by Beverly Bird
His gaze coasted over her breasts, down past her waist, her hips, along her legs. Angela fought the urge to cover herself. She realized that only half of her really wanted to.
“Melanie—” she began.
“Gone again,” he said, his voice low. “You know, I think she loves this assignment. She’s seen more of her kids in the past two days than she has in a month.”
Angela opened her mouth and closed it again. He kept watching her. Everything inside her heated, and that was so incredible, so good.
He finally moved away from the door and came toward her. He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her intently. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. Maybe I haven’t had the chance to tell you how I feel.”
Her heart hurtled. She held her breath.
“If anything happens to you, I’ll never be whole again.”
He kissed her. He wasn’t gentle this time. She could feel his anger, his frustration. Something quick and fleeting tried to spasm inside her. She lifted her hands as far as his chest with every intention of pushing him away, then slowly, languorously she relaxed again.
“You are so beautiful,” he said against her mouth, nibbling a corner of it. “And you don’t even seem to know it. I want you, and I want everything to be right, and I want this whole mess to go away and let us be.” Then his lips covered hers again, and his tongue urged hers to play. It felt as though he plundered her very soul, and he was asking for something this time as he had not asked this morning. She would have given, would have tried, no matter how clumsy and inept she might seem, but she knew what he wanted most was impossible.
He pulled away from her.
“Your suit,” she uttered dazedly. He was still holding her shoulders, and she was still standing in the shower, and his arms were drenched.
He finally stepped back. “I’ve got others. Finish up, angel,” he said quietly. “We need to talk first.”
She watched, her heart thudding, as he left the bathroom. One part of her wanted to hurry and go after him. The other part couldn’t bear to argue with him again, to hurt him with the decision she had made.
She was going to give that press conference. She had to. But first she had to make Jesse understand.
If anything happens to you, I’ll never be whole again. Was he saying what she thought he was?
She fumbled through the rest of her shower, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. When she was done, she bundled herself in the robe he’d worn that morning. It still smelled of him. She pressed her cheek to the terry cloth, then she went into the living room. She found him on the sofa. He’d taken his suit coat off. It was draped over a chair, drying.
For a single moment, she thought he was asleep. God knew, he had to be exhausted by now. He was sitting as he had last night, when she had been on his lap, with his head back against the cushions, his eyes closed. But when he heard her, he straightened and looked at her.
Angela cleared her throat. “This morning...”
Something about his eyes sharpened. “Regrets? It wasn’t what you wanted after all?” He didn’t think he could have read her that wrong. What had been in her eyes this afternoon had not been regret.
Angela shook her head. “No. But when you were...touching me, I kept thinking that you could have any woman you wanted. That you could have someone who was generous, giving...and that I had nothing to give.”
He opened his mouth to argue, his eyes suddenly angry. She held up a hand to stop him.
“Please, Jesse. Let me finish. I know I was wrong. I can give you something. Maybe. If I can get free. All the way free of him.”
“It’s not necessary.” he said harshly.
She gave him a pained smile. “Of course it is. Sooner or later, you’ll chafe over what I can’t give you. You’ll want more. You’ll resent me for not finding a way to please you.”
“Have I complained? I just want you alive. We’ll take it slow—”
“No!” she erupted. “I don’t want to wait anymore, Jesse! I’ve been this way for fifteen years! It’s a prison! It’s hell!” She took a deep breath, but her voice broke anyway. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s like being a ghost, and everybody else is real. People can see me, they can touch me and find substance, and they think I’m normal. But it’s like there’s nothing inside. I watch movies, I read books, and everyone else is part of this wonderful, exclusive club, doing this amazing act with each other and enjoying it. And until this morning, I could only yearn to have what they have, to...to connect with another human being that way. He stole that from me. Can’t you see? If I fight back, if I finally talk loud and clear and refuse to let him cow me, it might make me normal. It could give me back my self-respect, maybe give me some kind of substance inside. I could be part of that club, Jesse, and I want that. I want it so badly.”
He felt something almost unbearably painful fill his chest. He realized in that moment that she’d been a virgin when Charlie had raped her. He’d come here to talk her out of this crazy idea. And in that moment, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t condemn her to the life she had just spoken of, never knowing, never once being free enough to fly.
“Angela—”
“Please, Jesse,” she interrupted. “Please. Now that I know there’s a way of settling this, I don’t even want to try to be with you until I do it. Do you know why I came back here, why I took this job?”
He kept silent, knowing she had to let the hurt out.
“Maybe I always thought that if I was important enough, maybe, maybe, I would find the courage to shout. Maybe people would hear me. Maybe I came back to Philly to give myself that chance. But I was still scared. I thought I was still the same person inside, not particularly worth listening to. Then I met you. There must be something there within me, because you like me anyway. Even though I kept trying to push you away, you wouldn’t go.”
He gave her a tight smile. “I think this is coercion, angel.”
“I don’t need your approval, your go-ahead,” she replied shakily. “But I want it, Jesse. I want it badly. I need you to stand beside me on this.”
He watched her tremble. He saw the desperation in her eyes and remembered Gunner’s words. It’s a responsibility to take something like that from her. You can’t just play around with it. man. It’d be like juggling with Fabergé eggs. Not so different, he thought, from his own ideas about priceless heirlooms. And damned if he didn’t have one in his hands.
Jesse got to his feet. “I’ll call Gunner.”
Tessa and John arrived half an hour later. Angela realized that they had been ready to move, that they had only been waiting for her—or Jesse—to give the nod.
Tessa had stopped by Angela’s house and picked up a royal blue, almost-professional-looking suit. It was a classic, even as it demanded attention.
Jesse had reluctantly called all three television networks and both daily newspapers. The word would spread like fire through the media community, and the weeklies and radio affiliates would no doubt be out in force, as well.
The press conference was slated for nine o’clock. None of them—certainly not Angela—could bear waiting until morning now that she had made up her mind. And they wanted to do it fast anyway. They couldn’t allow word of their plan to leak and give Charlie ample time to lash out and stop her.
They would hold the conference in Jesse’s office. It was a subtle slap in Charlie’s face, and besides, there was no telling what might move by within camera range at Angela’s place of business. They had vetoed the Four Seasons suite because they didn’t want to give up her location and either of their homes for similar security reasons. Charlie might know where they both lived, but the remainder of Philadelphia’s loonies did not.
Melanie checked in with them at eight. This time. Jesse asked her to stay. “We’ll still need more backup,” he said tersely, looking at Gunner.
“We’ve got it,” he answered. “Thirty-two cops in and around your building. Not counting th
e two who will flank her at the podium.”
“They don’t know exactly whom they’re watching for.”
Gunner gave him a withering look. “Neither do the president’s bodyguards.” Then he let out a heavy breath. “I can’t tell you to chill out. But I can say that I’m pretty damned sure this is going to go off without a hitch.”
It should have been enough. The truth was that Jesse didn’t feel comforted.
Angela was almost beyond hearing them, she was so wrapped up in her own tension. Her own fear. No more. Tonight she would banish it. Tonight she would stand up for herself. And maybe, in the process, she would finally find the confidence and the strength to be whole.
At eight-forty. Gunner looked at her. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.”
Jesse thought she looked ready to push her sleeves up and do actual physical labor. Her expression was set and grim. There was something too bright about her eyes. It scared him a little. Her color was high. Excited? he wondered. Or terrified? He hoped for the latter. It only made sense, and it would keep her cautious.
They went down the hall to the elevator. Tessa kept Angela’s hand firmly in hers. Jesse’s was at the small of her back. Gunner went ahead, his shoulders rigid with tension, as though to beat back all the demons in their path. Melanie brought up the rear, as though guarding them from behind.
Angela felt bolstered, protected, and doubted if she’d have been able to do this without all of them. Unfortunately, they weren’t gong to be able to speak into that microphone for her, and she still had no clear idea what she would say when the time came. She was riding on nerves, and they were electric, sizzling.
Gunner had left nothing to chance. An unmarked car waited at the curb to take them to Jesse’s office. An armed detective drove.
“Word’s all over the city by now,” Jesse muttered worriedly. No matter how tightly they’d tried to plan it, they’d been forced to give the media more than an hour’s notice. “He knows. He’s got to know.”
“Good,” Gunner grated. “I hope he’s sweating.”
“I’d say he’s frantic,” Tessa contributed. “You know, I never particularly liked that guy. Just like Christian Benami, there was always something about him. His eyes were always too cold.”
“Who?” Melanie demanded. “Who?” They hadn’t told her yet. It was just another security measure, hopefully unnecessary. No one really believed for a minute that she’d go running to Charlie, but stranger things had happened before.
“Roger is going to drop flat when he hears about this,” Tessa guessed, and earned a hoarse chuckle from her husband.
The thirty-two cops at Jesse’s office did not include the uniformed officers at the door, working crowd control. The moment they pulled up, the reporters and cameramen swarmed. It was apparent with one glance that more than just the Philadelphia media had come out for this. The whole thing smacked of scandal, and that had brought out news hounds from New York to New Jersey to Delaware—all of those who’d had time to get here.
“Oh, my God,” Angela whispered, feeling something quake inside. What was she going to say to them?
Then the answer came, and it bolstered her like all the wellmeaning touches and encouragement of the others couldn’t. She was going to tell them the truth.
The uniformed cops had cleared a path from the curb to the door, keeping the media back with crime-scene tape—the best they could do on such short notice. They dashed from the car. Only Gunner held back a moment.
“Give us ten minutes,” he told one of the cops, “then let them in.”
Ten minutes. But she was ready.
Angela began feeling something else under her nervousness. It was anger, she realized. But no, that was too mild. She was infuriated. She’d had enough, and she was going to end it.
A few cameramen—those from the major networks—had been permitted to come inside and set up. They were watched critically by more police officers. The podium was placed in Jesse’s anteroom. His office per se was not large enough to accommodate the crowd. Angela saw Roger Kennery push through the bodies, and she winced a little.
“Hope this is all right with you guys,” Kennery said sarcastically, looking from Gunner to Jesse. “Given that I have no damned idea what’s going on, given that I’m judging crowd control solely on the basis of all those bodies downstairs, I thought this would be the best place.”
“Yep.” Gunner said mildly.
“What. I’ve got to hear it with the rest of the nobodies?” Kennery demanded. “I’d like to remind you that I’m still your boss.”
“Not mine,” Jesse returned.
“Not mine, either,” Angela echoed.
Gunner looked at his watch. “We’re still on vacation,” he reminded him, slinging an arm over Tessa’s shoulder.
“You’re going to have to report back in to me eventually,” Kennery warned.
Gunner looked thoughtful. “You’ve got a point there. What do you say?” He glanced around at the others.
“Now’s a good time as any to see him drop,” Jesse said. “Better now, in fact, than with a camera on him.” He was only half joking.
“Charlie Price,” Gunner said easily.
“Huh?” Kennery stared at him.
“Killed Lisette Chauncy. Is trying to frame Angie and our D.A. here, and he thinks that’s going to get him into the mayor’s office. Charles Price III. And no, we don’t have a lot of proof, but we’re hoping like hell this will keep him out of the D.A. race. Then you can give the Chauncy case to me, and I’ll find a way to hang it on the bastard.”
Kennery’s jaw dropped slowly.
“You ready, Angie?” Gunner asked. “It’s nine o’clock. Let’s do it.”
She managed to nod. She and Jesse moved to the podium, flanked by two officers.
“Charlie Price?” Kennery bleated. “Charlie Price? Oh, man. Oh, damn it. Damn it.”
Gunner actually grinned at him. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he assured him. “We’ve got it all under control.”
“That’s what you told me in January before your wife took out half the Walt Whitman bridge!”
“Yeah, but we got our bad guy, didn’t we?”
The lights blinded her. Angela felt a trickle of perspiration run down between her shoulder blades and could only be thankful that it was where no one could see it.
She had spoken to the media before in her role as medical examiner. There had been a few hot cases in her tenure where she’d announced her findings publicly at the request of the P.D. public relations department or Jesse’s people. She had never done it in front of cameras. Besides, this was her. This was personal.
Jesse stepped up beside her and nudged her gently aside. He didn’t displace her. For the moment, if only for a moment, he would share the spotlight with her. -
“We’ve called you here to release a few facts pertaining indirectly to the murder of Lisette Chauncy,” he began, “‘indirectly’ being the key word. While we have no new information regarding that case per se, we hope to dispel some of the many rumors you’ve heard regarding it.”
There was a murmur of intrigued speculation from the press. The only rumors circulating had been about him and the medical examiner.
Angela clenched her hands in front of her, out of camera range, she hoped. Most likely all the lenses were zoomed in on Jesse’s handsome, arrogant, Hadley face anyway.
God bless him.
“Please bear in mind that we are making no accusations. We’re stating facts. We’ll offer no speculation.” He paused and stepped back a little again. “I’ll let Dr. Byerly continue.”
She panicked. Briefly. A wild fluttering filled her chest. Then she was alone in front of the microphone. Cameras flashed. And words came to her.
“Fifteen years ago, I was very much like the rest of you. A student with goals, aspirations, dreams. We’ve all got those things we work toward. We’ve all got long-range plans. Fifteen years ago, I wanted t
o be a doctor.
“I was attending Princeton University on a scholarship when a man changed those goals. In all honesty, though it was a painful lesson, he changed them for the better. Being a doctor was no longer enough for me. I wanted to become a doctor in the field of law enforcement. And therefore, I also got my law degree. As most of you know, I worked several years for the federal government, with the FBI, before I returned to Philadelphia as your chief medical examiner.” She stopped for breath. She was damned well going to get her credentials out there, she determined. They were one of the few weapons she had.
She was no longer shaking.
“The man who changed my plans is one well-known to all of you. He’s a man currently running for public office. And he’s a man with secrets.” She paused and looked around the sea of faces. “I know some of you personally,” she said. “And I know that there’s a strong possibility that sometime during the course of this political year, you might well have ferreted out this information on your own. In fact, that’s already begun this week with a piece that appeared in the Inquirer mentioning that I once pressed charges of date rape in Philadelphia’s courts. However, that short article cleverly omitted the name of the man I pressed charges against. I’m here now to tell you my side of the story, to tell you who he was. My case was thrown out of court fifteen years ago. Nonetheless, I stood by my allegations then, and I will continue to do so now.”
She let that hang for a moment. She took a deep, steadying breath. She let it out on a slight shudder.
“The man who raped me was Charles Price III.”
The crowd exploded. It took everything she had not to step back, away from them, as the sound rolled toward her. More lights flashed. It took several minutes for things to calm down again, though various reporters still shouted questions.
“Do you have proof?”
“Are you planning to reopen the case?”
Angela held up a hand. “Let me finish. I approached the district attorney’s office with this information once I learned that Mr. Price plans to run for public office.” A small lie there, she realized, but she went with it. “I cannot in good conscience stand by and allow this man to be elected knowing what I know about him. So I’m making a public plea.” She found a camera and looked directly into it. “If there are any other women out there who have been a victim of this man, please, please come forward. I know it’s intimidating. I know you’re terrified.” Her voice caught. “But you’re not alone. Please contact either my office, or that of the D.A.”