by LS Sygnet
“You were actually speaking those thoughts, my friend. Why would…?” Underwood’s own words echoed through my mind – he loved snatching women out from under Madden, enough to make it the primary reason he worked for the man. I shook my head. “Never mind. I get it now. Sadly, neither one of them would get very far with me.”
“Because of Johnny?” Dev uttered the question with a sort of tentative reverence for territory I expressly did not want to discuss earlier.
“No,” I admitted. “Not because of Johnny. Basically it boils down to one thing. That sort of bravado has never interested me as a woman, Devlin. I prefer a man who doesn’t have to come on like a bulldozer to communicate his interest.”
“But I heard Orion was pretty aggressive in his pursuit.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, “and look how well that turned out.”
“Hey, that wasn’t because of you.”
“Wasn’t it? If I hadn’t sneaked off to execute a search warrant at Dunhaven alone, I wouldn’t have been detained by three psychos. Johnny wouldn’t have needed to come rushing to my rescue again. He wouldn’t have lost the last year of his memory. Maybe it happened because I needed it.”
“You needed him to forget about you? No way, Helen. I don’t buy that.”
“Not consciously,” I said. “Subconsciously, maybe even a little more than that, maybe I felt like Johnny got too close, that he understood too much, knew things that part of me couldn’t stand that he –”
“Bullshit,” he said softly. “He hurt you tonight, Helen. That’s what he did, isn’t it? He blamed you for what happened to him.”
“Yeah,” I cleared the whispery rasp out of my throat. “Life goes on, right?”
Devlin reached for my hand. “Now there are two reasons I wanna go back to the amphitheater. One to kick Underwood’s teeth in, and treat Orion to a bit of the same.”
“Don’t do or say anything, Devlin. He’s angry and probably more confused than he wants anyone to realize. Talk about a huge hit to self-esteem. I suspect that Johnny is questioning his ability to do the job right now, based on the fact that he cannot remember a lot of important events alone.”
“Maybe, but he doesn’t have to take his frustration out on you.”
“Then again,” I admitted, “he made a valid point.”
“Which was?”
“I could’ve been there for him no matter what, Devlin. I wasn’t. I poured all of my fear and anxiety into closing a stupid case.”
“Arresting Datello was a coup, not a stupid case. Orion’s probably feeling sour grapes that he wasn’t there for the moment you put him in cuffs.”
“I highly doubt that’s a motivating factor in his anger toward me,” I stared out the passenger window of Devlin’s car. In the end, we decided not to tear Ned away from the crime scene, particularly after what Maya told me about the suspected gender of the victim. One voice of reason needed to prevail, to provide Crevan with the fortitude he’d need once Briscoe heard the news.
“With that much, I can agree. The attitude tonight was based on the fact that you were out for a night on the town with me. Last time I checked, Southerby didn’t break Johnny’s fingers. If he wanted to be with you, he could’ve damn well picked up the phone and called.”
“Maya thinks the victim could be transgendered,” I quickly changed the subject to safer territory, or so I hoped.
Devlin slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop alongside the street. “And you’ve got a shred of doubt that Underpants is guilty? Jesus, Helen! Did you forget what I told you about this guy?”
“You know better than to jump to conclusions like that. We need more than your severe dislike of the man to arrest him for murder. Even his official military record doesn’t provide proof that he might be at the top of a suspect list for a hate crime.”
He thumped one fist against the steering wheel in a slow rhythm. “Dammit. Why couldn’t the corps just call it what it was?”
“Perhaps they did,” I said. The notion that Underwood suffered from a personality disorder wasn’t something that I was willing to rule out. Then again, I handed my case over to Johnny on a silver platter. Index fingers dug relentlessly into my temples.
“So he’s some kind of budding Ted Bundy?”
“One victim, Dev. I suspect that Underwood is a hell of a lot older than Bundy was when he started killing women. It’s like I said earlier. Not all murders come in multiple denominations. Sometimes a dead body is a single event.”
“I hope that’s what this one is.”
“We regret my hasty decision, don’t we?”
Devlin chuckled. “I’ve never known you to make a hasty decision. They only seem hasty to those of us not privy to the internal debate that wages in that big brain of yours. And what, pray tell, was this hasty choice you regret right now?”
“Letting Orion steal our case.”
Devlin signaled on the desolate street and pulled onto my street. A few minutes later, while the gate slowly slid open, he impaled me with a sober stare. “You were right about my inability to consider that anybody but Underwood is the perp, Helen. Don’t start doubting your instincts now.”
“Contrary to popular belief, not all of my silent internal dialogue relates to decisions. More than a healthy amount of it is devoted strictly to doubting my instincts. I’ve made some seriously poor choices based on my gut over the years, Devlin.”
The car rolled through the gate and inched up the driveway. For the duration, Devlin held his thoughts in silence. I was on the cusp of a nervous fidget when the car stopped. He jumped out before I could say something truly regrettable.
Devlin opened the door for me and reached for my hand. The second my feet hit the concrete driveway, he pulled me against his chest. Large hands anchored my face.
“Helen, if I thought you were emotionally free right now…” His midnight eyes glittered in the darkness.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t doubt your instincts. You’re the only one who does. I’d follow you into the depths of hell, no questions asked.”
“Thanks for making my point,” I muttered. “That is precisely what put Orion in his current state of cognitive dysfunction.”
Devlin tilted my face upward. “Nobody put a gun to his head. He could’ve waited for backup. You’re right about one thing. We all know that you tend to rush headlong into danger, Helen. Should he have waited? God help me, but I don’t think I’d have thought about more than backing you up either. His choice, his responsibility.”
I gripped his wrists. “Promise me that if we’re ever in a situation like that, that you’ll wait for backup, Dev. I can’t bear more on my conscience.”
His voice sent a jolt of electrical current through my body. “How long did it take him to fall in love with you?”
“Dev –”
“No, Helen, don’t tell me not to feel what I’ve been feeling almost since the moment I met you. You don’t have to worry about pressure or ultimatums from me. I think you’re worth all the patience in the world.”
His thumbs caressed my cheeks, while I was stricken with panic. What had happened to me? When had I transformed from the prickly-don’t-approach cactus to the fragile crocus that wilts pathetically after dawn? Marriage to Rick couldn’t have blinded me to the male species. Could it? No, it had to be some sort of weird flaw of the gender specific to Darkwater Bay, like the bizarre height they wielded.
“Don’t freak out.”
See what I mean? I swallowed the gravel-fist in the back of my throat. “You’re marching headlong into dangerous territory. Maybe you’re the one who should talk to Johnny. He could warn you of the dangers of blind infatuation.”
“This isn’t blind.”
“But it is cold out here.”
“Right,” Devlin’s hands dropped to his sides. “Guess we should get inside.”
“Despite the murder, personality disorders, hubris and insults hurled at me tonight, I had a good time,” I hooked on
e arm in his and ambled toward the front door. “Are you serious about trying this again tomorrow night?”
“Well now, that depends,” he chuckled. “If I have to watch every guy in the amphitheater hit on you –”
“Stop,” I laughed. “One creep, and one guy who probably hasn’t heard the words not interested from a woman in his adult life hardly count as every guy at the concert.”
He patted the hand nestled in the crook of his arm. “You’re pretty oblivious for a woman trained to observe human behavior, but oddly enough, I think it’s part of your charm. You’re clueless to the effect you have on people, from those who know you to total strangers. Or maybe it’s genuine humility.”
I jabbed the key into the deadbolt on the front door. “Maybe?”
Warm, wet lips brushed against my neck. “Definite humility and cluelessness.”
I shoved the front door open and stepped inside. Immediately, the intercom at the front gate chimed.
“Who on earth could that be at this hour?” I depressed the button. “Who is it?”
“Open the gate, Helen.”
The hairs on my arms rose to attention. “Johnny, it’s late, and I’m very tired. As you so astutely pointed out, I’ve had a bit to drink tonight, so I’m probably of zero use to the department.”
“Open the goddamned gate, or I’ll drive through it!”
Devlin covered my hand with his and depressed the control. “Want me to hang around for whatever it is he’s got to say?”
I chewed the inside of my bottom lip. Would a witness make him more belligerent or improve the wrath he sounded ready to hurl at me again? “I don’t know what to do, Devlin. He’s mad at me no matter what I do it seems.”
“Then I’m not leaving you alone with him. It was my case too, besides which, Underpants and I go way back.”
“Why do you call him that? He told me his nickname is Woody.”
Devlin snorted as Johnny’s headlights illuminated us in the still open doorway. “Because his name is Underwood, and the only thing we could count on him for was skid marks in his drawers. Woody. That’s a joke.”
“You realize I’m going to need the full story on this guy at some point.”
Devlin glanced at Johnny’s charge through the front courtyard. “Yet at this exact moment, I think that tale is gonna have to wait.”
Chapter 7
Orion growled, at Devlin not me this time. “Make yourself scarce.”
“We’re off duty, Commander Orion. Anything you have to say to Helen –”
“Is private.” He rose and seemed a foot taller than his normal statuesque six-six. “I won’t say it again, Mackenzie.”
“Johnny, if this is about the case, I insist that Devlin hear it too. He knows more about Fulk Underwood than I do.”
He muttered a curse under his breath. “Where can we have this conversation?”
“Library?” Dev suggested.
“Living room. Give me a minute to change out of these boots. They’re pinching my feet,” I said. Prayer was a fraction of an inch from the tip of my tongue as Dev led this stranger that used to be someone I knew into the living room to wait for me. By the time I returned, Dev had coffee brewing. My arms wrapped around my waist in a defensive gesture.
“We should get one thing out of the way first,” Johnny began without preamble. “I owe you an apology for that ultimatum earlier.”
Devlin’s eyebrows lifted, but he remained silent.
“It’s all right, Johnny. You made a valid point. Dev and I had been drinking. We were off duty, so there certainly wasn’t anything inappropriate about that in itself, but it didn’t project the right image for the department. Darkwater can’t afford even a vague appearance of impropriety.”
He glanced at Devlin. “What’s your take on this Underwood guy?”
“He’s scum,” Devlin said. “Which I’m pretty sure Chris already told you. He could tell you shit about Underpants that none of his troops were privy to, commander.”
“Funny,” Johnny said. “He seems to think you could tell me things that the officers had no idea Mr. Underwood had done during his period of enlistment. I don’t suppose the two of you would consider sitting down together and filling in the blanks for me.”
“Sure,” Dev nodded. “Say when.”
“I’d say now,” color rose in Johnny’s neck, “but I get the distinct impression that I’m interrupting the rest of your date.”
“Wasn’t that the plan?”
I shot Devlin a glare. “Johnny, I know you don’t remember this, but the work has always come before everything else for me, often to the detriment of my health, friendships and yes, even personal relationships. Why did you want to talk to me tonight?”
Something gazed at me, blank on recollection, but filled with longing. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you what this creep Underwood told you when you questioned him tonight.”
“I didn’t get far before you arrived and overheard some of what he said.”
“The part about how he could have you on your knees in front of him in a matter of minutes if he wanted you?” Johnny’s snarl left no room for doubt. The crudeness of the message pissed him off enough to still eat at him hours later. “Yeah, I can’t say it endeared him a whole lot.”
Devlin’s face darkened.
I rolled my eyes at both of their reactions. “Basically, I asked if he normally left this speaker stack thing for Madden’s amplifier upright or side lying as it was found. He never really answered my question with more than sarcasm and ego about his high intellect.”
Devlin snorted again. “That sounds about right. That man had more to say about nothing at all other than his magnificence since the day I met him.”
“How long ago was that, exactly?” Johnny asked.
Dev rubbed his chin. “Well, I enlisted at eighteen, went through basic… I must’ve been about nineteen before I landed under Chris in the grand scheme. A few months later, Underpants got shuffled through Chris’s command, I suspected at the time because there was nobody better at finding valid reasons to get rid of the dead weight. So, I guess I’ve known the guy for about 25 years.”
“And you stayed in touch after his dishonorable discharge?”
“No, but it seemed like one of us, the old crew I mean, had the misfortune of running into him on a fairly regular basis over the years. We do keep in touch.”
Johnny nodded. “How long were you enlisted?”
“Six years.”
“And Underwood, how long did he last before Chris got rid of him?”
“Almost to the end of my tour. He’s a slick bastard, commander, and has a definite knack for making his misdeeds somebody else’s. Most of his offenses were the petty variety, but I’m sure Chris already told you about his shenanigans in the Marines.”
Johnny glanced at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I got an earful.”
“Would you like some coffee, Johnny?” I asked.
He glanced at his wrist watch, then at Devlin, followed with a hard stare at the floor. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. This looks like it might be a long night for some of us.”
“Dev, could you get some coffee?”
His mouth twisted downward. “Sure. I guess I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Johnny started pacing, trying to control it as best he could.
“Do you want to sit down?” I patted the sofa beside me.
“I should get back to the –”
“Johnny, why did you really come over here tonight?”
His shoulders, even his spine, seemed to crumble a little bit. Our eyes met. “Winslow.”
“She told you?”
He nodded. “Doc, are you really ready to just… move on? I thought we meant more than that.”
Oh, that. Damn Maya and her big mouth. “Johnny –”
The posture wilted enough this time that he slumped onto the sofa. Why was that? I’d never seen his so physically affected by… what? Hearing his name?
&
nbsp; He stared at the floor. “Did you mean what you said to me tonight, about why you weren’t there when I came out from influence of that drug they gave to stop my seizures?”
“I was there, at least until they told me you were asking for Gwen,” painful memory flooded my cells, especially those in my eyes and throat. “I meant what I said though. Would it have upset you to have a total stranger rushing to sit with you when everything you knew about me, about us, was gone?”
“I won’t lie and say that I remember every tiny detail.”
“Johnny?”
Our gaze met and held this time. He reached for a lock of my hair and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “This was blonde when we met, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” my tongue felt a foot thick and dry as a sun-bleached bone.
“And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Only you know the answer to that question.”
The hand fell away, eyes drifted to the floor again. “I’m sorry I sounded so combative earlier. What I feel every time I see you, it’s pretty intense, Helen, and very confusing. In fact, it makes me question my sanity.”
I reached for him, aborted mid way and settled for twisted fingers in my lap. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t untangle what you feel. I can tell you things, but if you don’t remember them, you won’t trust what anyone tells you about the memories you lost.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “I know how I feel, but it frustrates me and makes me so angry that I can’t remember how this happened. I get pissed off because I don’t know why every time I see you I feel this… ache.” One fist rubbed over his chest. “Or maybe ache isn’t the right word. It’s emptiness and longing and fear and a whole lot of other things that I’m pretty sure you don’t give a damn to know.”
The thing about that assumption, aside from the fact that it was completely wrong, was that it lobbed a major ball into my court. Could I let it go, what we knew, what we shared? What if Johnny suddenly started remembering things without understanding what lead him to commit certain illegal, not to mention unethical acts, in order to protect my dirty little secret? Could I risk that? Did I want to risk it?