For Just Cause

by Kara Lennox

  “Mi casa es tu casa. Until we get to the bottom of this investigation. Okay?”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  He laughed. “Generous has nothing to do with it.” He stood and surprised her with a quick but gentle hug. “I’m really glad you’re okay. You scared me half to death.”

  “Not as bad as I scared myself. Good night.”

  She got as far as the bedroom door. It was a nice room with a king-size bed covered with an old white chenille spread. The furnishings were older and made of dark-stained oak. Basic but sturdy, well loved. She imagined they’d belonged to some older relative before Billy got them. A cross hung over the bed, a garish plaster thing painted in bright colors that had faded with age. It might have come from Mexico.

  Claudia clumsily undressed with her one hand and climbed into Billy’s T-shirt. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror and thought for a moment she’d regressed to being a little girl, playing dress-up. With bruises.

  She quickly averted her eyes and made her way to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth, she returned to the bedroom and stared at the big, soft-looking bed with its half-dozen feather pillows covered in a mixed bag of old cotton cases. And suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping there alone.

  When she peeked back into the living room, she saw Billy had stretched out on the sofa in just his boxers and a T-shirt, the fuzzy throw wrapped haphazardly around his legs.

  Though she was sure she made no noise, he sensed her presence anyway and looked up. His brow immediately creased with concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “No. Would you maybe want to sleep with me? I mean, really sleep-sleep,” she clarified.

  He was on his feet in an instant. “Of course I will. Of course.”

  “I guess I’m afraid to be alone.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. You’ve been through a lot today.”

  He was being so nice to her, and every bone in her body believed he was genuine. But Raymond had been nice, too. A chameleon, Billy had called him. A consummate actor who could be anything the current woman in his life wanted him to be.

  And she hadn’t spotted it.

  She aggressively swept all thoughts of Raymond aside. She was safe. She had to believe she was safe or she would never sleep.

  Claudia climbed into the bed first, sinking into the feather mattress topper as if it were a cloud. Billy got in after her. “Are you okay on that side, or do you want to switch places?”

  “No, this is good.”

  He snapped off the lamp, but a glow of silver light from the city drifted in through the half-open blinds. At first he didn’t touch her. But then he reached a tentative hand out and brushed it against her bare arm, producing shivers through her whole body.

  “Could you hold me till I fall asleep?” she asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Careful of her injuries, he drew her against his chest until they were nestled together spoon-fashion. “Comfortable?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She had almost fallen asleep again when a sudden thought occurred to her and her eyes snapped open. “Billy.”

  “What? Huh?” He’d already been asleep.

  “The priest. I want to go see him tomorrow.”

  Billy sighed. “Claudia, even if he knows something, he can’t tell us. Ever heard of the seal of the confessional?”

  “I know he can’t tell us Mary-Francis’s sins. But I’m more interested in finding out what his sins might be.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BILLY HAD BEEN HOPING Claudia would forget the priest. He didn’t want to think of that sweet, elderly man as a suspect; it went against his grain. He’d been raised Catholic, and though the priesthood had suffered some credibility blows in the past few years, his experience with Catholic school and priests had been nothing but positive. If not for some firm guidance from Father Miguel and Father Pat, Billy would have ended up on the other side of the law.

  But the last thing he wanted to do when Claudia was in his arms was to start an argument. She had reached out to him tonight. This afternoon, she had hinted that she couldn’t trust him if he didn’t come clean about every sordid detail of his past. But tonight, her actions said something different.

  She did trust him, enough that she could fall asleep next to him when she was at her most vulnerable, when contact with any man was most likely to be frightening. That realization filled him with hope that they could move forward somehow.

  “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” he said.

  “Okay, but don’t let me forget about it. My brains feel like mush.”

  “That’s totally normal after you get beat up. Now sleep. I promise we’ll talk about the priest in the morning.”

  Amazingly, she did sleep. And amazingly, Billy managed to limit his handholds to relatively innocuous parts of Claudia, like her knee or her waist.

  He couldn’t do anything about certain other parts of his own anatomy, which had gone rock hard at the mere thought of climbing into bed with Claudia. She probably couldn’t miss the fact that he was jabbing her just below her enticing little bottom. But it didn’t seem to bother her, because she was breathing the soft, untroubled breath of dreamless sleep.

  It was a long time before Billy could drop off. Questions about this case kept chasing their tails in his head. Why hadn’t Mary-Francis told them where she’d hidden the coins? Was it because Eduardo had stolen them, and she didn’t want authorities to find and seize them?

  Was Eduardo still alive? It sounded as though he was. Eduardo was a prime suspect for not only the assault on Claudia, but the one on Theresa, as well. He might have sent henchmen to do the job, or he might even be personally involved. His organization was falling apart. With his authority deteriorating and his money running out, he might have gotten desperate enough to come out of hiding.

  And what was Angie’s role? Did she have criminal involvement, or was she merely her father’s pawn?

  He finally fell asleep at about two in the morning.

  When he woke, he and Claudia had switched positions. He was on his back, and she was draped over him like a blanket. Her head was tucked under his chin so that her soft hair tickled the sensitive flesh of his neck. She’d flung her left arm over him so that her splinted wrist rested on the mattress next to him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest and his inadvertent look down the neckline of his repurposed T-shirt had him instantly hard. Her knee was between his legs, resting dangerously close to his family jewels. All she had to do was bend her knee suddenly and raise her leg a few inches higher…

  But it felt nice, having her nestled there. In fact, he could get used to this real fast. He’d always had a firm rule about women not spending the night. He usually managed to have sex at the girl’s place, so he could leave when he wanted to. So waking up with a warm, pliant woman…that was a novelty.

  Not that Claudia was pliant. When she woke up, she would probably be embarrassed by their position, even if they had enjoyed sex just yesterday. She was kinda prim in some ways.

  It was still early, but Billy had a full slate of plans today. Before Claudia’s call, he’d been brainstorming with Daniel on new ways to attack his case. Daniel, always good at thinking outside the box, had come up with some excellent ideas.

  Claudia stirred and murmured something in her sleep. He played with her hair because it was soft and silky and one of the few places he could touch her without the temptation to stray into trouble.

  “That feels nice,” she said softly.

  “Good. How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a baby.” Probably realizing how intimately they were wrapped together, she started pulling back, coming more fully awake.

  Now he could look into her eyes, which were relaxed and sleepy still. “I’m glad.”

  “I hope I didn’t keep you awake. I’ve been told that I thrash around in my sleep.”

  “No thra
shing.”

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after eight.”

  “What?” She jerked herself upright, then winced. “Oh, hell, they weren’t kidding about hurting worse today. I don’t want to take whatever drugs the doc prescribed. Got any plain ol’ aspirin?”

  “I’ll see what I can find.” He couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing her on the forehead.

  She gave him a perplexed look, which he definitely couldn’t decipher. Now is when he wished he had her training.

  Funny, a week ago he’d thought Claudia’s face-reading skills were phony, a gimmick. But he was starting to believe they were real. He had learned to shield his true feelings out of necessity, and through trial and error, but any cop working undercover—any cop at all—could benefit from formal training on body language, both reading others and being read.

  He was going to recommend that Claudia teach a class for Project Justice. At least she’d be hanging around where he could see her. Right now, he had no idea what would happen once they concluded work on this case.

  If they ever did. Leads were slim and Mary-Francis’s execution date drew closer.

  Billy found a bottle of Advil. Back in the bedroom, he discovered Claudia out of bed, looking damn fetching in his T-shirt, which barely covered her panties.

  “I need a shower—bad.”

  “You need help?” he asked hopefully.

  She rolled her eyes. “If we could just bottle men’s libido, we’d put an end to our dependence on fossil fuel.” She softened her comment with a smile, took the bottle of drugs from him and sashayed into the bathroom.

  When she found her way to the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he was amazed at the transformation. She’d managed to get the blood stains out of yesterday’s skirt, which she’d paired with a five-dollar tank top from the drugstore. Instead of wearing her hair loose and curled under, which was her usual style, she’d slicked it back into a braid and fastened it with a scrunchie. She’d even made up her face, softening the bruises to the side of her cheekbone and around her eye. She must have had some cosmetics in her purse.

  In short, with very few resources, she’d managed to transform herself from assault victim to high-fashion model.

  “Wow, you look great.” His uncooperative mind conjured up all kinds of X-rated images. He could take her right here. On the kitchen table—

  “Is something burning?”

  He yanked the frying pan off the burner and quickly salvaged the bacon. “Hope you like it crispy.” This was the reason he didn’t do much cooking. His mother had tried to teach him, but he invariably got distracted and let something burn.

  “You didn’t have to fix breakfast for me…but that’s very sweet of you.”

  “Nothing sweet about it,” he corrected her. “You need fuel—and rest—so you can heal.”

  She brushed away his concern with a wave of her splinted hand. “I’m fine. So how do we find out this priest’s name? Can we just ask at the Torres’ parish church?”

  He’d been hoping to distract her from the notion of the priest being a player in their drama. But she’d apparently gotten the bone in her mouth and she wasn’t going to let go of it.

  “Sit down, we’ll eat breakfast, and we’ll talk about the priest.” He’d made enough bacon, scrambled eggs and toast to feed a family of ten, and for a while, the meal was enough to distract Claudia.

  But she wouldn’t let it go. “So how do we find what parish Mary-Francis belonged to?”

  Billy pulled out his phone. “The priest introduced himself at the beginning of the memorial service. Father Benito.” Billy did a quick Google search. “There’s only one Father Benito in the whole metroplex. And…” With a few more clicks, he called up the website for an urban church less than two miles from Billy’s apartment. “Voilà.”

  He turned the phone so Claudia could see it. “That’s him!” she said with a smile of wonder. “Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Hope?”

  “Located right downtown. It’s so close, we could walk.” Billy took a long sip of coffee, wishing the caffeine would hurry up and kick his brain into gear. He felt slow from the lack of sleep.

  “I guess that’s why you’re the investigator, and I’m not. I’d have taken all day to find the guy.”

  “I’m still not sure he can help,” Billy argued, momentarily entranced by the way Claudia’s long, pale neck moved when she swallowed. “Priests take the seal of the confessional seriously. No law can force them to reveal anything they’ve learned from penitents within the confines of the Sacrament of Penance. Priest-penitent privilege is protected under the law.”

  “Yes, but suppose the priest does something as a result of what he learned from someone. That’s not protected.”

  Billy ate a few more forkfuls of egg, mulling over Claudia’s words.

  Suddenly he noticed something about Claudia’s hands. He’d never known her to have anything but a perfect manicure. Now, though, two of her fingernails were broken. “Did you scratch him?” he asked abruptly.

  “The priest?”

  “The guy who attacked you. I just noticed your broken fingernails.”

  She examined her right hand briefly. “Maybe I broke them when I fell…”

  “You fell on your left hand. Do you remember anyone taking scrapings from your nails at the hospital?”

  She closed her eyes, probably thinking back to last night. “I don’t think so. Oh, but I scrubbed my hands really hard this morning. If there was any evidence, I washed it away.”

  “But you broke two nails. Were the police treating the garage like a crime scene? Did they put up yellow tape, or bring in any crime scene investigators?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I remember.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed work.

  “Project Justice,” came Celeste’s no-nonsense greeting. “Where can I direct your call?” The question came out like an order.

  “Celeste, it’s me, Billy. Is Beth in yet?”

  “Of course. All the prompt employees are here already. It’s nearly nine o’clock.”

  “Can I speak with her, please?”

  “Hold, please.”

  A few moments later, Beth picked up. “Billy. What’s up?”

  “Can you meet me at Claudia’s office building, in the parking garage? I need to find some possibly overlooked evidence.”

  “How is Claudia? Daniel told everyone about the assault this morning.”

  Interesting that Beth knew Claudia was with him. “She’s good.”

  “I’d be happy to meet you at the garage. What are we looking for? Should I bring any special equipment?”

  “Fingernails. And really, all we need are flashlights and sharp eyes. Oh, and you might wear a crawl suit. In case we have to wiggle under parked cars.”

  “Ah. You need me to do the dirty work.”

  “Two sets of eyes are better than one. See you around ten?”

  “Sure. I’m anxious to get out of this place. I’m afraid to walk down the hall.”

  “What?” Billy sat up straighter, his breakfast forgotten. “Is there some kind of threat at the office?”

  “Oh, since you haven’t been back here, you probably don’t know. There’s a wild pig loose in the office.”

  Billy couldn’t help laughing. “Celeste’s javelina, you mean?”

  “Whatever. It looks like a pig to me. When it got away from her, it hid somewhere and no one’s been able to find it. Last night it got into the break room and wolfed down an entire bowl of mini chocolate bars. Chocolate and wrappers everywhere. Chewed the leg off a chair. Uprooted every potted palm tree in the place. Finally, it pooped in the conference room.”

  “How could an animal that size hide and not get caught?” Billy asked, and Claudia smiled as she listened to the one-sided conversation.

  “I have no idea. But don’t tell Daniel. He doesn’t know yet, and Celeste is afraid she’ll get fired. She insists she can catch it
.”

  Shoot it, more likely. And Billy was willing to bet Daniel did know. He always knew everything.

  “So, you think we might find DNA under my broken fingernails?” Claudia asked when Billy had finished his call.

  “Exactly.” He grabbed his dishes and took them to the sink, eager to get going now that he had something to investigate. “If it wasn’t Eduardo himself who grabbed you, it might be one of his henchmen, who might be in the CODIS database. If we can find him, he might lead us to Eduardo.” Not to mention that Billy intended to kick the ass of whoever had assaulted Claudia. Nobody terrorized his woman and got away with—

  His woman? Where had that come from? Claudia wasn’t anywhere close to his.

  But whose fault was that? If he came clean, if he cracked open his heart and bled all his secrets to her, perhaps she would feel satisfied that he wasn’t a serial killer.

  He shook his head.

  “What?” Claudia had risen, too, and had managed to stack her dishes and pick them up one-handed.

  “Here, let me get that.” He took the plates and set them in the sink with his.

  “Don’t you need to rinse those?”

  “Cleaning lady comes today. That reminds me, I should call her and let her know you’ll be here. Unless you’d rather I reschedule her—”

  “I won’t be here. I’m coming with you.”

  He shook his head. “Claudia, be reasonable. Someone tried to kill you.”

  “He didn’t try to kill me. If he’d wanted me dead, that would have been easy enough.”

  “You should lay low anyway.”

  “I’m not going to cower in a cave just because there’s a bad man out there. Anyway, if I don’t come with you, how will you know where the attack took place? It’s a big parking garage.”

  “You could tell me.”

  “Let me get my purse. Oh, c’mon, Billy, don’t look at me like that. I’ll be with you. Are you saying you can’t protect me?”

  “Oh, sure, attack my male vanity.” His first instinct was to say, of course he could protect her. But the best bodyguards in the world—even the Secret Service—could be foiled by a smart and skillful person determined to do harm.