Vivi walked in as Ian was setting plates of lasagna and glasses of red wine on the table. She sat down, took a healthy sip of wine, and watched him as he sat down across from her. Her dress was folded and sitting at the other end of the table.
“I don't have any greens, sorry.”
“It's ten o'clock, and given what we've been doing, I think I'm good with the carbs.”
His lips twitched and they dug in. She was glad for the casual chitchat as they ate, but when they'd finished and pushed the plates away, she knew it was time. Reaching for her wineglass, Vivi started to talk.
“This year has been, well, to put it mildly, it's been rough. Remember when I told you how many cases I'd worked in the past twelve months?”
She looked up from her wine to find Ian sitting forward, elbows propped up on the table, fingering his glass. “Over 300,” he recalled. “That's a lot.”
“It is, and I probably underestimated. But it wasn't the cases that were the problem. Not at the beginning, anyway.” She took another sip of wine and, for the first time, recognized the sound of rain on the roof. She glanced out the French doors that were open onto Ian's screened-in front porch and wondered when the clouds had moved in. Light flashed in the distance, bringing her back to the here and now.
“A year ago today, I lost my family.” Vivi's chest tightened, and for a moment she struggled to breathe. Picking up her glass, she noted with detachment that her hands were shaking.
“Vivienne?”
She brought the glass to her lips and managed to choke down another sip. “I had a brother. Special Forces. Not unlike you, I imagine. Sometimes we knew where he was, most of the time we didn't. Because of the work I do, I know a lot of people in the military. Jeff and I had an agreement that if anything were to happen to him, I would be notified as his next of kin and it would be my job to tell our parents.”
If she stopped talking, she might not start again, but she couldn't just sit there, so she stood and walked to the French doors. The cool, night air washed over her and the smell of the rain brought a measure of familiar comfort.
“I got a call from his base commander, a friend of mine. He'd gone around protocol so he could tell me that Jeff had been shot by insurgents that morning. They were still trying to figure out what had happened, but he wanted me to know about Jeff right away.”
She stared out into the night and watched lightning off in the distant sky. “That call was the worst call I have ever received.” Vivi still remembered the gut-wrenching pain that ripped through her body and soul when she'd heard that her brother was dead. She rubbed her chest now, still feeling it.
“But I knew what I had to do. I had a friend come pick me up and drive me over to my parents’ house. I knew they were on their way back to Boston after being down at the Cape for a few days, enjoying the quiet before the summer season. Something they did every year.”
Vivi remembered sitting with her friend on her parents’ sofa waiting for them to come home. The familiar smells of their house, the comfort of being home. And they waited. And waited. Just sitting there.
“They didn't come,” she whispered.
“Vivienne.” Ian was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, easing her against him.
“We waited and waited and when we finally heard someone at the door, it was the state police. My parents had been hit by a drunk driver on their way home.”
She closed her eyes to the memories. Ian's arms came around her, but she was so lost in time, reliving that day a year ago, that she couldn't respond.
“One day. In one day I lost my entire family.” Her voice broke and tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I tell myself that at least it was a blessing my parents never knew about Jeff. At least they died believing both their children were safe.”
The rain continued as they stood where they were. Exhausted, Vivi leaned against Ian and watched the storm move across the valley. Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder shook the house, wind whipped the branches of trees. And they stayed.
When the violence of Mother Nature quieted down, Vivi finished her story. “I didn't know what to do with myself so I threw myself into work. I was on a plane every time they called. I went to Haiti, Bangladesh, Guatemala, Los Angeles, anywhere and everywhere they needed me. Anything to not be at home.
“I don't know if it was good or bad, but it gave me a reason to get up every morning.” She paused. “And then I went to Seattle.”
The rain had changed to a slow drizzle, but the runoff dripped steadily down the gutters.
“What happened in Seattle, Vivienne?”
“A family was murdered. At first it looked like the father did it—like he'd shot his daughter, his wife, and then himself. They'd all been killed by single gunshot wounds to the head.”
“Why were you called in if it was straightforward?”
“Because the father was a scientist I'd worked with in the past. His sister didn't think he could have done it, so she begged to have me come in. It was such a horrific crime in an area that doesn't experience a lot of that kind of violence. The Seattle police, some of whom I'd worked with in the past, let me in to make her happy.”
“And what did you find?”
“What I wanted to find was that she was right.” God, how she'd wanted that. “I didn't want to believe that a man could wipe out his whole family. That someone would choose to rid the planet of his child and life partner. After having lost my family, I would have given anything to have them back. And it seemed incomprehensible to me that anyone could feel differently.”
“And?”
“I bird-dogged that case like you wouldn't believe. I'm surprised my friends at the SPD are still talking to me. But in the end, the sister was wrong. My friend, Dr. Howard, held a pillow over his sleeping twelve-year-old daughter's face and shot her. He then proceeded to shoot his wife as she slept in their bedroom, before lying down beside her and shooting himself.
“It was—” Vivi paused and took a deep breath of the rain-cleaned air. “It was too much for me and I walked away. I flew down to LA to see my cousin Kiera, then rented a car, and just started driving. I drove from California through Arizona, Texas, Georgia—all through the South as I made my way east. I was thinking of heading into Canada when I passed through New York City and saw the sign for the Taconic Parkway,” she added.
“And then you ended up here.” Ian's cheek came to rest against her head.
“And, for a little while, I was able to forget. Not my parents or my brother, but the pain, the emptiness of it all.”
“And when it all came back this afternoon, not only did it all come back, but the guilt came too, didn't it?” Ian asked. “The guilt for having allowed yourself to forget for even a second.”
Tears filled her eyes and poured down her face as she nodded. When a choked sob escaped her, he turned her around and held her close. Vivi clung to him, buried her face against his chest, and cried. For the first time in a long time, she just cried. For her parents, for her brother, for herself. And for everything good the world lost the day they died.
CHAPTER 12
IT WAS STILL DARK when a ringing phone roused Vivi. Half awake and half asleep, she struggled to a sitting position and thought for a moment that it couldn't possibly be her cell. Her eyes were gritty from crying earlier, and next to her, Ian looked as confused as she felt. Then the phone rang again, and she remembered that Ian had brought her purse in from her car when they'd come back to bed. They'd lain together for a long time until she'd needed him to remind her of some of the good things in life. After that, they'd fallen asleep.
Slapping her hand on the bedside table, she located the nuisance and answered without looking at the number.
“It's three in the morning, Viv, luv. And you're not in bed. Not your bed anyway.”
“Nick.”
Beside her, Ian sat up and switched on a lamp. They both blinked in the sudden flood of light.
“I decided you could use my help,” Nick
said.
“You decided not to trust me.” Vivi ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her aching eyes. Nick was the last thing she needed right now.
“I always trusted you, Viv. I just didn't always believe in you. But I learn from my mistakes.”
“What do you want, Nick?”
“Right now? A place to crash. Tomorrow, maybe we can talk.”
“Fine, help yourself to my room. But if you call me before I call you tomorrow, you'll be dead in the water.”
She ended the call and slid back into bed. Ian looked down at her. She closed her eyes, then cracked one open when he didn't move in to lie next to her. “He's fine, Ian. Nick's not going to do anything too dumb.”
“How is he going to get into your room and how does he even know where you're staying?”
“Nick knows all sorts of things, and believe me, we don't have to worry about how he'll get into my room.”
Ian frowned. “Okay. Do I need to worry about him? About the investigation?”
She opened both eyes and looked at Ian. Really looked at him. He was worried. “In what way?” She propped herself up on her elbows.
“Is he going to try to run roughshod over me? Believe me, I have no problem putting and keeping a man in his place, but this, well, it's all the legal stuff…” His voice trailed off.
Vivi lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “It does take some time to figure out how to use the system and, you're right, the legal ins and outs. But between your common sense and my experience, I don't think Nick will be able to get away with anything.”
“But he'll try?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Nick will always try. But once he has the measure of the man, so to speak, he'll back off and play nice.”
Ian lifted a hand and traced a finger down the tip of her nose to her lips, then brushed it across them, soft and slow. Leaning down, he replaced it with his lips. “Promise?” he asked against her mouth.
She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss, then let him pull back as she spoke. “I'm not going to promise something I'm not certain I can deliver, but I can promise that you can count on me to see this thing through the best way we decide how.”
He studied her eyes. His chest brushed against her with his every breath. Then he reached behind him and turned the lamp back off, casting them into darkness. She felt his lips brush her neck. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him down to her.
“Sound like a plan, MacAllister?”
She felt his smile against her lips. “Sounds like a plan, DeMarco.”
* * *
Even from twenty feet away, Ian sensed Vivienne's discomfort. Lingering in the hallway, he watched her reach for her dress, still on the kitchen table, and pull it over her head. Her shoulders were set and she hadn't looked at him for more than a fleeting second all morning. He had an idea of what was going on. A strong independent woman like Vivienne would feel awkward, if not embarrassed, by her breakdown the night before. It was ridiculous, but she didn't know that. Or didn't trust that he wouldn't make her feel bad about it, or use it against her.
“Will you make some coffee?” he asked from his position. She spun, startled to see him there, and after staring for a moment, gave a reluctant nod. He'd bet she was planning on leaving at the first chance. Now he'd made her stay. As he climbed into the shower, he devised a plan to make her okay with everything that had happened, everything that had been said the night before.
Dressed in his uniform, he entered the kitchen. Vivienne was standing with her back to him, cup in hand, looking out onto the backyard. She was back in the clothes she'd come in last night, shoes and all, and her hair was loose, falling well below her shoulders. His eyes skimmed her from behind.
“I was a little preoccupied last night, but how is your ankle? And the cuts?”
She looked over her shoulder, but didn't turn to face him. “The ankle is fine. It was fine after a few hours. The cuts are ugly, but don't hurt at all. Thanks for asking.”
Her tone wasn't cold but didn't hold anything personal either.
“Thanks for staying,” Ian said, approaching her. Stopping about a foot away, he saw her body tense. “I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't have any nightmares. Thanks for that.”
“Except for having a hysterical woman clinging to you.”
He had hoped to remind her that she wasn't the only one who had shared vulnerabilities last night. That she wasn't alone. But, judging by her grumbled answer, he hadn't. Truth be told, he wasn't very comfortable with his diagnosis of PTSD and was even less comfortable with the fact that he was still experiencing episodes. But if he could use it to make her feel better, he would. Too bad it hadn't worked.
He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn around. When she was facing him, he slid his hands up to frame her face.
“Look at me, Vivienne,” he ordered. Her eyes went left, then right. When it became clear he wasn't going to let it go, she let out a deep sigh and met his gaze.
“You fell apart last night. You broke down, you lost it, you sobbed, and you clung to me.” He could feel her jaw clenching under his palms, but he continued, knowing she needed to hear what he had to say to her. Knowing he needed her to know how he felt. “You lost your family, Vivienne. Your family.” His voice was quiet.
She didn't relax under his hands, but there was a shadow of curiosity creeping into her eyes and so he went on. “Everything you're feeling—every ounce of anger, of sadness, of emptiness, of guilt—you're entitled to feel, Vivienne.”
Her eyes were watching his intently now. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm not going to tell the world about what happened. And you should know that when I look at you now, after last night, I still see an amazing woman. You're a professor, a cop, an ME, an FBI consultant, a psychologist. You're not weak, Vivienne, you're human.”
A single tear trickled out of her eye, slid down her cheek, and landed on his thumb. He brushed it away.
“You came from your family. They are a part of you. And knowing what I know of you, they must have been good people. People you have every right to mourn in whatever way you need to.”
Vivienne's dark eyes stared back at him. And after several heartbeats, when he was sure she believed him, he leaned in and gave her a light kiss.
“Now that that is out of way, shall we get back to work?” Ian coupled his comment with an easy smile. It did the job and she gave him a tentative one in response. He moved to pour himself a cup of coffee to go, but she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back.
“Thank you, Ian.” Her voice was soft, but strong. “Not just for doing what you just did, but for being there for me last night, for listening to me, for holding me. And, most of all, for letting me be all those things I am. For making it okay to be all those things.”
Something shifted in the range of his chest as he looked down at her. He dipped his head and gave her another kiss. And then another. And then her hands came around his neck and he let her pull him into a kiss that was anything but soft and sweet.
“God, when you kiss me like that I want to crawl inside you,” she said when they pulled apart. Everything, except one strategic part of him, went still. She must have noticed.
“Uh, was that kind of creepy?” She looked cute when she was embarrassed.
“No,” he responded, wrapping his arms around her. “But you can't say something like that and then not expect me to react.” And react he did. Not happy with sitting her on the kitchen table, he stripped her down, again, and took her back to bed, again, so he could feel every inch of her against and around him, again.
* * *
Having left Ian to talk to Rob about something or another, Vivi walked up the steps of The Tavern to her room. She slid the key in the lock and the door swung open, revealing Nick. Lost in thought about the night before, she'd almost forgotten about him. Wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, he lo
unged in one of the chairs. His dark hair was damp and his cowboy boot–clad feet were propped up on the desk.
“Hello, luv.” The smile he gave her was more knowing than friendly.
“Nick.”
They eyed each other for a long moment—Vivi feeling like she wasn't quite sure what to do with him, and Nick not bothering to hide the fact that he was taking her in. High heels, short dress, messy hair, and, she was pretty sure, a mark or two on her neck.
“Well, darling, you look well and truly—”
“Finish that sentence and you will regret it.” Ian said, stepping up behind her. Vivi said nothing, watching as Nick's eyes went from her to Ian and lingered there for a while.
Then Nick gave a small nod. “I was going to say ‘rested,’ darling. You look well and truly rested.”
Vivi rolled her eyes but stepped into the room. “Nick, Deputy Chief Ian MacAllister. Ian, Agent Nick Larrimore, Army Investigation Division.” Ian closed the door behind them; neither man bothered to shake hands.
“Rob doesn't have any more rooms,” Ian commented.
“I can always stay with you, luv,” Nick interjected.
“Shut up, Nick. You don't have any jurisdiction here so remember where your bread is buttered.” She didn't bother looking at him as she said this—he'd spoken only to get a rise out of Ian. Instead, she moved toward her luggage and started gathering her clothes.
“So, it looks like you're certain Jessica Akers was a victim of a serial killer,” Nick said from behind her. She assumed he was referring to the files she'd left lying on her desk. He probably knew them better than she did at this point.
“We have another body. Vivienne did the autopsy yesterday,” Ian answered as she dug through her bag looking for a clean pair of socks.
“Same method of death?” Nick asked.
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