by Metsy Hingle
“This is a church, Sister. I thought everyone was welcome.”
“This is a chapel and the evening services are over,” the nun countered. “What do you want?”
“Maybe I want to pray. Since God has seen fit to throw this nasty little surprise at me and mess up my life, I thought maybe if I prayed real hard, He’d make the problem go away. What do you think, Sister? Will God listen to my prayers?”
“God hears all of our prayers.”
“Ah, but the question is does He answer them?”
“He answers them. But the answer isn’t necessarily the one we want,” Sister Grace replied.
“I guess that means you haven’t changed your mind about giving me her name.”
“I’ve told you, your information is wrong. I can’t help you.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. And since I can’t risk having you warn her about me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to make sure that you keep quiet.”
And before Sister Grace could move, the woman plunged a needle into her neck.
“Kelly? Kelly, are you all right?”
Kelly dropped the rosary. She felt the world spinning beneath her once more. And then someone was gripping her by the shoulders, calling her name. She blinked, tried to regain her balance. Finally when she was able to focus, she saw Peter standing in front of her, a worried expression on his face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he informed her. He picked up the rosary, returned it to the pouch and handed it to her. “You want to tell me what happened just now?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, unsure of what she had said, what she had done.
“One minute you were holding that rosary and the next minute you seemed to…to zone out.
“I can’t explain it. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” After stuffing the pouch with the rosary into her bag she stood, eager to leave. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“Kelly, are you sure you’re all right? You’re as white as a ghost.”
“I’m okay. Really,” she assured him. “Thank you for everything, Peter,” she said, and after shaking his hand, she raced out of the office.
Once she stepped outside into the cool November air, Kelly attempted to hail a taxi while she digested what she had just learned.
Sister Grace hadn’t died of a heart attack. Someone had murdered her.
Anger churned in Kelly’s stomach as she recalled the nun’s last moments and her fear. Somehow, some way, she had to find out who was responsible. She owed Sister Grace that much.
Five
After being briefed that no arrest had yet been made in connection with the city’s latest murder victim, and the police department’s only lead was a self-proclaimed psychic, District Attorney Alexander Kusak sighed as he climbed the steps of City Hall. Just what he needed, he thought and wondered for the thousandth time what had ever possessed him to take this job.
But he already knew the answer. Tom Callaghan had been the reason. The man had taken the badass punk, with a chip on his shoulder, under his wing. Mr. Callaghan had made him believe he could be someone who could make a difference. And most of the time, he admitted, he felt that he did make a difference. He just wished that taking the job hadn’t come with the price of his privacy and, in particular, revealing his past. A past that included having a drunk and a whore for parents. Although he’d made something of himself and his life that he was proud of, having all that garbage dug up during the campaign last year had opened old wounds. It had also caused him to see himself through other’s eyes—through Meredith’s eyes. He hadn’t liked what he’d seen. It was the reason he had pushed Meredith away. And she’d done what he’d expected—she’d run off. Again. Only now she’d come back and was making noises like she intended to stay.
Alex started down the nearly deserted hallway toward his office. And when he stepped through the doors and spied all the empty desks, he headed for Edna’s station. “Where is everybody, Eddie?”
Edna Boudreaux, the stalwart office manager he’d inherited when he’d taken the office last year, glanced up from the reports on her desk. The woman did a hell of a job. She’d run the office for the retired D.A. for more than twenty years. Alex had been only too happy to keep her on since she knew anyone and everyone, and could cut through bureaucratic red tape faster than a hot knife through butter. He’d also never met a more dedicated employee. But damn if he didn’t feel like a punk running from the law again whenever she looked up at him with that “what have you been up to” expression on her face.
The way she was looking at him now.
“It’s lunchtime, Mr. Kusak. They’re at lunch. As am I,” she advised him, referring to the sandwich and pickle slices that sat next to the reports. “And I really do wish you would dispense with that ridiculous nickname. My name is Edna or Mrs. Boudreaux. Not Eddie.”
Alex sat on the corner of her desk, helped himself to one of her pickle slices. “Come on, Eddie. Didn’t the late Mr. Boudreaux ever call you anything but Edna?”
She waited a moment, then said, “He called me Buttercup.”
Alex bit back a grin. With her tidy bun, granny glasses and prim suits, he couldn’t imagine Mrs. Boudreaux as anyone’s Buttercup. “I think I like Eddie better.”
“So you’ve said, Mr. Kusak.”
Alex sighed. Even after working side by side for nearly a year, the lady refused to call him by his first name. As she’d informed him when he’d first suggested she do so, she’d never called the former D.A. anything but “Mr. Newman” in the entire twenty years she’d worked for him. She saw no reason to resort to any such familiarity now. And though he doubted she’d admit it, he had a feeling he was growing on her. “You know, Eddie, one of these days you’re going to slip and call me ‘Alex,’ and when that happens our secret’s going to be out.”
“And what secret would that be, Mr. Kusak?”
“Why that we’re madly in love with each other.”
“If you’re finished talking nonsense, why don’t you tell me what it is you wanted.”
Alex flashed her a grin. “I need to get a brief typed,” he began, and proceeded to explain what was needed. As he spoke, he loosened his tie. Despite eight years in the D.A.’s office, first as an assistant and now as the district attorney, he still hated wearing the things. He might have come a long way from his days on the opposite side of the law, but he’d never gotten used to being trussed up like a turkey with a scrap of cloth choking him. “Do you think you can get it finished for me to take to court in say, forty minutes?”
Mrs. Boudreaux lifted her gaze from his mangled tie and Alex didn’t miss the disapproving set of her mouth. Although she said nothing, he was sure she was comparing him to his predecessor, who’d been a dapper dresser known for his bow ties. “I’ll have it ready.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Eddie. I could kiss you.”
“I’d suggest you save your kisses for the young lady in your office,” she told him dryly.
“Does the lady have a name?”
“Miss Callaghan,” she informed him.
His body went on full alert at the mention of Meredith’s name. She’d been driving him crazy from the time she’d been in a training bra and he’d been a juvenile delinquent on a fast track to trouble. “Did she say, uh, what she wanted?”
“Since she doesn’t know that I saw her sneak in there while I was getting my sandwich from the kitchen, I didn’t bother to ask.”
“You going soft on me, Eddie?”
She shrugged. “The girl looked so pleased with herself because she thought she’d gotten by me that I didn’t have the heart to ruin it for her.”
“Well, what do you know? You are a buttercup after all.”
She straightened her shoulders, gave him that prim look, but Alex thought he saw a bit more color in her cheeks. “Mr. Kusak, if you expect me to get this brief type
d, I suggest you let me get to it.”
Alex eased off the edge of her desk and started for his office.
“Oh and one more thing, Mr. Kusak.”
“Yes?”
“You might want to suggest to Miss Callaghan that the next time she wants to get by someone unnoticed that she’d be wise to leave the red trench coat at home.”
“I’ll do that,” Alex told her, and opened the door to his office. He stepped inside. And there she was—sitting behind his desk wearing that scarlet-red trench coat and a pair of killer black heels that she had propped up on his desk.
“Hello, Mr. District Attorney.”
“Hello, Meredith,” he said with a calmness he was far from feeling. Some men had a weakness for booze. Others for drugs or gambling or even sex. For him, his weakness had always been Meredith Callaghan. She was like a fever in his blood, impossible to cure and equally fatal. “You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
She gave him a pout and tossed her strawberry-blond hair so that it fell across her shoulders. “I didn’t realize I needed a reason to visit an old friend.”
They’d been a great deal more than friends and therein lay the problem, Alex thought as he felt his body responding to her already. “I don’t have time to chitchat now. I’m due back in court in less than an hour.”
“I didn’t come by to chitchat,” she sniffed. “I came by to remind you about my mother’s birthday dinner tonight. She’s expecting you.”
“Jack already reminded me. I’ll be there.”
“Good,” she said, giving him another one of those slow smiles that tied him up in knots.
When she made no attempt to leave, he said, “Now that you’ve delivered the message, I’d appreciate it if you’d get your feet off my desk and your pretty little rear end out of my chair. I need to get back to work.”
She beamed at him. “You think my rear end’s pretty?”
“I think the coat’s pretty.”
“You should see what I have on underneath it.”
Alex bit back a groan, because he knew every damn inch of her body. “No thanks.” He managed the words out of a throat that had gone dry with lust. “Now, move it.”
“Not until you tell me why you haven’t returned any of my calls. I’ve left you at least a dozen messages over the past two weeks.” She’d actually left only three, but he didn’t bother correcting her. “And that Simon Legree secretary of yours keeps telling me you’re unavailable.”
“Because I’m not available. I’m busy,” he told her, and began thumbing through the mail stacked in his “in” box.
“Bull! You’ve been avoiding me, Alex Kusak, and you know it.” She swung her legs off of the desk and came to her feet. “I’ve been back in town for three months now and we haven’t been alone together for five minutes.”
“With good reason,” he admitted. Giving up any pretense of reading the mail, he dumped the envelopes back into the tray. “You and I both know what happens whenever we’re alone together.”
She came over to him, draped her arms around his neck, and looking up at him out of those big green eyes, she whispered against his lips, “I know what I want to happen.”
Alex could feel himself growing hard as she pressed herself against him. He breathed in her scent, something wild and exotic like her. He wanted her so bad he ached. It had always been that way with Meredith—ever since that first time on her eighteenth birthday. Even now, he couldn’t believe he’d fallen for the lame story she’d given him that night about having a problem and needing to talk to him. He’d left the society bash inside her parents’ home and gone with her to the gazebo to talk. And then she’d told him the problem—that the one thing she wanted for her birthday only he could give her. She’d wanted him to make love to her. It was wrong. He’d known it was wrong. But he’d found her impossible to resist. They’d been off-and-on lovers for years, and because they hadn’t wanted to freak out family and friends, they’d kept the secret between them. She’d matched him sexually in every way, and since neither of them had been looking for a long-term commitment, the relationship had suited them both just fine.
And then a couple of years ago, something had changed. He still wasn’t sure if it was he or Meredith. Whatever there was between them had become more than friendship, more than just good sex. He cared about her, maybe too much.
“Want me to tell you what I’d like to do?” she whispered in his ear. She nipped his lobe with her teeth.
Alex felt himself weaken. Then he remembered the way Meredith had looked at him when all that sordid stuff about his parents had come out during the campaign. There had been pain in her eyes. Pain and shame. For him? For herself? It didn’t matter, he told himself. He had no intention of starting things up again—no matter how tempted he was. With a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he caught her wrists and pulled them away from his neck. “It isn’t going to happen, Meredith.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because I said no.”
Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Is there someone else?”
“What if I said there was?”
Temper flared in her green eyes, turning them nearly black. She grabbed his tie, yanked his face close to hers. “Who is she?” When he didn’t answer, she repeated, “Who is she, Alex Kusak? Is it that little witch Alicia Van Owen? Has she been trying to sink her claws into you now?”
“Alicia?” he responded, surprised at the mention of the woman who’d been dating his best friend. “I thought she was dating your brother.”
“Jack dumped her.”
“You sure about that?” He uncurled Meredith’s fingers and attempted to smooth his tie. “When I saw Jack at the courthouse earlier, he told me that Alicia would be at the dinner party for your mother tonight.”
“That’s because she and my mother refuse to get the message. Both of them are hearing wedding bells. Well, she isn’t going to marry my brother. I refuse to have that woman as my sister-in-law.”
“Ah, you don’t like her,” he said.
“No, I don’t like Little Miss Perfect.”
The truth was, he didn’t care for the woman, either. Maybe because beneath all that polish, he picked up her disapproval of him. She wouldn’t be the first person to think the likes of him had no business being friends with someone like Jack Callaghan. For reasons he’d never understood, Jack and his family had felt differently.
“So help me, Alex. If I find out you’re sleeping with that woman, I swear to God I’ll cut it off and throw it into the Mississippi River.”
Instinct had him lowering his hand to protect his manhood. “You shouldn’t go around threatening the D.A., Meredith.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. I mean it, Alex,” she told him with all the passion with which she did everything. “If you’ve been stupid enough to let Alicia get her hooks into you, I’ll kill you both.”
Damn if she didn’t look adorable when she was mad, he thought. “Put away your weapons. Alicia’s not interested in me, and I’m not interested in her.” There was little chance he’d ever fall for an ice queen like Alicia Van Owen. How could he when Meredith Callaghan had been keeping him tied up in knots for years? “And before you start grilling me again, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Her face lit up and she gave him a sultry smile that made the temperature in the room shoot up ten degrees. Moving closer, she speared her fingers through his hair and gazed up at him. “Well, what do you know? Neither am I. So you see, there’s really no reason we can’t be together just like old times.”
“No,” he informed her.
Ignoring him, she murmured, “I’ve missed you so much, Alex. Have you missed me, too?”
“No.”
She pressed her body closer. When her knee nudged his erection, she laughed, that husky laugh that made a man think of hot sex and sin. “Liar.”
She was right. He was lying. But he forced himself not to respond to her.
She
traced his lips with her tongue. “Are you going to deny that you want me?”
“No.” What would be the point in denying the obvious? he reasoned as he eased her away from him. “But I’m not going to do anything about it. I told you, Meredith, it’s over. Accept it.”
“I won’t accept it. We’re good together, Alex. You know we are.”
“The sex is good, but we’re not,” he said gently, the hurt in her eyes ripping at him.
“We could be.”
And for a short time, he’d almost convinced himself that they could be together. Then had come the campaign, the nasty publicity and slams at Meredith’s reputation, the shame and pain in her eyes. “You need to get on with your life. We both do. We’ll always be friends, but the rest of it…it’s over.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m not going to change my mind.”
Her expression hardened. A steely look came into her eyes. “You wanna bet?”
“Meredith—”
“I’ll see you tonight, Alex.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and slid her hand between their bodies.
“Meredith,” he warned, then ruined it by groaning as she stroked his shaft.
“Think of me,” she whispered against his lips, then dashed from the room in a whiff of perfume.
Alex leaned back against his desk. He had little choice but to think of her, he admitted. In fact, he’d be damn lucky if he’d be able to think of anything else.
Mary Ellen Callaghan stood in the dining room of her family’s home later that evening and surveyed the table. She’d ordered that it be set with her fine china, crystal and sterling silver for the small dinner party she’d orchestrated to celebrate her seventieth birthday.
Seventy!
Heavens, such a large number of years. Good years, happy years, even if the last two had been lonely without her beloved Tommy. Feeling melancholy at the thought of her departed husband, Mary Ellen pushed the sad thoughts aside and reminded herself that just last week at her annual physical Dr. St. Pierre had declared her to be in excellent health. The constitution of a woman ten years her junior, he’d said. And she certainly didn’t think she looked like a woman of seventy. Or at least she hoped that she didn’t. Except for a mini eye tuck at sixty, she hadn’t had any work done like so many of her friends. And she’d always taken good care of herself and her skin. Besides, she had no intention of joining her Tommy anytime soon—not when she still had so much that remained undone.