Body of Lies

by Deirdre Savoy

  That question hadn’t come out as she had hoped. It sounded as if she were complaining, which she wasn’t. She’d harbored a secret crush on Zach since almost the first day he walked in the door. At least she hoped it was secret. If either her father or Zach had noticed, neither had said anything to her about it.

  “You could do worse, little girl.” He paused, adjusting his robe, for so long that it made her wonder what he meant by that, until he continued. “As far as company goes, I mean.”

  She agreed with him, but that wasn’t the point. She studied his face. Dark circles discolored the area beneath his eyes, though the rest of his complexion seemed pale. She hated knowing that she cared about the health of this man she both loved and hated, but she did. “Are you sick, Daddy?”

  His eyebrows shot up at her use of the word “daddy.” She never called him that except when other people were around. “What’s the matter with you, girl? Can’t a man get a little tired every once in a while without folks thinking he’s going to die? I’ve worked this job more than twenty-five years. Whose business is it if I want to lie down every once in a while?”

  She didn’t believe him. It was too much bluster even for him. “If you’re sick, I have a right to know.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, little miss. Ain’t nothing going to kill me except the job, and even that’s a long way off.” He turned his attention to the TV screen, ignoring her.

  She went back to her room after that. For the next week back at school she considered calling Zack to ask if he knew anything about her father’s condition. In the end she decided against it. If her father had confided in Zach and asked him to keep the secret, Zach likely would. She didn’t want to put him in the position of lying to her, nor did she want to hear him lie to her. Besides, it wasn’t his responsibility to tell her, it was her father’s.

  In the end it didn’t matter. Two weeks later her father’s prediction came true. He was shot to death while on duty. He’d bled to death in Zach’s arms waiting for an ambulance to arrive. And it had been Zach who’d taken her to see her father’s body when she’d insisted. He’d been the one to stand beside her as they put him in the ground. And later, when everyone else had gone home ...

  She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on that time. She’d known Zach was vulnerable, that he blamed himself for her father’s death, that he’d needed comforting as much as she’d needed something else. She couldn’t blame him for walking out on her the next day. He’d considered himself an honorable man, one of the good guys, and that being with her would have tarnished that self-image.

  It hadn’t done her much good, either. She’d gone back to school to finish the semester, but she’d been changed, both by her father’s death and that night. She’d held it together all those years after her mother died, yet when she was finally free, she lost it, drowning herself in the one thing every man in her life had seemed to value her for.

  It wasn’t until she’d found herself standing at the campus precipice known less for its beauty than the number of suicides who leaped from it each year that she got herself together, sought help, and tried to rebuild her life. She never wanted to go back there again, either literally or any other way. Watching stones crumble at your feet to fall into the watery ravine below, wondering if the unstable land would hold you or set you free, was no way to live a life.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing pulled her from her reverie. She put the photo back where it belonged, then tightened the sash on her robe. She could imagine only one person showing up at her house at this hour. He still needed something from her, though she wasn’t exactly sure what.

  If it was absolution, he hadn’t asked for her forgiveness. If it was her renewed friendship, he’d allowed her to rebuff him easily. But she did notice the way he looked at her. He wasn’t exactly broadcasting his attraction to her, nor was he hiding it, either. It simply existed between them. She recognized it because she felt it, too. On some level she wondered if that one night between them had been a fluke or if things between them could really be that good.

  Whatever he wanted, she couldn’t give it to him. She had used his vulnerability against him once and she would do it again if she had to to preserve herself. She only hoped it didn’t come to that.

  When she opened the door to him, she saw he wore the same clothes he’d had on earlier. Didn’t this man ever go home?

  She noticed the way his gaze strayed from her face, down her body and back again. His perusal of her wasn’t obvious, but noticeable enough for her to detect it. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he made no reference to her appearance. “Can I come in, Alex?”

  Since whatever conversation they were about to have was best accomplished away from her doorstep she stepped back and let him enter. He proceeded to about the same spot he had two nights ago.

  Unlike the other night, she didn’t bother to claim a seat on the sofa. She drew to a stop a couple of feet away from him and folded her arms in a silent challenge. “Well?”

  For a long moment, he said nothing, leaving her again to wonder what he wanted. He’d told her before that if he wanted to talk to her about the case he’d see her in her office. So, did that make this a personal visit of some sort? She doubted it, since the strongest emotion she read off him was not supplication or even desire, but agitation.

  She sighed. “What is it, Zach? It’s late and I was about to go to bed.”

  It wasn’t a total lie. Once she’d started strolling down memory lane, she’d known she no longer had a head for much of anything else that night. Already, a dull pulse beat at her temple signaling another migraine.

  His eyes scanned her face. It wasn’t a sexual gaze, yet in some ways she felt laid bare in ways that had nothing to do with her lack of clothing. Did he know how much these nocturnal visits of his were killing her, and if he did, why didn’t he stay home?

  “I just wanted to tell you, you were right. Thorpe found the girls on the Internet. The Hassler girl’s best friend told us she’d snuck out of the house to meet some guy. Three of them had Web pages at Yourplacedotcom. It’s a site kids frequent. They all had pictures up, where they went to school, everything but their goddamn home addresses. More information than you’d give to a stranger on the street.”

  True, but a stranger on the Internet seemed much more harmless. “Kids assume their information is only going to be viewed by other kids.”

  “Obviously, they got that wrong. There are a hell of a lot of sick folks out there waiting to prey on the naive.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. But it wasn’t necessarily naivete that got the kids in trouble. The adolescent personal myth that they were invincible was more likely to blame. Bad things happened to other people, not them, except when they didn’t. She doubted he needed a lecture on the subject, anyway.

  “What are you going to do about that?”

  “We’ve got a couple of detectives working a sting already. We put this guy on their radar. Though we don’t know what screen name he goes by. We’re looking for a correlation between users all three girls corresponded with. The chat room for the site doesn’t keep a log, and as far as we can tell, none of the girls saved instant messages from him.”

  Alex nodded, not knowing what else to add. Computer stalking wasn’t an area of her expertise, though she knew it occurred with greater and greater frequency with more and more people online and the increasing deviousness of some of its users.

  She regarded Zach, who’d stopped talking, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. Although they’d exhausted their topic, there was something more, something he left unsaid. It was impossible to read what that might be from his expression, but she thought she knew anyway.

  “Is that it, or are we going to get to the real reason why you’re here?”

  His gaze narrowed as he surveyed her face. “Which would be?”

  She tilted her head to one side, considering him. “Let’s face it, Zach. There’s nothing you told me right now that coul
dn’t have waited until morning, which begs the question, why did you bother to drive over here in the first place?”

  He let out a heavy breath. “Look, Alex, I—”

  “You don’t need to put a nice face on it, Zach. Don’t you think I noticed the way you looked at me? Not just now, but in my office? In that damn conference room when you didn’t even know who I was?”

  “That’s not why I came here.”

  “Sure it is.” She lifted her chin in a way that suggested she was sniffing the air. “I can practically smell it on you. You’re thinking about that night. We’d just put my father in the ground, and there we were, just you and me. Do you remember that night, Zach? I know I do.”

  If he hadn’t been thinking about what happened between them before, she knew he was now. His gaze darkened and his nostrils flared. His voice when he spoke was huskier and deep. “What’s your point?”

  She paused a moment, gathering strength to say the words she planned. “How much money have you got this time? I’m not as cheap a date as I used to be.”

  His expression was half confused, half incredulous. “What the hell are you talking about? I never tried to buy you, Alex.”

  “No, but you sure as hell paid for me, didn’t you?” For a moment, she stared up at him, angry, defiant. Until that moment, she had no idea how close to the surface her own emotions ran. She’d thought she’d been looking at the situation from a veil of distance, but all the old hurt and shame washed over her, making her more a victim of her words than he.

  She started to move away from him, but he pulled her back with a hand on her arm. She didn’t want to look up at him, but she felt drawn to do so nonetheless. Her gaze locked with his. His expression was no more readable than before. His hand rose to stroke his knuckles across her cheek. “It wasn’t like that, Alex, and you know it.”

  She inhaled, willing her emotions to settle. It took all her willpower not to show him how much that simple caress affected her. Why did he have to be the only man to ever touch her like that, as if she were something precious deserving of his protection?

  Unable to hold his gaze, she looked away. “Go home, Zach. Don’t come back.”

  “Alex.” He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin.

  Reluctantly she looked up at him. His gaze searched hers. She knew what he wanted, but she couldn’t give it to him. “Go.”

  His expression darkened as if a shadow had fallen over him. What she saw there was not anger, but pain, more pain than she’d intended to inflict. She shut her eyes as he released her, knowing what he’d do. A few moments later she heard her front door slam. A moment after that, his car roared to life and screeched away from the curb.

  She opened her eyes and went to the front door to lock it. That accomplished she leaned her back against the surface, exhaling heavily. All she’d wanted was to ensure that he left the past alone, but she’d hurt him badly, certainly more than she’d intended. She’d have to live with that.

  She pushed off the door. She’d never get to sleep now. She might as well get back to work.

  Zach sat in one corner of the black leather sofa in his study with the lights out and a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He couldn’t remember drinking any of it, but his stomach felt warm and rumbly in a way usually only achieved by the use of alcohol. He couldn’t remember driving home from Alex’s either, but he must have done so, considering he was here. He never should have gone to see her in the first place.

  She’d been right about him; he had harbored an ulterior motive for seeing her, though not the one she suspected. Maybe if he’d been straight with her, she wouldn’t have jumped to her own conclusions.

  He sipped from the glass now. He might not have gone to Alex’s place with any seduction plans in mind, but she was right about him remembering that night. Sense memories washed through him, heating him more than the alcohol did. It was the best and worst night of his life. She was a week shy of her eighteenth birthday. He had just turned twenty-two. He was too old for her, a fact that he remembered during saner times.

  He remembered waking the next morning with her by his side, the shame that washed over him, knowing what he’d done. He didn’t even have the excuse that he’d been drunk or so grief-filled that he hadn’t known what he was doing. The only thing he had going in his favor was that he didn’t made the first move.

  He’d needed to get out of there, since he had no idea what to say to her when she woke. He’d put on his clothes and pulled whatever bills he had from his pocket and left them for her, not knowing if she had any money she could get her hands on. He’d left her a note, too, saying he’d call, but he didn’t. Not at first. What could he say to her? The truth? That it had been a mistake?

  It hadn’t felt like a mistake. That was the problem. It had felt like the first right thing he’d done in a long time. But he couldn’t allow what they shared to continue. He needed some distance to get himself together. By the time he finally returned her calls she wouldn’t take his. A few days later she went back to college and that was that.

  He’d never imagined she’d viewed the money as some kind of payoff. He should have, though. She’d never allowed him to give her anything without some kind of quid pro quo. He shook his head, remembering their last conversation. She’d tried to brush him off, saying they were even, so not to worry about her. He hadn’t understood what she meant until now.

  She’d told him that she didn’t hate him, and he hadn’t believed her. He saw now that she hadn’t lied, but his thoughtlessness hurt her badly. To his mind, that was worse; it meant that after all this time the wound was still raw. Damn.

  Not knowing what he was going to do about that, he downed the rest of the liquid in his glass and deposited it on the table in front of him. Maybe it was too late to do anything, but his prospects had to seem better after a night of sleep, not that he really expected one awaited him.

  He climbed the stairs, pausing briefly at Stevie’s door. Thankfully, she’d already been in her room when he got home. He hadn’t done right by her either. He’d allowed her to stay in his home, in part because she needed to and in part because he wanted to find out what was going on with her. But for the most part, he’d ended up ignoring her in favor of Alex and the case he was working.

  At least she hadn’t used his home for a trysting spot as he’d first suspected she would. Good thing. He’d probably kill some boy who’d done with Steve half the things he’d done with Alex so many years ago. So what did that make him? Not only a cad but a hypocrite.

  He sighed. He’d make it up to her this weekend when he had some time off. If he had some time off. He’d make time. He only wished he could solve his problems with Alex as easily.

  Officer Joe Morgan approached the black Ford Escort station wagon reported stolen two days ago with a sense of trepidation. It wasn’t that the gruesome scene he expected to find would unsettle him, but because of what it would mean: He wouldn’t be getting to his girlfriend Rhonda’s house any time soon.

  Damn. This spot hadn’t been worth a damn since the former mayor Giuliani had decided the new sheriff needed to clean up the town. He’d turned Times Square into a haven even Disney could love, and even here in the hinterlands of the Bronx hadn’t been immune. Morgan supposed that was for the best, but he missed the days when he could roll by for a quick hand job as quid pro quo for leaving the ladies to their business. Now only the occasional down-on-her-luck hoochie ventured over to ply her trade in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler pulled off the highway or with a patron of two motels on the strip.

  Back in the day there had only been weeds and woods out here to tell the tale, but in the last couple of years a string of new houses and almost houses had replaced the wilderness. The Escort was parked next to a set of doorless, windowless houses. The large and low-slung full moon lent the structures a mournful look, like wailing, openmouthed faces.

  A shiver went up Morgan’s spine and he shook himself to dilute its effects. He’d been doing
this job for ten long years, seen more shit before nine o’clock than most people did all day. But from the minute they’d received the job to check out an abandoned car matching the day’s hot sheet, he knew what they’d find.

  He lifted his flashlight and almost laughed, since the first thing he noticed was a baby’s car seat on the backseat. Real terrifying stuff. He took another step forward, adjusting the flashlight to survey the front seat. The light shone on a girl’s face, bruised, cut, her hair wild and matted. He tilted the beam lower down on the woman’s nude body and swallowed. Just like all the others.

  He focused the beam of his flashlight on the face again. Even with the bruising, he could tell she was young, maybe fifteen, with long black hair. For some reason he thought of his kid sister, a sophomore in nearby Cardinal Spellman High School. If anyone had done to her what some bastard had done to this girl ... Even in his own mind he couldn’t complete the thought. Unconsciously he crossed himself.

  “You got anything?”

  Morgan gritted his teeth. Why his chickenshit partner, Jenkins, had to rouse himself out of the car just in time to startle the crap out of him he didn’t know. Annoyed, he said, “Call it in. It looks like we’ve got another one.”

  Jenkins trotted back toward the car without looking in the window.

  “Putz,” Morgan muttered as he rounded the front of the car to the passenger’s side. He doubted any woman could survive what this bastard had done to this one. Besides, whoever had attacked her seemed to like his women dead when he was through with them. But he opened the unlocked door and felt for a pulse at the base of her throat.

  He straightened away from the car, calling Jenkins.

  “What’s up?” Jenkins called back.

  “Better tell them to send a bus,” Morgan said. “This one’s still alive.”

  Eleven