by Gerri Hill
“That’s exactly what will happen. And if we do get a suspect, and if their defense has a clue, then any evidence I bring forward is going to be subject to review. We can’t take that chance, Nicole.”
Nicole met Jake’s eyes. “And the fact that I can’t be in the same room with you without wanting to…”
“Don’t you think I feel the same way?” Jake whispered. “Christ, Nicole, last night, I wanted to… bury myself inside you and never come out.”
“This is crazy.”
Jake squared her shoulders. “No, it’s not. I’m a cop. And I’m not your type, remember? It’s just sex, Nicole. It’s not anything we can’t do without. Right?”
Nicole felt her heart squeeze painfully and she took a step back. Just sex? God, is that what Jake really thought?
“I see,” she murmured. “Well, let me get showered. Won’t take but a second.”
“Nicole…”
“No, it’s fine, Jake. I understand completely.” She shrugged. “Just sex.”
She hurried from the room, nearly slamming the bathroom door behind her. Just sex? No, not for her. It hadn’t been just sex.
She’d made love to Jake. And God, she’d swear that Jake had made love to her.
“Stupid, stupid,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror.
———
Jake stood still, watching Nicole run from her. She felt like an ass. Last night had been fabulous, more wonderful even than the hot springs, something she’d not thought possible. But they couldn’t keep this up. She would be yanked from the case and would have no say at all. And she couldn’t take that chance. She didn’t trust anyone else to keep Nicole safe.
“I think I hurt her, Cheyenne,” Jake whispered. “And I think she’s plenty pissed.”
———
Nicole stared out her office window, feeling guilty. But not guilty enough to change her mind. She’d had Catherine call and cancel her appointments for the day. She knew she couldn’t get through them, and she wasn’t about to ask Dorothy for assistance. Catherine had disapproved, of course. And why wouldn’t she? There was no reasonable explanation for canceling.
It’s just sex.
God, she wished she could forget Jake’s words. But she couldn’t. And she also wished she could agree with that statement. It would make it all so much easier. When they were at the hot springs, yes, it was just sex. She’d be the first to admit it. Fabulous sex, but still… just sex.
Last night was not. And that’s what bothered her. It was the same as at the hot springs, but so different. The same in that they were insatiable for each other. Different in their actions, their touch… the whispered words.
And that’s why she couldn’t understand Jake this morning. She was so distant. Almost like a stranger. She’d dropped her off in front of the building and waited until Nicole was inside before driving away. And she’d not heard from her since.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jake rang the doorbell and waited patiently. When no one came, she stepped back, trying to look through the window for movement. She rang the bell again, this time pounding her fist on the door.
“Police. Anybody home?” Jake waited again, then shook her head. “Fuck.” She rang the doorbell one more time. Finally, she saw movement through the windows.
“Hold your horses out there.”
Jake let a smile touch her face, then she pushed it away. She pulled her badge off her belt and held it in her palm, waiting.
“Who is it?”
“Police.”
The door opened and suspicious eyes looked out at her. “Police who?”
Jake held up her badge. “Detective McCoy. Special Victims.”
A rather thin man with steel gray hair stuck his head around the door, inspecting her before opening the door fully. He tightened the belt of his robe and tried to straighten his thinning hair. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I just have a few questions.”
“For me?”
Jake nodded. “May I come in?”
“Well, the missus is still in bed,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
Jake casually looked at her watch, then raised her eyebrows.
The man smiled sheepishly. “We’re night owls.”
“I see. Then I won’t take much of your time, Mr. Reynolds.” Jake pulled open her notepad and glanced at the questions she’d jotted down. “How long have you lived here?”
“Well, let’s see. We bought the house when I was still working. In fact, it was the year before the missus retired. So, that’d be…”
Jake waited patiently as he counted back the years, watching as he frowned, struggling over the number of years. Jake finally cleared her throat. “Ten years?”
“Oh, more than that. I was going to say fifteen, but it’s maybe only fourteen.”
“That’s fine. What about Dr. Westbrook? Do you know approximately how long she’s lived here?”
“Nicole? Oh, she moved in five or six years after us, I suppose. It’s hard to keep track, it’s been so long ago.”
“I’m interested in a night about six years ago,” Jake said. “Police were called to a disturbance at her house. Do you recall the night?”
His eyes widened. “Oh, yes. The stalker. I’m surprised that young lady didn’t move after it was all said and done.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Oh, I talked to her out in the yard one evening, and she seemed very upset. She told me a man had been coming by her work, had been calling, threatening. I told her to call the police. She said she had. Then, just a night or two later, the cops showed up, two cars, and they went running into Nicole’s yard. We heard shots and looked, and there he lay, right by a police car.”
“The stalker?”
“Yeah. And the way they left, I thought it was kinda strange, but it wasn’t any of my business.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two of the cops, they just picked this guy up by his arms and legs, and put him in the backseat of one of the cars and drove off. Like they were in too big of a hurry to wait for an ambulance. I guess they took him on to the hospital themselves.”
Jake frowned, quickly scribbling down notes. “And the other unit?”
“The other car?”
“Yes, the other car.”
“One of the officers went on in and talked to Nicole. They left about ten minutes after the first. I went over right away to make sure she was okay.”
“And was she?”
“Shook up, that’s for sure.”
“Did anyone ever question you? Did a crime scene unit come out, tape off the area where the suspect was shot?”
Mr. Reynolds shook his head. “No. That was it. Wasn’t in the paper, either. But what with so much crime these days, I guess it wasn’t big enough to make it.”
Jake folded her notebook and politely thanked Mr. Reynolds for his time. Unfortunately, she now had more questions than answers.
———
“You want to talk about it?”
Nicole turned from the window, surprised to find Catherine standing beside her. She hadn’t heard her come in.
“Not really.”
“You don’t ever cancel sessions, Nicole.”
Nicole sighed and let her shoulders drop. “Am I not allowed a personal crisis, or is that privilege reserved for my patients only?”
Catherine’s eyebrows shot up. “Continue with that kind of talk, and I’ll call Dorothy,” Catherine threatened.
“You will not call Dorothy.” Nicole moved away from the window and sat down on the leather couch, patting the area next to her. “Come on. We’ll talk.” Nicole would much rather bare her soul to Catherine than Dorothy. Catherine was less likely to judge her.
“I’m assuming it has something to do with Jake,” Catherine said, as she sat down.
Nicole gave a half-smile. “It has everything to do with Jake.”
“Something happened last night?”
Nicole nodded. “Jake insisted that our relationship, whatever that may be, would remain strictly on a business level. She’s investigating a case that apparently revolves around me. And that was fine with me, because Catherine, Jake is not my type. You’ve said it. Dorothy has said it. And I know she’s not my type.”
“But you’re attracted to her?”
“Insanely attracted to her,” Nicole admitted.
“And Jake?”
“The attraction is… mutual.”
“And last night?”
“And last night we couldn’t fight it.”
Catherine smiled. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, last night we didn’t have sex. We made love,” Nicole whispered.
“Oh my God, you’re falling for her?”
“I don’t know if it’s that or just this… this lust between us that we can’t control. And it doesn’t bother me that she’s a cop, that she’s a gay cop, an out gay cop. None of that bothers me. It bothers Dorothy because Jake would threaten this little group of ours, you know? But it doesn’t bother me. And it should bother me, right? I mean, technically, I’m in the closet.”
“Have you and Jake talked about this?”
“Of course not. In fact, this morning, she said that last night was a mistake. I know it’s because of her investigation. I know that, but still, she tried to make light of it, saying it was just sex, no big deal. Her words hurt me, Catherine, because I know it wasn’t just sex. At least for me.” She shook her head. “For her, too. I know she’s trying to protect this case, trying to protect me.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, Jake’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You probably don’t know it, but your eyes light up every time she comes around. And you said so yourself, you have no interest in the women you date. You get depressed every time you go out.”
“I know. And with Jake, God, I feel so alive when I’m around her.”
“Then just go with it, Nicole. Who cares what Dorothy or your little closeted group of women think? It’s your life. Go with what makes you happy.”
“That’s easy to say, Catherine. Unfortunately, there are two people involved here. And the other one has indicated that there won’t be a repeat of last night. She’s afraid she’ll get pulled off the case. And I don’t want that anymore than she does.”
“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to wait until this case is over.”
“Wait? I don’t know that that’s possible, considering I want to rip her clothes off every time I’m around her.”
Catherine laughed. “That could be a problem.”
Nicole leaned her head back, eyes closed. “But Catherine, realistically, Jake could never fit into my life. Can you see her at one of our group dinners? She’d be like a fish out of water.”
“You underestimate her.”
Nicole shook her head. “I didn’t mean she couldn’t handle her-self. She wouldn’t be comfortable. It’s not her thing.”
“Are you so sure it’s your thing?”
Nicole sighed. “It must be. I’ve been doing it for ten years.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Jake knocked on her lieutenant’s door, not waiting for him to look up. She walked to his desk, meeting the questioning look in his eyes.
“I need to talk something out with you,” she said.
“Okay. Sit.”
She did, flipping open her notes. “Dr. Westbrook’s stalker that we talked about?”
“Where there was nothing in the system?”
“Right. So I talked to one of her neighbors.” She looked up from her notes. “He remembers the night. Two units showed up. There were shots fired. He saw a body laying in Dr. Westbrook’s yard. He saw two of the officers pick the suspect up and toss him into their squad car and drive off. The other unit, he says one of the officers went into Dr. Westbrook’s house to talk to her. They left approximately ten minutes later.”
Lieutenant Gregory pulled his glasses off. “Yet there’s nothing in the system to verify this?”
“No.”
“And you believe Dr. Westbrook and this neighbor?”
“Absolutely.”
Lieutenant Gregory nodded, then leaned forward. “McCoy, you’re working a murder investigation. Why are you bothering with something that happened six years ago when we’ve got four dead women right now?”
“Because I feel like the two events could be related,” she said.
“How? An alleged stalker was supposedly killed by cops at Dr. Westbrook’s house, yet, policewise, we have nothing to substantiate that. What we do have are the bodies of four murdered women. So I’m not interested in a goddamn stalker from six years ago. Let it go, McCoy. That’s an order.” He leaned back again. “Now, tell me what’s up with this case. What are you doing for this case?”
“Salazar is putting together profiles on all four of our victims, trying to trace back the last two or three days that they were alive. Simpson is interviewing friends, relatives. Chase is doing employment.”
“And you?”
“I’m… concentrating on Dr. Westbrook.”
He nodded. “Are we monitoring her phone, mail?”
“I’m going to talk to her today about the phone. Her secretary is monitoring the mail. Other than the one threatening letter they got a couple of weeks ago, there’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”
“The captain’s questioning the unit we’ve got at her building. Do you feel like it’s beneficial?”
“It’s beneficial only because it gives peace of mind.”
“Then I’m pulling it. We’ve got enough going on in the city without having two officers camped out doing nothing.”
Jake stared, wondering at the lieutenant’s motives. It was unlike him to be this negative about a case. In fact, just the hint of a police cover-up on the stalker would have normally had him up in arms. He was a stickler for detail and doing things by the book.
“I know you feel like Westbrook is in danger, but I haven’t been given the okay to bring her in. Are you still doing babysitting duty on nights?”
She nodded. “Actually, I think Chase is going to take tonight.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that going to set with his wife?”
“Haven’t worked it out yet,” she said. In fact, she’d not talked to Rick about it at all. “But, yeah, I think Dr. Westbrook is in danger. It would be foolish to leave her unprotected.”
“Well, just remember, you’re a detective, not a babysitter.”
Jake stood, feeling their conversation was going nowhere. “Well, let me get on it, Lieutenant.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir.” She walked out, frowning. “To protect and to serve,” she murmured sarcastically. “Right.”
———
Despite her lieutenant’s directive to leave the stalker alone, Jake couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. So, she called dispatch. Susan Rice, a woman who had asked Jake out countless times before, picked up.
“Susan? It’s Jake McCoy.”
“Hello, Detective. I heard you were back.”
“Yeah. About a month now. Listen, I’m wondering if you’re free for lunch?”
“Lunch?”
“I need to pick your brain.”
“I see.” There was only a short pause. “Sure, why not.”
“Great. What time can you swing it?”
“How about one?”
“Okay. I’ll pick you up out front by the flagpole. And thanks, Susan.”
When she hung up, Jake called Rick’s cell. He was just leaving the offices where Shelly Burke used to work.
“The last person here to see her was her officemate. The woman left shortly after five, and Shelly was still here, finishing up a report that was due the next day. She logged off her computer at five forty-four. Surveillance tapes in the parking garage show she never made it to her car.”
“Yet she ended up at her apartment.”
“Yeah. Simpso
n is going back to the apartment complex, but hell, that’s been months already. And the original report they filed turned up nothing, as far as neighbors.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, buddy, are you still home alone?”
“Yeah. Why? I talked to Michelle yesterday. We’re supposed to get together this weekend and hash it out.”
“Good. I was wondering if maybe you could stay with Dr. Westbrook tonight? At her place? She hasn’t been there since the other night. I’m sure she needs… things.”
“Now, Jake, how’s that going to look? The lieutenant will never go for it.”
“Then how about you take the early shift, and I’ll relieve you?”
“What’s going on? You got a date or something?”
“No, I don’t have a date. I just have something to check out. I’ll explain later. It’s just, she hasn’t been to her house in a couple of days, and I’m sure she’s tired of bunking at my place.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll work it out later. Right now, I’m heading to a lumber yard.”
“For?”
“Jena Nichols’s place of employment.”
“Okay. I’ll be around.”
———
The normally busy cafe was relatively quiet at this hour and Jake stood politely until Susan took her seat. She slid into the booth opposite Susan and folded her arms on the table. Even though she’d told herself to make casual conversation, she was too keyed up to do so.
“How long have you worked dispatch, Susan?”
“Eleven years, if you can believe that.”
Jake smiled. “Time flies.” She leaned forward, pushing the menu to the side. “Six years ago, who was over dispatch?”
“Six years? That’s probably when your Lieutenant Gregory was there. He was sergeant at that time, of course. Captain Harris was over the unit.”
“No shit? Gregory was in dispatch?”
“He moved to Special Victims right before you came on board,” Susan said.
Jake looked up as the waitress ambled over to their booth. She moved back as a glass of water was placed in front of her.
“Ready to order?”
Jake hadn’t bothered looking at the menu so she ordered her standard. “Burger, no pickles,” she said.
“Mustard? Mayo?”