No, she’d remained calm when needed, and then dealt with it after hours. Like anyone else in her position would do. Like anyone with her training would do.
She saw death and horror every single day. What made him think she couldn’t handle it when that death or horror touched her life much more intimately? When that horror was directed at her?
He saw the worst of humanity, just as much as she. No, he didn’t cut up the results like she did, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it.
She’d been trained to deal with this stuff—first as a physician and second as a federal agent, and third as a forensic pathologist. She didn’t need some child psychologist telling her she needed to ‘start the healing process’.
Blah. She knew how bodies healed—one platelet at a time.
In her case, that meant one day—sometimes one hour—at a time since Rick’s death. The wound would close eventually. She didn’t need Malachi Brockman acting as an antiseptic.
Gah. The very thought of Malachi irritated her at a time when she should be focused on preparing for Ruthie. She didn’t need the distraction that was Malachi, not right now. Probably not right ever.
“Dr. Bellows? Are you all right?” Mia was still at the door. Jules forced her attention back to the world around her.
“I’m sorry, I was…thinking.”
“About the Gibson case? Anything I can help with?”
“No. About Stephenson. And this place. And certain…people…in it.”
“What about him?” Mia’s words were lower now, her face more subdued. “He’s not getting out, is he?”
“No. But…I passed his son in the bullpen. And he looks just like him. It was a bit…freaky for a moment, to say the least. It always is.”
“Yeah. It is.” Mia bit her lip, then sank into the rarely used chair in front of Jules’ desk. “You know…I never said a word to Agent Stephenson. Nothing, yet…I’m reminded of him and what he did every day.” She held out her hands for Jules to see. “A few moments more in that hotel room, and I’d be dead. We both know what I could have looked like.”
“Are you going to have the surgery?” Mia was a strong candidate for successful plastic surgery to conceal or repair a high percentage of the burned area. Jules had snuck a peek at the medical file for her assistant one day. It had been a day several months ago, and she’d been concerned. Mia had been in so much pain that day.
“I don’t know. I have full function in my left arm. And seventy percent in my right. Would a cosmetic surgery fix that thirty percent? What odds? I am still thinking about it.”
“I think about him, too, Mia. And seeing his son? Someone in the powers that be think sending that guy here is a laugh a minute.” Just another sick joke fate had played on her. But at least the guy seemed to understand to keep his distance from her, and Jules did appreciate that.
And she tried hard not to be that way toward a guy she’d never even spoken to. But when she looked at him, she saw his father’s fist headed right at her head. Felt his father’s hand around her throat, shaking her. And then she went home and relived the whole thing in her sleep.
Dammit. Maybe Malachi Perfect Brockman did have a bit of a point. Maybe she hadn’t fully dealt with the Stephenson-experience? She jerked up from her chair. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“To see Evan Stephenson.” She grabbed Mia’s hand and pulled the taller woman toward the door.
“Oh, my God. Are you insane?” Mia followed along, but Jules wondered if she understood that Jules was for real.
“Sometimes I’ve asked myself that same question—in that same tone.”
What was she doing? She continued to ask herself that as she and Mia took the stairs to the fourth floor, where Evan Stephenson was a part of the CCU number three team. What a joke—his team leader was the husband of one of his father’s victims. Bet he had a blast with that knowledge.
That thought gave her pause. And for the first time she had to wonder how Evan felt about the whole thing. She did a quick count in her head of Roger Stephenson’s victims that worked in the CCU division of PAVAD alone—her, Mia, Carrie Sparks Lorcan, Georgia, Josh Compton. She thought of all the people who were even close to Roger Stephenson’s victims—most of the people in the CCU. Evan Stephenson came into the game with a serious disadvantage. And Jules knew his reassignment to PAVAD was not something he or Ed had wanted. Ed had reassured her of that himself. How was Evan handling that?
Did he feel just as crappy about it as she did?
“Jules…Dr. Bellows, are you sure we should do this?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. At least…I don’t. I need to talk to him. Find out if he’s anything like his father. Then maybe when I see him I won’t immediately have a day-mare about what his father did. Dammit. Maybe it is time I learned to deal.”
Mia was still protesting when Jules dragged her into the bullpen area shared by Lorcan’s team. Paige was in there, and Alessandra, as well as the other three members. Paige and Al looked up when Jules stopped at Evan Stephenson’s desk.
Al stepped over to their side, and Paige put down the phone. It was Paige who spoke. “Jules? What’s up?”
She hadn’t thought this out; she hadn’t even considered the other members of his team. She took a stabilizing breath. “Nothing. We just need to speak with…Evan…for a moment.”
Al’s brows rose in an expression eerily similar to her oldest brother’s. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. Evan? Care to join us?” For the first time since his transfer to PAVAD three months earlier, Jules met his gaze—eye-to-eye.
His eyes were nothing like his father’s. They weren’t even the same color.
And that totally threw her off.
He stared at her for the longest moment. Jules forgot everyone around them. What was she even going to say? He stood, not quite as tall as his father. Leaner. With eyes of startling green. “Of course. Lead the way.”
Mia was quiet, subdued, and Jules cursed herself for exposing the younger woman to this. Why hadn’t she thought this through? She kept going, though, and marched herself into the nearest open office.
Malachi’s.
It always came back to Malachi. Damn the Fates.
Thankfully Dr. Perfect wasn’t in there. Mia and Evan followed her in, and Jules closed the door, careful to keep it from slamming. She turned to the younger two. “Well. Now what?”
“I don’t know, you brought me in here.”
She appreciated his levity. “Yes, yes I did. How long have you worked in St. Louis?”
“Five months, four days, give or take a few.” He looked at Mia, then Jules again. She could see the tension in his shoulders, but he kept his cool. She respected that.
“Yet we’ve never spoken.” Because she’d avoided that at all costs. Was running away from problems what she was going to teach Ruthie when the time came?
A big fat no to that.
“No. We haven’t.”
“Why?” What was his take on how they’d not related in those five months, four days, and whatever?
“I don’t believe it’s ever been necessary, Dr. Bellows.”
“Well, now I think it is.”
“And why is that?” His arms crossed over his chest and he stared directly at her.
“Because…” Great, why hadn’t she thought this through? “Because we can’t keep going down the halls or through the bullpens and not acknowledge each other. I can’t work that way, and I don’t think any of us think it’s healthy. Crap happened. Your Dad was involved. I could have died, Mia almost did die, Carrie could have died, and Georgia could have died. Hell, even your dad could have died. It sucked, for all of us.” And it even sucked for Roger Stephenson, who’d lost his grasp of reality after he’d killed his lover in friendly fire. “But it shouldn’t have an impact on us now. It can’t. Not if we’re to do these jobs effectively. So…here we are. What are we going to do now?”
Chapter Twenty-Four<
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* * *
Mal started to push his office door open, but stopped when he saw the people sitting in his chairs. What was going on?
Should he knock? It was his own office, why would he knock? He started to go in anyway, ready to confront Julia about what she was up to now and what had happened between them a few minutes earlier. Or he could run interference between her and Evan. A barrier, of sorts.
A hand on his elbow stopped him.
“Don’t,” Al said.
“Is she ok in there?”
“I think so. This is her idea. I don’t know what set her off, but, this is a good thing for her. I’m not so sure it will be good for Evan.”
“I think he can handle himself.” But could Julia handle it? This wasn’t exactly what Mal had had in mind when he’d challenged her. He hadn’t expected her to confront Evan right away. If at all.
Georgia came up behind Malachi and put her hand on his other arm. “Leave her alone. This is good for her. Jules has been hiding from any and all problem for the last three years. She needs to confront Evan, I think. Jules used to face things head on. She needs to again before she can truly heal.”
In his head he knew Georgia was right; but a part of him wanted to smooth the path for the damned woman.
What did that say about him?
It wasn’t as if he had any deeper feelings for the woman. He took a moment to delve into the feelings he did possess for her.
Guilt that the damned chessmaster UNSUB had targeted her because of her association with him. That one was predominant.
Concern that she was still not fully emotionally ready for the job she was doing. That was one of his issues with her, for certain.
Appreciation for her sense of humor and the way she nettled him. How many other women on the planet knew how to push his buttons the way that little shrew did? Not many.
Lust.
Lust. Yeah, that was one definitely there. And had been since the North St. Louis basement. Was that the first moment he’d become aware of Dr. Julia Bellows as a woman. A sexy, beautiful woman instead of a just a member of the PAVAD team? Or had it been when he’d watched those videos with Georgia? Or had it been when he held her during that dance in the middle of his dining room?
Definitely; lust was one of the emotions he held for Julia Bellows.
Question was, how strong was that lust, and what was he going to do about it?
He didn’t know, but he had several days to think about it. To plan and strategize. Perhaps the distance he’d put between them while in South Dakota would help him get his thoughts in order. It certainly couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Five
* * *
Malachi watched his companion as she settled into the seat just moments after he’d boarded, feeling both pleased and disgruntled to see just who that companion was.
He’d known someone from PAVAD was accompanying him to South Dakota to testify, but he hadn’t known it was going to be Julia. He couldn’t help but smile at her perturbed expression as she climbed over his long legs to the window seat. He loved rattling her cage, seeing her eyes spark at him. She wasn’t anymore thrilled to be next to him, than he was her.
He’d really wanted the time to think about…her.
His disgruntlement faded as hers became more pronounced when she couldn’t get her seat adjusted the way she wanted it. Julia was grumpy, and that was…sexy…in a strange sort of way. “Good morning, Julia.”
“Yeah. You could call it morning. I call it the middle of the night.”
“Not a morning person?” It was six a.m. and he’d been awake since four, at the airport since five. The plane was scheduled to depart in twenty-five minutes. “I didn’t know your testimony was required in the Byrum case.”
“Yes, this afternoon. This trip to South Dakota is also for personal reasons—that’s why I’m here this godawful early. It was the best flight I could get.” She settled into her seat and wrapped her fingers loosely around the armrests before leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes. She was wearing that sweatshirt of hers. It was her favorite, he’d figured that out months ago. What kind of medical examiner wore a bright yellow sweatshirt that said I see dead people. on it? She opened one eye and peeked at him. “I won’t be holding your hand once we arrive in South Dakota. I have business to attend to.”
That surprised him. He twisted to lean over her. Was she always so irritable in the mornings? Cute. Seriously cute. “Really? Care to share?”
Both hazel eyes opened. Looked at him with challenge. “I’m going for visitation. I’m meeting the social worker for my adoptive daughter.”
He knew his mouth dropped. That was not something he’d expected. “Excuse me? Something I don’t know?”
“Remarkable, isn’t it? Bet you didn’t think it was possible.” She smirked at him, that typical Julia smirk that drove him nuts. She was in there, underneath all the grouch. “Ruthie Byrum. Remember her?”
Of course he remembered. The little girl had been so small, so innocent—the child of a serial killer. The killer they were testifying against. “How could I not? She wasn’t quite three when we arrested her father.”
“Her mother was arrested on charges the next day. She’d physically abused both Hannah and Ruthie, and I suspect the boys as well. She’s facing up to a decade in jail on charges relating to Hannah’s captivity and treatment, and has signed away rights to Ruthie.” That didn’t surprise him. He’d suspected the woman of complicity when he’d interviewed her months ago.
He remembered then; Julia had been the one to care for the child during those hours of interviews. For hours.
“And you are adopting her. Out of state. How did that happen?” Why hadn’t he heard this before? Why hadn’t she told him? “Was there no one else to take her? When did you decide this?”
“No biological family wants her. And I started the process as soon as I knew her mother was facing a TPR. That’s termination of parental rights. Probably about a month after I got out of the hospital. The first time; after Stephenson…”
“Yes. But my question is, why you?” Was she capable of taking on a child with the problems Ruthie Byrum would be facing? Ruthie needed a loving environment and Julia was still so frozen at times. Could she provide what the child needed? Without damaging either herself or the girl? “Do you think this is such a good idea?”
She glared. “I think it’s a fine idea. I’ve done the research, have gone through the process, talked it over with the people who matter, and they all agree. I’ve had two visitations since Thanksgiving, and they’ve gone well.” Obviously she didn’t figure he mattered. And he didn’t. It wasn’t his decision at all. But was it the right decision for Julia?
He knew his surprise was still on his face. “That’s good. How old is Ruthie now?”
“She’s close to three and a half. She’s a very bright child. I’m looking forward to transitioning her to St. Louis next month.” Her expression almost dared him to say something she didn’t like. He knew it, and refused to rise to the bait. Her early morning contrariness wasn’t so cute now.
“I hope you know what you are doing.”
“For the first time in a long while I know exactly what I am doing. If anyone has a problem with my decisions, well, that’s their problem, now isn’t it?”
* * *
His doubts didn’t help matters, Julia thought, as the plane finally began its take off. She was already nervous as all hell anyway. Why did it have to be him representing PAVAD in the case? Why couldn’t it have been Hell or Georgia or any other person who’d worked the investigation?
Why did the fates keeping pairing her up with the lughead next to her? Somebody up there really had it out for her or something. Damn the Fates.
She’d visited Ruthie twice since the week after Thanksgiving. The times had been awkward for both of them. The social workers had always been present, and Ruthie was very reticent with adults—even Jules. But she’d held Jules’ h
and during both visits and after a while had played the games Jules had suggested. It wasn’t going to be easy for them, at all. But Jules was determined to make it work.
In spite of what people like Malachi thought. If Georgia and Ana and even Ed and Hell thought she was a good choice for the little girl, why should Malachi’s doubt matter?
“Why do you not think I can do it?” She glared at him, almost needing him to tell her she couldn’t do it. Then she could argue all the reasons why…
“Excuse me?” He looked up from the file in his hand.
“I said, why do you think I can’t do it? No one else has expressed any interest in Ruthie. Or if they have, the social workers said they weren’t good matches. Ed has helped pull some strings to get her case moving quickly, her own mother signed termination papers. The social workers assigned to both Ruthie and I think we’d be an excellent fit. Hell, Georgia, Ana, even Al thinks this is a good idea. So why not you?”
“Al knows? She didn’t say anything.”
“Is that what this is about? You not knowing? Well, why should you? It’s really none of your business.”
“No. It isn’t, but I do wish the both of you luck. I know it’s not an easy decision to make.” He covered her hand with his. Jules forced herself not to jerk back. “Julia, if you need anything, your or Ruthie…just ask. I’ll help however I can.”
His tone was sincere, the look on his face said he meant it, and she felt some of her rancor toward him dissipating. As the rancor slid out, the vulnerability and nerves slipped back in. Was she making the right decision? For Ruthie? For herself?
God, she hoped so.
“So where are you in the process?”
“One or two more visitations, then we’ll make arrangements to actually move her to St. Louis. Then she’ll be considered my foster child until the adoption is final.”
“So you’re pretty far along, then?”
“Yes. Like I said, I’ve been planning this and hoping for this for a while now. But it hasn’t been something I’ve let get out. I don’t want to be part of the office gossip again. I had enough of that after Thanksgiving.”
HUNTING (PAVAD) Page 7