by Vella Munn
Jack hadn’t almost lost his life for nothing.
“I feel as if I’m about to explode,” Reed admitted. “Whew! I’ll never be able to watch a cops-and-robbers show the same way again.” Ignoring his neck, Reed slid low in the seat. How long had he been working on this case? It wouldn’t be until he went back over his daily log that he’d be able to recreate the events. It was only now, afterward, that the question of “what if” reared its head.
“You should feel good,” the captain said. Like Reed he spoke quickly. “That was a damned good piece of work. If only we didn’t still have all the paperwork ahead of us.”
“You get started on the paperwork.” Reed pushed himself upright. He was tired. Maybe more exhausted than he’d ever been. “The only thing I want right now is access to a telephone.”
“When did you last talk to her?”
Reed was hard-pressed to remember what day it was. “Too long.”
“You haven’t seen her in the past couple of days?”
“I couldn’t, damn it. She knows that.”
“Maybe.” Captain Bistron shifted position. “And maybe she doesn’t. It hasn’t been easy for her.”
“What are you talking about?”
By the time they reached the station, Reed had been told about the continuing phone calls, the tap and Mara’s decision to keep the rapist’s attention focused on her. “Why didn’t she tell me?” Reed’s hands were knotted, his exhaustion forgotten.
“You ask her.”
Reed sagged. Mara had told him she was all right. She’d handled herself like someone in control, and he’d believed her. Now, maybe, he’d learned everything she’d told him had been a lie. “I don’t understand.”
“She’s a brave woman, Reed. She’s weathered what she’s been through incredibly well. I just hope—”
“You just hope what?”
“I’m saying this animal’s been playing with her for a long time. I wouldn’t think I’d have to tell you what that may have done to her.”
“She’ll tell me, if I have to drag it out of her.”
“Don’t push it, Reed. You don’t know everything. Sometimes things happen between a criminal and his victim that can be as bad if not worse than rape.”
Worse than rape. “Such as?”
“Such as one person’s domination of another. Things no one wants to repeat.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Captain Bistron asked and turned toward Reed. “No, I guess you don’t.”
Reed blinked. He felt at least a thousand years old. “Tell me,” he ordered.
The Harbor Island Police Department was a madhouse as prisoners were photographed, fingerprinted and allowed their phone calls—all of them to lawyers. A couple of lawyers from the district attorney’s office were already there asking questions. Several reporters pushed their way in, too.
Reed ignored everything. Mara wasn’t answering her phone. It was almost midnight. Maybe she was asleep, but she should be expecting a call from him. Wouldn’t she answer it?
But maybe she was anticipating a very different call.
“You’re out on your feet,” Captain Bistron tried to point out when Reed dropped the phone back in its cradle. “Why don’t you grab yourself some sleep?”
Reed shook his head, feeling sick. “She won’t answer her phone.”
The captain stiffened. “Damn. This bust, it took most of our manpower. I’m sending a patrol out there right now.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll go. If something happened to her—” He broke off, unable to voice his greatest fear.
Captain Bistron had arranged to have the Jag brought in. The dents were still there, but the flat had been changed. He handed Reed the keys. “If you see anything, anything at all, call us.”
The night slashed past Reed. He cursed the traffic, the Jag, Jack, Zack, his knotted stomach. Most of his real anger was self-directed. He’d let dedication and loyalty consume him because his job had long been the only true focus in his life. He’d done everything he could to keep abreast of what was known about the rapist, but in the end it hadn’t been enough. He’d assumed Mara would tell him if anything changed. She hadn’t. She’d been going through who knew what, for a long time. Their moments together had been too few. Too precious. They’d let—he’d let the passion he felt for her dull the reality of her pain.
What kept his foot pressed to the accelerator and his head pounding was gut-level fear for her life, and the realization that, when all was said and done, he didn’t know Mara Curtis after all.
If only it wasn’t too late for that to change.
The phone had rung at least a dozen times; Mara was a breath away from throwing the instrument through the nearest window. Each time she’d answered she’d prayed it would be Reed. But it hadn’t been him. Only once had the man on the other end of the line spoken and when he did, their conversation was over in less than a minute. Barely enough time for the monster to stretch his net over her. Barely enough time for her to be tangled in his sick game. According to Detective Kline, the calls were made from public phones, a different one each time.
Mara accepted that fact and others. He’d said he’d been out to her place several times, both at night while she slept and when she wasn’t there. It was amazing what could be seen with a powerful set of binoculars, he’d told her. He’d described Lobo perfectly. He’d said he appreciated Mara keeping the dog in at night. His final words had been that a well-aimed bullet would put an end to the Doberman.
And once the dog was out of the way, it would be party time.
At the sound of a car approaching, Lobo rose and slipped over to the window. He didn’t growl. Instead, almost imperceptibly, he began waving his tail.
Mara didn’t have to be told. Reed had come back to her.
Reed was walking toward the house with slow, measured steps. Mara stood at the door and leaned against her dead bolt. She felt both more alive and more terrified than she had in her entire life.
His eyes telegraphed that what he was going to say tonight hadn’t been said before.
“It’s over?” Mara whispered when he finally stood beside her. It was a moonless night. The desert felt lifeless.
“Over. Can I come in?”
He shouldn’t have had to ask. Wordlessly, Mara stepped back. Reed entered the house, filling it. His clothes were limp and wrinkled. Dark hollows lay under his eyes, his wonderful cobalt-blue eyes. He moved his neck stiffly. “When?” she asked.
“Tonight.”
Mara nodded. The need to touch him pressed against her, but because he hadn’t reached for her, she stood where she was. Behind Reed, a fern, too long without water, drooped. Lobo moved forward and sniffed Reed’s hand. Reed ran his hand over Lobo’s head. “What happens now?” she thought to ask.
“Now we get ready to go to court.”
“That’s going to take all your time.”
“No. Not all of it.”
“You’ll be taking another assignment?” Who was this man? She knew his body but not his words, his emotions.
“If I don’t— Mara, I’ve been talking to the captain. He told me there’s been a lot more going on out here than I knew. Things like calling the police to come out, threatening phone calls.”
“Oh.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Mara felt hot and cold. Her thoughts went no further than the man in front of her. The man she’d made love to and loved. “When? How?” Mara challenged. “When we were together, or you managed to find a way to call me, all I could think about was you, what you were facing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t. I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe that, either.”
Mara couldn’t take much more of this insane argument. She felt too raw. Reed was the last person in the world she wanted to fight with, but he evoked responses in her no one else could, and she had no control over those feelings. “What di
d you want me to do? I told the police. I have a tap on the phone. It—”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“When? You were never here.” The words came from that place called pain. “You showed me how to use a gun. You were there for the lineup. But you had no idea how incredibly hard that was for me. You didn’t know what I was going through. When I needed you, you weren’t here.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Reed,” Mara said, glaring at him. “I mean it.”
Reed couldn’t keep his eyes locked on hers, fighting this battle he couldn’t win. It was easier to drop to his knees in front of Lobo and run his hands over the animal’s lean back.
He hadn’t been there for Mara. He hadn’t sensed her turmoil during the lineup. He’d done that to her, to the woman he loved! “That’s it?” he asked even though her answer might destroy him. “You didn’t tell me because you believed all we had were phone calls?”
“I couldn’t reach you during the past few days. You were out somewhere, maybe getting yourself killed. The last thing you told me was that you were about to throw a net over those crooks. What was I supposed to do? Tell you I’d gotten some damn phone calls, that someone left ice cream on my car? I had to listen to a voice on a line. That’s all. A voice. You were risking your life.”
Reed stood. “Ice cream?”
“Yes. Ice cream. You don’t get hysterical over melted ice cream, do you? No one does. Only me.”
Reed wanted to know what Mara was talking about, but her tautly strung body told him she’d said all she could on the subject. She couldn’t depend on him; she really believed that.
Until this moment Reed hadn’t known self-hate could feel like this. With everything in him, he wanted to hold her. But he had no right. Somehow he would have to find words, the right words to heal the damage he’d done. “I want to say something,” he managed. “When I’m done, you can tell me what we’re going to do.”
Mara walked over to her couch and sat. A throw pillow fell to the floor. She ignored it. She was wearing her nightshirt. The hem crept upward when she sat, but that didn’t matter. Reed took the chair opposite her, reminding her of a diver tensed on the edge of an impossibly high board. She could have lost him today. Today could have been the end of him. This distance was better. Safer.
“A few days ago you told me you loved me,” he began. “I didn’t say anything then. I didn’t know how. But, Mara, I love you, too.”
“That’s what you want to talk about?”
“That’s part of it. But no matter what else we say, I don’t want either of us to forget that.”
Mara nodded.
“Maybe…maybe love isn’t enough.”
Mara died a little. “Maybe.”
Something that might have been pain flashed in Reed’s eyes, but it was quickly gone. “Every time I got in touch with you I was taking risks,” he said. “Risks that might endanger you as much as me. I didn’t want that. I needed to believe you were someplace safe. You must know that.”
“Yes.” He was strength. Nothing but strength. Even if she didn’t know who or what else he was, she could still want that part of him.
Reed ran a hand over his red-rimmed eyes. “This case—what I was doing—it was total for me. I didn’t dare make the mistakes Jack did. But, Mara, I fell in love with you despite that and I was so damn torn between wanting to be with you and keeping my promise to Jack.”
“I understand.” Mara couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t reduce her to nothing.
“You understand? Is that all?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t.”
His words undid her. They were getting at a truth. His truth. Maybe hers as well. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. Everything. That monster is out there, stalking you.”
“Yes.”
Reed blinked, a slow covering, a slow return to their uneasy gaze. “When I called earlier you didn’t answer. It’s because you thought it might be him, isn’t it?”
There was no reason for Mara to lie about that. She might not be strong enough to lay herself open and admit her inadequacies before this courageous man, but she would be as honest as she could. “He keeps calling. He says things…”
“What kind of things?”
“Does it matter?”
“You know the answer to that. Why didn’t you tell me? I—”
“You what?” Mara interrupted. “You would have dropped what you were doing to run out here and answer the phone for me? We both know your case had to come first.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” When Reed had walked in the door, Mara hadn’t known what she was going to say. She was still taking the conversation one step at a time. Her turmoil fed the words. She didn’t understand her need to hurt him, only that it had something to do with preventing him from getting too close and discovering her flaws. “You slip in and out of my life. Don’t,” she warned when he tried to stop her, when his wounded eyes stayed on hers. “The times we were together? They were wonderful. Becoming lovers… When we were together, you became the only thing in my life.”
“I wish you hadn’t let that happen.”
He was right. So right she could hate him for it. “I don’t know what I’m saying,” she told him. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Try. Why didn’t you tell me what you were going through? Why?”
“That works two ways, Reed.” She wanted to ask him to stop looking at her, but maybe she didn’t. “Do you have any idea the hell I went through waiting to hear from you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“You…don’t?”
His features were darkening, turning him into even more of a stranger. “Mara, I’ve never had to balance a private life against what I do. This is so new for me.”
He had to stop wounding her. Otherwise…
“Is that it?” he asked. “You just didn’t know how to spit it out? I know you. You wouldn’t do that.”
She’d waited a long, long time to say these words. To take this step. And now it nearly killed her. “You’re wrong, Reed. You don’t know me.”
“You think—”
“Don’t. Don’t interrupt me,” she said even though she was the one doing the interrupting. “We don’t know each other. The hell of it is, it’s too late.”
“You believe that?”
Mara couldn’t sit. She surged to her feet and then didn’t know what to do with herself. Somehow she wound up looking out the window, seeing nothing out there except the night. Once Reed had stood here, telling her about the sounds of silence. “I don’t know anything,” she whispered, “except that this is getting us nowhere.”
When had he left? Sometime while the world waited suspended for the next day to begin. They’d said things. Things about both of them needing to sleep and more words having to be said, but not while they were this raw. Then Reed had gotten up and walked out the door. Mara hadn’t gone after him. She hadn’t tried to make him understand that if she said anything, anything at all, she would wind up admitting things that would destroy everything he believed about her.
It didn’t matter. Until dawn it simply didn’t matter.
And then the sun came and the earth warmed and Mara began to cry and Reed’s absence mattered much too much.
After spending the night in his car on the road leading to her place because he couldn’t leave her out there alone, Reed returned to his hotel to shower and change clothes. His first move was to call Detective Kline. No. There wasn’t anything more the detective could tell him about the rapist case. Yes. Kline had talked to Mara this morning. Her calls would continue to be monitored, and Kline had cleared his desk so this would remain his priority. Reed was welcome to drop by the station whenever he wanted. He’d be there soon, Reed told him, as soon as he was done at the hospital.
Jack was sitting by the side of his bed, knobb
y knees extending below the faded hospital gown. “It’s about time you showed up,” the older man growled when Reed entered. “A phone call. I get one stinking phone call from some character I’ve never heard of, telling me I’m going to be testifying one of these days. That doesn’t tell me a damn thing.”
Reed shook his head. If he’d been able to concentrate more, he would have needled Jack about the return of his acid tongue. But this morning Reed was incapable of thinking beyond the tangle of his own mind. “I was busy. The captain gave you the details, didn’t he? He said he was going to.”
“How should I know? I’m stuck in here.”
“Don’t go milking me for sympathy,” Reed said. He sat. The plastic chair didn’t fit his contours, but he would survive. “I talked to one of the nurses. You’re getting out tomorrow.”
“It might as well be next month. You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Reed shifted position. “I hope your sister brought you some pants. I don’t think they’re going to let you take that outfit with you.”
“She did. I’m not kidding, Reed. You look like something that should have been thrown out with the trash.”
That was the trouble with Jack; the old bum knew him too well. For a few minutes Reed filled the air with talk about the case. Jack pumped him for details, showing at least some of his old enthusiasm. Despite what he’d said about being in the dark, Jack had already talked to the D.A.’s office. His testimony would be a valuable part of the prosecution’s case. “Maybe I won’t be retiring right away after all. The bureau, I’ve been talking to them about my staying on to do some consulting work, training wet-behind-the-ears kids like you.”