by Deborah Camp
Trudy felt her eyes widen as realization dawned. “I thought that ring must mean something to you beyond being an adornment.”
His smile was softly serene. “When I slipped it onto my finger, he came to me.”
“Your uncle? Like, the minute you put on the ring he was there in your head?”
He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. He was tall and had an athlete’s body. I actually look a little like him. I have his smile.”
Observing the smile that melted her heart, Trudy sent him one of her own. “A little lopsided? Off center?”
He nodded. “Unbalanced? Just shy of the bubble.” The grin slipped away and memories doused the pinpoints of light that had been shining in his eyes. “He told me he was proud of me and that my mother should have stood up for me against my father. He said that she regretted not being strong for me and he asked me to forgive her.” Picking up the milk glass, he drained it and then turned away from her to rinse it out in the sink, but not before she saw the tensing of his mouth and the glistening emotion in his eyes. “I told him I knew she did her best and that I loved her.” His voice was huskier, softer. “He smiled at me again and he was gone. When I came back to myself and opened my eyes, my mother had left with him.” He gave a little shrug that squeezed her heart. He faced her again, leaning back against the counter, looking down at his crossed bare feet. “I never made contact with him again.”
Trudy took a few moments to steady herself. He was opening up, revealing a time in his life that she knew he usually kept closed off. Tentatively, because she felt as if she were tiptoeing around a trap that could spring shut at any moment, she ventured, “Your mother? Could you reach her?”
“I never tried.”
“So, did you forgive her?”
He still didn’t look up. “I can’t forget the past. It rankles. More than it should, I suppose. Anyway, forgiveness is one of the things that I’m working on. To get past all the disappointments and feelings of abandonment.” He glanced up through his lashes at her. “Being able to analyze how screwed up I am is one of the shitty things about having a master’s degree in psychology.”
She made a face at him. “From the little I know about your upbringing, I’d say you’re remarkably stable.”
A bitter laugh tumbled out of him. “Oh, baby, you’re so wrong about that.”
She shook her head, refusing to let him display such little faith in himself. “Levi, you are a good man. You’re kind and thoughtful and generous of spirit.”
“And arrogant and demanding and riddled with asinine phobias,” he ticked off. “I know myself, Tru. Believe me when I tell you that stable doesn’t apply to me.”
She didn’t want to get in a verbal brawl with him, so she took a different path. “How about sweet? You’re sweet.”
His upper lift curled up. “How about you take off the rose-colored glasses? I’m about as sweet as a lemon.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, but decided to drop that line of discussion, too. Getting him to admit that his heart wasn’t made of lead, but of something much softer would take time. Resting her chin in her palms, she regarded him. She could tell by the slight scowl on his face that he was rolling something around in that brilliant brain of his. She was almost positive that his thoughts had returned to Nicola. It bothered him more than he let on.
“Levi, if the police haven’t made any more progress in Nicola’s case in the next few days, don’t you think it would be worth it to try to connect with her?”
Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet hers and she winced inwardly at the dark emotions whirling in them. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
She swallowed the apprehension that gripped her throat. “Don’t I? Connecting with her would be worse than watching a madman mutilate a helpless woman?”
“Yes.”
Surprised by his answer, she sat straighter. “How do you figure that?”
“I would be watching a woman I cared about murdered. I would relive that murder with her. She was viciously raped and sodomized, Trudy. Just knowing that makes my blood curdle. Experiencing it with her . . .” His voice faded and he shook his head, unable to finish.
No reply was sufficient. She simply hadn’t seen it that way. Now that he’d opened her eyes to what such a psychic session would do to him, she was near tears because she strongly suspected that he would have to step into that horrific scene. He wanted to find Nicola’s murderer and it looked more and more as if it would fall on his shoulders to find something substantial for the police to investigate.
Slipping off the stool, she went to him and hugged him. She kissed the zombie’s ugly face on his t-shirt. Frowning, she gripped the hem of the garment and lifted it slowly. He sent her a puzzled glance, smiled faintly, and raised his arms to allow her to peel the shirt off him. She tossed it onto the counter and sowed tiny kisses across his collarbone, up his neck, and gnawed playfully at his chin until he chuckled and lifted it out of her reach.
“I can understand why you’re avoiding trying to reach out to her. But maybe you can just ask her if she knew him.”
He folded his hands over her shoulders. “She didn’t.”
“How do you know that?” She leaned back a little to look at his face. He arched a brow at her surprised expression.
“Nothing paranormal or magical,” he said with a smirk. “It’s a matter of deduction, Watson. The police would have already zeroed in on a suspect if it were someone she knew like a former boyfriend or co-worker. There wasn’t anyone close to her who had a beef with her or who didn’t have a solid alibi.”
“You think it was random? A stranger murder?”
“Probably. But it could have been someone she knew casually or recognized from somewhere. That’s what we don’t know at this point.”
“And she could tell you. Show you.”
“Maybe. Probably.” He sighed with frustration before he nuzzled her hair. “I’ll think about it. Later.” His lips plucked at hers. “How about some milk?”
She drew her brows together and glanced behind him at the glass on the counter. “You want more milk?”
That heart-tugging, lopsided grin stole across his lips. “Your milk. Since I have the cow . . .”
She was only able to utter a squeak of outrage before his mouth smothered the rest.
###
Hours later as she lay in his arms, satiated and drowsy, she felt the first stirrings of terror. It brought her fully awake with a slight start. She glanced at Levi, who was stretched out beside her on the sectional. He was deeply asleep, his breath escaping in a whispery snore. Closing her eyes, she gingerly examined the uneasiness on the edge of her consciousness. She’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if she were being watched . . . or watching . . . or both. Underlining it all was fear. Stark fear. Along with that was a need for retaliation. An odd cacophony of emotions and sensations.
The feeling began to fade, but not before she sensed that she was looking at a photograph of a woman . . . a woman dancing with a man. The seer wanted the woman to suffer . . . to die so that the man would be emotionally destroyed. Teach the bastard a lesson he’ll never forget. The pussy! I’ll get it right this time. Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. You take what’s mine. I destroy what’s yours.
The thoughts subsided and then disappeared. She’d heard that voice in her head before. Who was in that photo? She couldn’t make out the faces. And had he been following someone or was he being followed? It was all too unclear. Unnerved by the experience, Trudy burrowed deeper into Levi’s embrace and was glad for the tightening of his arms around her.
Maybe he was right. Staying put for now was best.
Chapter 9
Levi slammed down the phone and glared across the desk at a frowning Pete Gonzales.
“Nothing new, I take it,” Gonzo drawled as he drew a finger across his mustache.
“Why do I even waste my breath calling and asking? Forensics reports analyzed the hair and fiber they
found on Nicola and they deduced that we’re looking for a man with dark brown, longish hair who was wearing a white cotton garment. Probably an undershirt or t-shirt.”
“And nothing matched any DNA samples on record?”
“No.”
“We just can’t seem to catch a break on this.” Gonzo shifted uneasily in the black leather barrel chair. “I hate to say it, but Nicola’s case is going cold. Unless someone confesses or brings forth new evidence, this case is stymied.”
Shoving up from his desk chair, Levi stood by the window, hands in his trouser pockets, his mind worrying over the lack of evidence in Nicola’s murder. “Trudy asked me if I would contact Nikki.” Just saying it sent a cold splash of dread through his body.
“Contact? Oh. You mean the psychic stuff.”
Levi shook his head at his friends’ disbelieving tone. “Always ready with a vote of confidence, huh, buddy?”
“Calm down, sunshine. I just have trouble buying into stuff I can’t see, touch, smell, or hear. If you think you can move this case along, then I’m all for it.” He sighed. “Hell, I’ve seen you do amazing things, Levi. I’d be an idiot not to admit that you can do some scary shit. So, are you going to do it? Talk to Nicola?”
He shrugged, not ready to commit to that yet. Watching people strolling along the sidewalk, his thoughts veered to Heather Asher. He resented the hell out of that woman. Because of her, he and Trudy were constantly looking over their shoulders and escorted everywhere by Gonzo’s men. Last night they had dined out and felt conspicuous being trailed by two big guys in dark suits and roving eyes. “Speaking of cold cases, what’s going on with the stalker?”
“That’s why I needed to see you.”
Not liking Gonzo’s guarded tone, he turned away from the window. “What’s happened?”
“This was in your mail this morning.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed a sheet of paper. “This is a copy. I sent the original to the police to fingerprint.”
Warily, he reached for the paper and unfolded it. He stared at the scrawled letters on the lined paper before his mind deciphered the words.
Keep away from him, you bitch! He’s mine! Get out of our apartment! Get out of our lives! Who do you think you are? He loves me! He loves ME!
He sat down heavily in the office chair, his knees giving out. Aware of Gonzo’s steady stare, he quelled the panic inside him and sent a cool gaze across the desk. “Was it mailed from Atlanta?”
“Yes.”
“She needs to be in treatment.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s exasperating that we can’t find her.”
Gonzo flung out his hands in frustration. “You think we’re not looking for her? Every friggin’ day, every friggin’ hour, we’re looking. I’ve made it our priority and all my guys know it. Whoever grabs her gets a five thousand dollar bonus. Believe me, they’re looking for her.” Gonzo cursed under his breath. “Do you think we should sneak Trudy back to Tulsa?”
“I don’t know.” He tipped back his head, trying to think without being selfish. “She wants to be with her family at Thanksgiving. Would she be safer there?”
“Heather Asher wants her gone, so yeah, Trudy probably would be better off there.”
“Tuesday is the cocktail party at my place for the Re-home board of directors to kick off our winter fundraiser. I want her to stay at least until then. I’ll need tons of security that night.”
Gonzo swiped at his mustache again, a habit of his any time he was agitated. “You got it. How many guests?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Hey, Sissy Franklin’s on the board!”
His heart slowed and then kicked against his ribcage. He drew in a deep breath and tried to appear nonchalant. “So what?”
“So, she hasn’t met Trudy, has she?”
“No, but she told me that she wants to meet her, so she can do that at the cocktail party.”
“I’m suddenly super glad I’m on the board, too. I want to see that meeting.” He grinned like a jack-o-lantern.
“What do you think will go down? A cat fight?” Levi scoffed.
“No, but there’s bound to be some fireworks. How did Sissy take it when you told her that you had a woman living with you now?”
“She thought I was kidding and then she thought I had lost my mind.” He placed a hand over his heart. “The way all of my so-called friends have reacted to the news really makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”
Gonzo tipped back his head and guffawed. “Well, hell, Wolfe! You’re a cocksman of the first order and you come back from Key West and tell us you’re going to stop laying pipe hither and yon and start playing house with a woman none of us had even met! How did you expect us to react? I, for one, never thought you’d tie yourself down to one female. In fact, you told me that on more than one occasion.”
“Yeah, well, stuff happens.”
“What does your psychiatrist think about your new bit of stuff?”
He eyed Gonzo and felt his upper lip lift in a snarl. “Watch it.”
“I’m yanking your chain,” Gonzo said with a chuckle. “Is the good doctor all for it?”
“Yes, she is.” He smoothed a hand down his black on black patterned tie.
“Fill Trudy in on all of this and let me know how you want to proceed.” Gonzo shrugged. “If I were you, I’d tell her about the women who will be at that party, seeing as how you’ve banged four or five of them.”
“Three,” he corrected. “Only three of them.”
“And Trudy will make four.”
“She’s not on the board.”
Gonzo grinned and his dark eyes danced with mischief. “You’re splitting hairs.” He sighed, expansively. “It’ll be a night to remember.”
“Anything else, Gonzo? I’d like to get some work done this afternoon, if you don’t mind.”
Gonzo picked up the notepaper, folded it, and tucked it back into his jacket pocket.
“Have Darla make another copy of that for me. I want Trudy to see it.”
“Done. By the way, Thanksgiving is next Thursday.”
“Is it?” He stared at Gonzo, calculating the days.
“Yeah, so if Trudy’s going back to Tulsa that soon, we need to get on it. You want to send one of my guys there to keep an eye on her?”
“No.” He shook his head. “She won’t go for that. I’ll talk to her.” That was a conversation he dreaded.
Gonzo cleared his throat. “Have you heard anything from Lizzie?”
That old feeling of unease filtered through him and it rankled. But it was there. Always there when he thought of Lizzie. She was like a bad dream that kept creeping up on him just when he thought he was good and shed of it. “No. Why?”
Gonzo hunched his broad shoulders. “Just wondering. Since she skipped out of the drug treatment center, nobody’s heard a peep from her. You think she’s still in the States or would she have gone back to England?”
“Since she allegedly left with her boyfriend, I assume she’s still kicking around in Texas. That’s where she said he lived. From somewhere around Austin, I think. She won’t go back to England unless she’s deported.”
“If she calls, are you going to tell her, once and for all, to lose your phone number and forget your name?”
When he didn’t answer right away, Gonzo shot up from the chair.
“Goddamn it, Levi! Forty thousand dollars! You paid twenty grand for her treatment twice and she skipped out on it both times! When is enough enough?”
Levi glared at him, not appreciating being lectured. “First of all, it’s my goddamn money to spend however I want.” He drew in a calming breath. “I’ve done all I can for her. I know that.”
Gonzo shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. “I just don’t get it, bud. Why can’t you turn her away? I’ve seen you do that to other leeches. You can be cold as ice. Cruel, even. So, why can’t you tell her to fuck off?”
He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “I ha
ve work to do and so do you.”
Shaking his head, Gonzo spun on his heel and headed for the door. “Gotcha. Case closed. Hasta la vista, baby.”
Levi stared at the door, Gonzo’s words ringing in his ears. Why can’t you tell her to fuck off? He wished to hell he knew the answer to that.
###
Crossing the courtyard from one building to the other, Trudy glanced over her shoulder at the silver-haired man following her. “Melvin, I’m just going to Levi’s office,” she told him. He nodded and smiled. Trudy rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the guard, even when he stepped into the elevator with her on the ride to the eighth floor.
The doors opened and she made her way to Darla’s desk. The attractive brunette looked up and greeted her with a smile.
“You’re still here,” Trudy said. “I thought you’d be gone. It’s after five.” She noticed Reynolds lounging nearby.
“I think he’s wrapping up in there, so I’m waiting to see if he needs anything else,” Darla said, then lowered her voice to a near whisper. “He’s having a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting with a plumber and it’s running longer than expected.”
“A what kind of meeting?”
She laughed under her breath. “Come to Jesus. That’s what we call it when he sets up a meeting to express his . . . umm, discontent with cost overages or slow progress on a construction site.”
“Oh.” Trudy widened her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end in one of those meetings.” She sat in the chair near the desk, her gaze latching onto the beautiful diamond ring sparkling on Darla’s third finger. “So, have you set a date for your wedding?”