by Sandra Brown
through her fingers."Did you add salt?"
"Uh, no."
"Any seasonings at all?"
He shook his head.
Several tins of spices were lined up on a narrow shelf behind the stove.
She reached for the cayenne pepper. Burke took a hasty step backward,
which caused her to laugh."City cop succumbs to cayenne," she said as
she shook the pepper into the breading mixture."I can see the headlines
now."
"I'm not a cop anymore."
"No, you've gone over to the other side and started committing crimes."
"I've committed only one. So far."
"Isn't kidnapping a little ambitious for your criminal debut?"
"Are you teasing me, Mrs. Duvall? You think this is funny?"
Startled by his tone, she turned to him."Do you find it amusing that
Wayne Bardo has already killed two people since your husband got him
acquitted?
Two that we know about, that is. That's a real hoot, isn't it?
"And how's this for grins? When Kevin Stuart died, he left two young
sons who'll grow up not knowing what a great guy their dad was The next
time you feel like a chuckle, think about that."
'"It's Pinkie's job to get his clients acquitted. That's what defense
attorneys do."
"Well I see he's got you well indoctrinated. But then you're a smart
cookie, aren't you? Even at an early age, you had learned enough about
whoring from your mother to snare yourself a rich and powerful man."
"You don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about."
"Wrong, Mrs. Duvall. I do. I know all about Angel, about her regular job
as a topless dancer, as well as her lucrative sideline as a whore that
supported her drug habit."
That evoked a reaction, but he couldn't categ hore it. Was she surprised
that he knew so much? Angry that he had dredged up a past she wished to
forget? Was she embarrassed or mad? He wasn't sure.
Whichever, she lashed back.
"If you know all that, how can you blame me for wanting to get away from
her and that life? If I hadn't met Pinkie, Flarra and I "
"Flarra?"
"My sister."
Sister? How had he missed that part? Then he remembered her going to the
ritzy girls' school."How old is she?"
"Sixteen. But she was only a baby when Pinkie took us away from our
mother."
"Angel just let you go?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what? Exactly."
She averted her head, but he moved in front of her and forced her to
look at him."How'd you link up with Duvall?"
"I thought you knew all about it, Mr. Basile," she mocked.
"I think I can fill in the blanks."
"Be my guest."
"Angel dances in one of his clubs, but he pays her for more than
dancing. He's one of her clients. One day, he notices you, and you look
better to him than mama. Angel tells you to put into practice something
of what she's taught you, promising that if you do, you'll snag yourself
a rich man. Is that about it?"
Her head dropped forward in what appeared to be defeat and remorse, but
it lasted only a moment. When she defiantly threw back her head, her
eyes were bright with angry tears.
"Angel taught me, all right, Mr. Basile. By age six I could shoplift
cigarettes for her without getting caught. By the time I was eight, I
had worked my way up to stealing food so I would have some supper But
stealing cans and boxes got cumbersome, so Angel had one of her
clients coach me on how to pick pockets. He said I had a natural talent
for it. My fingers got limber. I practiced until I was better than my
coach. Which was good, because when Flarra came along, the money I made
picking pockets came in handy to buy her milk and other necessities."
She paused to wipe a tear off her cheek."Except there never seemed to be
enough money for everything, and sometimes Angel took it from me to buy
drugs before I could spend it on the baby. So I had to get bolder, steal
more often.
"One day, outside Antoine's, I picked the wrong pocket. Pinkie Duvall
chased me all the way home, ready to have me arrested. But then he saw
how we lived and changed his mind."
"He made Angel an offer. He'd forget the theft in exchange for you."
"In exchange for both Flarra and me. Mother agreed to make him our
guardian."
"I bet she did. She saw where Duvall was coming from. She watched his
lights go on when he looked at her ripe, young daughter."
"That's not the way it was," she insisted with a hard shake of her head.
"Pinkie Duvall became your guardian out of the goodness of his heart,
out of Christian charity?" Burke laughed."Even you don't believe that.
What makes you think I would?"
"He didn't have to assume responsibility for Flarra, too."
"He did if he wanted to make it all nice and legal. A judge might not
swallow his wanting to become the guardian of a nubile girl, but two
abused and impoverished sisters went down much smoother."
Maybe it was the reminder of Kev's family who had rejected his
friendship, or maybe it was because he felt a tinge of pity for little
Remy and baby sister Flarra, or perhaps it was his own guilty conscience
fueling his anger and urging him on. He felt a dark meanness rising
within himself. He wanted to bludgeon Remy Duvall with cruel insults, so
that somebody else on the planet would know what real heartache felt
like. It was like having barbed wire wound around your heart. He thought
it was time that someone else experience what he'd been living with
since the night he killed his own man.
He moved several steps closer, until she was backed up as far as she
could go and he could see himself reflected in the obsidian mirrors of
her pupils.
"You've whitewashed it in your mind, but you knew then and you know now
what Duvall wanted. He wanted a young whore who had learned from an old
pro."
"Why do you hate me?"
"I bet your virginity was guaranteed, wasn't it? Duvall could return you
if you weren't as pure as Angel claimed."
"I won't let you talk to me this way."
"Did he wait a day or two, or did he try you on for size that very first
night?"
She flung the wire spatula at him and bolted.
Hot grease splashed in his eye. Holding a hand to it, he staggered
across the room and through the door. The instant he cleared the
opening, something hard landed against the back of his head and knocked
him to his knees. Then again, his head was struck from behind.
By the time he collapsed face first onto the pier, he was unconscious.
"Nancy?"
Nancy Stuart was shooing her rambunctious sons into the backseat of her
car. When she heard her name, she came around and exclaimed in surprise,
"Doug! What on earth are you doing here?" Pat said, "I got here in time
to see some of the practice.
You're raising two major leaguers there."
"Personally I think it's too cold for baseball, but the coaches like to
get a running start on the season."
"Got a minute?"
"Well," she hedged, "we're on our way to a tea
m pizza party."
"Hmm." He looked around and then down, and shifted around some gravel
with the toe of his shoe."I apologize for ambushing you like this, but I
need your input on something that shouldn't be discussed over the
telephone."
Worry settled on her pretty features."What's going on?"
"It's about Basile. He's flown the coop. I need to find him."
The boys began complaining about the delay. Nancy opened the car door
and motioned them out."Go ride with the Haileys. Tell Mrs. Hailey that
I'm coming along right behind you. And settle down! " Disregarding that
last instruction, they ran pell-mell across the parking lot toward a van
being loaded with rowdy little boys. The,_> other mom ushered the
Stuarts aboard, then waved at Nancy to acknowledge receipt of her
message.
Turning back to Pat, Nancy said, "The boys miss Burke. They ask about
him constantly. I didn't want them to overhear this conversation."
"They miss him?" he asked, confused."I thought he was a regular fixture
at your house."
"He was, until I asked him not to come anymore."
Pat listened as she explained her reasons for asking Basile to stop
visiting."I know I hurt him, Doug, but seeing him so frequently was
hurting me. Each visit was a painful reminder of Kev and how he died.
I was trying to make it part of my past. Burke was keeping it in the
present." Pat asked when that last visit had taken place, and when she
told him, he frowned."That's about the time he resigned."
"Resigned? He's left the department?" He told her about Basile's gradual
but steady decline. Dismayed, she said, "I didn't even know about his
and Barbara's breakup. He didn't say a word to me about it."
"He didn't take it nearly as hard as he did Kev's death. That's still
eating him up. Even I didn't realize how much until ... this."
"What's happened, Doug? What did you mean when you said he'd flown the
coop? Do you mean he's disappeared?"
"Looks like it."
She raised shaking fingers to her lips."You don't think he'd harm
himself?"
"No. It's not that, but anything else I say would be unfair to Burke
because the details are still sketchy."
"Details of what? Has he ... done something?"
Pat hedged."I'd rather not discuss it, Nancy. There was an incident, but
it isn't a matter of record yet because the other involved party wishes
to keep it contained. But it's a volatile situation.
If I'm very lucky and locate Basile soon, I might be able to prevent a
real disaster. If not, for all practical purposes, his life will be
over."
Wringing her hands, she groaned."This is my fault."
"No, no it isn't. He was close to the edge and would have gone over even
if you hadn't stopped his visits."
Far from convinced, she offered to do whatever she could to help.
"Tell me where he might have gone," Pat said."Did he ever mention a
getaway to you? Some special place?"
"I don't know. A fishing cabin maybe, but ..." She massaged her forehead
as though to stimulate her memory."If he ever said where it was, I don't
remember. Barbara would know."
Pat's expression turned sour."I'd been trying to reach her at home, when
I gave up and called the school where she teaches. She and her boyfriend
took some personal days and went to Jamaica. They were already out of
town before Basile disappeared. I'm sure she knows nothing about it."
Nancy looked forlorn."I wish I could help. I love Burke. He was a dear
friend to Kev and to me. It tore me apart to ask him to stop coming
around. But you understand my reasoning, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. And I'm sure he understood, too." He touched her hand in
farewell and apologized for keeping her from the pizza party.
Moving away, he said, "If you think of anything, call me."
"Have you spoken with his brother?"
Pat stopped."Brother?" ...
Burke was unconscious for only a couple of minutes, but in that brief
amount of time Remy Duvall had managed to row the boat twenty or thirty
yards out. She was struggling to start the motor.
He crawled to the end of the pier and called her name. Rockets of pain
exploded behind his eyeballs, and he wondered what she had hit him with,
and how a woman that slender could have put that much power behind the
blow.
She was headed toward land in the direction that he'd indicated to her
earlier, when actually the old pier was on the opposite side. He had
deliberately told her wrong."Mrs. Duvall, even if you make it to solid
ground, you'll die out there. You'll get lost and never find your way
out."
Giving up on the motor, she retrieved the oar and began to row again.
Burke considered jumping in and going after her. In some parts of the
swamp the water was no more than knee deep. But here it was at least
over his head. Ordinarily that wouldn't pose a problem. Swimming, he
could cover the distance to the boat in seconds. But he was dizzy and
nauseous and unsure he could remain conscious if he tried to swim.
He might drown. Then both of them would perish, because, damn it, he'd
meant it when he warned her of the dangers awaiting a person alone and
lost in the swamp.
There was only one choice left to him, and it was a bitch.
But, seeing no other way to stop her, he forced himself to stand.
He swayed on his feet and had to close his eyes for a moment while the
horizon rocked itself back into its rightful position. When the Worst of
the dizziness passed, he stumbled toward the cabin in a listing gait
that he thought must look like a poor imitation of John Wayne.
The pistol was where he'd hidden it.
Moving as quickly as his distressed equilibrium permitted, he returned
to the end of the pier, cupped the pistol in both hands, and aimed it at
the small boat."Turn around and come back, Mrs. Duvall." She ignored
him."If you don't, I'm going to shoot holes in the boat and sink it."
She looked back at him and saw the gun, but it didn't faze her.
"No you won't, Mr. Basile."
"Why not?"
"Because gunshots would alert someone that we're here, and you don't
want that."
"Ever hear of silencers?"
That got her attention. She dropped the oar."You're no murderer.
If you sink the boat, I'll drown."
"Pick up the oar and start rowing back."
She did neither."Remember, I told you I can't swim."
"And remember I told you that I'm not stupid."
He fired the pistol, deliberately missing her, but lining up a row of
perfect holes in the side of the boat an inch below the waterline.
Later, it occurred to him that she didn't scream as one might expect.
Or if she did, he didn't hear it above the squawking of birds that had
already roosted for the evening in their nests in the upper branches of
surrounding trees. They staged a noisy protest. Even with the silencer,
the spitting sounds of the gun had seemed loud in the cottony silence of
descending night.
The water leaking into the craft panicked her immediately. She tried to
stop the
flooding by pressing her hands against the bullet holes, but,
of course, to no avail.
"You might just as well jump on in and swim back, Mrs. Duvall. Tow the
boat back while you're at it."
"I can't."
"Sure you can. Just take hold of the rope and pull it behind you."
She was becoming increasingly more frantic, which looked convincing from
a distance. Burke suspected a trick. She looked about as dangerous and
cunning as a butterfly, but she'd fooled him too many times lunging for
the side door of the van during the highspeed chase, trying to pull the
key from the ignition, throwing a spatula dripping hot grease at him,
and damn near braining him with a club when he came through the door of
the cabin. He wasn't going to be taken in by her fragile and guileless
facade anymore.
He had to admit, though, that this was her best performance yet.