by Hinze, Vicki
Jeff was the guy responsible for evidence. And Parker knew the sergeant wasn’t going to budge. That Caron sensed Misty was sicker had Parker worried. That Forrester, the redhead—Vanessa?—and Decker were still floating around out there, ready, willing and able to harm Misty had Parker downright scared for the kid. And for Caron. He hadn’t forgotten the message left on her door. Or the empathy pains. Or the way he’d felt when she told him that this time she’d die, too.
Sanders had to be gut-deep in this or he’d already have arrested Forrester and Decker. Even if the sergeant called, Sanders wouldn’t let them into the Evidence Room. He didn’t want Caron to sense anything on this case—or did he? Maybe that’s why he’d told them...Yes!
Parker grabbed Caron’s arm. “Thanks anyway, Sergeant. We’ll come back at seven.”
Looking immensely relieved, the sergeant nodded, dismissing them.
Caron looked at Parker as if he’d lost his mind. Before she could protest, he tugged her out of earshot of the sergeant.
“Parker, what are you doing?”
“Sanders isn’t going to help us, Caron. At least, not outright. Neither is the sergeant.”
“Somebody will. I have to get into that evidence room, Parker. If I can touch the leash, I might sense where Misty is!”
“I know that. And we’re going to get in, okay? But I have to tell you something. You were right. Sanders didn’t kill Linda. He told us about the leash because he wanted you to touch it. He wants you to find Misty.”
“That’s it!” she shouted in a whisper. “That’s what’s been niggling at me. In all the years we’ve worked together, Sandy’s never revealed classified information.” She frowned. “But why didn’t he just tell us to come down?”
“That, I don’t know.” But Parker had his suspicions. If they were right, he knew why Sanders hadn’t arrested Decker or Forrester. “Lower your voice, and follow me.”
Suspecting what he had in mind, she clasped his arm. “Parker, we can’t!”
Two uniformed cops walked by and gave Parker and Caron curious looks. On cue, they smiled, and the cops walked on.
When they were out of sight, Caron fired at Parker again. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably.”
“We can’t break into the evidence room!”
“Okay. What’s your plan?”
He knew darn well that she didn’t have one. He’d pulled the same stunt at Meriam’s about the street index. “I don’t know.”
“There’s no other way to get in there.”
“Right.” She bit down on her lip and grasped a convenient, if feeble, excuse. “I don’t know where it is.”
Parker hiked his brows. “Downstairs, in the basement.”
When she twisted her mouth, Parker pecked a kiss on it. “I know. Just for the record, you don’t like this any more than you like lying.” He curled her to his side, then turned toward the elevator. “Just for the record, I don’t, either.”
She’d never know just how much he meant those words. Not telling her what he’d done, not telling her about Harlan and Sarah, was eating holes in his stomach. But if he confessed, he’d lose her. He knew that now as well as he knew that Misty was in serious trouble. And losing Caron, he realized, was not something he wanted to do. The knowing stunned him. He stared at her.
“What? Have I sprouted two heads?” Caron reached up and patted her hair. It was a tangled mess, and she half expected Parker to tell her she looked like hell. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything. And darned if he didn’t look as if he couldn’t say anything.
A bell sounded, and the elevator doors slid open. Caron stepped inside. Parker didn’t move. She tugged his sleeve.
When the doors slid closed, she pressed the button. It lit up, and she looked back at Parker. He was still staring at her as if she were an alien. “What’s the matter with you?”
He stepped closer, until his chest was against her breasts, and cupped her chin. “I need to do this, Caron. I know my timing’s rotten, but...I need to...”
His lips brushed ever so lightly over hers, grazed her chin, then returned to her mouth. He planted his hands at her shoulders and let them slide around to her back, then pulled her into the cradle of his arms. He’d kissed her before, but not like this. There was a new tenderness in his touch, and there was awe in the gruff groans vibrating in his throat, in the tips of his fingers as they worked the flesh at her side.
He reared back enough to mumble her name, then bore down on her mouth and crushed her lips beneath his. The attack on her senses had her legs going weak and her heart careening, and every pore in her body seemed to be stretching toward him, sensually gravitating, wanting to absorb the feel of him.
The elevator hit bottom with a little jerk, and the door opened. Parker set her away from him, looking, for all the world, totally calm.
Caron slumped against the wall. How could he do this to her and look so calm? If the man didn’t want her and still managed to turn her to putty, she shuddered to think of what he’d do to her if he did want her!
He caught her hand in his. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Mumbles she could manage. Words were an entirely different matter. Good grief, his kisses were potent. Her head was fogged.
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh.” Better, but not quite coherent. Her lips still tingled, and her insides were still hot and fluid. There was no way she could walk.
Parker smiled and tweaked her nose. “Come on, honey. Snap to.”
Snap? She couldn’t slither. “Right.”
“The evidence room.” He hooked his thumb left.
Evidence room. Misty.
The fog faded, but the glow remained. “Right,” she said, more firmly, then followed him down the hall.
Parker turned down a short hallway, then stopped. Caron saw a sign on the wall above the door: Evidence Room. The recessed wire door had a wooden frame and a formidable-looking hasp lock. Her heart sank. Without a saw or a keg of dynamite, they’d never break that lock.
“You keep watch on the hall,” Parker whispered.
How was he going to get in there? Deciding she was better off not knowing, Caron went to the corner where the two halls connected. The corridors were empty. The gray tile floor looked glossy and slick—freshly waxed.
Hearing a rustling sound behind her, she looked back. The bottom half of the wire in the door hung loose. Parker hadn’t touched the lock; he’d gone through the wire, and now he stood inside the evidence room.
He hiked his chin. “What?”
She hand-signaled that everything was okay.
Seconds later, footsteps sounded in the hall. She peeked around the corner and saw two cops walking toward her. “Parker,” she whispered. “Someone’s coming.”
She had to do something. If she and Parker went to jail, who’d help Misty?
“A girl, huh?” one officer said to the other. “Well, how about that?”
“Yeah.” The other guy was grinning from ear to ear. “I still can’t believe it. I’m a father!”
Jeff, Caron thought. He was back from the hospital.
She stepped out into the officer’s path. “I just heard the news. A daughter. Jeff, that’s terrific.” She squeezed his hand. “You must be so proud.”
“Yeah, lam.”
He was trying to figure out who she was; she couldn’t give him time to think, to realize they’d never met. “The sarge is wanting you two at the desk. Right away, he said.” She smiled. “Congratulations again on the baby.”
“Thanks.” Still frowning in confusion, Jeff and the other officer turned and walked back toward the elevator. “Wonder what the sarge wants now?”
The other guy shrugged. “Probably about the baby.”
Caron rushed back to the hall outside the evidence room. Parker was standing there with a clear plastic bag in his hands. Flashes of Sarah ripped through her mind. Caron’s mouth went dry. She walked to the door on legs she wasn’t sure would hold her an
d reached through the wire. “Just the leash.” Her voice was faint, strained and weak.
Parker slid the leash out of the bag. His eyes looked nearly black and turbulent. She sensed his fear of what might happen to her when she touched the leash. She was afraid, too. She might sense Linda’s murder; that threat was real. And if she did, in her weakened condition, such a violent image might well be fatal.
Parker seemed to know. “You don’t have to do this.” Desperation edged his voice. “We’ll find another way.”
She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “We don’t have time.”
Just in case, once more, she studied his face. A muscle in his cheek twitched. And the hand holding the leash shook. He cared. He hadn’t given her the words before, and he wasn’t going to give them to her now, but she could read the message in his eyes. She wasn’t alone.
He blinked and his expression grew frantic. “No. No, you can’t. Caron, you can’t do this!”
Cold dread clawed at her stomach. She lunged and grabbed the leash.
She should close her eyes. Seeing Parker looking so stunned, so worried, tore at her concentration and slivered her focus. It was about to happen; the sensations welling in the pit of her stomach warned her that it was, and they were growing stronger. She drank in the sight of him. Those darling black curls that teased his ears and nape, the set of his jaw, his wonderful mouth. It was fixed and hard now, but she pretended it was curled in that tilted half smile she’d first cursed, then coveted. Her heart felt so full; she wanted him to know, but the sensations strengthened. There was no time.
She clutched the leash to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. The image came instantly. Linda driving across the Greater New Orleans bridge, passing the cutoff to Decker’s, going on through a tunnel to Marrero. Then a flash, and she was driving hell-bent-for-leather down a weedy, rutted road. But where was that road? Linda was driving so fast that Caron couldn’t see the surroundings. Two lefts, then a sharp right turn, then on to a clapboard house. She ran around to the back—and Caron saw the shed.
Linda fumbled with the lock, finally opened it, and tossed it to the ground. She knelt over Misty. Untied the ropes, then scrambled through her purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. She shoved two pills into Misty’s mouth and rubbed her neck to make her swallow.
Stretching over Misty’s chest, Linda grabbed a red glass. Water sloshed out onto the dirt floor. She poured what was left down Misty’s throat, then stood up. “I’m going to lock the door again, Misty,” she whispered. “But only for a few minutes. Then I’ll come back, and take you home.”
Misty didn’t answer.
Caron reminded herself that she’d imaged Misty after this time, that after she’d swallowed the pills the child’s fever had gone down.
Linda was outside the shed now. Caron heard the lock click closed. Something heavy hit her in the back of the head. Dazed, she saw a shadow fall across the door; arms raised, a thin strap stretched taut between two large hands.
Caron’s heart thudded wildly. She wanted to let go of the leash, to not experience Linda’s death. But she couldn’t make herself do it. If she was strong enough, she might learn who had killed Linda. She had to go on. She had to! Linda had helped Misty!
She felt the wind whip down her face. Felt the leash wrap around her neck. She felt Linda’s surprise, her fear. Linda began twisting, fighting her attacker...fighting for breath. Caron struggled along with her, but he was so strong!
And then she was Linda. Her head grew light. Colored spots blinded her eyes. She grabbed at the leash cutting into her throat and tried to tear it loose. She needed air!
The spots grew larger, began drawing her deeper and deeper into a dark cloud. Something hard—a fist-size rock—cracked against her skull. Blinding pain streaked through her head. Fluid, hot and sticky and wet, seeped down the back of her neck. Blood.
She was dying. She could feel her body grinding to halt. Her thoughts numbing, her rushing blood slowing to a trickle. Parker! Caron cried. No, oh God, no! Parker!
She was dying. Caron was dying/
Before he realized he’d moved, Parker was on her side of the door, grabbing the leash and scooping Caron up into his arms. Linda Forrester’s murder. Dear God, how could he have let her do this?
“Caron?” He nuzzled her with his nose, shaking so hard he feared he’d drop her. “Honey, talk to me. Please, talk to me.”
No answer.
Her pulse was thready, weak. She lay limp, her face still, her eyes closed. Memories flooded his mind: wrenching flashes of Harlan in the morgue, his cries to Sarah, his begging her to come back to him. Tears blinded his eyes; raw terror burst forth from his soul, and an icy-cold blanket of fear wrapped around his heart. “Damn you, Caron Chalmers! Don’t you dare die on me!”
Her lashes fluttered.
They did, didn’t they? His heart stopped, as if afraid to beat, as if afraid the feel of it would pull her away. Sweat sprang from his pores, mingled with his silent tears and rolled down his face to his mouth. He licked the salt from his lips and begged, “Caron, honey, please! Don’t leave me.”
She covered his heart with her hand. “Parker.”
Relief washed through him. The fear eased from his throat. Still, he couldn’t talk. His nerves and emotions were raw, gaping wounds. He’d almost lost her.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
Her color was coming back. The sparkle of life was returning to her eyes. Never in his life had anything ever looked so beautiful.
“But you look like hell.”
Wild relief sang through his veins, and he laughed, straight from the heart.
She gave him a watery smile. “I still don’t know where Misty is, don’t know how to get there exactly.”
Parker looked down at the woman in his arms, and a surge of tenderness enveloped him. “We’ll see to Misty right after Dr. Z. sees to you.”
“I’m fine.” Caron stroked his jaw. “Really.”
“You’re not fine. You nearly died.” The truth of it cut him to the bone, and had him curling her closer.
She wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder. “Take me home, Parker. To the apartment. I need food and sleep.”
Parker started down the hall, stepped in and mashed the elevator button. Caron had never in all the time he’d known her put her own needs before the girl’s—or his, for that matter. That she was seeming to now concerned him. She wasn’t as “fine” as she was pretending to be.
When they walked by the sergeant’s desk, he called out, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Parker didn’t slow a step, or miss a beat. “Pregnant.”
Caron smiled against his chest and pinched his neck to punish him. “Married and pregnant, Parker?”
“I know you wouldn’t prefer pregnant and unmarried.”
“No, bad example for the kids at school.”
So she wasn’t opposed to the idea. Either idea. Heat seeped through his body. The idea of being married to Caron, of her carrying his child inside her body, excited him. They’d wake up together in the mornings. And make love deep into the night.
He stepped out into the cool night air and looked down at her. Streaks of moonlight shadowed her face. Guilt shadowed his visions of their life together. He’d lied. He wanted to tell Caron the truth. He should have told her long ago. But he hadn’t. Now he doubted he had words to give her that wouldn’t take her away from him. She’d feel betrayed. And his name would be added to the long list of men in her life who had used her. Her father, Greg Cain, Mike—whoever he was—and Parker Simms. He couldn’t do it. Not now. And maybe never. He had too much to lose.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Parker sat opposite Caron at her kitchen table.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Knowing she was closer to knowing where Misty was, Caron could keep mental tabs on her, and relax until dawn. They needed daylight to find the shed. She needed rest; she’d need strength then. And if her second brus
h with death had taught her nothing else, it had taught her to seize every moment. This one belonged to her and Parker. “I must be too tired. I’m going soft in the head.”
Parker dug into the white paper carton and pulled out a forkful of shrimp egg fu young. “All right, Snow White, here you go.”
Leaning forward over the table, Caron took a bite. Scraping the fork’s tines with her teeth, she leaned back in her chair and chewed.
“Well?” Parker propped his elbow on the table, the fork poised in midair.
“It’s good.” She scooped up the burger and held it out to him. “Your turn.”
Grim-faced, Parker slid the burning candle between them aside. “Don’t shove it down my throat. It’s been years since I’ve eaten red meat.”
Caron laughed. “I wouldn’t do that.”
He stretched over, took a healthy bite of burger, then fell back. The chair groaned. Looking pensive, he slowly chewed, then swallowed.
God, but he was a beautiful man. Strong-featured, tender-handed. He gave her that smile, that infamous tilt she’d once vowed she hated, and her insides softened to mush.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay?” She guffawed and wiggled her bare toes against his thigh under the table. “The world’s greatest hamburger, and the best you can say is it’s okay?”
“Okay is good.” He captured her foot and dragged a fingertip along her arch. “Especially for red meat.”
It tickled. She tried to tug her foot back.
Parker wouldn’t let go. “Uh-uh. Ransom.”
The look in his eyes warmed. The candle’s flame flickered a dance in their depths. Her heart began a slow, hard beating, a primal rhythm welling up from somewhere deep inside her. She’d never before felt it, not like this, and its mystique drew her, like a moth to a flame, like her to Parker. “Demands?” Her voice sounded husky.
“Share your bed with me for the next few hours. That sofa of yours is too short, and I’m beat.”
Was he asking her to sleep with him, or to sleep with him?
“Don’t look at me like that, Caron.”
“Like what?” She got up and tossed her trash into the bin under the sink.