by Karen Rose
“I’d like to explain.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” Helen appeared with her briefcase and Steven stepped forward to help her carry the heavy monstrosity, but she grabbed it from Helen’s hand with what could only be called a polite snarl. “I’ll carry it myself,” she snapped at him, then drew a breath and turned back to Helen. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry I have to run.”
“I understand,” Helen murmured and together Steven and his aunt watched Jenna limp to her Explorer, briefcase slung over one bowing shoulder, Jim at her heels. When she’d driven away, Helen looked at Steven with contempt. “You idiot,” she whispered and left him standing alone.
Seattle, Washington, Sunday, October 2, 9:00 P.M. Eastern Time (6:00 P.M. Pacific)
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Barrow said, slowing down for a pedestrian pulling a set of suitcases through the airport crosswalk.
“I plan to make it up as I go along,” Neil replied dryly. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Barrow glanced over at him before pulling into an open space at the departures curb. “You could forget about all this and get on with your life. Maybe get Tracey back and settle down with a couple kids and grow too much zucchini in the backyard of a house in the suburbs.”
Neil just looked at him and Barrow sighed and added, “Or you could go do what you think you have to do. Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like flying across the country on the off-chance it’s the same guy?”
Barrow nodded. “Hold your temper until you have real evidence. Even if it is the same guy.”
Neil frowned. “I had real evidence last time.”
Barrow shrugged. “The judge said we didn’t.”
“The judge—” Neil bit off what he really thought of the judge. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“I don’t see why you can’t investigate this from here. The Parkers couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth.”
“For all intents, they did.” Neil should know. He’d spent every waking hour after the moving truck pulled away from the curb three years before trying to figure out where the Parkers had run. Where they’d started their new life, leaving anguish behind here in Seattle. “If you’re rich enough, you can buy nearly anything, including a new start. I have to prove to myself it isn’t Parker.”
Barrow sighed heavily. “So when are you coming home, Neil?”
“When I’m finished, I guess. I had some vacation coming, so I took a few weeks off.” Actually, he had more than a few weeks accrued. He hadn’t taken a day off in almost three years.
If his LT hadn’t allowed the leave, Neil had already planned to resign, which both Barrow and his LT would have classified as “stupid,” but was consistent with how much he believed in what he was doing. Three years ago he’d made a promise to four dead girls who were denied justice due to a technicality, an error on the part of the Seattle police. His error.
Those four girls would get justice if it was the last thing he did.
“Take care, Neil,” said Barrow and Neil forced a grin. “Always do. Thanks for the ride.”
Neil climbed from the car, his hanging bag swung over his shoulder, the handle of the locked case holding his service revolver clenched in his right fist. “Carolina, here I come,” he murmured. “If you’re William Parker, watch out. You won’t get away again.”
Raleigh, North Carolina, Sunday, October 2, 9:00 P.M. Eastern Time
He’d been frozen out, Steven thought, staring at the little peephole in Jenna’s front door. By his aunt, his children, and now by the woman whose forgiveness he needed to secure before he’d be able to sleep another wink. He knocked again. “Jenna, please open the door. I know you’re in there.” He leaned his forehead against the cold steel. “Please let me explain.” What he intended to say, he had no idea. He just knew he had to make this one thing right. If only this one thing.
He’d tried to let the whole situation just die down. He’d fixed himself a plate of turkey, which tasted like sawdust. But he’d eaten it, if for no other reason than to have some sense of normalcy. Then he’d looked up to find Nicky staring at him with those solemn brown eyes. “You shouldn’t have yelled, Daddy,” Nicky said. “She’s a nice lady and she didn’t know Aunt Helen invited her over on purpose.” He’d raised both carrot-colored brows, his face looking so much older than seven. “You need to apologize, Daddy.” Wiser than seven, too.
And if that weren’t chastisement enough, Matt took his turn, extolling Jenna’s virtues and frowning at his father as though he were mud. Helen was ignoring him and he didn’t even try to talk to Brad. So he’d left, gotten in his car, and driven with no destination in mind, but was totally unsurprised to look up and find himself sitting in front of her apartment.
“Jenna, I saw you through your window. I won’t stop knocking until you open the door.”
“I’ll call the police,” she said through the door.
“I am the police,” he reminded her. “Please.”
“She’s a stubborn one,” a voice said behind him and he turned to find himself the subject of octogenarian scrutiny from a six-inch opening of the neighbor’s front door. “I’m Mrs. Kasselbaum.”
Ah, he thought. The nosy neighbor. Perhaps she might be an ally. He extended his hand. “I’m Special Agent Steven Thatcher of the State Bureau of Investigation,” he said and watched her eyes go round as saucers. Antique saucers.
A gnarled arthritic hand appeared from the six-inch opening and shook his hand with a strong grip. “Is our Jenna in some kind of trouble?” she asked, dropping her voice to a loud whisper.
“No, ma’am. I got myself in trouble. I said something I shouldn’t have and now she won’t let me apologize. Do you have any suggestions?”
She pursed her lips, then said, “I’ve got a key.” And it was Steven’s turn to widen his eyes.
“You do? Jenna gave you one?”
Her expression fell. “No,” she admitted. “The tenant before traveled a lot and I watered his plants and fed his cat. The landlord never changes the locks between tenants.”
That had to be a violation of some kind, Steven thought and filed it away along with the intent to put a new lock on Jenna’s door as soon as possible. “I couldn’t use a key. Do you have any other suggestions?” He leaned closer. “She and I had a bit of a . . . spat. You know how it is.”
She nodded. “My Harvey and I would have our spats from time to time. God rest his soul.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Mrs. Kasselbaum shrugged matter-of-factly. “He was ninety-two. We had a May-December marriage, you see.” She batted her eyes and Steven bit back a grin. What a cutie-pie she was.
“Well, I really want to apologize to Jenna.” He sighed sadly. “She and I promised we’d never let the sun go down on our wrath.”
Mrs. Kasselbaum nodded at the biblical reference as Steven suspected she would. “Sensible. My Harvey and I had the same arrangement. Step aside, young man.” Steven did and Mrs. Kasselbaum fully emerged from her apartment to knock briskly on Jenna’s door. “Jenna Marshall, open this door this instant.” Silence met their ears and she sighed. “I don’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice. I’ll call the landlord and tell him about the other dog.”
The door snapped open and Steven had to grab Mrs. Kasselbaum to keep her from falling through. Jenna stood there, arms crossed over her breasts, a German shepherd flanking her on either side, her face full of righteous indignation. She was magnificent, he thought, his mouth watering at the sight of her. She glared down at the old lady. “You wouldn’t.”
Mrs. Kasselbaum looked up defiantly. “Will you let this boy apologize?”
Jenna looked at Steven who gave her his best innocent look. She snorted. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Come in and get it over with.” She bent down to stare Mrs. Kasselbaum square in the eye as Steven slipped in the door. “If Seth gets wind of this...”
<
br /> Mrs. Kasselbaum straightened her body indignantly. “I’m not a gossip, young woman.”
“No, not you,” Jenna answered sarcastically. “So, when you do tell him, tell him I am not romantically involved, nor do I have any intention of romantic involvement.” She straightened and shut the door hard, but didn’t turn around to look at him. After an uncomfortable pause, her shoulders sagged and he clenched his fists at his sides to keep from turning her to face him. “Okay, Agent Thatcher,” she said softly and he winced at the hurt in her voice. “You’re sorry, you won’t ever do it again. You’ve apologized. Now you can go.”
He blew out a pent-up breath. “Jenna, please. I need to do something right today. My children aren’t speaking to me.”
She turned slowly and in her eyes he saw not anger, but grave disappointment. “As well they shouldn’t. And not because of me.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. That sounded like a rebuke. “Then why?”
“Steven, how many evenings have you been home this week?”
Now he knew where this was going. “You must already know if you ask the question,” he answered tightly.
She just looked at him for a long moment, then limped to sit at her dining-room table where all her folders lay spread out. She patted the table. “Sit. Please.”
She’d said please. So he sat.
“This isn’t any of my business,” she began.
“No, it really isn’t.”
She smiled and only God knew why that put him at ease. But it did. “I’m going to tell you anyway. You owe me, since you were rude to me today.”
“You were rude to me on Friday,” he countered. “So we should be even.”
She raised a brow. “But you’ve already accepted my apology for that. Nice try, but no deal. While we were waiting for you to come home, I talked to your boys. Nicky told me you’re never home. Matt said you’d offered to take him to a movie festival this weekend, but you got busy and forgot. And tonight, you’re late again—and for a family dinner.”
She was right, he knew. Still it annoyed him to have her say it aloud. “And you are an expert on children, Dr. Marshall?”
“No,” she said softly. “But I am an expert on the fragility of time. It passes, Steven. You can’t stop it. You always think you’re going to have another day to make things right, to say the things you should have said, to do the things you should have done. But sometimes time and life don’t cooperate and another day never comes.” She blinked, her eyes dry even though his had filled. “You know this, Steven. You almost lost Nicky last year. So why do you hide from your children? They love you.”
Restless, Steven pushed to his feet and paced to the sliding-glass door that led to her balcony. She was right. He’d almost lost Nicky last year. So why did he work so much? Was he hiding from his children? He rubbed the stiff spot on the back of his neck. He’d deal with that after he dealt with this. “I came to apologize, Jenna. I’m sorry I became angry. I had a very bad day and thought my aunt had set me up on another one of her blind dates. I ...I thought you were party to it. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive my rudeness as Brad so accurately labeled it.”
“Accepted.”
Steven wheeled around. “Accepted? Just like that?” Jenna lifted one corner of her mouth in a wry smile. “Why not? You accepted mine on Friday as I recall. And I said you were an idiot.”
“An incompetent idiot.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Thank you for refreshing my memory. We seem to have gotten off to awkward starts both times we’ve met, Agent Thatcher. Perhaps we could begin again.”
Steven rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight roll away. He approached, holding out his hand, feeling the grin split his face. “I’m Steven. I’m glad to meet you.”
She took his hand and looked up, shyly he thought. “I’m Jenna. Would you like a drink?”
He looked down into her eyes and felt his heart turn over in his chest. Her lips moved but it was a few seconds before the whispered word sank in.
“Steven?”
He realized he still held her hand and hastily let it go. “Um, yeah. A drink would be great.”
But she didn’t get up. She just sat there staring up at him with those wide violet eyes and full red lips and the fantasy flashed right back. Her naked body in his bed, her black hair spread on his pillow, her violet eyes dazed with passion, her full lips moaning his name.
Her eyes dropped and when she lifted her eyes again he saw not compassion or ire or reproach, but heat. Want. Raw lust. Shuddering, Steven clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and cradling her face in his hands and finding out how soft her lips really were. “What’s happening here?” she whispered.
I want you. Steven forced himself not to look lower than her face. Forced himself not to look down to her round breasts gently molded by the soft black sweater or to the tight jeans that showed off every curve. God, I really want you. He cleared his throat and lied. “I don’t know.”
She wet her lips and Steven’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat. He needed to leave. Fast. Before he did something he was sure to regret. “I need to go.” His voice was thick and hoarse. “I’ll . . . I’ll call you.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she murmured.
He made it to her front door when he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He tried to ignore the throbbing of his body. It was no use. It was all he could do to stay where he stood and not go back and grind his mouth against hers until he found some relief from whatever madness wouldn’t let him go. “Your neighbors have keys to your apartment,” he rasped out, feeling the words drag against his dry throat. “You should change your deadbolt. As soon as possible.”
“Okay,” she murmured.
Steven chanced a look back and immediately wished that he had not. She sat where he had left her, looking straight ahead at the wall, her expression stricken. Guilty. A thread of her conversation with her neighbor popped into the forefront of his mind, pricking at his tenuous composure. “Who is Seth, Jenna?” he asked.
She didn’t move a muscle. “My fiancé’s father.”
Fiancé. Steven physically staggered backward against her front door. “You’re engaged?”
Her head turned and he could see her face had grown pale. “My late fiancé. Adam died two years ago.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Two years ago next Saturday.”
Now he understood her comment on the fragility of life. “I’m sorry, Jenna.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Steven shook himself into motion. “I’ll replace your lock.” “Okay,” she murmured.
“Matt has a soccer game tomorrow. It’ll be Tuesday before I can come back.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Dinner?” The invitation was out of his mouth before he realized. But it was too late to back out now. Father Mike would be only too pleased.
For a moment he thought she’d say no. Half of him wished she would. The other half wanted her to say yes with a yearning that threatened to rip him in two. Then she nodded and his heart started beating again. “Okay.”
Sunday, October 2, 10:00 P.M.
Casey found her in the same position an hour later.
“What are you doing here?” Casey thundered, letting herself in with her key. “I thought you were dead on the highway. In my truck! Why didn’t you call me if you weren’t coming?”
Jenna blinked. Casey stood in her living room, fists on her hips. “What are you talking about, Casey?”
“Dinner? New Italian place on Capitol? Cute friend of Ned’s?” Casey crossed the room and tapped Jenna’s head. “Ring any bells in there?”
Jenna sighed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She pushed away from the table and rolled her shoulders. “Damn, I’m stiff. Serves me right for sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I’m starving. Do you want something to eat?”
Casey followed her into the kitchen. “Were you not listening to anything I said? I ate. New Italian place on Capitol.” She poked Jen
na’s arm. “Without you.”
Jenna opened the freezer door and frowned. “You didn’t bring the Rocky Road last night like you promised. Now I’m out.”
“I forgot.” Casey peered under Jenna’s arm. “Hey, there’s some vanilla back there.”
Jenna just looked at her. Vanilla wasn’t even worth the trouble. She wasn’t even sure how it got in her freezer.
Casey looked worried. “What’s wrong, Jen? And why were you feeling sorry for yourself?”
Jenna stared into the freezer. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold air bathe her hot face. “Casey, have you ever cheated on Ned?”
Casey choked. “What? Where the hell did that come from?”
Jenna closed the freezer door. “Well?” she asked, urgency making her voice shake. She looked over her shoulder to Casey’s guilty face.
“No.” Casey stepped back and shifted her weight to one foot. Her eye twitched. “Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Jenna asked, knowing she sounded hysterical and not able to help herself. “What exactly is not exactly? You either cheat or you don’t. It’s like being not exactly pregnant.” She pulled herself to an abrupt stop. Casey’s mouth hung open in shock. Jenna blew out a controlled breath and hit her forehead against the freezer door. “I am so totally insane.”
“Jen?” Casey asked in a tiny voice. “Do you have something you want to get off your chest?”
“I am insane.”
“You said that already.” She squeezed Jenna’s arm. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you cheated on Adam. You barely left his side the whole year after he was diagnosed.”
“Not then. Now. Tonight.”
Casey tilted her head, puzzled and tentative. “Tonight?” Jenna spun and flopped back against the refrigerator. “He was here.”
Casey frowned. “What are you talking about? Who was here?”
“Steven Thatcher,” Jenna snapped.
Casey’s brows shot up. “Oh.” Her eyes darted back toward Jenna’s bedroom. “You aren’t trying to tell me that you . . . and he...? Jenna!”
Jenna limped back to the table. “For God’s sake, Casey, of course not.”