by Donna Ball
********
Of course, Teale knew she was fighting a losing battle. As the day crawled by she began to think, she began to sober; she began to realize what she was up against. The lovely euphoric glow in the pit of her stomach dissolved into a faint uneasy doubt, and the rosy haze that had enveloped her since the previous night gradually began to melt away. Suspicion reared its head once or twice, and it was all she could do to fight it down. She started to feel like a cop again.
The evidence was stacked against David. Years of careless crime, notorious connections through his family, records that had been doctored by someone very powerful. David was an extraordinarily clever, resourceful man. He had said from the beginning that he intended to keep an eye on her and that was exactly what he had done. He had kept her constantly in sight, he had monitored her every move, he had made certain her investigation went nowhere. He had behaved exactly like a man who had too much at stake to let anyone get in the way. What made her think that he would abandon it all now? He had made many promises; reformation was not among them.
And he had never claimed to be an innocent man.
Then she had to ask herself the harshest question of all. What if David refused to turn? What if he were more involved than he had admitted? What if he couldn't or wouldn't leave it behind? What if, Teale, she demanded of herself, your choice is between sending David to jail and running away with him to live a life of crime? What will you do then?
What frightened her was that she didn't know the answer.
Oh, David, she thought bleakly, How could this have happened? Why did it have to be you? It had all seemed so simple in the isolated house on the marsh. It had all seemed so clear, basking in the glow of his love. But throughout the day, David never called, and in the real world nothing was simple at all.
**********
She left the office at four o'clock, and no one objected or questioned. When she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building a red Porsche was parked in the space next to hers.
Her heart was thumping with a quivery, schoolgirlish uncertainty as she went up the sidewalk. Joy because she was going to see her lover, and dread because she was afraid it might be for the last time. It's simple, Teale, she told herself. Present it to him like you would to any other suspect. Ask him if he'd be willing to turn state's evidence in exchange for immunity. See what he's got to offer. He'll cooperate, you know he will. It's the only way.
Teale entered her apartment, and David was stretched out on her sofa, sound asleep. She stopped on the threshold, caught by the wave of tenderness and affection that washed over her. The doubts and dark suspicions that had haunted her all day evaporated into nothing more than paranoid fantasy as she looked at the man she loved. He looked so vulnerable in his sleep, the lines of his face relaxed and innocent, the strong lithe body defenseless and at ease. She walked silently over to the sofa and knelt beside him, lightly smoothing away the lock of hair that shadowed his forehead.
He awoke like a soldier, she thought, instantly alert. His hand shot out to grab her wrist, his muscles stiffened for self-defense, like one so deeply ingrained against unexpected attacks that preventing them was second nature to him. His reaction startled Teale, then puzzled her, connecting in some odd way to something that didn't fit the image she had of David at all, something that bore further investigation.
But in less than a heartbeat the swift hardness in David's eyes faded into a drowsy smile, his hand relaxed on her wrist, and he sank back against the cushion. "I can't believe I fell asleep," he murmured ruefully. "And I was trying so hard to impress you."
"You also," Teale informed him softly, smiling as she smoothed back his hair, "broke into my apartment."
"Lockpicking is my specialty. That should impress you."
The hazy, slumberous light in his eyes was soft and sensuous and his gaze travelled over her face, resting on each individual feature like a caress. He lifted his hand, lightly tracing the shape of her ear with his fingertip, making her shiver with the sensation.
"I could get used to waking up with you," he said huskily.
Teale smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze, the butterfly touch of his fingertips go through her like a slow, lazy wave, opening her pores, tingling her nerve endings, evoking an immediate and thorough response. "What are you doing here? Besides sleeping, of course."
"I came armed with all the makings of an unforgettable dinner, knowing that you'd forgive me for breaking into your apartment when you tasted my very special spaghetti sauce."
"I hate spaghetti." She leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips with hers.
"Not the way I make it you don't." She saw his pupils dilate with slow arousal, and he cupped his hand around her head, holding her face a few inches before his. His voice was low and thick. "Of course, it may be too late to start the sauce now.”
“That's what you get for falling asleep."
He closed the distance between their two mouths with his tongue, gently tasting the outline of her lips, teasing, moistening.
"I had a hard day," he murmured.
"And night."
"And night." His fingers moved downward from her head, cupping and tracing the knobs of her spine. "And I'm not really all that hungry anymore."
She rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the satiny texture and the firm bone and the shadow of his beard against her chin. "Me, either."
"What I really need—" he threaded both hands through her hair and lifted her face above him, his skin flushed with passion, his eyes lazy bright but dark with need "—is a shower. Care to join me?"
Teale smiled and got slowly to her feet, lacing her fingers through his. "My pleasure."
Mesmerized by the warm, enveloping spray of the shower, Teale ran her soapy hands over his shoulders, down the length of his arms, caressing each finger. She smiled up at him through the water that streamed over her face. "Now, isn't this better than slaving over a hot stove?"
"Infinitely." He lifted her arm and drew the soapy sponge down its length, his eyes soft and alive with lazy intent.
Teale thought, We should talk. I can't put it off forever. But just then he drew the sponge down her torso, his fingers tracing its soapy path, and she gasped with pleasure. She tried to concentrate, but her hands moved of their own volition to his waist, caressing the slippery texture of his flesh, sliding down to his thighs. "Tell me about your day.”
“I've forgotten all about it." He let the sponge drop and replaced it with his fingers, drawing gentle circles on the soapy tips of her breasts. She went weak, and his eyes were alive with pleasure as he watched her. "Tell me about your day, love. I imagine it was much rougher than mine."
There, he had given her the opening. Talk to him, Teale.
"I thought about you all day," was all she could manage, and even that was hoarse and weak as she tilted her head back, baring her throat to the press of his mouth.
She barely knew when he lifted her in his arms and carried her, naked, to the bedroom. They fell to the fell in a tangle of wet limbs and long kisses, and they made love with slow, languorous perfection while the afternoon faded away and twilight settled upon them like a benediction. It can't be wrong, she thought distantly, filled with the contentment of his love, not when it feels so right....
She didn't talk to David that night. There would be plenty of time.
*****************
NINE
Time ran out abruptly the next morning.
Captain Hollis was waiting for her when she came in. Silently, he motioned Teale and Sam into his office and closed the door. He stepped behind the desk, took out a file and tossed the folder onto the center of his desk. "This is your new assignment," he said. "A series of pharmaceutical thefts—Oxycontin seems to be the most popular item, although they're also making quite a killing in amphetamines. Obviously a fairly organized gang, but not particularly bright. The three stores they've hit this week have all been within a four-block radius."
; Teale stared at him, disbelieving. It was Sam who spoke first.
“New assignment? What about Carey? Diangelo?”
Hollis replied curtly, “It’s over.” He didn’t quite meet their eyes. “Move on.”
A thumping started in Teale's chest, and it seemed to be affecting the quality of her breathing. Dread tightened in her stomach as she struggled to find her voice. "What do you mean 'over'? Has there been a break? An...arrest?" Impossible, she thought. David had left her no more than three hours ago. If anything were about to break she would have known, he would have known.
"I mean it's over," Hollis said shortly. "We're getting nowhere, and we're dropping the case."
The relief that flooded her made Teale weak and then ill with guilt. David was safe. It was over. But David was wrong, and she was an officer of the law. How was she supposed to feel?
Sam said softly, "Whoa. You don't just walk away from a case because it's getting too tough. What's going on here?"
Captain Hollis's face was tight, but Teale could see the frustration in his eyes. She knew as well as Sam did that he was hiding something. The difference was, she didn't want to know what it was.
"You've got your orders," Hollis responded. "Get busy."
"No, sir," Sam answered with a quiet stubbornness that was his trademark. "Not until you tell us what this is all about."
Sam, shut up, Teale wanted to cry. Leave it alone, it's over! Don't you know when we're well off? But she couldn't say that. She wasn't even sure she meant it.
Sam persisted. "Look, I know it looks like we're stonewalled, but we're working on an angle. Give us a couple more days, a week at the outside—"
"No!" Hollis shouted. The frustration in his eyes snapped into anger. "It's out of my hands, damn it!”
Teale and Sam stared at him, and Hollis took a breath, knowing he had gone too far to let it drop at that. "Look," he said in a moment, more quietly. "I'm just as much in the dark as you are. All I know is that this came straight from the chief of police and our orders are to back off."
Sam and Teale left the office in a greatly subdued state. "God," Sam said at last in a low voice. "I hate what I'm thinking."
Teale made herself look at him, hating it as well, perhaps even more. If Diangelo had gotten as far as city hall, if the corruption were that widespread....
She said, "We don't know that." But she kept remembering David's words, I know how hard it is on you. Just hold on a little longer. It won't be much longer, I promise.
But no. David couldn't have done this. David didn't have that much power. David wouldn't do this.
There was a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach and a dim roaring far back in her head. She made herself say, "It could be—the feds could have gotten wind of this, and are taking over. You know how they feel about local departments horning in on their territory."
Sam looked disgusted and not entirely convinced. "That makes me even madder. We do all the work, and the government boys waltz in and snap up the collar."
Then Sam looked at her soberly. "Whatever," he said, "one thing is for sure: whatever Carey's involved in, there's more at stake than a few thousand dollars in poker chips.”
Teale swallowed hard. The hollowness in her stomach had grown into a great, yawning gap. "Drugs?" She was surprised at how calmly the word came out.
Sam nodded. "Word on the street is that there's a big shipment due to hit, and soon. That was the new angle I mentioned to Hollis."
She thought, No. David wouldn't lie to me. He told me, he promised me.
Sam thumped the file in his hand with his thumbnail. "Hell, moaning about it's not going to do a damn bit of good. It's out of our hands. You want to take a look at this case?"
Teale was remembering David's face, the look in his eyes as he had kissed her goodbye this morning. He hadn't lied to her. God, don't let him have lied to me.
If another arm of the law had stopped the investigation, David was in more trouble than he knew. If David himself had done it...
She had to know. She didn't know whether she was going to warn David or confront him, but she had to see him. And she had to see him now.
Her eyes met Sam's. He must have known what she was thinking before she spoke, because swift alarm crossed his face. "No," she said quietly. "You start the new assignment without me. There's something I have to do first."
His voice was sharp, and his hand came out to detain her. "Teale—"
But she pulled away from his grasp almost absently and kept on walking. She didn't look back.
***************************
By the time she reached David's beach house a curious calm had overtaken her, a sense of detachment. She wasn't surprised when she saw the long black car parked in front of David's house, and she didn't even ask herself to whom it belonged. Perhaps on some subconscious level the truth she should have admitted long ago had begun to seep in, and she was in a state of shock. Perhaps she was simply remembering that she was, first and foremost, a cop.
She drove to the end of David's street and parked. Only once, when she got out of the car, did a small desperate voice cry out inside her, Teale, don't do this. Walk away. You don't want to know. But she ignored it.
She walked down to the beach, circling David's house and approaching it from the side. There were a few sunbathers on the beach, but they ignored her. When she was fifty feet from the house, she could hear the murmur of voices. She moved closer, shielded by a bright hedge of bougainvillea that separated David's house from the one next door, and she saw two men on the deck. One of them was David. The other was Diangelo.
The sun was hot on her scalp, the sea breeze was tangy. Inside she felt cool, uninvolved and relaxed. Her heart wasn't even beating fast. Working on instincts as natural as breathing, she moved silently toward them, staying close to the side of the building, and slipped underneath the deck.
Diangelo's voice came to her clearly. "You're a good man, David. I wasn't sure of you at first, but now I think we may have the basis for a relationship."
But David's voice sounded different—hard and coarse, unlike any tone she had ever heard him use before. As though the man who was speaking were not someone she knew at all.
"You just make sure it's top quality," he said. "My clients have contracted for the best, and I can't move junk."
"You have my guarantee. Forty kilos tonight, and we will go from there."
"You'll deliver it personally?"
"I always break in my new men personally. It saves so much misunderstanding later on."
"I like the way you do business."
Diangelo chuckled. "And I like the way you do business. Yes, a clever little scheme you have here. Small town, no competition, not too much attention. Cover it with a little casino action, and the contacts come naturally. We could move millions out of here, David... if you're really as good as you say you are."
David answered, "I'm better."
Diangelo laughed and clapped him on the back. Footsteps moved overhead, going into the house. Teale waited until she heard the front door open, and then she climbed the steps to the deck and went through the open door into the dining room.
She heard the front door close, and she sat down at the table. It was cool inside the house, refreshed by the constant sea breeze, and the room was splattered with light. She kept thinking she should feel something— anger, betrayal, horror. She felt nothing at all.
There was a highball glass on the table, and droplets of condensation were beginning to form a ring on the veneered surface. She lifted the glass and tasted it absently. Club soda. She should have known.
When she set the glass down again, David was standing at the threshold of the room.
His eyes were dark, and the line of his jaw was knotted grimly. He had no need to ask how long she had been there or what she had heard. It was all written on her face, and slowly his own expression faded from repressed shock and anger to simple resignation.
He said, after what s
eemed like a very long time, "I suppose you want an explanation."
Teale studied the pattern the droplets of moisture were forming on the glass. Absently, she gathered a few drops on her fingertips and rubbed the wetness with her thumb. Her voice was very calm and matter-of-fact.
"Did you ever hear the story of the man and the snake, David?"
He said nothing, and she went on casually, "A man was walking through the woods in the wintertime, and he found this snake who had waited too long to go into hibernation. It was frozen stiff, and the man, being softhearted by nature, took pity on it. He took it home, laid it by the fire, thawed it out. He brought it a bowl of warm milk, and the snake drank it down, recovering fast. But when the man reached down to cover the snake with a blanket, to keep it warm, the snake bit him.
"Well, the man was shocked. He said to the snake, 'Why did you do that? I saved your life, I brought you into my home, I thawed you out and I fed you. How could you bite me?' And the snake just looked at him and said, 'You knew I was a snake when you picked me up."'
Teale raised her eyes from the glass and looked at David. "No, I don't want an explanation," she said quietly. "I'm not surprised, I'm not disappointed. I knew what you were when I picked you up."
The muscle in David's jaw knotted again, just briefly, and there was a flare of something far back in his eyes that could have been hurt. Teale was touched by a dim amazement—almost amusement—that he should be angry.
"It's always so simple for you, isn't it, Teale?" he said stiffly.
"Simple," she repeated softly, A pain began just below her rib cage, tugging and tightening, but she ignored it. She couldn't give in to the hurt now, she couldn't acknowledge the agony of betrayal, the crushed dreams, the anger. Because if she did, she would start screaming, and she would never stop.