter come to grips with all that happened, and that included presenting her with enough information to make her understand the search for the truth had been careful and unbiased.

  “Send her in to talk to me,” Donovan said as Ryan had known he would.

  Ryan promised he would tell her.

  They resettled in Katie’s apartment as Ryan once again led Tess through the day’s events. Obviously angry with herself, at one point she said, “I broke character in front of both Lingfords.” She sat prim and proper in the chair, knees together, hands folded in her lap. He was reminded of a witness on a stand.

  “Madeline has a little dog I think has salmon poisoning,” she continued. “I didn’t know Nelson was watching as I conducted a modest examination and asked a few questions to make a diagnosis. But the dog was really sick and I just kind of lost my head.”

  He shrugged it off. He couldn’t see that Nelson’s impression of her ability with animals made the slightest difference to anything.

  “And then I was offered the job of helping with the art.”

  “I don’t get that,” he said. “What art? I thought all but five or six paintings were destroyed in the fire.”

  “That’s true. But Madeline seems determined to put together a photographic album of the paintings. I’ll find out more tomorrow.”

  He kept quiet. She wasn’t going back there but he wasn’t going to reopen that can of worms tonight.

  “After that, Nelson wanted to see me. He got all friendly. I asked about what he and Katie had talked about before her accident. You came, and then we went to lunch.”

  “Giving Nelson Lingford plenty of time to come here and try to scare you to death.”

  “Except there was no way my attacker was Nelson Lingford or Vince Desota, for that matter. He was taller than either of them, burlier, his voice deeper.”

  “So Nelson hired out the job of terrorizing you.”

  “Or maybe Nelson didn’t have a thing to do with it. Vince Desota saw me at Nelson’s house. For all we know, Katie talked to him, too. Maybe he sent someone to threaten her. Me. Or maybe Irene did or Madeline or Muffy for heaven’s sake!”

  A brief smile was followed by, “Did the creep say anything that connected him to anyone else?”

  “No,” she said after an imperceptible pause. “But he acted like he was used to terrorizing people.”

  “Two-bit thugs always sound the same,” he said. “They watch way too much television.”

  She nodded, but he noticed her eyes didn’t meet his. He had the sudden suspicion she wasn’t leveling with him.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  She met his gaze then dropped hers and shook her head. “I’m exhausted,” she said.

  He studied her for a moment, sure she was being evasive, but unable to force himself to push her. Her eye was black now for real, probably from where the bridge of the glasses had been shoved into her face. The abrasions and bruises on her cheek gave her role as an accident victim a validity it had lacked that morning. She looked battered and tired, and once again he recalled the lovely blond vet who had bravely stepped into her twin sister’s hospital room and subsequently into his life.

  The past few days had been hard on her. She wasn’t even demanding pancakes and hamburgers anymore.

  “We’ll go to bed then,” he said.

  She nodded once and got up. In a few minutes she brought him a pillow and a blanket, and then she stopped before walking away, came back and touched his arm. “Thank you,” she said.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms. His hands tingled with the desire to comfort her and maybe himself. Before he could make that mistake, she was gone, closing the bedroom door behind her, and he was left to make a bed in the old recliner and try not to think too hard about Theresa Mays.

  TESS LAY AWAKE listening to her conscience.

  How could she not have told Ryan the full extent of what that thug had wanted? She had to tell him. She couldn’t face that man again without the money and she didn’t know how to find the money.

  On the other hand, Ryan knew there was an extra key on Katie’s key ring. Didn’t the fact that he hadn’t done anything with it mean he didn’t know what to do with it?

  He doesn’t know about the money. He assumes, like you did, that the key opens the storage locker in which Katie stashed all her belongings. If he knew there was missing money he’d have a reason to give the spare key an extra look.

  But what about Katie? If she’d hidden the money in a storage locker, then she knew their father had been involved in something illegal. Would Katie be pushing an investigation of her own if she knew their father was guilty? Of course not! That meant the extra key opened something totally innocuous and that when Mr. Thug returned, Tess would have nothing to offer him.

  She needed help.

  Katie was in the hospital. Tess was all banged up. She needed Ryan.

  The clock in her head, the one steadily ticking away the hours, propelled her out of bed. She needed Ryan because he was a pro and she was an animal doctor. Nothing personal.

  What about Katie? What about your father’s innocence?

  No matter. She had to tell Ryan.

  She opened the bedroom door to find him asleep on the recliner, his head all askew. She approached quietly, looking at his face in the soft light coming through the sheer drapes, more shadows than not, but she was getting used to him now, she could fill in the blanks for herself.

  He seemed restless as though caught in some kind of dream. He’d slept the same way the night before, and she wondered what tortured him when he slept, what haunted him when his defenses were down.

  What would he do if she kissed his brow and whispered his name?

  SOMETHING WOKE RYAN. An air current, an odor, a noise. Something alerted him, something clued his brain that despite all precautions, Tess’s attacker had found a way back inside the apartment. He grabbed upward, connecting with a wrist, pulling and diving at the same time. Thrust from sleep, adrenaline kicking into high gear, he didn’t take time to think, just to act. He and his assailant flew to the carpet where Ryan pinned the other man under him.

  Breathing heavily, it took him a second to pick up a subtle female scent. In that instant the threads flung across his arm became silky strands of hair while the body crushed beneath his shrank to the size and shape of a woman.

  Tess.

  He immediately rolled off her, muttering, “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment kept him flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling.

  “It’s okay,” she gasped, her soft voice arousing a dozen conflicting feelings in his gut. He turned his head to look at her and found she’d rolled onto her side and now regarded him with her head propped on her hand.

  “You have quick reactions,” she said breathlessly.

  His short laugh was full of irony as he said, “Oh, yeah. I’m deadly when it comes to beautiful lady veterinarians.”

  “You thought I was someone else.”

  Soft light coming through the windows sparkled o
n her hair, glittered in the whites of her eyes and the flash of her teeth as she spoke. The rest of her body formed dark curves against the beige carpet. He fought a strong desire to roll back on top of her.

  “What do you dream about?” she asked.

  The question startled him.

  “Something troubles you,” she persisted.

  “You trouble me,” he murmured.

  “Something else,” she insisted. “I’ve watched you sleep.”

  He’d never talked to anyone about Peter. Not his parents, nor to the police, because his actions or lack thereof had nothing to do with the investigation of Peter’s sordid death. No one. He’d swallowed his guilt and kept it inside, taking on an immediate assignment to help track down the drug connections that had helped kill his brother, finding no solace when it was over. He’d assumed that after a few weeks, a few months, the feelings of shame and remorse would fade away.

  And, truthfully, it seemed as though that’s just what had happened until Matt Fields’s lies had scorched not only his own disintegrating life but the lives of those around him.

  Now Ryan found himself back at square one.

  “You have nightmares,” she persisted.

  “No.”

  “Oh, Ryan. Something troubles you so much you can’t escape it when you sleep. Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “Because it has nothing to do with you,” he said. “Because there’s no way to fix it, no reason to get into it. Why did you come out here, anyway? Did you hear something?”

  She stared at him.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded, propping himself up a bit more so he could look down at her.

  “Nothing. I—”

  “Come clean,” he said. “I’ve known all night that something happened today you’re keeping to yourself. How am I supposed to help you, how am I supposed to keep you safe if you don’t trust me?”

  “I do trust you,” she protested.

  “No, Tess, you don’t.”

  “I do—”

  “Then what happened? Did that thug molest you?”

  She was silent. Had he hit the nail on the head? A sick feeling filled his gut.

  He reached over and gently stroked her cheek, her skin so soft beneath his fingers…

  “He hurt me and he scared me but he didn’t molest me,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Ryan said, reaching up to fondle the fine tresses of her hair. He expected her to grab his hand and stop him as his fingers drifted to her cheek and down her lovely chin.

  “I’m glad you weren’t here,” she said.

  “Hmm—”

  “He probably figured he could intimidate and control me. No doubt he would have shot you right away.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better about this,” he told her with a wry smile.

  “I don’t want you hurt,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want you hurt, either,” he said. “Your bravery terrifies me.”

  “My bravery? I’m trembling inside.”

  “So am I,” he said and he could tell by the fluttering of her lashes she realized he wasn’t talking about fear. Her fluttering lashes mimicked the sudden quiver of his heart. He ached for her in a way he hadn’t ached for a woman in too long to remember. He waited for the slightest indication that she wanted him to stop caressing her.

  Instead she placed her free hand around his neck, rolled onto her back and pulled him so close their lips touched. Desire leaped through his body like an uncaged beast.

  “There’s something between us,” she whispered.

  “Just a few thin articles of clothing,” he said, toying with the neckline of her gown.

  He sensed her smile. “I mean something physical.”

  “I know.”

  “But that’s all it is,” she added, a note of urgency in her voice.

  Like hell, he thought, but kept it to himself.

  She swallowed as he ran his fingers down her throat. Before he could lecture himself on the inadvisability of becoming sexually involved with a woman he’d sworn to protect, her open mouth met his, hot and wet, softer than velvet, her tongue sliding against his, the roar in his head obliterating the last spark of good sense.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, her grasp on his neck stronger as they kissed again and again, deep kisses that surfaced quickly, exploratory at first evolving to rabid in the blink of an eye. He trailed kisses down her chest, nestling his head in the valley between her cotton-covered breasts, his fingers flicking over her gown, her nipples becoming pebbles beneath the fine fabric, his mouth following his touch.

  She moaned, and the next thing he knew she was pulling on his clothes. He got to his feet, pulling her up after him. It took him a second to take off the gun and lay it aside, to strip bare. She didn’t follow suit, just stood there in her short gown. He’d never had a woman watch him undress before. Her attention was exciting, the gentle smile curving her lips, enticing.

  He went to her and pulled her gown over her head, revealing her supple body, his to touch and admire, to devour. She fairly sparkled in the heavily shadowed light, small but round, fragile but vital, a dozen radiant shades of silver. He cupped her face and kissed her with the intention of carrying her off to bed at the first opportunity, but she pulled down on his shoulders and together they sank to their knees, their arms entwined, their mouths connected until they hit the carpet. She pushed him down on his back, gently, softly, and then she climbed astride him, her hips over his, his arousal hard between them.

  The outside light illuminated the planes of her face, the mounds of her breasts and the soft curve of her belly as she spread her fingers across his chest and leaned over his face, her hair cascading forward, spilling onto his shoulders. Her mouth was moist, stoked by the same fire as his. He reached around her waist and slid his hands down to cup her bottom as she raised her head, her eyes closed. His fingers slid around to find her moist contours until she cried out with pleasure and, leaning forward again, kissed him deeply. Clasping her body close to his, he rolled her onto her back and plunged deep inside her. Release came quickly the first time, slower the next.

  Eventually Tess fell asleep in his arms, her body tucked against his—a perfect fit, a natural duet, warmer and softer than anything else in the world.

  But Ryan couldn’t sleep. He stared into the dark, his gun within easy reach, waiting for the sound of footsteps in the hall. One thought refused to be quieted: had Tess made love to him because she’d been swept away by the same powerful emotions that had overcome him? Or had she made love to avoid confessing whatever had brought her into the room in the first place?

  TESS AWOKE WITH A START, but knew at once exactly where she was and what had happened to bring her there. For a second she regarded the heavy arm draped over her shoulder. A warmth spread through her body like embers stirred with a poker.

  Ryan cried out softly, his head buried against the back of her head, his voice muffled. He was in the midst of a dream; it was his apparent distress that had startled her awake.

  She revolved in the circle of his arms to face him. His eyes moved behind his lids, darting this way and that as though trying to find something or someone. His brow furrowed, his lips twitched. “Peter,” he whispered in such a heartbreaking voice that her breath caught.

  She placed her lips on his and kissed him gently.

  His eyes opened, the gray irises stormy, calming almost at once upon seeing her.

  She kissed him again. “’Morning.”

  He blinked. The morning had dawned clear for once. Winter sunlight danced through the window, bathing his face with light. Squinting he said, “’Morning.”

  She said, “Who’s Peter?”

  It was as though a door closed behind his eyes. “My brother,” he said at last.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “He’s dead, Tess.”

  “How—”

  “Doesn’t matter, does it? He’s g
one.”

  “Of course it matters. I don’t know anything about you.”

  “I have two living sisters named Lisa and Heather, my parents, Connie and Donald, two aunts, three cousins, four uncles including Uncle Marty, who’s serving ten years for embezzling his company’s payroll, and six nephews. No nieces. Just nephews. If you and I are going to get married and have children, then we’re going to have to produce at least one girl. If that doesn’t sound doable to you, then tell me now so I can figure out how to break the news to Mom.”

  She smoothed a few strands of dark hair away from his brow, ignoring the jolt his words induced in her chest. “Stop joking. How did Peter die?”

  He swallowed hard and said, “A drug overdose. When he was eighteen.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded.

  She wanted to ask him why he blamed himself for his brother’s drug overdose, but made herself be silent. He’d tell her when he was ready. Instead she said, “You and Katie never, ah, kissed…or anything…did you?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said.

  “There were no feelings, no unrequited love—”

  “Kind of late to be worrying about this, isn’t it?”

  “I got the feeling you barely knew her.”

  “Tess, stop worrying. I told you before. I never made a pass at Katie, and she never looked twice at me. Now it’s your turn to answer a question. Tell me what you came in here to tell me last night. It has something to do with your attacker, doesn’t it? You’re keeping something back, something you know I should know.”

  Grabbing the blanket to her chest, she sat up and stared down at him. “How did you guess?”

  “I’m a cop and I happen to be getting to know you. Plus, no offense, you’re a terrible liar.”

  She nodded because she knew that was true. With a deep breath, the words tumbled out. “The man wanted the money he said my father was paid before the fire. Fifty thousand dollars, he said.”

  Ryan whistled as he sat up beside her.

  “He said I had until this afternoon to come up with the money or what happened to Madeline Lingford or the old guy down the hall would be on my head, not my father’s. And he threatened you. He told me he’d call me at four o’clock today. I need to get Katie’s cell phone from you, Ryan.”