Body Of Truth

by Deirdre Savoy

  “I saw the license plate this time. It’s the same number I gave you yesterday.”

  “Did you see the car?”

  “Only from the back. It was black. A Town Car. It had those wheels that spin.”

  To Jonathan’s recollection, so had the other car.

  “How about the driver? Passengers?”

  She shook her head. “At first the headlights were in my eyes, then the windows were tinted.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  She gave him a precise address including cross streets. He and Mari exchanged a look while Moretti continued asking all the right questions—who knew she’d be leaving or how she planned on getting home? Was this her usual route or something different? Whatever. He knew they were both thinking the same thing. Since Moretti could obviously be a half decent cop if he wanted to be, why didn’t he?

  “Is there anything else you remember?”

  “Only that the streets were deserted. I remember thinking everyone must have hurried home because it was supposed to rain. There was one car that passed. I didn’t really pay it much attention, but come to think of it, it was big and dark, but I didn’t look at the plates. This was right before I went down the alley.”

  Which meant the driver could have doubled back after seeing her and come after her. Which also suggested they might have either been cruising around looking for her or had been waiting at her house for her and given up only to luck out by seeing her on the street. Whichever the case, or even if it was neither, she couldn’t stay here. She’d be a sitting target for anyone who wanted to hurt her.

  Moretti stood. “I’m going to head over to the scene. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

  Jonathan doubted he would, but decided he’d not worry about that for the moment. He’d get her out of here for now and tackle the rest in the morning.

  Surprisingly, Moretti left without any more snide comments, or at least none Jonathan heard. Mari walked him to the door and came back smiling a few moments later. He wondered what that was about, but figured he’d let that slide until morning, too.

  “I’m going to head out, myself,” Mari said. “Why don’t you do the honors of letting me out, partner?”

  He’d known his conversation with Mari wasn’t over and he’d bet she had a few additional comments to make about now. He rose from the sofa and followed her to the door. Once she reached the front alcove she turned to face him.

  “Getting back to what we were saying before, it looks like we’ve got your basic chicken-and-egg conundrum. Did she get hurt because someone wanted to whack Wesley or did Wesley get whacked because someone wanted to keep her quiet?”

  “That about covers it.”

  “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, Ollie.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “When he wasn’t too busy staring down my dress, Moretti told me he already checked out the plate. It belongs to one Oscar Grant, a gangsta wannabe. The car was stolen from one of the meters outside the Bronx courthouse. The poor sap went in to fight getting jury duty. Not only did he not get out of it, when he got back his car was gone. This happened the afternoon Pierce disappeared.”

  How exactly that tidbit of information fit in with everything else didn’t appear to him immediately. “Anything else?”

  “You know she can’t stay here, right?”

  “I know.” There would be a squad car outside tonight, but tomorrow was another story.

  She stared at him a long moment and he wondered if she suspected how he planned to resolve that. Finally, she winked at him. “Take care of yourself, Stone. If I end up having to work with one of those other yahoos at the station I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  He snorted. “Does that mean I’m a yahoo, too?”

  “Pretty much. But you’re my kind of yahoo.” He opened the door for her and she stepped over the threshold onto the porch. “Don’t forget we have the funeral in the morning,” she added as she walked away.

  How could he forget? Pierce’s brother had called just before he’d left that evening to see what progress they’d made in his sister’s case and let them know about the arrangements.

  It would be interesting to see the mix of people who showed up at St. Pat’s the next day. But for now, Dana was his focus. When he went back he found her at the kitchen sink, standing with her back to him, her head down, her hands braced on the counter. Next to her sat the coffee tray that no one but Mari had touched. As far as he could tell, Dana hadn’t touched it either, only left it on the counter. But he sensed a shift in her mood, and not for the better.

  He leaned his shoulder against the archway to the kitchen. “How are you holding up?”

  She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “How am I supposed to feel knowing that someone else was killed because of me?”

  Although he thought he knew, he asked anyway, “What are you talking about?”

  She turned around to face him, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the sink. Her distress was laid bare in her eyes. “Don’t play coy, Jonathan. You and I both know what all this really means. I wasn’t hurt because someone wanted to kill Wesley. He was killed because someone was after me.”

  He should have known that possibility wouldn’t have escaped her notice. He remembered feeling as if she were waiting for him to say something and being disappointed that he remained silent. Was that what she’d expected him to say?

  He hadn’t voiced his supposition, because at this point, that’s all it was. Tomorrow he’d work at getting the truth. He hadn’t seen any point in discussing it tonight. He hadn’t wanted to upset her further, but he saw now that was probably a mistake.

  “We don’t know that for sure. Whoever was after Wesley might have thought you saw something that you might report to the police.”

  “Right, that’s why they followed me up here to Mount Vernon. Sure, over on Third Avenue there are places that rival any neighborhood in the South Bronx, but not here. Around here a bunch of gang bangers in a tricked out car would have been stopped by the police before they had time to breathe.”

  Exactly what he’d thought of the situation. “Dana,” he said, trying to forestall any more speculation down that path, but she wasn’t listening to him.

  “If they were so worried about what I might know, why didn’t they go after Old Specs, the guy who watches everything from his window?”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea if they did or didn’t do anything to the man.”

  “Believe me, if they’d really wanted me, I wouldn’t have made it out of the neighborhood.” Tears, unshed, glistened in her eyes. “And you want to know the worst part? I didn’t see anything. I’ve trained myself not to notice anything. If I walk into some apartment and folks are cutting drugs on the dining room table, or some hooker is doing a guy in an alley or some cop is beating the shit out of some kid in a corner, I just walk by. I keep moving. I don’t see a thing.”

  She gazed up at him, shaking her head. “I was so busy being sanctimonious about how Wesley nearly got me killed. It never occurred to me that it could be the other way around.” She lowered her head, but not before he saw the tears spilling silently down her cheeks.

  He didn’t know what to say to that. Intellectually, she must know that none of this was her fault, not Amanda Pierce’s death or Wesley’s murder. She was beyond logic, in a place where only pain mattered and the accumulated grief, sorrow and unearned guilt could eat a person whole. He knew; he’d been there.

  He closed the gap between them and pulled her to him. She laid her cheek against his chest. One of his hands rose to stroke her nape while the other banded around her waist, holding her closer. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered against her ear. “Not one person caught up in this is worth any of your tears.”

  Cradling her face in his palms, he tilted her face up to him. He brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry.” Without thinking, he brought his mouth down to hers.
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br />   Immediately her arms closed around him and she kissed him back with a fierceness he had yet to see in her. It was as if she channeled all her emotions into that one kiss. He understood that, too—the need to sublimate that which you couldn’t change.

  Her fingers went to his shirt, pulling it from his waistband and over his head before he had the time or the will to stop her. He couldn’t help the groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep as her lips touched down on the center of his chest. Damn, he wanted her, but he didn’t want any replays of the previous night. He didn’t want her to come to her senses sometime later and regret whatever happened between them.

  He tilted her chin up to see her face. “Seems we’ve hit this spot in the road before.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”

  “There might not be any backfires to raise an alert. No last minute saves.” She looked at him more confused than before. He may as well ask her straight out. “Do you want to be with me, Dana?”

  She averted her gaze to his chest, where her fingers made a lazy exploration of his bare flesh. He held his breath waiting for her answer.

  When she looked at him again, it was with a sideways glance and a smile he didn’t at first comprehend. “Only if you do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Take me upstairs.”

  Thirteen

  If he’d had time to think about it, he might have questioned the change in her from the previous night. More than likely her experience tonight fueled her desire more than a little bit. But she took a step toward, slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. That killed all the rational thought he was capable of at that moment. His arms closed around her, bringing her body flush with his. Her hands, nurse’s hands—strong, firm and at the same time gentle—roved over his back, making him groan into her mouth.

  When he finally pulled away, it was to lift her off her feet with his arms around her hips. She shrieked and hit him on the shoulder, surprised, he guessed, by his sudden move.

  “I didn’t mean that literally,” she said.

  “You know how us dumb cops are. All we know is how to follow orders.”

  She hit him again as he carried her from the kitchen to the hall. “Put me down. You’ll give yourself a hernia.”

  He did as she asked, but not until they reached the stairs where the overhang from above made it impossible to continue. He released her slowly, letting her slide down his body, exciting them both. She ended up standing on the step above him, her breasts at his eye level. His hand delved under her shirt to cradle one of her breasts in his palm. When she pulled the shirt over her head, he took her nipple into his mouth to flick his tongue against its peak.

  She gasped and jerked against him, her fingers digging into the flesh at his shoulders. But both excitement and anticipation thrummed in him, making him impatient. His fingers found the snap of her jeans, quickly releasing it. He rasped the zipper down, then pushed the heavy material from her hips. She backed up a step, bracing one hand on the wall and the other on the banister, as he freed one leg and then the other. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

  He knelt on the step below her and pulled her to him with his hands at her waist. His lips touched down on her belly, just below her navel. Her stomach contracted beneath his touch and a soft sound of pleasure escaped her lips.

  With one arm around her hips to brace her, he parted her with his fingers and brought his mouth down on her. She jerked and her breathing hitched, coming in short gasps and sighs.

  He’d only intended to taste her, but he could feel by the tension in her that she was closer to the edge than he’d thought. It wouldn’t take much to push her over. He wanted to push her, to make her come for him. He slid two fingers inside her and stroked her while he continued to lave her with his tongue.

  Her back arched and her legs trembled. “Jona . . .” she called, the rest of his name swallowed up by the power of her orgasm. One of her hands descended to grip his shoulder as she cried out and her body spasmed against him.

  When she quieted, he stood and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his neck, breathing heavily. For the moment she was sated but the fire still burned in him. He lifted her again and carried her to her room.

  In a breathy voice she said, “Now you’re just showing off.”

  His only answer was a low, wicked laugh. He set her on the bed, but didn’t follow her. The only illumination in the room was the light of the full moon sifting through the windows, but he felt her eyes on him, avid and watchful as he stood. He unclipped his holster from his belt and laid it on the nightstand, then took off the rest of his clothes.

  He joined her then, kneeling between her parted thighs. He paused long enough to sheath himself, then covered her body with his own. He thrust into her, his body shivering as hers enveloped him. Her arms closed around him and her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper. He thrust into her again and again, the heat of her body acting like a fever within him. Perspiration coated his skin and his heartbeat trebled. His mouth met hers for one wild kiss and then another.

  He pulled back, enough to see her face. She regarded him with dark, half-closed eyes. Her hand lifted to stroke the side of his face. “Jon,” she whispered. Then her eyes squeezed shut and her legs tightened around him as her hips rocked against him.

  He shut his eyes and let his own orgasm overtake him, making him tremble and pulling low, ragged groans from somewhere deep in his chest. Fearing she wouldn’t be able to tolerate his weight, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Reaching over, he pulled the sheet from the other side of the bed to cover them.

  For a long time, he lay with her cradled against his chest, recovering. When his breathing was somewhat normal again, he brushed her hair from her face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty damn good.” She lifted her head to smile down at him. “But you already knew that.”

  He did, but he didn’t mind hearing her say so.

  She drew a line down his chest with her fingertip. “Don’t go turning into some cocky cop on me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, for another few minutes, at least.”

  She groaned at his attempt at humor and laid her forehead against his chest. His hand rose to massage her nape. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? We have to get out of here early tomorrow.”

  “We? Where am I going?”

  She really must be out of it if the danger here hadn’t occurred to her. “You can’t stay here, Dana. Obviously they know where you live or close enough to it to be a threat.”

  “I’ll buy that, but truthfully, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “I’ll take you to Joanna’s.”

  “Absolutely not. The last thing she needs is to bring her new baby home and have to worry about me. I won’t put her family in danger by being there. I’ll get a room at the Sheraton until you catch these idiots.”

  He appreciated her show of faith that he’d have things resolved before she bankrupted her pocketbook, but for more reasons than one, he couldn’t do that. “You want me to leave you somewhere alone?”

  “What’s my alternative?”

  “You could stay with me.”

  She leaned both of her forearms on his chest and looked down at him. “I can stay with you?”

  “Of course.” His gaze narrowed. “Why do you say it like that?”

  “That can, does it mean you are willing to let me stay with you or is it a, ‘Since you’ve already got those lovely handcuffs on, why don’t you come on and visit us at the stationhouse?’ sort of can?”

  How the hell was he supposed to answer that? “Am I planning to drag you out of here by your hair? Not unless you force me to. We both agreed that you can’t stay here. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Then he understood. There was a certain intimacy
to a woman staying in a man’s home, using his things. And despite the intimacy they’d just shared, he doubted she was willing to jump into a thing with him with both feet. They still didn’t know a damn thing about each other beyond the case of mutual lust they’d temporarily sated. Still, he expected her common sense to overrule her need to protect her emotions.

  “I’m not trying to get over on you, Dana, if that’s what you think. I have a spare bedroom with two spare beds for you to choose from.”

  She sighed and lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like not having any choices.”

  He could understand that. “Is it settled then?”

  She nodded. “What about Tim? He’s due back two days from now.”

  He’d forgotten about her brother. “I’ll have someone bring him here to pick up whatever else he needs, if that’s what you’re worried about. Is it possible he can stay where he is?”

  “Right now, he’s in Florida, but I suppose he could stay with the same family he went down with. I’ll have to call them in the morning.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest. “I think I’m going to take your advice now about getting some sleep.”

  “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

  “I’ll settle for no one trying to shoot me, maim me or run me over.”

  Chuckling, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her. He should probably take his own advice and get some shuteye, but he was too wound up from both the case and the woman in his arms to sleep.

  As lead investigator on the case, it was his job to sort through all the information collected to separate the wheat from the chaff, the relevant from the irrelevant, the truth from the lie. In his gut he was certain that the attempts on Dana’s life, Wesley’s and Amanda’s murders, were all tied in together and they all had something to do with Father Brendan Malone’s activities and possibly his death.

  He knew that somewhere underneath all the deceptions and misdirections lay a body of truth that had yet to be uncovered. He intended to find it, not only because it was his job, but because it was the only way to keep Dana safe.