Like No One Else

by Maureen Smith

  As Tommie checked her reflection in the mirror, she felt a cold draft, a whisper across her skin, as if someone had just walked past. She turned around, eyes narrowed as she quickly scanned the room, checking for feet under the stalls. But the room was empty. And silent.

  Unnaturally silent.

  Get a grip, Tommie told herself, turning back to the mirror. There’s no bogeyman lurking in the stall any more than there was someone hiding in your closet last night!

  Yet she couldn’t help remembering what Paulo had told her that morning about finding the main door to her building unlocked. That, coupled with the sinister presence she’d sensed in her bedroom, made her skin crawl.

  Had an intruder been inside her loft yesterday?

  Again she thought of Maribel Cruz. And now, apparently, another woman had been found dead in her home, according to what little Paulo had shared with her. Two brutal murders in less than one week. Was a serial killer on the loose? Would she have anything in common with the second victim, as she had with Maribel?

  Tommie stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, eyes wide as saucers in her face.

  Good Lord. She couldn’t go back out there looking like this. Zhane would take one look at her and think something terrible had happened, and she couldn’t have him worrying about her when he had enough to worry about with his poor nephew lying at death’s door.

  Get yourself together, girlfriend.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Tommie reached inside her purse for a tube of lipstick. As she rummaged around, her cell phone rang. She grabbed it and brought it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  There was no answer.

  “Hello?” she repeated.

  Dead silence.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose. A cold shiver trickled down her spine.

  Calm down. It must be a wrong number. Or someone’s playing a dumb joke on you. Today’s Friday the thirteenth, remember?

  But as she started to hang up, she heard the soft, haunting strains of classical music. It took a moment before she recognized the song. A song she had danced to countless times in her starring role as Eurydice in Black Orpheus.

  Which the caller must have known.

  “Who is this?” she whispered, fear knotting her stomach.

  The phone went dead.

  Her heart pounded.

  Suddenly the bathroom door burst open.

  Tommie let out a startled shriek.

  A young woman entered the room, herding a small, dark-haired girl who was pulling up her corduroy dress and whining, “I have to go, Mommy! Hurry!”

  The woman gave Tommie a brief, embarrassed smile before following her daughter into a stall and shutting the door.

  Hand pressed to her galloping heart, Tommie closed her eyes and blew out a deep, shaky breath. She’d never been more relieved in her life to see another person in the restroom! She’d been so terrified a moment ago that if she hadn’t already emptied her bladder, she would have peed her pants when the door suddenly burst open.

  When she heard a plaintive “Uh-oh, Mommy, I didn’t make it” from inside the stall, a helpless giggle bubbled up in her throat. Afraid the poor woman would think she was laughing at her daughter’s misfortune, Tommie stuffed her phone back into her purse and hustled out of the bathroom.

  Once she reached the waiting room, she received another shock that brought her up short.

  Paulo was standing across the room talking to Zhane.

  When he glanced up and saw her frozen in the doorway, his dark eyes softened in a way that melted her insides.

  Oh, God. Please help me.

  “Hey,” she murmured, stepping into the room. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I got your message,” Paulo said simply.

  Tommie just stared at him.

  Zakia Jeffers and Lavar Masters had gone home shortly after Tommie arrived that afternoon, promising to return early in the morning to continue their son’s bedside vigil. Not wanting to leave Zhane alone at the hospital, especially on the night of his dance company’s performance, Tommie had called Paulo to let him know she wouldn’t be able to have dinner with him that evening. She’d left the message on his voice mail, figuring he’d be so busy with the new murder investigation that she wouldn’t hear from him for days.

  She certainly hadn’t expected him to show up at the hospital.

  Zhane planted his hands on his narrow hips, looking indignant. “Sugarplum, why didn’t you tell me you had plans with Paulo this evening?”

  Tommie grinned sheepishly. “Because I knew you wouldn’t let me stay if I told you.”

  Zhane sputtered. “You’re damned right I wouldn’t have. This man works his ass off all day trying to keep the streets of Houston safe. And this is how you repay him? By skipping out on dinner with him?”

  Tommie gaped at Paulo, whose eyes were glimmering with amusement. “What did you say to him?” she demanded accusingly.

  Paulo blinked innocently. “Nothing.”

  “He didn’t have to say anything!” Zhane interjected. In a gentler tone, he said, “Now, you know I always enjoy your company, sugarplum, but it’s time for you to go.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I insist.” Before she could protest again, he grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair, draped it around her shoulders, then gently but firmly steered her from the room.

  At the doorway Tommie paused, laying a hand against his face as she searched his eyes. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  He smiled. “I’ll be just fine.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  As Paulo snagged Tommie’s hand, leading her away, Zhane called after them, “You kids have fun. And don’t hurt yourself doing too many pirouettes, sugarplum!”

  Tommie laughed. “I’ll try not to!”

  Paulo gave her a puzzled look. “Pirouettes?”

  “Mmm. I’ll tell you later.” She reached up, nibbled his earlobe. “Much later.”

  Chapter 19

  An hour later, Tommie polished off her fifth slice of pepperoni pizza and pushed her plate away with a deep sigh of satisfaction. “That was absolutely wonderful.”

  Lying beside her on the living room floor with an empty pizza box wedged between them and a drowsy fire crackling in the fireplace, Paulo gave her a soft, indulgent smile. “You’re not very hard to please, are you?”

  Tommie laughed. “Not when it comes to food. Especially if I’m starving. Which I was.”

  “I noticed. Why didn’t you get something to eat from the cafeteria?”

  She gave a mild shudder. “I may be greedy, but I draw the line at eating hospital food. Yuck.”

  Paulo chuckled, shaking his head at her. “What if you ever need to be hospitalized?”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  He arched a brow. “Really? What about when you’re in the hospital for three days after giving birth? What’re you gonna do then? Starve yourself?”

  Tommie sniffed. “Assuming that ever happens, my loving, doting husband—or whoever is responsible for knocking me up—will have to bring me food from outside everyday. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a light evening snack.” She shrugged. “I figure that’s the least he can do for putting me through nine months of hell.”

  Paulo grinned, giving his head another shake. “Damn, you’re spoiled.”

  She sighed. “But I’m so worth it.”

  “If you say so.”

  She kicked him on the leg and he laughed. Grinning, she plucked up her glass of cabernet sauvignon and took a long, appreciative sip. “Mmm, that is so good.”

  “It is,” Paulo agreed. “You’ve got quite a wine selection.”

  “It was a going-away present from a friend. He works as a sommelier in New York, took it upon himself to teach me everything he knew about wine.” She smiled. “He was appalled by my preference for margaritas, didn’t want me embarrass
ing him every time we dined at a fine restaurant.”

  Paulo chuckled dryly. “You’ve got some very interesting friends, querida.”

  “Aren’t they great? I miss that Myles.” She ran her tongue over her lips to savor the taste of the wine. “I think I’ll introduce him to Zhane at some point. They’d probably hit it off right away.”

  “Or so you hope.”

  “I know. Playing matchmaker for friends is always a risk.” She sighed wistfully. “But Zhany’s lonely. He needs someone.”

  “He has someone—you.”

  Hearing the jealous edge to his voice, Tommie laughed. “Why, Paulo, if I didn’t know better, I would think you felt threatened by Zhane.”

  Paulo shrugged, a surly grin tugging at his mouth. “He’s the other man in your life. Why wouldn’t I feel a little threatened?”

  Tommie stared at him, afraid to believe her ears weren’t deceiving her. Afraid to realize how much she wanted what he seemed to be offering. “What are we doing here, Paulo?” she whispered.

  He met her gaze. “Right now? We’re having a pleasant conversation that we probably shouldn’t ruin with things neither of us is ready to discuss.”

  Tommie went still. She’d received the message loud and clear, and was surprised by how hurt she felt. And disappointed.

  What did you expect? her conscience mocked. A declaration of undying love and devotion after just one night of incredible lovemaking? This is Paulo Sanchez we’re talking about, the man who flirted shamelessly with you at your sister’s wedding, then went home with another woman. The man who thought nothing of using your words against you and humiliating you just to score a point. He’s made it clear he’s not interested in having a serious relationship, and you shouldn’t be, either!

  Wordlessly she got up and gathered their empty plates and trash and carried them into the kitchen. She stiffened as Paulo came up behind her, placed his hands on her tense shoulders, and turned her gently around. When she refused to lift her eyes, he put his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his dark, penetrating gaze.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said quietly. “That comment I made about feeling threatened by Zhane. I meant it. But I didn’t mean to say it, not yet, and it scares the hell out of me to realize just how easy it’s becoming to let down my guard with you.”

  Tommie swallowed, her heart thudding. “I’m scared, too.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded. “I’ve had rotten luck with relationships.”

  He smiled faintly. “Then we should probably run as far away from each other as possible.”

  She let out a whispery laugh. “Probably.”

  Sobering, Paulo searched her eyes with his own. “I was married once before.”

  Tommie stared at him, surprised.

  “Her name was Jacinta. We met eight years ago, thought we wanted the same things out of life. Turns out we didn’t. I wanted kids, she didn’t. I wanted to remain a cop, she wanted me to take a six-figure job as head of security at my family’s law firm. She couldn’t understand why I had turned down the offer, and she let her feelings be known every chance she got. The marriage was a disaster, doomed from the start, and two years later she did us both a favor by asking for a divorce. I can’t even say it was entirely her fault we didn’t work out. I made a real mess of things, made a lot of mistakes I can never undo.” His voice softened. “I want to take my time with you, Tommie. I want to see where this road is going to lead us. Can we do that together?”

  “I suppose.” She shrugged, smiling. “I’m not doing anything else at the moment.”

  Paulo smiled, gently brushing his knuckles over her cheek. The gesture was so tender it made her throat ache.

  After another moment Tommie turned away, busying herself with straightening up the kitchen. “I was surprised when you showed up at the hospital tonight. I thought you’d be tied up with that new murder investigation all weekend.”

  “I wanted to see you.” He corked the bottle of wine, returned it to the refrigerator. “I’m worried about you.”

  Tommie stared at him. “Why?”

  She could tell by the grim set of his mouth that she wasn’t going to like what she heard. “You may have met the second victim as well.”

  She felt a tremor of foreboding. “What do you mean? Where?”

  “At the same performance attended by Maribel Cruz in February.”

  “You found another autographed dance program?” At his tight nod, Tommie whispered, “Oh my God.”

  Paulo walked to the hall closet to retrieve the latest victim’s photo from his jacket. When he returned and showed it to Tommie, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she didn’t recognize the smiling, beautiful blonde in the snapshot.

  “I don’t remember her,” she murmured.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. That doesn’t mean I didn’t meet her, I just don’t remember her.” She passed the photo back to him, then rubbed the goose bumps prickling her bare arms. “You think the killer was at the performance?”

  “It’s highly possible,” Paulo muttered.

  Tommie shivered. Had she come within striking distance of pure evil and not even known it?

  Paulo said briskly, “I’ve contacted someone at Jones Hall and asked for a complete list of attendees to that evening’s performance based on ticket sales. I also requested a copy of the video. With any luck there’s some footage of the audience.”

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” Tommie told him. “It was a packed house that night. Close to three thousand people, we were told. Might be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

  “I know. But it’s worth a shot.”

  Tommie nodded. “What are the odds of two women who attended the same ballet performance months ago being killed within days of each other? Is it just a horrible, tragic coincidence?”

  Paulo’s gaze was steady, unblinking. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  She swallowed, raked a trembling hand through her hair. “I need a drink,” she muttered, returning to the living room where she’d left her glass of wine on the table. She gulped down the rest of the cabernet sauvignon, then, still feeling chilled, sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace.

  Paulo walked over and stretched out beside her on the floor. Gazing into the leaping flames, he murmured, “There’s something you’re not telling me. Something that’s been bothering you. What is it?”

  Closing her eyes, Tommie blew out a deep, shaky breath. “Last night after class, when I was getting dressed in my bedroom, I thought…I sensed that someone was in there with me.”

  “In your bedroom?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t see or hear anything. It was just an eerie feeling I had, like I was being watched. I half convinced myself I was just being paranoid, but then when you told me this morning that you’d found the main door unlocked when you came over last night…”

  “You knew someone else had been inside the building,” Paulo finished.

  Tommie opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was taut, tense with worry. “After what happened tonight at the hospital,” she whispered, “I’m almost convinced someone else was here yesterday.”

  “What the hell happened at the hospital?”

  “When I was in the restroom, I got a call on my cell phone. The caller never said a word. But there was music playing softly in the background.”

  “Music?”

  “Yes.” She drew a shallow breath, felt her skin prickle at the memory. “It was a song from Black Orpheus, which I danced to at the concert in February.”

  “Ay Dios mio!” Paulo exploded, lunging to his feet with the agility of a panther. An enraged panther. “Goddamn it, Tommie! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “I was just so surprised to see you at the hospital. I guess I forgot—”

  “You forgot? Some lunatic called you and played music from on
e of your performances—a performance attended by two women who are now dead—and you forgot to mention it?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry,” Tommie said feebly.

  His black brows slammed together in a ferocious scowl. He jabbed a finger at her, opened his mouth as if to let her have it again, then seemed to reconsider. As if he’d realized he might say something he would later regret.

  She watched in wary silence as he began pacing up and down the floor, muttering profanities in Spanish and English that singed her ears. “That’s it,” he growled, reaching a decision. “You’re coming home with me. No way in hell are you staying here alone.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing! It’s too damned dangerous for you to stay here!”

  “Listen to me,” she tried again, striving for a calm, reasonable tone. “I need to be here. I have morning classes on Monday and Tuesday before the Thanksgiving break. Traffic in this city is horrendous. I was almost late to class yesterday when I spent the night at your apartment.”

  “Then I’m staying here,” Paulo said flatly. Daring her to defy him.

  She had no intention of doing so. “Okay.”

  He glowered at her, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “Okay,” she repeated, in case he hadn’t heard her over the red haze of fury fogging his brain.

  He nodded curtly.

  “Now will you do me a favor?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She patted the floor beside her. “Come sit back down.”

  He hesitated, then slowly walked over and lowered himself to the floor.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, stifling a smile. “You were making me a little nervous, prowling back and forth like a caged lion.”

  “Your life is in danger, Tommie,” he bit out. “I don’t think that’s a laughing matter.”

  “I’m not laughing, believe me. The idea of being stalked by some homicidal maniac scares the crap out of me. I have a security system that I always remember to activate. If someone got inside the building without my knowledge, then it can only mean one thing. He has a key.”