Like No One Else

by Maureen Smith

  “We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Tommie muttered, unnerved by his presumptuousness. Unnerved by the entire conversation. “I really have to go, Richard.”

  “Of course. Please convey my congratulations to your lucky fiancé.”

  “I will.” Tommie hung up, then shuddered. Now that she was engaged, with any luck she’d finally heard the last of Richard Houghton.

  Shoving the thought aside, she returned to the paperwork she’d been reviewing before Richard called. She’d dismissed her last class of the day an hour ago, and had vowed to get as much work done as possible before Paulo came home.

  She smiled at the thought, marveling at how right it sounded. As natural as falling asleep in his arms last night, and waking up with him buried deep inside her. She flushed with pleasure as her mind conjured an image of their entwined bodies, the sinewy cords of his muscles straining as he thrust into her, the way his black hair fell over his eyes as he called her name and clutched her as if he’d never let go. Even before he’d proposed she had been fantasizing about what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with Paulo, to live together as man and wife. She had no illusions about his job; she knew the long hours and dangerous nature of his cases would take some getting used to. But the nights, oh, the nights, would be nothing short of spectacular.

  They’d stayed at his cousins’ house until well after midnight, drinking wine and basking in the family’s joy and excitement. By the time they left, Tommie swore she’d spoken on the phone to every living member of the Santiago family. Paulo’s parents and siblings were shocked but pleased that he was taking another chance on love. Tommie, who’d decided to tell her own parents over Thanksgiving dinner, had sworn Frankie and Sebastien to secrecy, because of course she couldn’t keep such a big announcement from her sister. Her ears were still ringing from Frankie’s—as well as Zhane’s—ecstatic squealing.

  Tommie was so preoccupied with her happy musings that she forgot she’d turned on the office television set for background noise. The midday news broadcast had just come on the air.

  “In our top story this afternoon, the police may have a break in the case of two local women who were found brutally murdered in their homes this week, but it’s not the break they could possibly have anticipated.”

  Tommie’s head snapped up, her nerves instinctively tightening.

  The newscaster continued. “In a stunning development in the case, we’ve just learned that investigators have positively identified a partial fingerprint found on a spare key that was used by the perpetrator to enter the second victim’s home. Unnamed police sources have confirmed that the fingerprint belongs to the lead homicide investigator, Detective Paulo Sanchez.”

  Tommie gasped, shooting to her feet even as the blood drained from her head.

  “We’re taking you live to police headquarters downtown, where we’re awaiting a press conference from police captain Shane Boulware. Mika, what can you tell us about this shocking new development in the case?”

  The camera went to an attractive, dark-haired reporter standing outside the bustling police station. “Thanks, Gina. Shock is the right word to describe the mood around here. Detective Paulo Sanchez is a seventeen-year veteran of the police force with an impressive service record. Two years ago, after taking a short-term sabbatical to deal with some undisclosed personal issues, he transferred to the Houston Police Department from his hometown of San Antonio. Colleagues describe him as a sharp, aggressive investigator whose methodical investigative work has provided leads in numerous cold-case murders. It is not known at this point whether homicide investigators believe Sanchez, one of their very own, could have committed these heinous murders, but just to put things in perspective for our viewers, we’re now learning about the details surrounding the murder of a San Antonio woman six years ago.”

  No, Tommie thought desperately, wrapping her arms around her stomach and choking down the bile rising in her throat. No, no, no. It’s not possible. God can’t be this cruel!

  “Hailey Morrisette was brutally raped and murdered, her body found buried in the woods two days after she’d been reported missing. Then, as now, Detective Sanchez was the lead investigator in the case. But what he failed to disclose at the time was that he’d been having an extramarital affair with Morrisette.”

  A hoarse scream of denial erupted from Tommie’s lips as a photo of a beautiful blond woman flashed on the screen. She stared at the picture in horrified disbelief, shaken by the uncanny resemblance between Hailey Morrisette and Ashton Dupree.

  “Morrisette’s killer was never caught,” the reporter continued, driving the dagger into Tommie’s heart with each devastating word. “But three years after her murder, in a dramatic turn of events, Morrisette’s younger sister went on a killing spree, murdering five prominent businessmen she claimed were responsible for her sister’s death. She pled not guilty by reason of insanity and was committed to a state mental hospital. But to this day, prosecutors believe that Hailey Morrisette’s real killer is still at large.”

  Tommie was trembling violently and shaking her head in virulent denial, unable to believe what she was hearing. In just the blink of an eye, she’d been wrenched from her rapturous utopia and thrust into a nightmare reality. She should have known. Experience had taught her that the higher she soared, the harder her fall back to earth.

  “As you might imagine,” the reporter was saying, blissfully oblivious of the torment she was causing Tommie, “the Morrisette case has fueled speculation about Detective Sanchez’s possible involvement in the recent murders of Maribel Cruz and Ashton Dupree, both of whom he knew. According to an anonymous police source, Dupree, a stripper at a local nightclub, was arrested for soliciting an undercover cop four months ago. When she was brought to the police station for booking, she and Sanchez had what one eyewitness described as a ‘passionate reunion.’ Sanchez later intervened on Dupree’s behalf, getting the charges against her reduced to a fine. Shortly afterward, Sanchez and Dupree were overheard having a heated argument, after which Dupree stormed out of his office.” The reporter paused, glancing over her shoulder before turning around and adding, “At the time of our reporting, Detective Sanchez could not be reached for comment. We’re staying on top of this unfolding situation and will bring you live coverage of the press conference once it gets under way. Back to you in the studio, Gina.”

  No sooner had the news report ended than Tommie heard the bell above the main door tinkle softly. Her heart lurched to her throat. She bolted from the office, knowing Paulo had let himself in with his key even before she saw him striding swiftly toward her with a look of fierce desperation.

  “Tommie—”

  “How could you!” she choked out, her voice trembling with anguished fury. “How could you keep those things from me? How?”

  “You have to let me explain,” Paulo said urgently.

  “Now you want to explain?” she demanded in outraged disbelief. “Now? After you’ve made love to me, made me believe I could trust you, made me fall in love with you? Now you want to explain?”

  “Tommie,” he tried again, reaching for her shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried, jerking out of his grasp and backing away from him, her hands thrown up to ward him off.

  He stared at her, chest heaving, black eyes glittering with feverish intensity. “I know how shocked and hurt you must be feeling right now, but you have to listen to me, Tommie. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  She glared at him, her heart hammering so hard she thought it would burst through her chest. “I confided in you, poured my heart out to you. I shared a painful, humiliating secret with you that I’d never told anyone else! Why didn’t you trust me enough to do the same?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled, jaw clenched.

  “You don’t know,” Tommie mocked bitterly. “So it never occurred to you that I might want to know that the man I was falling in love with had cheated on his first wife with a woman who wound up brutall
y murdered? And when you were telling me about Ashton Dupree’s murder, you didn’t think it was worth mentioning that you and she were lovers?”

  “No,” he growled, “because we weren’t lovers. We were childhood friends, nothing more!”

  “That’s not what some of your colleagues seem to think,” she flung at him.

  “I don’t give a damn what they think!” Paulo roared, his face hardening with fury as he advanced on her. “All I care about is what you think, and if you stand there and tell me you actually believe I’m capable of murder, I’m walking out that door right now.”

  “Damn you!” Tommie hissed furiously. “You’re in no position to be making threats. You lied to me!”

  “I didn’t lie to you,” he bit out.

  “Right,” she said, sneering. “You just committed the sin of omission. No big deal.”

  “Damn it, Tommie, I didn’t kill anyone!”

  “Why did you cover up your affair with that woman in San Antonio?”

  “Because I was ashamed!” he exploded, his face inches from hers. “Getting involved with Hailey Morrisette was a huge mistake, one that I’ll regret for the rest of my damned life. Whatever else you might think of me and my track record with women, believe me when I tell you that cheating on my wife was the absolute last thing I’d ever planned.”

  “It just happened, right?” Tommie couldn’t keep the bitter mockery from her voice.

  Paulo lifted his head and took a step backward, a muscle working in his jaw, a dangerous glint in his eyes that warned her not to push her luck. When he spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I met Hailey when I was at the lowest point in my marriage. She was smart, funny, and the way she looked reminded me of Ashton, a woman I’d known since we were kids in summer camp. One day Hailey invited me out for coffee, then it was lunch, and things just spun out of control after that. Jaci and I were miserable with each other, two strangers living under the same roof. But that’s no excuse for what I did. I not only broke my marriage vows, I ruined Hailey’s life. She made the mistake of falling in love with me. She wanted me to leave my wife, and the more I refused, the unhappier she became. Damn it, I’m not proud of the way I handled things. If I had a chance to do it over again, I swear I’d do things a helluva lot differently. But I don’t have that option.”

  He blew out a ragged breath and jammed a trembling hand through his hair. “After Hailey was killed, I felt even guiltier. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Hell, no one deserves to die like that. I started having nightmares, horrifying nightmares of what had been done to her. To cope with the guilt I was feeling I started smoking again, and my drinking got even worse. By the time Jaci asked for a divorce I was a complete disaster, a train wreck waiting to happen. She’s lucky she got out when she did. As for me, it would be another four years before I could climb my way out of a bottle. How I managed to still do my job during that time is a miracle in and of itself.” He shuddered, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if to shut out the painful memories.

  Tommie stared at his haggard, handsome face, her heart constricting with compassion, aching with love. She wanted to comfort him, soothe him, heal all his wounds. She wanted to take him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She was too afraid. Afraid to trust, afraid to be hurt again.

  And when he opened his eyes and saw the fear reflected in hers, his face darkened. “You still don’t believe me,” he whispered in wounded disbelief. “My God, you believe everything you just heard on the news, don’t you? You think I killed those women!”

  Tommie shook her head vehemently. “No! I don’t—”

  “Damn it, don’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t know what to think!” she burst out, frustrated. “You’re telling me you didn’t sleep with Ashton Dupree, but you were overheard arguing with her, and your fingerprint was found at her damned house. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

  His mouth twisted cynically. “You’re supposed to think that someone’s setting me up,” he snarled, his voice vibrating with controlled fury. “You’re supposed to remember the conversation we just had about being in this together. You’re supposed to trust me, believe in me. You’re supposed to act like someone who claims to love me. You’re not supposed to put me in the same category as the sorry bastard who betrayed you.”

  Tommie flinched at his harsh words, hurt flaring in her chest, tears springing to her eyes. She took a step backward. “I think you should go,” she whispered.

  Pain flashed in his eyes. His nostrils flared. “Damn it, Tommie—”

  “Just go.”

  “Tommie—”

  “Go!” she screamed.

  He held her gaze another tense moment, then turned and stormed out of the building, slamming the door shut on her, on them. She stood there for a long time, the deafening silence pounding in her ears, their angry words echoing in her mind, the taste of heartbreak bitter in her mouth.

  Chapter 24

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Frankie Durand asked, her voice full of gentle concern.

  Tommie sniffled into the phone, feeling physically and emotionally depleted after spending the past several hours bawling her eyes out. Her cell phone had been ringing nonstop, and after avoiding calls most of the afternoon—because the only person she wanted to hear from wouldn’t be calling—she’d finally mustered the strength to drag herself out of bed and lumber down the hallway to the living room, where she’d left the phone on the ottoman.

  “Tommie?” Frankie prodded.

  “I’ll be fine,” Tommie mumbled, though in her heart she knew she’d be anything but.

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” her sister insisted. “Why don’t you let Zhane come over and keep you company?”

  Tommie shook her head weakly. “I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s had enough on his mind with his nephew in the hospital. He needs a break from taking care of others. Besides, he hasn’t even heard what happened, and I don’t feel up to rehashing it.”

  “What do you mean he hasn’t heard? It’s been all over the news, even here in San Antonio.”

  Tommie grimaced, and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of relief that she hadn’t told her parents about her engagement to Paulo. They’d always accused her of having horrible taste in men. Hearing that the man she intended to marry was a suspected murderer would only validate their criticisms of her, even though she knew Paulo was innocent.

  “Zhane hasn’t heard the news because he’s been running back and forth between the hospital and the dance studio,” Tommie said wearily. “I don’t think he’s been anywhere near a television all day. The last voice mail I received from him, he was still talking about coming over tonight to celebrate my—” She broke off, unable to finish.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Frankie murmured sympathetically. “You’re going to have to tell Zhane when he gets there.”

  “He’s not coming,” Tommie said miserably. “I called him back and left a message, told him Paulo and I had special plans this evening and asked him for a rain check on our champagne toast.”

  “Oh, Tommie,” Frankie gently chided. “He’s your best friend. If he knew how much pain you’re in right now, he’d want to be there for you.”

  Tommie sighed heavily. “I know. If he hasn’t heard by tomorrow morning, I’ll tell him. I just need to be alone tonight.” She hesitated, then confessed in a small, tremulous voice, “I called Paulo right after he left. I wanted him to come back so we could discuss what, if anything, I could do to help him. But he hasn’t returned my call. Have Rafe or Sebastien heard anything?”

  “No, and they’re both worried. We all are. Paulo’s not answering his phone, and everyone has been calling him. The entire family’s in an uproar. Ignacio and Naomi have already gone to see the district attorney and the police chief, and they’re threatening to slap everyone from the police department to the media with defamation lawsuits. I just got off the phone with Korrine, and she
said Rafe is on his way to Houston as we speak. Sebastien had to work late tonight, or he would have gone with him.”

  Tommie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, racked with pain and guilt. “God, Paulo must hate me,” she whispered tearfully. “I turned my back on him at a time when he needed me the most.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. This is the same man who just asked you to marry him. And you didn’t turn your back on him. You’d just received a terrible shock. No one can fault you for the way you reacted.”

  But Tommie was inconsolable. “I never should have doubted him, not even for a second.”

  “Well, after this is over, you can spend the rest of your life making it up to him. Not that he’d expect you to.”

  “Assuming he still wants to be with me,” Tommie mumbled gloomily.

  “Oh, hush. That man loves you, and you know it.”

  Tommie didn’t bother denying it. Because even as hurt and angry as Paulo had been when he’d stormed out on her that afternoon, he’d still been concerned for her safety. Concerned enough that he’d left the pistol with her, and had asked his friend Cesar to periodically drive by the building to make sure nothing was amiss.

  “I think I should go over there, just to make sure he’s all right,” Tommie said suddenly.

  “You can try,” Frankie said dubiously, “but everyone’s already been to his apartment, and he’s not home.”

  “Maybe he’s just—” Tommie broke off at the loud rapping on the main door downstairs.

  Jumping up from the sofa, she rushed to the window and peered out into the night. Her pulse leaped at the sight of a dark Crown Victoria parked beside her car, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought it was Paulo. Until she remembered that she’d left a message for his partner, Julius Donovan, asking him to call her with an update on Paulo.

  “I have to go, Frankie,” Tommie told her sister. “Detective Donovan’s here.”