She forced herself to meet his gaze, but rather than the condemnation she expected to find there, she saw confusion. “I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t kill anyone,” she said.
“I didn’t think you could. Not without a damn good, life-or-death reason. I’m simply shocked anybody could think that of you. What evidence did they find? Set the scene for me.” He’d switched to detective mode, which somehow made her retelling easier.
“Amy Sturgeon was the victim’s name. She was my sophomore roommate, and she was found naked, lying face-up on a motel bed just a mile from campus. There was a vase of yellow roses on the nightstand, with a card addressed to her, signed from James, with love.”
“Similar to the scene of tonight’s murder.”
“I’ll admit I had flashbacks when I saw the flowers.” And chills. Déjà vu. A bit of raw panic. “And there are other similarities, which is why Detective Wells was only doing his duty when he interviewed me. Both times, I had reason to be angry with the person who died.”
“And your supposed motive in Amy’s murder? Jealousy?”
She crossed her legs under her, snuggling further into the blanket. “Yes. Amy apparently dated James the semester before we were in his class. What I didn’t know when I was dating him was that he had a habit of pursuing his female students, putting them on a pedestal, and making them feel like he needed them in order to feel whole. When she realized I was dating him, Amy came to me and told me what he’d done to her. When I confronted him, he laughed it off, saying she was jealous because he’d dumped her for a better woman.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say he did to her?” Diego’s face was dark as a storm cloud, anticipating her answer.
“Rape. Apparently, he liked to get rough.”
Diego opened his mouth, as if he’d ask a question. Then closed it again, apparently deciding to let her tell the story at her own pace.
“I chose to believe James over Amy, since we’d been together a couple weeks at that point and he hadn’t tried anything with me.”
“Did Amy go to the police?”
“No. Later, I learned James had convinced her she’d be a pariah. That she would lose her scholarship, that people would treat her differently, that nobody would believe her...” In the end, it had been Becca nobody believed. “My failure to believe her must have hurt her so much. We stopped talking. I broke up with James not long after that, when I realized how manipulative he was. Since Amy’s accusations, I’d begun to get a creepy vibe from him. The night after I told James we were through, Amy died and there were things that made it look like I murdered her.”
“The police believed you had motive and opportunity.”
“Luckily, there wasn’t enough evidence against me, so the DA decided not to prosecute. They found James’s DNA on Amy—”
“Because he’d raped and killed her.”
“That was my theory. But James painted a different scene. Said he had dumped me to go back to Amy. That he’d left Amy that night at the motel room after they’d had consensual sex. He told the police he’d called me to tell me he was going back to Amy. He presumed I must have gone to confront her. One of my earrings was found at the scene...one he’d given me as a gift a week before, then torn out of my ear the night before, when we’d fought.”
“When you’d broken up with him.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “The earring at your parents’ house...”
“I keep it as a reminder.” Not to get too involved, not to trust too much, or love too hard. “He made me out to be a jealous bitch, capable of murder.” The word still left a bad taste in her mouth. “I have no doubt he did it...maybe Amy was going to go to the police. I don’t know. For some reason, he had to get rid of her. The CPD found her laptop on the motel desk—another similarity to tonight’s scene. It showed her inbox, and James sending her an email declaring his love and asking to meet her about three hours before she died. And it showed an email from her to me, telling me she’d reunited with James, that I wasn’t enough woman for him, etc.”
“He could have sent that easily if he had access to her laptop.”
She nodded. “I agree. But in the eyes of the police, it also gave me a motive...jealousy. Combine that with the fact I’d been alone in my dorm room, studying, and I also had opportunity and no alibi.”
“James was never investigated as a suspect?”
“You have to understand James was a guy blessed with an unusual abundance of charm. He had that charisma that politicians and cult leaders have—it made you feel good to be near him. It was like basking in the sun when he turned his smile on you...until you got to know him and realized the beauty was only skin-deep.” She picked at an invisible piece of lint on the blanket between them. “He chose his victims well. Young women who were star-struck by his professor status. Pretty, but not beautiful. Lonely. Naïve.”
“None of this sounds like you.”
She smiled wryly. “Not anymore. I toughened up a lot after him, though there was a distinct stage where I had to find my inner strength by trying on different exteriors. My hair was even purple at one time. And then there was the nose piercing.”
“The butterfly tattoo.” His gaze shifted to her hip, not that he could see the mark.
“I’m sure I left my family speechless for a full year. They certainly didn’t push me too hard for answers. Then again, maybe Matt covered for me.”
“Your brother? That’s why you had me call him tonight.”
She nodded. “He’s not just my lawyer, he’s the only one who knows what happened.”
“You didn’t tell your family? Didn’t you think they’d support you?”
“I was too ashamed. And they would have been crushed to hear about the murder charges. I didn’t think I could deal with the worry and disappointment in their eyes.”
“So the charges against you were dropped...how did James get arrested? Since he was released, I’m guessing it wasn’t for murder.”
She looked away, knowing Diego would hate her for what she’d done after. But that part she’d keep to herself, buried down deep inside.
* * *
Diego’s gut twisted at the pain and guilt on Becca’s face. No wonder she’d been afraid to love a man again. James Powell had dragged her through hell. It seemed that hell continued.
Becca pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “There wasn’t enough evidence to prove, beyond any doubt, that he’d murdered Amy. But after he became an official suspect, other students came forward to tell their stories. He was arrested on several charges of rape. But Amy’s murder was never resolved.”
“That’s why you work at SSAM,” he guessed.
“I changed my major to Criminal Justice the next fall and heard about the work SSAM was doing to catch the criminals who fell through the cracks. I knew that was the place for me.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me about this? Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”
“It’s not something I talk about. Ever.”
She hadn’t even told her family. She’d carried this around for years, channeling it into her work. Diego understood that, as he had done the same thing for months now, working to put his past mistakes behind him. But that had been different...he had made a mistake and had to repair the damage. Becca was paying for James’s actions. She carried the shame.
“None of this was your fault,” he told her.
“It seemed nobody listened to my side of the story...or nobody believed it.”
“You didn’t think I’d believe you,” Diego said quietly.
“I didn’t want you to have to make the choice. I made peace with myself years ago, but to this day, my past still pops up to haunt me on occasion, usually hurting the people I love.”
Diego’s heart shifted and lost ground. He was falling hard for this woman who had given him so much of herself in his time of need but couldn’t trouble anyone with her own pain.
He reached for h
er hand and linked his fingers with hers. “You’re an amazing woman. Thank you for telling me.”
She looked up in surprise, obviously expecting the opposite response. Did she think he would walk out on her? Probably. Her past lover had framed her for murder and left her out to dry.
He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “It’s a wonder you trust men, after what you went through. It’s a testament to your inner strength and resilience that you ever trusted me.”
“What do you mean?” Her words were whisper-soft.
“I’m a man and a cop. Double-strike.”
“Even when Selina dropped your name as a Circle mole, I trusted you. It took me a while to sort that out, but deep down in my gut, I knew you weren’t a bad guy.”
His chest tightened with an onslaught of emotions. Relief. Gratitude. So many things went through him at once. Mostly, though, Becca had given him what he’d needed for months...she believed in him and recognized that he was more than the sum of his recent behavior.
“Then why’d you leave me?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question. She’d avoided it so many times in the past, he figured she’d steer the conversation clear of that territory again. So when she opened her mouth to answer, he felt another wave of emotion. She was knocking down her barriers. For him.
“You got too close,” she said simply. “I wanted to help you. I was attracted to you. But, with you, it was more...” She looked away and clamped her mouth shut as if she’d been about to reveal too much.
A surge of masculine pride that he’d been the one to affect her, such an amazing woman, nearly made him lightheaded. His thumb brushed her cheek and she turned her face back to him. He hated the uncertainty he saw there. “And now?”
“I still don’t like it.” She bit her lip. “But you seem to blow away my willpower.”
He’d have to have enough willpower for the both of them...until she felt strong enough to recognize that being together would be a wise decision. As much as he wanted to make love to her, to show her that he didn’t view her any differently because of her past, he wouldn’t have her backing away later, saying she hadn’t wanted to get in that deep.
He’d wait for her decision. And it would be all or nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
Monday, 7:14 a.m.
As daylight slanted through the drapes, Diego unfolded himself from Becca’s couch and dedicated extra time and attention to stretching his cramped muscles. Despite his protesting limbs, he felt better than he had in months. Becca was just on the other side of the wall. They’d broken down the barriers between them.
He’d had a hard time settling his body so he could sleep, thinking of a responsive Becca who seemed to want him to absolve her body as well as her heart. Though he might not have spent the night in her bed, and she’d seemed confused that he hadn’t pressed his advantage in the early morning hours when he’d kissed her good-night, thanking her for trusting him with her story, he was certain he was on the right track. Things felt...right. As if he were precisely where he was supposed to be at the moment.
Except that she still thought she’d hurt his career. And she might be right. At the precinct, Herrera and other officers were looking for any excuse to blow the whistle and get him thrown off the force. He couldn’t blame them.
As much as he hated to admit it, Becca could be right...she could ruin his future as an NYPD detective. Suddenly, his heart didn’t feel as light as it had a minute ago.
“Hey.” Becca muttered the halfhearted greeting as she trudged sleepily from her room. He’d remembered her as a morning person, but last night must have sapped her energy. Her hair stood at spiky angles like a lead singer in a punk band.
“Good morning. Didn’t sleep well?”
She headed straight for the kitchen and the coffeemaker. “Overslept, actually. We leave in half an hour for the SSAM meeting. Unless you changed your mind and booked a flight home?”
He reached around her for the refrigerator door handle, purposely brushing against her shoulder. She shifted away. But he was in the mood to test her limits again. He loved a challenge, and he wouldn’t let her put up roadblocks anymore. They’d come too far. “You shouldn’t be so eager to get rid of me... I make a pretty mean omelet.”
She looked tempted. Yesterday, the way to the hearts of Becca’s family members had been through their stomachs. He doubted the apple fell far from the tree. In fact, the first conversation they’d shared was in a New York City deli, over pastrami sandwiches. He recalled the way she’d licked away a dab of mustard.
His gaze now went to her mouth, which was drawn in a tight line. He wanted to smooth a fingertip over it. She’d been through the wringer in the past three days—hell, in the past eight years. He wanted to whisk her away to a deserted beach where there was only the two of them and a whole lot of healing sunshine.
He removed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “Let me feed you.”
“I can feed myself. I’ve gotten along all by my lonesome all these years without some big strong man to take care of little ol’ me.” She batted her eyes and fluttered her hand in front of her like a fan.
He leaned closer. “Big and strong, huh?”
She shoved at his bare chest, branding him in a split second. His heart thumped harder at her simple touch. “You would focus on the nonessential part of that statement.”
He leaned a hip against the counter and snatched up the cup of coffee the moment she’d finished doctoring it to perfection.
“Hey!” she protested. “See—if I were on my own, I’d have a piping hot cup of coffee in my hands right now.” She took the eggs off the counter and put them back in the refrigerator. “Unfortunately, we won’t have time for a fancy breakfast this morning.”
“That’s a shame. I would have enjoyed cooking for you.” He took a sip from the cup, then handed it back to her.
She moved out of grabbing distance like an animal hoarding a treat. “Don’t you like living alone, too? I thought you were the perennial bachelor.”
“I’m not sure that’s me anymore.” His small apartment in New York City was all he’d needed when he’d graduated from college and taken a job, but home had still been his mother’s house, where he’d grown up, and where the family still gathered on a regular basis. Not having his own home base hadn’t been important until recently, and he couldn’t figure out what had changed.
Maybe everything had changed. His niece had died, his best friend married and was settled down in another city, and Diego had met a woman who rocked his world in every way possible.
And who could be the end of his career.
“I’m just not satisfied anymore.” He realized with a shock he hadn’t been able to identify the feelings that had kept him up at night, but that was it. He wasn’t happy.
She froze with her cup halfway to her lips. “What do you mean?” She stared at him as if he were crazy. Maybe he was. There was a compulsion to stick by her. And imagining what it would be like to be with her every day for the long haul...it didn’t sound so bad.
He shrugged as if the thoughts and emotions she’d awakened in him were no big deal instead of a mental kick to the head. “Maybe I’m lonely, too. Besides, I like working with you.”
“It’s temporary,” she reminded him. “You’ll be back in New York by this time next week. I’m not even sure why you’d want to be here. Especially now.” She looked away. “You should get back, before someone at your station realizes who you’re slumming with.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re just looking to pick a fight.”
She was trying to create distance again by making him out to be the bad guy. Well, fuck that. He’d hammer away at her defenses until she admitted that what they shared was something real. Something valuable. Something worth figuring out.
And he had all week to do it. Contrary to popular belief, he was a patient guy—when he wanted something bad enough.
Monday, 7:32 a.m.
South Side, Chicago
“Mother?” The Fan rapped his knuckles lightly against Mother’s bedroom door. All was quiet. He pushed the door open a crack. “You okay?”
“Go away.” Her gruff response was muffled by a pile of blankets. Beneath them, she lay immobile on the bed.
His adrenaline kicked in as he realized what this meant—and what the next few weeks of his life would be like if he didn’t act quickly. He’d thought he’d have time, that leaving to take care of his own needs hadn’t been a problem, but this cycle was happening faster than ever. “Did you take the medicine the doctor prescribed?”
“Doesn’t work.”
He bit back disappointment. “You have to take it for two weeks, at least, before it starts working. Remember what he said?”
“I stopped taking it this weekend, when you left me. It made me feel sick. Leave me be. Don’t you have work to do?”
He did, which made it all the more imperative to get her on her feet and off to her own job. He couldn’t concentrate when she was around, especially when the blackness engulfed her and the mother of the new bride was already requesting he get the wedding pictures to her ASAP.
He stood and pulled some scrubs from the clean laundry basket in the corner. She hadn’t folded her laundry, yet another sign that she was going downhill fast. “You’ll feel better once you’re up and moving. And you should give the pills a chance. You have to be consistent, and patient.” As a nurse, he’d thought she’d recognize the need to stick to her doctor’s plan. But when she got this depressed, she couldn’t see reason.
She burrowed further under the covers. “You must hate me.”
He smothered a tired sigh. This routine, too, was familiar. “I don’t hate you.”
“You left for three days.”
“Two. And you had work, anyway.” He couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice.
She peeked out from under the covers. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”
He sat at the edge of her bed. “We’re a team. When you’re down, I am too.” It was the same thing she used to tell him when he was in the hospital with an illness.
Dark Deeds Page 17