Body Of Truth

by Deirdre Savoy

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “It’s me, Jonathan.”

  The three most welcome words she’d heard in a long time. She rushed to move the chair aside so she could yank the door open. She launched herself at him, clinging to his neck as his arms closed around her. She had promised herself she wouldn’t act like a fool the next time he walked in the door, but she couldn’t help herself, and right now she couldn’t care less.

  Her mouth found his for a kiss invested with her relief at seeing him, her love, and even a dose of sexual frustration. Last night, he’d held her until she slept, but he hadn’t made love to her, hadn’t touched her since the night before that when she’d found him standing by the window. He kissed her back with equal fervor, his arms crushing her to him.

  But after a moment he set her on her feet and pulled away from her. She hadn’t realized until then that he held something in his hand—his badge. He tucked it into his back pocket as he moved away from her. “Didn’t I tell you not to open the door to anyone who didn’t show you identification first?”

  She glared at him as he went back to the doorway to retrieve her suitcase and nurse’s bag and shut the door. Not exactly the response she was expecting to the hero’s welcome she’d provided. Aside from that, he’d let her know they hadn’t found Moretti yet. Otherwise, he wouldn’t still be concerned for her safety. “Don’t you think I know your voice by now?”

  “That isn’t the point. I don’t want you to let your guard down, even if you think it’s me.”

  She didn’t want to argue with him. He looked tired and lines of irritation and frustration showed on his face. She didn’t want to do anything to make his job even harder. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

  He closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t mean to have you apologizing to me.” He kissed her temple.

  She wrapped her arms around his back. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing much. I spent the day chasing a ghost. I don’t know where Moretti’s disappeared to. No one does.”

  She bit her lip. Not the news she wanted to hear. “Have you gotten any leads on the other two?”

  “No. Miguel Colon seems to have vanished into thin air, and there’s no record of a Randy Parker being born in any New York City hospital around that time. No school records either. Randall must have gotten his name mixed up.”

  “Wonderful. What does that mean?”

  “The next move is on Moretti or whoever else might be involved in this thing.” He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “Now it’s my turn to be sorry.”

  He might fault himself for any lack of progress, but she didn’t. The man obviously didn’t want to be found and he’d do his damndest to make sure no one did. But that didn’t make her doubt Jonathan. She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, hoping to convey with her kiss the words of encouragement that failed her.

  Something vibrated on him, tickling her, too. “Is that your phone, or are you just happy to see me?”

  He shot her a droll look as he retrieved the phone and connected the call. Dana sighed. If someone were calling him at this hour, it was probably related to the case and probably important. She hadn’t figured she’d have him for long, anyway. Surely the NYPD wouldn’t appreciate one of its members making time on their time. But she wasn’t ready for him to leave her yet. She’d spent most of the day alone, frightened, frazzled. Couldn’t she have a few more minutes with him, just to have him hold her and remind her that everything would be all right?

  She had to laugh at herself. If someone had told her a week ago that she would be looking to some man, a cop at that, for reassurance, she would have laughed herself silly. But a lot had changed in that short time, most of all her feelings for him, feelings she’d never thought any man would inspire in her.

  A playful demon seized her, as she listened to Jonathan’s end of the conversation. She leaned up and pressed one moist kiss to the side of his throat, then another. She felt him stiffen in an effort to retain some sort of decorum and ability to concentrate on what was being said to him.

  After a moment, he closed the phone and clipped it to his belt. His arm closed around her and his mouth met hers. When he pulled away, much too soon for her liking, he brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. “I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  He sighed. “They found Moretti’s car, out in Brooklyn somewhere. They think he’s still nearby.”

  She turned her head and kissed his fingers. “Be careful, Jon. I mean it.”

  “I will. You do the same.” He took her hand, leading her toward the door. He stopped by the bags he’d brought in. “I almost forgot. I brought you a present.”

  He handed her a black plastic shopping bag, the kind you get at any bodega in the Bronx. He moved the other bags from in front of the door while she looked inside the one he’d given her. She burst out laughing as she removed one bottle of disinfectant and another of bug spray. She cradled the items in one arm. “Very funny.”

  He winked at her. “See, even when a man gives a woman exactly what she says she wants, he’s still wrong.” He pulled her to him and kissed her one last time. “Make sure to lock up after I’m gone.”

  “I will,” she promised, feeling the same heaviness in her chest, the same fear, the same sense of frustration she had the last time he walked out the door. She put on the same brave face for him, but she didn’t know how much more of this bravery she could stand.

  Jonathan got in his car and pulled out of the lot. He took the turn that would put him on the southbound New England Thruway, but something about this situation didn’t make sense to him. Worse yet, he couldn’t identify exactly what. His brain was pulled in too many directions and his emotions were too chaotic for whatever disturbed him to jump out at him.

  What was Moretti doing way the hell out in Brooklyn in the first place? As far as Jonathan was able to discover, Moretti didn’t know anyone in that part of the other borough. Even if he did, why would he leave his car parked out on the sidewalk on a dead-end street that offered him little chance of escape? Moretti might not be the sharpest tool in the drawer, but he had to know better than that.

  According to Mari, a patrol unit had spotted the car. An inspection of the interior showed a bullet hole in the driver’s side headrest with the right trajectory and enough blood to suggest he’d tried to off himself. Since there was no body found, and no signs one had been carried off, according to the officers at the scene, maybe he’d changed his mind at the last minute and only managed to wound himself. If that were true, where was he? Some genius had come up with the idea that maybe Moretti realized he needed to get out of there, knew he was in no shape to drive and took off on foot. Who knew? It wasn’t the first element of this case that didn’t make any sense. They still didn’t know why Pierce’s killer had left her in a garbage can behind a pizzeria of all places.

  Damn! At least at this time of night, with the roads almost empty, he’d probably make it out to Brooklyn in half an hour. With any luck, someone would have found Moretti by the time he got there. Maybe, but he doubted it.

  Moretti watched as Stone drove off. By now, half the NYPD must be looking for him in some godforsaken place at the other end of the city. He’d fooled them all, but he didn’t think he’d fool Stone. Not that he thought Stone was brighter than any of the rest of them, but he had more at stake, more reason to be vigilant. And he’d lose even more before the night was over.

  He smiled, contemplating it. But now was not the time for musing, it was the time for action. He scanned the area one last time and saw no one. Silently, he slid his car door open and got out in a crouch. He traveled down three cars, keeping low, listening. The two brain trusts they’d left watching her had the windows rolled partway down on the car. He could hear them talking. They’d let their guard down, too, figuring he was someone else’s problem now. That suited him fine.

  He was close enough now to do it. He took the string of firec
rackers from his pocket. He’d been watching long enough to know that no one would be interrupting their coitus to investigate the sound, thanks to the barrage of firecrackers that had gone off that day, some of which he’d set off himself. He lit the end of the string and tossed it so that it landed between her door and the car. He only needed a minute for the cops’ eyes to be trained on something other than him.

  While the mini explosives burst on the pavement, he walked up to the car and fired two shots inside the car. Those cops wouldn’t be giving him any more grief. Now, to the girl. He didn’t stop himself from smiling this time.

  Dana took several calming breaths as she paced around the small room, unable to keep still. Ever since Jonathan left, a feeling of foreboding had gripped her, churning her stomach and putting her nerves on edge. The damn firecrackers weren’t helping any. Every time a new set went off, she jumped. This last bunch sounded like they were right outside her door. She was tempted to check what was going on out there, but she remembered Jonathan’s edict to stay away from the windows, so she didn’t bother.

  Besides, the two officers were still outside. She could still see their car through the peephole, though the tinted exteriors made it hard to see in.

  Suddenly a dark shape blocked the peephole. The sound of someone knocking made her gasp and step back from the door.

  “Ms. Molloy? This is officer Burke. My partner and I will be taking over. It’s time for the other guys to go home.”

  Officer Burke had to be a hit at the stationhouse. He had one of those Mike Tyson voices, wispy and lispy and too nasal for your average man to carry off well. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Ms. Molloy, can you open the door? I’d like you to see my face, know who I am, in case anything happens.”

  At first, she didn’t think anything of the request, even though the first change of officers hadn’t done the same. Maybe something in the situation had changed and they expected to have to move her. “Show me your badge through the peephole and slide your ID under the door.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She looked out the peephole but at close range all she could make out was the glint of something metallic. “Okay,” she said. “Now slide your ID under the door.”

  She stepped back and looked down. A moment later, the edge of an ID appeared at the bottom of the door. Considering the gap between the threshold and the bottom of the door, the placement had to be deliberate. But, why? The only reason she could think of was that whoever was outside didn’t want her to know who he really was and the only person she could think of who would go to so much trouble was Moretti. But if it was him, why didn’t the officers in the car stop him? Maybe Moretti had already made sure they couldn’t.

  That thought sent a chill of pure terror up her spine. If it were him, she had no way out of here, no weapons and no one looking to help her since they were all on a wild goose chase in another part of the city. She inhaled and let her breath out slowly, trying to calm herself. If it was Moretti, she’d need her wits. “Can you slide it a little farther under? I can’t get it.” Let whoever it was think she was still by the door. Instantly she started backing up, looking around for something with which to defend herself. She’d already checked her bag, which contained nothing more deadly than a pair of blunt tape scissors.

  She didn’t have much chance, as the door burst open a second later. If she’d been where she was supposed to be, crouched down, the door would have hit her, maybe knocking her unconscious, but definitely wounding her. Moretti stood in the doorway, his gun in his hand, surprise written on his face that she was upright and not on the floor.

  Instinctively, she backed away from him, bumping into the nightstand.

  Moretti stepped farther into the room and kicked the door closed, the expression on his face containing both cockiness and menace. “You know, Ms. Molloy,” he said. “You’re really getting to be a pain in the ass.”

  Twenty

  As usual, traffic headed toward the Cross Bronx Expressway moved slower than a snail on a hot day. For once, Jonathan didn’t mind, since it gave him time to think. The turnoff for the Whitestone Bridge loomed just ahead. He needed to make a decision before he committed himself to the trip across the water.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Mari’s number. She answered on the first ring. “I was just about to call you.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ve got a crew out here beating the bushes for Moretti. Haven’t turned up anything yet.”

  “Then why were you going to call me?”

  “When all the hubbub starts, the locals started to come out of their houses to see what was what. One of the men reported that his car was missing. He parked it in front of his house two hours ago. Now it’s gone.”

  A car vanished on the same block where Moretti abandoned his? That had to be more than coincidence. But if it was Moretti, what the hell was he up to? Why bother to go out to Brooklyn and fake an almost suicide in the first place? Probably because he knew Jonathan would follow wherever he thought Moretti was. He wanted a chance to get to Dana without him around. Damn. He’d played right into the plan. He put Mari on hold and called Cohen. The fact that he got the man’s voicemail decided it.

  “I’m going back,” he told Mari, closed the phone and tossed it onto the seat beside him. He got the dome from his glove compartment, put it on the dash and turned it on. Immediately the siren and accompanying flasher kicked in. Once the other cars moved out of his way, he took the turnoff for the Whitestone, but rather than getting on the circular path toward the bridge he made the U-turn to backtrack to the motel.

  Adrenaline rushed through him, tightening his nerve endings and churning the acid in his belly. He estimated he’d left Dana about fifteen minutes ago, at the most. With any luck, he’d make it back in another five. Twenty minutes. A lot could happen in twenty minutes. His mind churned with the possibilities of it. He pushed the gas pedal a little closer to the floorboard. He only hoped that when he found her, he wasn’t too late.

  Dana swallowed in a throat that had gone completely dry. Her heart beat so rapidly and resonated so loudly in her ears that it threatened to block out any other sound. She started to tremble and her knees felt like water, but she was determined not to face her attacker with fear. For one thing, if he simply wanted her dead, he’d have shot her already. He wanted something else first. Maybe to torture her or rape her or just torment her a little while before he took her life. She would need her wits to survive whatever he had in mind.

  He took a step toward her, causing the tremors that wracked her body to intensify. “Stay away from me,” she said in the calmest, deadliest voice she could muster. “You know he’ll kill you if you touch me.”

  Moretti stopped midstride, a smile stretching across his face as he shook his head. “No, he won’t.”

  He spoke with such certainty that a chill traveled up from the base of her spine to her scalp, setting off the hairs at the back of her neck. How could he be so sure Jonathan wouldn’t come after him, unless he’d made sure he couldn’t beforehand? Had Moretti been outside all that time, waiting to ambush Jonathan? She remembered the explosion of firecrackers a few moments before. That sound could have camouflaged a multitude of other sounds Moretti wouldn’t want heard.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She braced her hands on the nightstand behind her to steady her footing. Her fingers bumped into something. Not the lamp, but something else she’d left there.

  Moretti continued toward her, closing the space between them rapidly, his arm outstretched as if he intended to grab her. She slid her hand around the can, waiting, bracing herself for the optimal moment. He took one final step toward her and she acted, bringing the can level to his face and depressing the button to shoot bug spray in his face.

  He screamed, his hands going to his eyes to cover them. But before she could get away, one of his hands swung out, backhanding her, knocking her to the floor and sending the can rolling across the carpet. She bl
inked, both from the blow and the fact that she’d managed to get some of the spray in her own eyes.

  “Get up,” Moretti growled.

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder. One of his hands still shielded his eyes, but the other held his gun, trained on her. Damn. Her attack might have surprised him momentarily, but hadn’t really done her much good. As she rose to her feet, she noticed her bag lying at the foot of the bed. Jonathan had put her heavy computer back where it belonged before he brought it to her.

  She grabbed the heavy bag two-fisted and swung it in Moretti’s direction. She caught him in the midsection, knocking him backward. His gun discharged and the lamp crashed to the floor, casting the room in darkness. She didn’t waste a moment this time. She’d heard Moretti’s groan of pain when the bag struck him, but she doubted she’d done him any real harm.

  She got to the door, pulled it open and ran. She cut across the parking lot rather than circle around the edge of the building. She tried to yell, “Fire,” something that would bring the occupants out of their doors, but no sound came out of her clogged throat. Tears stung her eyes as she made her way to the registration office, both from frustration and the lingering effects of the spray. Once she made it there, she tried to pull open the glass door, but it didn’t budge and there didn’t appear to be anyone inside. She banged on the door, hoping to bring someone, anyone who could help her.

  Inside the office, a door opened and a kid came out wiping his hands on a paper towel. He sauntered toward her with the air and the deliberation of someone who has nothing better to do than take their time. She glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of Moretti, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t follow her. She banged on the glass again, trying to speed up the kid’s progress.