He grinned wickedly. “You could call it that.”
“Patrick!” Sean barked. “You didn‘t—”
“No, Dad, I didn’t go. I had enough on my mind. I’d just gotten back from the lineup, and I was expecting to be arrested in the morning.”
“And I suppose if it wasn’t for that, you would have been over there like a shot?” Helen asked.
Patrick tucked his hand under her chin, tilting it up so he could look into her eyes. Humor glimmered in his gaze. “What’s this? Jealousy?”
She scowled and jerked her head away from his strong hand, trying to pretend his touch didn’t affect her. “No, of course not. I just wish you’d told me before.”
He shrugged. “I’ll call her tonight and tell her we’re coming over in the morning.”
“You do that.” She looked at her watch and stood. “We’d better get going.”
Sean got to his feet and shook her hand. His palm was calloused and hard, his handshake firm. “Thank you for helping my son. You’re a good woman, Helen Stewart.”
Warmth curled through her at his words. She sensed that Sean Monaghan’s approval wasn’t something he gave lightly.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Sean put his other hand on top of their clasped ones. “Please. Come and see me and Bridget any time you like. If you’re in the area, stop by and say hello. We’d love to see you.”
She smiled. “I’ll be sure to stop by sometime.”
After they said their goodbyes, Helen and Patrick walked out to her car. It had stopped raining and the darkened street smelled clean and fresh. Helen unlocked the passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side.
She climbed into her car and started the engine, sliding a sideways look at Patrick. “I enjoyed meeting your parents. And the rest of your family. They’re lovely people.”
He flashed her a smile. “They liked you, too.”
“Your family seems really close,” she said, unable to keep a hint of wistfulness from her tone.
“Yeah, I guess we are. My parents—when we were kids, they taught us that family is the most important thing. More important than anything else.” He glanced at her, his gaze oddly intense. “I think all of us grew up to agree with them.”
“I can see that.”
He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was casual. Almost too casual. “By the way, don’t feel like you have to take my dad’s invitation too seriously.”
“Why?” she asked curiously. “Does he ask every woman you bring for dinner to come back and visit?”
“No.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Other than my ex-wife, I’ve never brought a woman here for dinner. Except you.”
She stared at him. Other than his ex-wife, she was the only one? But why—
The answer occurred to her even before the question had fully formed in her mind. The only reason he’d brought her there was to discuss the case with his father. It was business, not personal.
And that was all she wanted it to be, she reminded herself as she pulled out onto the street. Business. The fact that she’d let Patrick kiss her in the hallway before dinner meant absolutely nothing.
Nothing at all.
Chapter 6
Helen drove toward Tammy’s apartment. She was intensely aware of Patrick, who lounged in the passenger seat, staring out the window. The air between them was charged, but neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rhythmic shush of the wipers, the patter of the rain on the roof.
In silence, Helen turned onto Salish Avenue.
Patrick shifted restlessly. “Where does the witness live?”
“Out at the other end of Salish.”
“On Salish?” He jerked upright and smacked his fist into his palm. “That’s it! We’ve got her!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you say she was on her way home from her shift at the hospital when she witnessed the shooting?”
“That’s what she said in her statement.”
“She was lying.”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t you? Think about it. Where’s the hospital?”
“It’s downtown by the harbor, of course.”
Patrick grinned. “And Tammy lives on Salish.”
Suddenly, Helen saw what he was getting at. The fastest way to get to Tammy’s apartment from the hospital was straight up Salish. The old highway, where the shooting had occurred, was south of town, in completely the wrong direction.
Helen raised her hand to her cheek. It felt hot. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
He reached over and rubbed the back of her neck. Warmth radiated from his fingers as he massaged the tight muscles. “Don’t worry about it. You can’t think of everything.”
She knew she should bat his hand away, but it felt good. Very good. The tension loosened as he dug in a little harder, and she had to stifle an instinctive groan of pleasure. “I—I overlooked a pretty major detail there,” she managed to finally say.
“So you’re not perfect. None of us is.”
“But you caught it right away.”
“I’ve lived in Evergreen all my life. Probably know the roads a lot better than you do.” His hand slid down to her shoulder, and he rubbed deeply. “You’ve got to relax. Your muscles are way too tight.”
She felt his touch all the way to her toes. Each of her senses was perfectly attuned to him—to the smell of his leather jacket and the weight of his hand, to the fit of his jeans and the black hair that spilled over his forehead. And to the way her tension melted beneath his touch, the instinctive loosening of her muscles, the shimmers of heat that slid through her, pooling in the pit of her stomach. Little by little, she felt her control slipping away....
She couldn’t let this happen!
Abruptly she jerked away from his hand. “We’re almost there,” she said, trying to sound stern.
He gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart flip over. “Good. The sooner you talk to her, the sooner we can prove she was lying.” His grin faded. “I wish I could be there.”
Helen frowned. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“That’s not what I meant. I just want to do something.”
She shot him a look. “You were the one who wanted to come.”
“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged and lapsed into silence.
Tammy’s pink stucco condo loomed up on the right. Helen turned into the private parking lot and pulled into a spot across from the building. She glanced at Patrick as she dumped her keys into her purse. “I shouldn’t be more than half an hour or so.”
“Take your time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” His expression was innocent—too innocent.
“You’re planning something, aren’t you?”
His lips quirked, and she saw the wicked gleam in his eyes. “I might go for a little walk. Or something.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and then she sighed in resignation. “Just make sure no one sees you.” She slid out of the car, and then paused. “Patrick?”
“Yeah?”
“The flashlight’s in the glove compartment.”
Helen buzzed Tammy’s number, and the front door clicked open. Resisting the urge to glance back at Patrick, she walked inside. She took the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Tammy’s door.
A second later Tammy pulled it open. She’d touched up her hair since yesterday; the dark roots were gone, and the rest of her hair was a brassy red. Instead of her white nurse’s uniform, she wore tight jeans and a purple satin blouse.
She glared at Helen. “You’re late.”
Helen’s chest tightened. She was only five minutes late, but even that much was uncharacteristic of her. She was never late for anything.
Why was it that since Patrick had come back into her life, everything had turned upside down?
She
forced a smile to her lips. “I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”
Scowling, Tammy opened the door a little wider. “Come in. But this better not take long. I’ve got a date in half an hour.”
“On a Wednesday night?” Helen asked, surprised.
“I’m a nurse. I don’t get weekends off like you lawyers. Not that it’s any of your business.” Tammy spun on her heel.
Helen followed her into the apartment and down a short hallway filled with the cloying scent of an air freshener. The hall opened into a living room, and she glanced around.
The room was cluttered with furniture, all flashy and new. There was a matching blue plush sofa and love seat, and several black-lacquered coffee tables with gold accents were scattered around. In one corner stood an enormous television set. On the screen, a blond woman dripping diamonds sobbed in the arms of a tuxedo-clad older man.
Tammy picked up a remote control and muted the sound, leaving the picture on. She sat on the sofa and planted her feet squarely in front of her as though she was preparing to do battle. “So what do you want this time?”
“I want to talk to you about your statement.”
Tammy scowled. “So talk.”
Helen sat on the love seat. Something sharp dug into her thigh. She shifted uncomfortably and reached down to move whatever was poking her. A handful of papers had slipped down between the cushions, and she pulled them out. As she leaned forward to put them on the coffee table, she noticed there were several glossy travel brochures among them.
A thread of excitement twisted through her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Tammy was planning to leave town.
Keeping her face cool and calm, she looked up and met the other woman’s eyes. “Going on a vacation?”
Tammy stiffened. “So what? I work hard. I’m entitled.”
Helen picked up one of the brochures. ‘“Cruise the Mediterranean in Luxury,”’ she read out loud. “Sounds pretty nice. Just the kind of vacation I need, too.” She kept her voice light.
Tammy relaxed slightly. “Yeah. It’ll be fun. I’ve never—” She stopped short.
Been on a cruise before, Helen mentally completed Tammy’s statement. She flipped open the brochure and glanced at the prices. For a one-week cruise, they started at five thousand dollars. Luxury indeed. A very expensive luxury for a young nurse who was probably still paying off her furniture, not to mention her mortgage and her car payments.
Helen leaned forward. “Come into some money recently?”
“Maybe I did,” Tammy said belligerently.
“Where from?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Anger flooded through Helen’s chest. Tammy’s lies had just about landed Patrick in jail. She wasn’t going to sit here and listen to any more of them.
“I can make it my business.” She slapped the brochure down on the table. “You’re a witness in a major felony case. If you’ve been paid to lie, you’re in serious trouble.”
“Nobody’s paid me!”
“We can subpoena your bank records. See if there are any major deposits in the last few weeks.”
Tammy smirked. “You go right ahead.”
“We can look at every financial transaction you’ve made for years. And not just your bank accounts, but your mortgage. Your credit record. Everything. You’d be better off telling the truth right now.”
Tammy twisted her hands in her lap. “I have told the truth!”
There was a heartbeat’s pause, and then Helen spoke. “Let’s cut the crap. Why don’t you tell me the real reason you were out on the old highway Monday night?”
“I already told you. I was on my way home from work.”
“Via the highway? That’s in the wrong direction.”
“Maybe I wanted to visit a girlfriend on my way home.”
“At one o’clock in the morning?” Helen demanded.
“She keeps late hours.”
“What’s her name? Where does she live?”
Tammy shifted uneasily. “I don’t have to tell you that.”
Helen pressed on. “Tell me again what you saw.”
“I was driving down the road. I saw a car off to one side.”
“Facing you? Or facing the other way?”
“Facing the other way.”
“Then what?” Helen prompted.
“I slowed down. And I saw two men in front of the car.”
“If they were in front of the car, how did you see them? You were behind the car, right?”
“I just did,” Tammy mumbled.
“Where were they standing? Be precise.”
Tammy moistened her lips. “Uh, the shorter one was standing in front of the car with his back to me. The taller one—the guy I saw at the police station—was standing by the passenger door, facing the shorter guy. And—”
Helen leaned forward. “And what?”
“Nothing.”
It was a lie. Helen saw it in Tammy’s eyes.
“Who else was there?” Her voice was as hard and cold as ice.
Tammy jerked her head up with a violent movement “Nobody!”
Helen stood. “Do you realize that if you lie in court, you’ll be committing perjury? And believe me, I’ll make it my personal mission in life to see that you go to jail.”
“But I’m telling the truth! There was no one else there. There were only the thr—” She stumbled to a halt. “I mean, the two of them.”
Three. She’d been about to say three.
Helen’s heart pounded. Patrick had been right There had been someone else out there that night. And it looked like Tammy knew exactly who it was.
Trying to hide her elation, she took a card from her pocket and dropped it onto the coffee table. “Think carefully about your story. When you decide to tell the truth, call my pager. Day or night.”
“I have told you the tr—”
Helen cut her off. “Is it worth any amount of money to protect a murderer? What if he decides to come after you next?”
“Get out!” Tammy’s voice rose. “Get out of my house!”
Helen walked down the hall. “I’m going. But I’ll be back to see you again. And next time, I’ll have that subpoena.”
Tammy slammed the door in her face.
Patrick glanced at the glowing dial of his watch. Twenty-five after nine. Helen had been inside for almost half an hour. He’d better head back to meet her.
He shone the flashlight through the window of Tammy’s Trans Am for one last look, making a mental note of the box of condoms that peeked out from under the passenger seat. Tammy was sleeping with someone—he’d just love to find out who.
He switched off the flashlight and headed back around to the other side of the building. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of Helen. She was striding down the front walk, her face alight. She stepped off the paved curb and into the parking lot, heading toward her car.
Patrick jogged across the wet grass. “Hey,” he called. “What hap—”
The squeal of tires on wet pavement interrupted his words. A car hurtled out of nowhere, its headlights blinding. A thousand pounds of steel raced straight at Helen.
“Look out!” Patrick shouted. He sprinted across the lawn. “Helen!”
The car gained on her. The engine roared as the driver pushed it ever faster. Helen half turned, her mouth opening in a silent scream, and then the car was on her.
“Helen! No!” Patrick’s bellow hung in the air. Tires screeching, the car pulled out onto Salish and disappeared. Patrick didn’t even spare it a glance as he charged across the pavement to Helen.
She lay facedown between two parked cars. Patrick threw himself down on his knees beside her still form and grabbed her hand. It was limp—limp and lifeless—and hot, searing agony speared his chest.
She was dead. Dead. Just like....
The memories he’d tried so hard to bury three years ago spilled over into his heart, and a fresh wave of anguish burst through
him. Moisture burned the backs of his eyes and he bowed his head.
Oh, God, Helen was dead, and it was his fault. Not an hour ago he’d promised he would protect her, and he’d failed. Failed to protect an innocent life...again. And this time he couldn’t blame Jessica, couldn’t blame anyone but himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. He knew Helen couldn’t hear him, but he had to say the words, had to say them not just for her, but for the precious life he’d lost three long years ago. “So sorry.”
“P-Patrick?” Helen whispered.
His breath froze in his throat. Surely he must have imagined her voice. Surely—
She stirred beneath his hands, and then her eyelids fluttered open.
Relief exploded through his body, sending a fierce rush of dizziness to his head. Thank God. She was alive.
“I’m here, sweetheart.” His heart thudded against his ribs, and he fought to keep his voice calm. He stroked his hand across her hair. “Tell me where it hurts.”
She started to push herself upright, and he put his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest. Her damp hair brushed his cheek, and he closed his eyes, his heart still pounding. He could feel her shaking, and he smoothed his hand up and down her back, murmuring low words of comfort as he would to a wounded child.
After a minute she pulled away. Opening his eyes, he saw that her cheek was scraped where she’d hit the pavement, and her elegant navy suit was wet and torn.
She raised the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I‘m—I think I’m okay. The car...it didn’t hit me.” Her voice shook. “I heard you yell, and I jumped just in time.”
He held her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t think about it. Let’s just get you home.”
She gave a shaky laugh as she pulled away from him and got awkwardly to her feet. “Second time in two days someone’s nearly run me over. I’m starting to think I’m jinxed.”
Her words were light, but her face was pale and her legs unsteady. A fresh bolt of concern splintered through him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Take it slow, Helen.”
“I’m okay.” She glanced up at him. “Really.”
Patrick didn’t loosen his grip. “Humor me.”
Motive, Means... And Marriage? Page 9