by Linda Verji
Her smile deepened. "I can say it again when you get here tomorrow."
Relief, happiness and anticipation welled inside him as he held her gaze. "You'll have to."
CHAPTER 32
She couldn't wait for Danny to get home.
Misha woke up the next day, giddy with anticipation for his return. Even the arrival of a court order, commanding her not to say a word about any evidence collected in the course of the Wilde investigation, before she'd even taken her breakfast wasn't enough to dim her excitement.
As soon as she was done getting ready for the day she called for a cab. When it arrived she directed it to Danny's apartment. Thirty minutes later she was pressing her key into the lock, unlocking the door and making her way to his bedroom so she could pack him some clothes. A wicked smile creased her face as she packed up way more stuff than he'd need for a one night stay. She'd enjoy 'convincing' him to spend the whole week at her place.
After last night's conversation and her confessions all she wanted was to be in his arms. She hadn't planned to tell him that she loved him. But in that moment, seeing how much he cared for her everything had fallen into place. The puzzle pieces in her mind had come together smoothly as the realization struck her;
She loved him.
Deeply. Irrevocably.
She'd fallen so deeply in love with him that she couldn't climb out of it even if she was given a rope and a ladder. It was no use denying it or keeping it from him. The look in his eyes when the words had fallen from her lips had been worth the bravery it'd taken to confess them, and she couldn't wait to say them to him again.
As she zipped up one of his suits into a garment bag, her mind wandered back to their conversation and his question about her return to the Middle East. Honestly, she was torn. It was all confusing, head aching. Why wasn't there someone who could tell her what to do? Oh wait. There was…
"Heart Connections By Donna V." Misha's niece's peppy voice soared through the line announcing their family matchmaking business. "How may we help you?"
"Hi, Cara," Misha greeted. "Is Aiko there? I can't reach her on her number."
Cara laughed. "Her phone fell into last night's stew. Let me patch you through to her."
"Thank you," Misha said, amusement coloring her voice. When Aiko got on the line, she teased, "I hear you're into phone-stew these days, Chef."
"You know how I do. Always trying new recipes." Aiko chuckled. "What's up?"
"Nothing much." Misha paused for a moment then confessed, "Danny and I are dating."
"About. Damn. Time." Aiko enunciated each word. There was a smile in her voice as she added, "I was starting to think I'd have to intervene. And you know how I don't like to get into people's business."
"Girl, please." Misha chuckled. "You own a matchmaking agency. You're always in someone's business."
"I'll let that go just because I'm so happy for you. Yasss," Aiko squealed. "Congratulations, Misha. And Yes-"
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I'll be your Maid of Honor."
"Ain't nobody getting married."
"Psh." Aiko dismissed. "I bet if I ask Danny he'll have another story."
"Speaking of him…" Misha stopped speaking, searching her mind for the words to express her concerns. She finally confessed, "He wants me to quit the International desk."
"He said that?"
"Not in so many words." Misha corrected herself, "Actually he didn't say it but I know him and I know it's just a matter of time. What should I say when he asks?"
"What do you want to say?"
"I don't know." Misha settled on his bed. "You know how much I love my job."
"I know." Her cousin asked, "But is it the job you love, or the perks?"
"Both." Misha listed the pros, " It was the next logical step after I was done with the crime desk, and I worked so hard for it. It's one of those opportunities that only comes once in a lifetime and I had to practically beat off the competition. I mean, the money's good but what I love most is the results. It makes me happy to see people getting justice and the truth being revealed."
"So it makes you happy?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Misha nodded. Her brow wrinkled as she added, "But Danny makes me happy too. If I keep on working the international desk it will mean spending a lot of time away from Danny. A lot."
"Yup," Aiko agreed. "And in some dangerous countries."
"It's not as dangerous out there as the news makes it out to be. In fact, except for official war zones, I suspect we've got a higher crime-rate than many of the supposed 'dangerous' countries." Misha conceded, "But I won't lie that I've not been in quite a few hairy situations that had me questioning my profession."
"Enough to want to quit?"
No. Not seriously. But… She pressed her fingers to her temple as she confessed, "It's more complicated than that."
"How?"
Misha curved an arm over her stomach. "I might be pregnant."
Aiko's shocked, "Oh," cut across the line.
"Yeah." Misha hadn't confirmed it or anything but considering how she and Danny had been going at it like rabbits without a leash it was likely. And even if she wasn't pregnant, she wanted to be.
She wanted a child. His child.
"Wow." Aiko sucked in a sharp breath. "Okay. This changes things."
Ya think? Could Misha drag her pregnant ass to cover another stolen election where there was likely to be a stampede and she'd have to run? Could she expose her baby to whizzing bullets and stones as another group of enraged students or citizens traded fire with the police?
"What will you do?"
"That's why I called you." Misha slumped backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. "To tell me what to do."
Aiko laughed. "You know I can't do that."
"But you're really good at these things." Misha twirled her fingers over her tummy. "Don't you spend your days telling people what to do, who to be with?"
"Not really." Aiko chuckled again. "I just guide them."
"Then guide me, Sensei. I await your instructions."
"Babe, I can't make this decision for you."
"But whyyy?" Misha whined.
"Cause it's your life." Her cousin added, "But what I'm getting is that you love to see the truth being revealed and people getting justice. It's not about the money. You don't want to give that up, but you also don't want to lose Danny or risk your child's safety."
God, this woman knew her so well. Misha nodded emphatically. "Exactly."
"Have you thought about other ways you could do that and still get to be with Danny and have a family?"
Misha squinted. "Not really."
"Maybe that's what you should be doing," Aiko suggested. "I know they say you can't have your cake and eat it too. But you're Misha Alexander. You can find a way. Think."
"Thinking's so hard." Misha groaned. "And this feels like homework."
"Chop chop, Miss Alexander," her cousin teased with a laugh in her voice. "I want that essay on my desk by Monday."
"I hate you." Misha ended the call with a smile. Despite her whining, the conversation with Aiko had given her food for thought. Was there a way she could have her cake and eat it too?
The question hounded her as she finished packing then totted Danny's sports bag down the elevator and to the lobby. Her cab was still waiting for her at the entrance to his building.
"We're going back-" She started to say as she settled into the cab but then changed her mind. "No, let's head to Central Booking."
In her eagerness to see Danny again while trying to figure out her future she'd almost forgotten the case. She needed to see Pip and get his side of the story. Hopefully, the Wildes hadn't beaten her to the punch yet.
She was up for severe disappointment.
Oh yes, they had. Or if they hadn't someone was trying to make sure no one else got to Pip.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am." The officer at Central Booking's front desk said firmly, "The only person allowed to see the accused is h
is lawyer."
"Can't I see him for a minute, Officer?" Misha pleaded desperately. "He's my friend."
The bald, middle-aged officer was unmoved. "Sorry, No. You'll have to wait until after he's arraigned in court."
"But that will be too late." She huffed a frustrated breath.
The officer shrugged.
Not one to give in easily she tried again, "Please."
Her numerous pleas fell on deaf ears. The officer was as immoveable as a wall, his expression resolute and unchanged. Misha was on the verge of giving up when a thirty-something, dark-haired, olive-skinned woman who could've given Misha a run for her money in the curvy department walked up to the counter.
"Scott, how are-" The woman started to greet the officer, but when she saw Misha, she paused as her eyes lit up in immediate recognition. Her cheeks dimpled in a smile. "Misha? Hi. How are you?"
"I'm fine." Misha smiled even though she had no idea who the woman was. "You?"
"Good. Good." The woman's eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't remember me, do you?"
Misha gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, no."
"We met at the prosecutor's office when you came to see the ADA."
The light-bulb in Misha's brain immediately flickered on. "Oh. The receptionist."
"See, you know me." The woman's smiled. "But I have a name. Camille."
"I'm sorry. My memories sometimes…" Misha stretched out her hand. "It's great to see you again, Camille." The name pinged a bell in Misha's memory, but she sidestepped it as she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Dropping off some documents." Camille waved the folder she was carrying. "No rest for the single. For some reason people seem to think that we have nothing better to do than run errands for them. I can't even take my lunch break in peace before someone finds a way to interrupt it." She pushed the folder toward the officer who was watching, "Scott, these are the documents Guy Martin's lawyer was asking for."
"They were supposed to be here yesterday," Scott complained as he picked them up. "His lawyer's been patrolling here and threatening all kinds of legal action."
"Kill the D.A." Camille shrugged. "I'm just the messenger." She turned back to Misha. "What are you doing here?"
Misha hesitated. Did she want people knowing she was here to see Pip? What if it got back to the Wildes? Then again, Camille had connections to the D.A. Maybe she could swing a visitation. Misha confessed, "I'm here to see Pip… um… Phillip… uh…" Good gracious, she didn't even know Pip's surname.
But, apparently, Camille already knew him. "The guy who killed Eric Ingram?"
"Allegedly," Scott, the officer cut in. "Allegedly."
"Really, Scott? Allegedly?" Camille shook her head. "Don't tell me he got to you too with all his weeping and saying how innocent he is."
"What can I say?" Scott shrugged.
Camille rolled her eyes as she turned back to Misha. "Everyone knows Scottie's a softie."
"Is he?" Misha didn't believe it for a second. She cast a jaundiced eye at 'Scottie'. "Didn't seem like it when he was refusing to let me see Pip."
"Oh, that's not Scott's fault." Camille leaned forward and murmured in confidential tones, "It’s the D.A. He doesn't want some… powerful people muddying the waters before we get to court."
Good for the D.A. Obviously he'd also realized that, given a chance, the Wildes would interfere. Misha felt some of her confidence in the justice system return.
"Oops. Look at that time," Camille turned her startled gaze to the large clock on the wall. "Got to go."
With a promise to see Scott later and a 'great to see you again' to Misha, Camille bade them goodbye. Misha stared after the retreating woman thoughtfully, trying to figure out where she'd heard the woman's name.
It bothered her to no end. It bothered as she dropped by the precinct hoping to get a glimpse of Pip's statement but didn't find Tony. It bothered her as she left a message on his phone telling him to call her. Bothered her as she smiled when she received Danny's message that he'd just boarded his flight back to New York. It bothered her as she made her way home. It even bothered her as she started cooking in preparation for Danny's arrival.
Where had she heard the woman's name before today?
The question interspersed with her dilemma over what she'd do when she left the International desk. It was only as she was bending to set the chicken into the oven that she realized it, she'd thought of it as when, not if. She paused in her actions, her eyes widening as she straightened to her full height. What? Apparently, her subconscious had already made the decision for her.
Then what was she going to do about her career? She tucked the chicken into the oven, slammed the door closed before standing with her hand to her throat. Was going back to the crime desk a backward step? Actually was it even an option? Would NTN still keep her? If they didn't, how easy would it be to find another job with the current employment climate?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, she cursed her subconscious for writing checks she wasn't sure she was brave enough to cash. The thought of giving up everything she'd gotten so used to and starting over was terrifying. It was the same feeling she'd had when she'd quit her Medical School dreams.
Think of what you got in return, her memory reminded her. A new dream that had given her a lot more happiness than being a doctor could've given her. Perhaps this was what life was about. Being flexible enough to accept change and courageous enough to find a new path whenever life forced you into it.
She sighed as she started cutting up the veggies. In her heart of hearts she knew this was the right decision. Finding her feet again would be hard - of that she had no doubt- but she was also sure that she could do it.
She was Misha Alexander.
She'd climbed higher mountains, scaled their peaks and planted her flag. She could do this. And if Danny was there to support her - as she hoped he would be - then it would make the journey bearable and all the more worth it. As for this particular moment, her time was better spent on solving the current puzzle on her lap not worrying about the future.
Who killed Eric Ingram?
Despite all the evidence pointing at them, Misha doubted that it was Pip or Lauren,. They were too convenient. Hacking the carrots on the plastic cutting board into several identical pieces, Misha mentally flipped through her other list of suspects.
Abigail? Maybe. Actually no. The young woman might've had access to Eric's leverage, but she didn't have access to Pip's room. Richard? He'd already been alibied out. She didn't know what he and Senator Leakey were up to that night but Misha was certain that had he been the murderer the Senator would be trying hard as hell to distance himself from him. Politicians were predictable like that.
Katherine? Misha cut into the red peppers with more force than was necessary. God, how Misha wanted that lady to be guilty. The older woman was still a strong suspect. Motive; Eric was threatening her family. Means: she could've bought the gun, killed Eric and planted it in Pip's room. Alibi: More holey than a sieve. Pip was her only alibi, and he'd already been proved unreliable. Katherine had motive, means and no alibi but…
There was no proof tying her to the murder.
Damn it! Misha swiped the back of her hand to get rid of the tears before she lowered her knife back to the onion she was slicing. If Katherine was the killer, how could she prove it? Where could she find ev-
Misha paused her cutting
There was someone she was forgetting in her line of suspects. Someone who had access to Pip's room and could've planted the .38. Someone who had as much reason as any Wilde to want Eric gone. Now that Misha thought about it, this person's leverage was the only one she hadn't seen - only been told about. Maybe the person's whole story was a lie and Eric's leverage on that someone was something worse than she thought.
Something worth killing for.
It was then that the truth smacked her in the face.
She knew exactly where she'd heard Camille's name. Her mind circled around the very ob
vious lie the person had told her about Camille. That lie wasn't conclusive proof but Misha's instincts were flaring like an alarm and telling her she was on to something. If she picked up her phone right now could she poke a few holes into that persons alibi? Very likely. Her conviction grew that she'd finally pinpointed Eric Ingram's real killer.
It was…
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the ringing of her phone. As if in concert to the phone, she heard knocking on the back door. The phone was much closer. Her decision to deal with the phone first was rewarded when she saw Danny's name flash on screen.
Her pulse already dancing a happy tune, she smiled and pressed the answer button. "Hollis."
"Alexander." She could hear the smile in his voice even over the line… as well as the insistent tapping on the back door. She hadn’t heard a car coming up the driveway so it could only be one person.
"Baby, Geneva's at the door," she said as she made her way past the pantry toward the back door. "Could you hold for a minute?"
"Okay."
She kept him on the line as she turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack. "Hi, Mrs. Gene-" Her words died when she saw who was on the other side.
"Misha," said Bradley Wilde as he gave her a wide-toothed grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I'd like to talk to you. Can I come in?"
Oh. Shit.
Keep calm. Keep calm. And get rid of him.
"I'm sorry, Bradley. I've got this really important call I'm making. Can we talk tomorrow?" She firmly pushed on the door to close it.
But Bradley was insistent. He applied his own considerable strength to the other side, topping her desperate push. With another shove, he pushed his way into her house.
"No, I think now is a good time to talk," he said in a hard voice as he pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket.
CHAPTER 33
In a cab ten minutes away from Misha's house, Danny was listening to the whole conversation in dawning horror. The instant he'd heard Bradley's voice, Danny had realized that something wasn't quite right. What would the man be doing in Misha's house at this time of the evening? How did he even know her address?