Suzanne Brockmann - Team Ten 09 - Get Lucky

by Suzanne Brockmann -

  She knew what she looked like. Her dress was black and basic, and yes, maybe it did hide her imperfections and accentuate the better parts of her figure, but it was a simple illusion. And yes, she had taken time with her hair and had even put on a little makeup this evening, but she was, at best, interestingly pretty. Passable. Acceptable. But not even remotely close to incredibly anything, particularly not beautiful.

  Luke actually looked surprised. "You think I'm—" He caught himself, and laughed. "Uh-uh," he said. "Nope. No way. I'm not going to let you pick a fight with me over the fact that I think you look great."

  He pulled her close and kissed her, surprising her by giving her a private kiss instead of a public one. It was one of those kisses that melted her bones, turned her to jelly, and left her dizzy, dazed and clinging to him. It was one of those kisses he gave her before he scooped her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. It was one of those kisses he gave her when he wanted them to stop talking and start communicating in an entirely different manner. It was one of those kisses she could never, ever resist.

  "I think you look incredibly beautiful tonight," he murmured into her ear. "Now what you do, is you say, thank you, Luke."

  "Thank you, Luke," she managed.

  "Was that so hard?"

  He was smiling down at her, with his heavenly blue eyes and his gorgeous face and his sunstreaked hair. He was the one who was incredibly beautiful. It seemed impossible that the heated look in his eyes could be real, but it was. He'd somehow pulled her onto the dance floor, and as they moved slowly in time to the music, he was holding her close enough for her to know that that kiss had done the exact opposite of turning him to jelly.

  He wanted her.

  At least for now.

  "You two are so perfect together." Gregory's mother, platinum-haired, rail-thin, with a smile as warm as her son's, winked as she danced past them. "We'll be dancing at your wedding next, won't we, Luke?"

  Oh, God. How embarrassing. Syd kept her own smile pasted on as she quickly answered for Luke, saving him— and saving herself from having to listen to him stammer and choke on his hasty negative response.

  "I'm afraid it's a little too soon for that kind of prediction, Mrs. Price," she called to the other woman. "Luke and I haven't really known each other for that long."

  "Well, it's my son's wedding, and I'm predicting wonderful things for everyone," Mrs. Price enthused. "And my predictions usually do come true."

  "In that case," Syd murmured to Luke as the older woman moved out of earshot, trying to turn this into a total joke, "maybe she could predict a lottery win for me. I could really use the cash. My car's in serious need of a complete overhaul."

  As she'd hoped, Luke laughed.

  Crisis averted, thank God. There was nothing that created tension quite like bringing up the subject of marriage with a man who, like Luke, was commitment-shy.

  Syd didn't want him looking at her and feeling the walls closing in. She didn't want him to assume that just because she was female, she wouldn't be able to resist thinking about fairy-tale endings with wedding bells and happily-ever-afters. She didn't want him thinking that she was even remotely thinking about such an impossibility as marriage.

  Marriage. Syd and Luke, married?

  It was absurd.

  It was insane.

  It was...

  Something she couldn't keep herself from thinking about. Especially not today.

  There'd been a message this afternoon on her answering machine. Think magazine had called from New York. The series of pieces she'd written on women's safety, along with her proposal for an in-depth article on catching serial criminals, had given buoyancy to the resume she'd sent them months ago. In fact, it had floated right to the top of their pile of editorial candidates' resumes. They wanted her to come for an interview with their publisher and managing editor, Eileen Hess. Ms. Hess was going to be in Phoenix for a few days at a conference. Perhaps it would be more convenient for Syd to meet with her there, rather than flying all the way to New York? It would be more affordable for Syd, too. They were a small magazine, and unfortunately they couldn't afford to pay Syd's airfare.

  Syd had called back to let them know that she wouldn't be able to leave California until the San Felipe Rapist was apprehended. She didn't know how long that would be, and if that meant she'd be out of the running for the job, she hoped they'd consider her in the future.

  She'd found out they were willing to wait. She could fly to New York next week or even next month. This job was virtually in her pocket, if she wanted it.

  If she wanted it.

  Of course she wanted it.

  Didn't she?

  Luke kissed her neck, and she knew what she really wanted.

  She wanted Luke, ready and willing to spend the rest of his life with her.

  Talk about pipe dreams.

  Her problem was that she had too vivid an imagination. It was far too easy for her to take this make-believe relationship and pretend it was something real.

  Syd closed her eyes as he kissed her again, lightly this time, on the lips, and she knew what the real problem was.

  Her problem was simply that she loved him. And when she was with him—which was damn near all the time—the lines between make-believe and reality began to blur.

  Yes, they were lovers, but no, she hadn't really moved in with him. That was just pretend. Yes, he'd told his friends that he loved her, but he'd never said those words to her, and even if he did, she wasn't sure she'd believe him, Lothario that he was.

  Yes, she was here with him at his sister's wedding, and yes, they looked like a real couple. But in truth, they were merely co-workers who had become friends—friends who had a good time together in bed.

  To think anything else would be a mistake.

  But, as Syd swayed to the music, held close in Luke's arms, she knew the mistake had already been made. She was in love with him. There was nothing left to do now except endure the coming pain. And, like the removal of a Band-Aid, doing it fast and getting it over with always hurt far less in the long run.

  After they caught the rapist, she'd go to New York. As fast as she possibly could.

  The call came as Lucky and Syd were leaving the reception.

  Ellen and Gregory had left for their honeymoon and, at nearly twenty-three-hundred hours, the party was winding down.

  Lucky's pager and cell phone went off simultaneously.

  His first thought was a bad one—that another woman had been attacked. His second thought was that it was good news. That Lucy McCoy had come out of her coma, or that they'd found Blue and he was on his way home.

  The number on the pager was Frisco's—and so was the voice on the other end of the phone.

  "Hey," Frisco said. "You're there. Good news. We caught him."

  It was a possibility Lucky hadn't even considered, and he nearly dropped the phone. "Repeat that."

  "Martin Taus," Frisco said. "Ex-regular Navy, enlisted, served here at Coronado during the spring and summer of . Discharged in late ' with lots of little dings against him—nothing big enough to warrant a dishonorable. He served time in Nevada in early ' for indecent exposure. He's been picked up for sexual assault at least twice before, both times he got off on a technicality. He was brought in early this evening for questioning by the San Felipe PD. He just finished making a videotaped confession about twenty minutes ago."

  Syd was watching him, concern in her eyes.

  "They caught the rapist," Luke told her, hardly believing it himself.

  "Are they sure?" She asked the question exactly as Luke asked Frisco.

  "Apparently, he's been pretty specific in describing the attacks," Frisco said. "Chief Zale's getting ready to give a press conference—just in time for the eleven o'clock news. I'm heading over to the police station. Can you meet me there?"

  "I'm on my way," Lucky said, and hung up.

  Syd wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked extremely skeptical. "Do they actuall
y have evidence, tying this guy to—"

  "He confessed," he told her. "Apparently in detail."

  "Can we talk to him?" she asked.

  "Let's go find out."

  Syd turned off the videotape and went back to her laptop computer, unable to listen for another second as the man named Martin Taus described the way he'd slammed Lucy McCoy into the wall. He knew the names of all the victims,

  knew the extent of their injuries. He was the right height, the right size, had the right hair—a short crew cut.

  After Zale's press conference, Syd and Luke had waited for hours to see Taus, only to be told that the police were limiting the people in the interview room to the three FInCOM agents from the task force. When the police had tried to take a blood sample in order to match his DNA to that left behind during the attacks, Taus had thrown a nutty. He'd threatened a lawsuit if they so much as touched one hair on his head.

  Normally, the police would get a warrant to search his home and take a hair sample from his hairbrush for the DNA test. But Taus was homeless. He lived under a bridge down by the water. He didn't even own a hairbrush.

  Huang, Sudenberg and Novak were in there with him now, trying to talk him into consenting to the test. Once they succeeded, there would be a wait of a number of days before the results came in. But those results, along with Martin Taus's confession, would prove his guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt. With that confession and a guilty plea, they'd skip the trial and go straight to sentencing.

  Martin Taus was going to go to jail for a long, long time.

  Luke looked over Syd's shoulder at her laptop's screen. She was glad she'd made him stop at home to pick it up— at his house, she corrected herself—before coming to the police station last night. During all this waiting, she'd written a variety of different articles, from features to hard news, on various aspects of the case.

  "Don't even think about reading over my shoulder," she warned him, her fingers flying over the keyboard, working on her story for Think magazine. She'd already sent the hard news story out electronically to the San Felipe Journal, and they'd called to tell her it was being picked up by USA Today.

  "So you buy it, huh?" Luke asked. "You believe this is really our guy and, just like that, it's all over?"

  "It does seem a little anticlimactic," she had to admit. "But real life isn't always as exciting as the movies. Personally, I prefer it this way." She looked up at him. "Are you finally ready to go?"

  He sat down wearily next to her at the interview-room table. It had been a long night, and they were both still dressed in their formal clothes despite the fact that it was well after : a.m. "Yeah, I just wanted to see him," he said. “I just wanted to be in the same room with him for a minute. I knew if I stood there long enough, they'd eventually let me in."

  "And?"

  "And they did. He was..." Luke shook his head. "I don't think he's our guy."

  "Luke, he confessed."

  "I could confess. That wouldn't make me the rapist."

  "Did you even watch the videotape? It's chilling the way he—"

  "Maybe I'm wrong," he countered. "I just...there was something that wasn't right. I was standing there, right next to him, but I couldn't put my finger on it."

  "Maybe it's just lack of sleep."

  "I know what lack of sleep feels like and no, it's not helping that I'm tired, but there's something else wrong," he told her. "All I'm saying is that I'm not just going to go along with Zale and stamp the case file 'solved' until the DNA tests come back with a match."

  Syd looked at him with dismay. "Luke, that could be days."

  He gave her a very tired version of his best smile. "Guess you'll just have to stay at my place for a few more days. Too bad, huh?"

  She saved her file and shut down her computer, closing it up. "Actually," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I was just thinking how convenient it was that Martin Taus picked last night to get himself caught, because now

  I can take advantage of a really excellent opportunity and drive out to Phoenix for a job interview."

  He sat back in his chair, his mouth dropping open. "Since when have you been thinking about moving to Phoenix? To Arizona?"

  "The interview's in Phoenix," she told him. "The job's in New York. Remember? Think magazine. I told you I'd sent them my resume for a position as an editor and staff writer."

  "New York?" He swore. "Syd, that's worse than Phoenix! You didn't say a thing about New York!"

  "Well, where did you think a job like that would be?"

  "Here," he said. "I thought it would be here. San Diego, maybe. God, Syd, New York? Do you really want to live in New York?"

  "Yeah," she said. "I do."

  It wasn't really lying. Because she didn't really care where she lived. Her options had been split into only two possibilities. With Luke was her real first choice, but completely unrealistic. And everywhere else in the world fell under the heading without Luke. Everywhere else was exactly the same. New York, San Diego, Chicago. They would all feel exactly the same—lonely as hell, at least for a while.

  "Wow," Luke said, rubbing his eyes. "I'm stunned. I'm..." He shook his head. "Here I was thinking, I don't know, maybe that we had something here that was worth spending some time on."

  Syd couldn't keep from laughing. "Luke. Get real. We both know exactly what we've got going. It's fun, it's great, but it's not serious. You told me yourself—you don't do serious."

  "Well...what if I've changed my mind?"

  "What if you only think you've changed your mind?" she countered gently. "And what if I give up a great career

  move—something I've worked for and wanted for years— and your 'what if’ turns out to be wrong?"

  He cleared his throat. "I was thinking, um, maybe you really could move in with me."

  Syd couldn't believe it. Luke wanted her to move in with him? Mr. I'm-never-serious? For a nanosecond, she let herself believe it was possible.

  But then he winced, giving himself away. He didn't really want her to move in with him. He just wasn't used to being the one in a relationship who got dumped. It was a competitive thing. He was grabbing on to anything—no matter how stupid an idea it was in reality—in order to keep her around temporarily, in order to win.

  But once he had her, he'd soon tire of her. And she'd move out. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And then she'd be in Coronado without Luke.

  The job in New York wouldn't keep her warm at night, but neither would Luke after they'd split up.

  "I think," Syd said slowly, "that a decision of that magnitude deserves a massive amount of thought. On both our parts."

  “I've thought about it some," Luke said, "and I know it's not... perfect, but—''

  "Think again," Syd said, her heart aching. She couldn't believe she was the one who was turning him down, but what he was saying wasn't real, she told herself. It wasn't honest. "Think about it while I'm in Phoenix."

  "New York," Lucky told Lucy McCoy as he sat beside her hospital bed. "The job's in New York. Syd's having the interview right now, this morning in Phoenix, and of course she's going to get this job. I mean, who wouldn't hire her? She's brilliant, she's funny, she's a great writer, she's...she's perfect."

  Lucy was silent, her brain still securely locked shut by the coma.

  Lucky lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Come on, Luce," he said. "Wake up. I could really use some advice."

  Nothing.

  He sighed. “I feel like a complete ass—both for letting her drive to Phoenix by herself in that crappy car of hers, and for—" He laughed. "God, Lucy, you're not going to believe what I did. I asked her to move in with me for real. What a jerk. I couldn't believe the words were actually coming out of my mouth. I mean, I felt so cheap, like why am I only doing this halfway?" He lowered his voice. "I love her. I do. I never really understood this thing you've got going with Blue. Or Joe with Ronnie. I mean, I could appreciate it, sure, but I didn't get it. Until I met Syd. And now it
all makes sense. My entire life makes sense—except, for the fact that Syd is going to move to New York."

  "So why don't you ask her to marry you?"

  Lucky jumped, turning to see Veronica standing in the door. He swore. "Ron, are you taking lessons in stealth from the Captain? Jeez, way to give a guy a heart attack."

  She came into the room, sat down on the other side of the bed, taking Lucy's other hand. "Hi, Lucy, I'm back." She looked up at Lucky and smiled. "Sorry for eavesdropping."

  "Like hell you are."

  "So why don't you ask Syd to marry you?"

  He couldn't answer.

  Veronica answered for him. "You're afraid."

  Lucky gritted his teeth and answered honestly. "I'm scared she'll turn me down, and I'm scared that she won't."

  "Well," Veronica said in her crisp British accent, "She'll do neither—and go to New York—unless you do something drastic."

  There was a commotion out in the hall, and the door was pushed open. One of the younger nurses blocked the door-

  way with her body. "I'm sorry, sir, but it might be best if you wait for the doctor to—"

  "I talked to the doctor on the phone on my way over here from the airport." The voice from the hallway was soft but pure business, honeyed by a thick south-of-the-Mason-Dixon-Line drawl. "It's not best if I wait for the doctor. It's best if I go into that room and see my wife."

  Blue McCoy.

  Lucky stood up to see Lieutenant Commander Blue McCoy literally pick up the nurse and move her out of his way. And then he was in the room.

  "Lucy." He didn't have eyes for anyone but the woman lying in the middle of that hospital bed.

  Blue looked exhausted. He hadn't shaved in weeks, but his hair was wet as if he'd taken a short shower—no doubt for sanitary purposes—moments before he'd arrived. The look on his face was terrible as he gazed down at Lucy, as he took in her bruises and cuts and the stark white bandage around her head. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand.