Betrayed by Trust

by Ana Barrons

  “No you’re not!”

  “No duh,” Tiffany said, disgusted. But the tiny smile on her face gave her away.

  Joe studied Catherine for a second, as though gauging her sincerity, then grabbed the apron he’d discarded earlier and popped it over her head. It was huge on her, so he reached under her arms, crossed the ties behind her back, pulled them around in front of her and tied them at her waist. Then he slid his hands under her hair, grazing her neck, and lifted it out from under the top loop. In the process he tugged her head back, ever so gently, so that her face tilted up to his.

  She literally stopped breathing. For a moment their faces were inches apart. Joe’s gaze traveled from her eyes to her mouth and lingered there, then back up to her eyes. She tried to stop herself from staring at his mouth, but the response was instinctive. He had to see the hunger in her eyes as clearly as she could in his.

  In the next instant he and the kids disappeared into the living room, and Catherine heaved a huge sigh. She retrieved her half-empty wineglass from the table, finished it in a couple of sips and set about cleaning up.

  Forty-five minutes later she was done. She dried her hands one last time on a dishtowel and went to join Joe and the kids, who were apparently having a great time, if the ongoing laughter was any indication. She followed the sounds through the living room to a small den with a TV, assorted video games and DVDs, a faded couch and a couple of comfy chairs. Joe and Tiffany were sitting on the sofa. Mike lay on his stomach at Joe’s feet, propped up on his elbows, hands under his chin. Joe was in profile, the light from the TV lighting up the planes and angles of his face. He was smiling, his expressive eyes changing with the scenes, always on the edge of laughter. She couldn’t look away. When the commercial came on, he glanced her way and caught her standing there before she could move forward. He beckoned to her.

  “You have to see this,” he said. He patted the cushion beside him and she perched on the edge. “America’s dumbest pet videos. It’s so damn stupid, it’s funny.” He covered her hand with his, then squeezed and turned his intense gaze on her.

  “Thank you so much for cleaning up,” he said in a low voice. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

  “I didn’t mind.”

  “Listen, this is over in five minutes and I’ll send the kids upstairs. Then we can talk.”

  “About colonizing space?”

  Joe laughed and squeezed her hand again. “That too.”

  * * *

  Catherine yawned for the twentieth time, and Joe checked his watch. Nearly midnight. He should be tired, but his heart was pumping like there was no tomorrow. He’d been sitting across the kitchen table from her for almost four hours, watching her read his notes and all the clippings he had collected from dozens of papers and magazines. When she didn’t understand his shorthand or found something confusing, she asked him questions, but most of the time she was silent, her expression grim. He couldn’t blame her. He’d compiled a lot of paper over the past eight months, but he was the first to admit it didn’t contain a whole hell of a lot of meat.

  He reached across the table and stroked the back of one cold hand. She raised surprised eyes to his. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve been doing this for four hours. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”

  “What time is it?” Her voice was hoarse. Maybe from fatigue, maybe from sadness. Probably both.

  “Almost midnight. Let me take you home and we can pick this up tomorrow, okay? Although the offer still stands for you to stay here.”

  “I’m fine wedging chairs under the doorknobs. And then there’s the knife under my pillow, of course.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She grinned, and he couldn’t remember what they were talking about. Christ. When had a woman ever had this kind of effect on him?

  She must have seen something in his eyes, because she immediately reached for a yellow legal pad and frowned down at it. “So Jerry Green wouldn’t talk to you? He was her boss, for God’s sake. Did he talk to the police?”

  “Yeah, but he claimed not to know anything about Blair’s personal life.” Joe shrugged. “That’s more or less what everybody on the Hill said. Your sister had a lot of acquaintances but no real friends that I could locate.” A shadow crossed Catherine’s eyes and he immediately regretted his words. But hell, they weren’t going to get anywhere if they couldn’t be honest with one another.

  “Listen, it’s way past your bedtime,” he said. “Sleep in tomorrow. Call me when you get up and we can figure out when and where we’re going to get together.”

  She gazed around the kitchen. “This works for me.”

  For some reason he felt insanely pleased to hear her say that. “Works for me too. Maybe I’ll get carryout tomorrow so there’s no cleaning up to do.” Catherine’s mouth tilted in a sleepy little smile that made him want to carry her upstairs and make love to her. Of course, he’d been wanting to do that since she walked in the door however many hours ago. Actually, he’d been wanting to do that since she walked into Betsy Eberhart’s living room and into his life.

  Longer. When he thought back, he had to admit that he’d wanted to do that months ago, when his calls to her had become more important than dating a flesh-and-blood woman. He’d gotten to the point of not caring whether she was as sexy in person as she sounded over the phone. She was intelligent, kind, sensitive and funny in her own way. Maybe they wouldn’t be lovers, he’d told himself, but they were already friends.

  She would never know how deeply he had felt the loss of her friendship.

  “I can get a cab,” she said. “You shouldn’t leave the kids alone.”

  He wanted to argue with her but she was right. “Yeah, I know. But I don’t like sending you off in a cab, either. Or letting you go up to your apartment alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She stood up with an effort and stretched her arms over her head. He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her right then and there. Christ, he wanted to make love to her. And last night proved beyond a doubt that she wanted him every bit as much. Still, she insisted on sleeping at Blair’s apartment, keeping that last barrier between them.

  They waited for the cab on the front porch steps. When it pulled up at the curb Joe helped her to her feet and walked her down to the sidewalk.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said. Her beautiful eyes were half-closed, making her sexier, if that were possible.

  His response was to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Her lips were warm and sweet, her body molding instantly to his. His tongue invaded her mouth deeply, with a desperation that surprised him. Knowing they had an audience, he backed off after several intense seconds, kissed her lips one last time and stepped back. She blinked up at him, her moist lips parted in surprise and desire, her breathing as ragged as his. If she wanted to change her mind and stay over, now would be the time. It was obvious she was torn, but he wasn’t going to beg.

  He helped her into the cab, said good-night and closed the door behind her. Then he stood by the curb, hand raised in parting and watched the cab until it was out of sight. His chest hurt, as though some piece of him had left with her.

  That scared the shit out of him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Catherine phoned Joe at the Herald at one o’clock. He answered on the first ring, as usual.

  “Listen,” she said, “I was thinking that rather than get together tonight at your place we should go see Jerry Green.”

  Joe was silent for a moment. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. We’ll show up, uninvited, and he’ll have to deal with us. Then again, if he has a lot of appointments we could end up waiting for a long time. How patient are you?”

  “No, I mean we show up at his house. This evening. While his wife’s there.”

  Joe chuckled.
“You should have been a reporter, Catherine. You’ve got the right instincts.”

  “Well, now, there’s a frightening thought.”

  “Ouch. Okay, so I’ll pick you up at, say, eight o’clock? He should be home by then, and probably eating dinner.”

  “If he isn’t home, we’ll talk to his wife,” she said. “I’m tired of getting nothing from these people. If I have to go door to door and talk to these guys’ wives, I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll bring my tape recorder.”

  She hung up at leaned back on the sofa. Her eyes were sore. Last night she’d slept fitfully, imagining how it would have been if she’d told the cabbie to go back to Joe’s house—knocking at the door, seeing the surprise on his face. Joe pulling her inside and wrapping his arms around her, covering her mouth with his and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. Walking upstairs holding onto one another, closing the door of his bedroom... Tearing off one another’s clothes, stumbling to the bed...

  Falling asleep in his arms and waking up next to him in the morning.

  She rubbed at the furrow between her brows. Damn it, she was letting her guard down. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself in love with him.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  * * *

  Detective William Sadler followed the chirp and click of door locks through the underground parking garage until he spotted the blinking lights of his Jetta. He slid behind the wheel and was bending forward to insert the key in the ignition when an arm grabbed him around his neck, yanked him hard against the headrest and pulled his pistol out of the holster. Before he had a chance to raise his arms he felt cold metal against his throat.

  Perelli.

  Oh, fuck.

  “You’ve been holding out on us, Will, haven’t you?” Perelli said from the backseat, his voice harsh and menacing. “And you’ve been talking to reporters.” The knife pressed harder, forcing the muscles in Sadler’s neck to contract more than seemed humanly possible. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  “No, don’t try to talk, fuckhead. Just listen. I’m watching every move you make, and if Joe Rossi or the Morrissey woman get within a mile of you, I’ll slice off your head and send it to your son, and then I’ll slice off your dick and send it to his mother. I’m sure they’ll both like that.”

  Sadler’s eyes widened. Perelli chuckled.

  “Or maybe I’ll tell your fellow cops found out about the little girls you like to fuck. That little Puerto Rican chickie you got upstairs? Angelina? What is she, thirteen? I may try her out myself when we’re done here. Know what they do to child molesters in prison, Will?”

  Sadler tried to nod, but it was more of a jerk. To his immense relief, the squeezing stopped. He gasped for air, but the knife still pressed against his neck. “Now tell me exactly what you’ve been telling Rossi.”

  The knife pressed a little harder on his throat, and hot blood ran down his shirt. “Just...throwing him off.” He began to choke uncontrollably. Perelli yanked up his chin.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut,” he rasped. “And in case you don’t believe me—” Perelli slashed deeply into his thigh and slipped out of the car. Sadler could only scream in agony and hold his leg together while he struggled not to pass out.

  * * *

  Jerry Green answered the door himself. He was still in his work clothes, minus the jacket and tie, a drink in one hand. The man stared at Catherine for a moment, and then swallowed.

  “Catherine.” His welcoming tone sounded false to Joe. “What a surprise to see you here.”

  “Hello, Congressman,” she said. “Sorry to drop in on you like this, but I really wanted to talk to you, and your office seemed too impersonal. I only need a few minutes of your time.”

  The man seemed slightly dazed. “Of course, of course.” He stepped aside. “Come in.” He glanced over Catherine’s shoulder and noticed Joe. Catherine followed his gaze and stepped inside. She touched him on the shoulder.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I brought along a friend who’s helping me get some answers about Blair’s death. Maybe you’ve met before. This is Joe Rossi.”

  Green had gone pale. “Yes, I believe I spoke to Mr. Rossi several months ago, right after your sister disappeared.” He glanced between them. “I admit I’m kind of surprised to see you—”

  Joe extended a hand and Green had no choice but to accept it. “Thank you for speaking with us, Congressman. I know it means a lot to Catherine.” Who hadn’t bothered to tell him she knew Green personally.

  “As I told the police, I didn’t know much about Blair’s personal life, but I’m happy to talk with you about her.” He ushered them into the foyer and laid a hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “How are your parents holding up?”

  “Not very well,” Catherine said, lowering her head. “It’s all been such a horrible shock.”

  Green got them seated on the sofa and offered them drinks, halfheartedly, Joe thought. They both accepted. A few minutes later Joe was holding a beer, Catherine was sipping on some white wine and Jerry Green was well into a fresh Scotch.

  “Well, we all certainly miss Blair,” Green said.

  He wasn’t a big man, nor was he particularly handsome, although he had the politician’s requisite graying temples. Maybe he had them professionally done. He was in his sixth term as congressman from New Hampshire and likely to enjoy a few more. Blair had worked on his reelection campaign a few years back, and Green had picked her to come to Washington with him, out of a field of bright, young college graduates. Blair was planning to finish college at night while she worked in Green’s congressional office, answering phones, greeting visitors, sometimes joining her boss and his important friends for lunch or dinner. But Joe hadn’t found any record of Blair having taken a single college course in the Washington area.

  “Ned Campbell mentioned that he had met Blair at the White House,” Catherine said.

  Joe resisted the urge to glance at her, wanting Green to believe that he hadn’t heard that for the first time. Was it true, or was she just a good liar?

  Green paused with his drink midway to his mouth. “He did?”

  “Well, yes.” She tilted her head to one side. “With you.” If she was lying, she was doing a hell of a job.

  Green took a long swallow, then gestured with his glass. “She did accompany me to the White House once or twice, now that I think about it. Yes, that’s right. The transportation bill. In fact I gave Blair one of the pens the president used to sign it. And Ned Campbell... Yes, she would have met him there. He would have been there.” He stood and walked to the wet bar for a refill.

  “He said he saw her at fundraisers here and there too, and that he liked her.”

  Green tossed back a quick drink and refilled his glass. Joe watched him, fascinated.

  “She was an easy woman to like,” Green said. He didn’t sit down. “We all liked her. Men, women, everybody liked Blair.”

  If Catherine knew he was lying, she didn’t betray it in her expression, which was about as neutral as Joe had ever seen it.

  “One thing puzzles me, though,” she said. “Was Blair making more money than most Hill aides?”

  Great question. Joe’s admiration for her continued to climb.

  “No, of course not.” Oh, the congressman was nervous all right. “I mean, she was a valued employee, but I have a certain pay scale in my office, and I stick to it as close
ly as I can.”

  “Well, did she live in that apartment the whole time she was in Washington?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Green wiped a line of sweat off his upper lip. “I actually lent her the security deposit so she could get in. I thought she should be in a secure building.” He realized immediately how foolish that sounded. “Not that it helped.”

  “Nice digs for a lowly congressional aide,” Joe said. “She must have given up eating to pay that rent.” He turned to Catherine. “About eighteen hundred a month, right?”

  “Plus utilities.”

  “Well, a beautiful woman like Blair,” Green said, glancing at his watch. “There was always someone to take her out for a meal. But you’ll have to forgive me.” He laid his glass down on the wet bar. “I have to pick up my wife at the airport in, oh, gosh, about five minutes. We’ll have to speed this up.”

  “Jerry, I know your relationship with Blair ended at the office,” Catherine said, her eyes never leaving Green’s. “But I have the feeling that maybe...well, she had someone special in her life.”

  “Someone who helped with expenses,” Joe added. “Someone who was afraid to come forward because the police would start asking uncomfortable questions.”

  Green’s eyes were wild. “No, no, there wasn’t anyone like that. At least as far as I know.” He made a point of checking his watch again. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I really need to—”

  “Maybe your wife would know,” Joe said. “Surely she and Blair knew each other.”

  Green stared at him, frozen. Caught.

  Catherine cleared her throat and rose. “Mind if I use the restroom quickly?” Green didn’t move. She waved a hand and started toward the foyer. “I’ll find it. Be right back.”

  When she left, Green leaned toward Joe and said, “What the fuck are you up to, Rossi? I heard she decked you at Betsy Eberhart’s house. And I’d love to know how you get invited to these things, considering how many people you’ve pissed off in this town.”