“So… Just like Imogene said… Some things are out of your control. The sooner you learn that lesson of life, the better off you’ll be.”
She shifted in her seat sideways and faced him. “The seeing is no good without the knowing. I learned that. Sheldon never did. He liked the seeing. He liked being able to take advantage of that. You know he wasn’t really a street bum.”
“Yeah, we figured that out. He’s pretty well off. I don’t understand why he ended up living on the street. He had more than enough money.”
Jeri’s heart flooded with sadness for Sheldon, the grandfather she never knew, or rather, couldn’t remember. “He thought being wealthy would make him happy. When it didn’t he kind of…flipped out.”
“Who told you that?”
“Imogene told me some of it. Others told me more. Some of it I figured out on my own.”
“So how come you can see and know, and Sheldon couldn’t get there?”
Did Nick believe in her gift now? All of his former skepticism appeared to be gone.
“You believe me now, don’t you?”
When he spoke, wariness edged his voice. “Yes, God help me, I do.”
“Why now?”
“You told me about Jane Doe before you left town. It hasn’t been but an hour or so since I was at the morgue. It hit me hard when I saw the tag on her toe.” He sighed and wiped his hand over his lips. “Jane Doe is in the morgue. I told everyone who would listen that she was killed by someone else, someone who was trying to copycat The Photographer. My captain disagrees with me. My partner disagrees with me. Hell, I think everyone connected with the case disagrees with me. But I know…” He laughed and tapped his chest. “I know that whoever killed her was mocking me.”
The Photographer? Was that what they were calling Jackson Deville?
Jeri shivered. She’d met Jane Doe in the grocery store. In a vision, she’d seen her picture on Nick’s whiteboard. She’d seen. And now she knew. Jane Doe would go unidentified for years, and Nick would carry her picture in his wallet, remorseful that he hadn’t been able to do more to bring her killer to justice. He would try to hide the disillusionment her injustice would bring him. Eventually, he’d learn who killed her, but it wouldn’t be Nick who figured it out.
There was no way she could tell him that. It would break his heart. He had to keep believing he’d find her killer. The hope of justice was what drove him.
Nick pulled up to the curb in front of a duplex on Laurel Street. The peeling blue clapboard with the white shutters looked like it could use a little love. The house had no yard, just a small patch of concrete between the front steps and the sidewalk. There was no strip of green grass along the street. A tall oak’s limbs hung over the house and covered the place in deep shadows. Cars lined the curb because none of the houses had a driveway or a garage.
The sound of distant thunder rumbled from across the river. A streak of lightning flashed through the heavy cloud cover. Jeri shivered again. “Where are we?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder and then scanned the area around them. “My sister’s place. She usually rents the other half, but it’s been vacant awhile. I think I can talk her into letting us use it.”
Within minutes, they were settled into the vacant side of his sister’s house. Maddie had asked a lot of questions, and Nick had been vague with the answers.
Jeri stared at Nick, and he stared back at her from across the small front room. What were they supposed to do now? She could think of a few things she wanted to do with him, but would he be able to get past his I’m-a-cop-and-you’re-a-person-of-interest hang up?
She cleared her throat and moved closer to where he leaned on the arch between the front room and the kitchen. The house had no hallway, so she could see straight through from the front door to the back door on the back bedroom wall. One bedroom. Were they gonna share? Or was he going to leave her there? She didn’t want to be alone.
“Am I still a person of interest?”
He snorted with laughter. “Yes, you are definitely a person of interest.”
Disappointment centered in the bottom of her gut, sending her tentative feelings into a spiral. “Oh. I understand. I guess.”
He rubbed his upper lip with his pointer finger. Seemed he did that a lot when he wanted to say something and didn’t know if he should.
“Not to the New Orleans Police Department, but to me…personally.” His eyes glittered with mischief.
“I’m not? To the police, I mean?” She was terrified of asking him how she was a person of interest to him personally. Maybe she wouldn’t like the answer. Where was her newfound ability to just know things when she needed it the most?
“A lot has happened while you were gone, and I would love to explain it all to you, but right now, I don’t want to do that. I’m just so damned glad you’re back. All I wanna do…”
The huskiness in his voice sent a shimmer of heat through her. She wanted to scream with frustration. There was still a lot of tense space between them. Was she going to have to make the first move?
She closed the gap between them and placed her hand over the place on his arm where the bullet had wounded him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you while you were recuperating.”
The remorse had been weighing on her, and perhaps it had hovered in the back of her mind for a while, but she’d had no intention of voicing her feelings. The truth had galloped out of her mouth, and she had been able to rein it in.
His smile broadened. When had that gorgeous smile popped onto his face? Of course, his lips had curved into that expression of warmth mixed with desire while she was trying hard to concentrate on anything but his mouth.
“I’m not a very good patient.”
No, he probably wasn’t.
She returned his smile with a tentative, shaky one of her own. “And I’m not very patient.”
Okay, she’d had enough of the hesitation. Like she’d said, she wasn’t very patient. “Are we gonna keep staring at each other like two goofs, or are you gonna make the first move? Because if you aren’t, I’m going to.”
His jacket came off. His gun and shield dropped onto the cocktail table. His arms, the arms that had once held her and comforted her, wrapped around her and pulled her to him. The comfort was gone, replaced with a heady desire to mold herself to him. To be one with him, in mind, body, and spirit. They belonged together. He might not know it yet, but she did.
How to bring him to the same place she was without scaring the hell out of him? Of course, she would have to be patient, the one thing she wasn’t particularly good at.
Her first taste of his lips sent shocks of pleasure through her. She could float and stay in his arms forever with her lips on his. There was more than physical need in the kiss. There was the driving hunger for something more. She felt it in every muscle and sinew and bone, and she felt it returned to her in every beat of his heart.
He found every possible way to mold his mouth to hers. They’d break, catch a breath, and go back in for more, every kiss stronger and deeper and sweeter than the last.
He leaned his head back and ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re letting the blue grow out.”
Did he sound disappointed?
“I wasn’t feeling very much like me anymore, so I let it grow out.”
“Blue hair or not, I know who you are.”
Her heart stalled. “You do?”
His finger traced the line of her jaw. “Once we do this, there’s no going back.”
Her heart beat faster and harder.
So he wasn’t going to tell her who he thought she was. Okay. Well, she wasn’t going to ask him what he meant about not going back. She knew.
“You see things, Jeri. You know things. What do you see when you look at me?”
Not the question she’d expected.
He deserved an honest answer. “I see us together.”
He stepped back from her, and her heart took a tumble.
H
ad she gone too far? Said too much? Revealed too much of what she knew in her heart to be true? She wanted to beat herself up. She could have kept what she knew to herself a little longer, long enough for him to catch up.
“I think we both need some sleep.”
So he wasn’t going to go any further than kissing.
“I don’t want to be alone, Nick.”
He pointed at the sofa. “I’ll be right here…if you need me.”
Didn’t he get it? She did need him…with her.
Jeri backed away from him. “Well, then… I’m going to crash then.”
Minutes later, after she’d crawled beneath the covers and settled in, her eyes remained open, her ears attuned, listening to every noise coming from the front of the house.
****
Nick rested his arm over his eyes. What in the hell had he just done? She’d just hinted that she wanted him to stay with her, so he’d relented, against his better judgment and told her he’d sleep on the sofa. Clearly, that wasn’t what she wanted. Neither was it what he wanted.
Nick wasn’t the kind of guy that turned down that kind of invitation. But there was something different about Jeri, something that made him want to be sure he was doing the right thing by her. Was he ready to dive deep into a relationship? There would be nothing easy or superficial about being with her. He’d tried to keep all his relationships that way after Charlotte had left. Maybe his resistance to anything deeper explained the emptiness he felt inside.
Nick needed a woman who needed him as much as he needed her. Charlotte hadn’t been the right person to fulfill that need for him. She didn’t seem to need anyone. She didn’t want to need anyone.
He groaned. He’d been asked several times if he had a thing for Jerilyn Bowman. Yes. Yes, he did. Define the thing. What kind of thing do I have for her?
Her personality was so…complicated. Light and dark. Edgy and smooth. Hard and soft. Vulnerable and prickly. Complicated. Just like she liked life. He never knew which Jeri would show up in a conversation. One moment she was easy-going, and the next she was ready to fight.
He’d gotten the idea that she didn’t let very many people get close to her. Well, he guessed he could understand that if she felt she’d been lied to her entire life. That might cause a woman to be very careful whom she trusted.
Was there a guy in her past that had betrayed her? How creepy would it have been to ask her about her romantic past as if it were part of his investigation when all he had wanted was to satisfy his curiosity about a woman who had grabbed his attention and wouldn’t let go? He couldn’t do it. Not unless there had been a valid reason to ask. And she would have seen right through his attempt. She was sharp.
Now, maybe he could ask. If he were careful how he asked. If he were willing to tell her about Charlotte. His relationship with Jeri had morphed from professional to personal. For numerous reasons, Jeri was no longer a person of interest in the Ardoin case, but she was still a person connected to the case in a way that couldn’t be ignored. He had to be careful.
He closed his eyes tighter. Nick was in trouble, deep, deep trouble. It had felt so good to hold her.
But tonight wasn’t the night to indulge in his desires. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Jeri, but he was certain they’d been followed. How stupid would it have been to get caught in the middle of a passionate moment by whoever was following them?
In the morning, he’d have to move Jeri again. Nick couldn’t put his sister at any further risk by hanging around. He should probably move them tonight, but he was just so frigging tired. Didn’t matter how exhausted he was though. Sleep wasn’t going to be his new best friend.
Nick slipped off the sofa and went to stand beside the window to peek through the curtains at the street outside. Was there someone out there? He rubbed the grit from eyes and focused. No, it hadn’t been his imagination. They had been followed from his apartment. It had only been a matter of time before the man showed himself. And there the guy was. The Photographer. Nick had their elusive prime suspect in his sights. He could see the camera hanging from his neck. The man was leaning on his car, taunting him.
He snatched his cell from the table and punched the speed dial for his partner. When Petrie finally answered on the tenth ring, Nick explained the situation. “I’m at my sister’s place with Jerilyn, and I can see—”
Petrie spewed all sorts of epithets at him, some of them in a dead language. “That is the worst kind of stupid, Moreau. So she’s back in town, huh? Strange that she shows up and we have another dead woman. Don’t you think? Are you sleeping with her? Is that why you aren’t bringing her in for questioning?”
Nick remained silent longer than he should have. An immediate denial might have been believable, but Nick hadn’t been in the mood to deny anything.
“Well, I hope you at least wore a raincoat because being that chick’s baby daddy would be kinda—”
“You’ve said enough, Petrie.”
He wasn’t going to stand there and listen to his partner talk trash about Jeri.
“This is bad, Moreau, very bad. You can’t get involved with a suspect.”
He’d kissed her. He’d hinted that he wanted more. She’d spoken of them being together, and he hadn’t argued. It was done. They’d started down the path. No going back. Nick had done exactly what he said he wouldn’t do, and by damn, he wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.
“She’s not a suspect.”
“Are you sure about that? Are you in love with her? Because being in love with a suspect will definitely dull your senses.”
He had to think about how best to answer that. “I just met her; so no. It’s much too soon for that. And she’s been ruled out. She’s not a suspect.”
How many times did he have to repeat that? Petrie knew she wasn’t a suspect because Petrie had worked the case with him, had done the legwork to establish her alibi. It had been Petrie who had called him with the results of the DNA tests that connected Jackson Deville to Alison Ardoin. Petrie had reviewed the CCTV video and constructed the timeline for Sheldon Deville’s death, implicating his son Jackson. They’d been looking at Jackson Deville as their prime suspect for weeks.
Why was Petrie acting like a horse’s ass?
“What am I supposed to do? Ignore this? You know, I’ve heard stories about—”
“You’re about to cross a line you can’t uncross.”
If Petrie had mentioned Charlotte Soileau, things might have gotten ragged between them, and they needed to be able to work with each other. And yeah, if Petrie were in the same situation, Nick would bet a million dollars Petrie wouldn’t say no to an obvious physical attraction. So who was Petrie to judge anyone?
And his feelings for Jeri were so much more than just lust.
“So what do you want from me?” Petrie’s question was clipped and crisp with aggravation.
“He’s standing next to my car. Parked down the street from my sister’s place. Maddie lives on Laurel in the Channel. How far away are you?”
“Not far.”
So he was only gonna get chopped off answers from the guy. Fine.
“Let me know when you have him in your sights. I’m gonna leave like I don’t know he’s there, and we’re gonna squeeze him in the middle.”
Nick disconnected the call and went back into the bedroom to peek at Jeri. She lay on her back with her arm over her head, soft snores puffing from her mouth. Without the dark makeup, she kind of looked like a nice girl. The kind of girl his mother might have tried to set him up with if Jeri had been Catholic. She mumbled something and turned onto her side, dislodging the sheet. He slipped into the room and pulled the cover back over her.
Her eyes blinked open. “Nick? Is it morning already?”
“No. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry if I don’t come back soon. This might take awhile.”
She bolted upright. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”
So much for getting her to go back to sleep before he left.
&nbs
p; He caressed the side of her face. “Don’t leave here unless I say so. Okay?”
She stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
“Promise me?”
“But what if—”
He leaned over so their noses were only centimeters apart. “You’ll be safe here so long as you keep the doors locked. I’m not so sure how safe you’d be out there. I promise after we get this guy I’ll come back to tell you what happened. Okay?”
She nodded.
He leaned away from her, but she slid her hand behind his neck and stopped him.
“Be careful, Nick. Please, watch your back out there.”
His heart skipped a beat. Did she sense something bad was about to happen? Was this the night he was going to get shot?
He crossed his heart. “I’ll be extra careful.”
She pressed her lips to his and then released him.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His cell phone buzzed. “I gotta go.”
A couple of minutes later, he was strolling out the front door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He acted as if he didn’t see the man leaning on his car until he was almost on him. Nick gave it another couple of seconds to allow Petrie time to gain a few more feet on the guy from the opposite direction before making eye contact with the man.
“Hey. You. What are you doing?” Nick’s shout broke the quietness of the night.
Deville smirked at Nick and jerked into action. He turned and sprinted, hurling himself right into Petrie. The two men fell to the cracked asphalt and rolled. The guy’s strap broke, and the camera smashed onto the pavement and clattered a foot or so away. The Photographer stretched, grabbed what was left of his camera, and bashed the remains against Petrie’s temple. He must have hit a vein because blood spurted from the cut almost immediately.
Nick was on him as the guy jumped to his feet. Petrie remained on the ground with his hand pressed against the cut, but he still managed to stick a leg out to trip up the man. The guy stumbled and crashed to one knee, bracing himself with one hand on the pavement to keep from falling face first onto the ground. Nick grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and yanked. The man toppled backward into Nick, pushing Nick into Petrie, who was just then unbending into a standing position.
Second Sight (Prescience Series Book 1) Page 22