Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder

by Marilyn Rausch

  Jo turned to John once more, the firelight causing shadows to dance across her features. Her eyes were hard pieces of emerald in the dim light. “He was one of the killers on the tape at Sid’s office. I’m sure of it.”

  John sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes briefly. “That’s why you followed him.”

  Jo filled him in on the chase and the deadly crash. She told him about the tattoo.

  There was a pain in John’s stomach that grew larger with each word. Jesus Christ, what a mess … He could no longer pretend that Jo’s life wasn’t in jeopardy. John ran a hand through his hair, making the shorter hairs stand on end. “Damn it. This is getting way out of hand. You and I could both end up like Sid.”

  He stood up and began to pace. “They’re on to you now. They’re going to know you were in the accident. Your cover is blown. This has to end. Take what we’ve got to your boss and let’s get the hell out of here. Let someone else take the risk.” He felt helpless and frustrated. He knew what she did for a living, and he knew she was highly trained. None of that meant he liked it.

  Jo let the blanket slide down her back. She stood up, squaring her shoulders. “No, John. The accident occurred in Frisco’s jurisdiction. He took my statement and knows I need more time. He says he can keep the victims’ names and my part in the accident out of the papers for a day, maybe two at the most. There were no witnesses. For now, it was a tragic accident on a snowy night, but I was never there.

  “I’ve thought about this on the drive back. I want to see this through to the end. NeuroDynamics can’t win. I’m all right. I’m going to call my boss and give him an update.”

  John gathered her in his arms. He needed to reassure himself that she was here and she was safe. Jo resisted at first, then wrapped her arms around his waist. Her voice was muffled against his sweater. He could feel her warm breath through the fabric. “I was scared, John. More frightened than I’ve ever been. I thought, ‘This is it. I’m going to die on this snowy road, alone.’ All I could think of was the life I hadn’t yet lived.

  “After I’d escaped the accident, I was beyond relieved. Until I realized because of my survival, two others died. I know Kurt was a murderer and he probably deserved what he got, but that trucker didn’t. He was just in the wrong place. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Do you know how that feels?”

  An image of the young patient who had died before he came to Minnesota popped into his head. And the countless other deaths that he couldn’t stop. He held her tighter. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

  They stood together. He heard the sizzle of overheated sap from a log in the fireplace. He tucked his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I don’t know if you’re fearless or reckless. Maybe a bit of both. When I think of what might have happened …”

  John’s finger trailed along her jaw line. She quivered at his touch. He could hear the huskiness of his own voice when he said, “Are you still cold?”

  Her voice was low, “No, not anymore.” She reached a hand behind his head and pulled him down to her lips. Her kiss was an almost savage assault on his mouth, as if she wanted to prove to them both that she had survived.

  What am I getting into here? John wanted this to happen. Hell, he had wanted it practically from the first moment he met her. But this would be more than just a casual relationship. She was giving him a gift by trusting him, and he felt humbled by it. Then the thought vanished, and he kissed her with an intensity that matched hers.

  She ground her hips against him. Raising his head in surprise, he gasped. He walked her to the couch and then settled her on his lap. Lowering his mouth to the hollow beneath her throat, he caught the scent of vanilla. The vibration of her moan was on his lips. He buried his hands in her hair, feeling its silkiness, the curls wrapping themselves around his fingers.

  Jo reached up and grasped his hand, putting it to her left breast. His thumb teased the erect nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her breath was coming in small, shallow pants. “I want to take this off.” She tugged at the hem of her shirt.

  “No, let me.” He pushed her hands aside and lifted the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor. Unhooking her lacey bra, he slid it down her arms. Her full breasts glowed in the firelight. A prayer escaped from him, “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Jo ran a hand through his hair and guided his head down to her chest. He gently pushed her off his lap and onto the couch. Partly lying across her, he sucked on her nipple. He teased it with his teeth, until she arched her back, moaning deeply. Jo reached down to his crotch. His body jerked in response. It was difficult to draw a deep breath. She whispered, “Take off your clothes. I want to touch you, to see you.”

  John eased himself off her and tugged the sweater over his head. He slowly unbuttoned the shirt beneath, wanting this to last. Her eyes glittered in the dim light. Sitting up, she watched as he unbuckled his belt. She roughly shoved his hands aside and said, “My turn.”

  Jo stood up and kissed his chest. Her hands trailed along his flat stomach. Fingertips traced the whorls of hair above his belt line. He inhaled sharply when she ran the tip of her tongue across his nipple and then blew on it, the wetness reacting to the cool air. The pleasure of her touch was almost painful.

  Hooking a finger in his belt loop, she pulled him toward her bedroom. “Come with me.” He went along willingly, already missing the feel of her hands on him. Aching to touch her again.

  Caddy stood up, ready to follow them into the bedroom. John gently pushed her aside and closed the door on her. “Sorry, old girl. I think I can handle this by myself.”

  Twenty-Three

  Wednesday, March 8, 2:13 p.m.

  Chip,

  Atta boy! Have you been practicing with that Nowhere-ville vet? Keep it up (no pun intended). Your readers want sex, sex, and more sex. They aren’t getting it at home, so you’ve got to give it to them full blast in your book. What about a shower or tub scene for Jo and John? Soap and sex are so delicious! The two of them have to go at it passionately, with a capital ‘P’ … nibbles, licking, sucking right through to multiple orgasms. Show how those Iowa bulls do it! Or I’ll personally castrate you!

  Lucinda

  Twenty-Four

  Brain Freeze

  Two Harbors, Minnesota

  Jo waited until John had closed the door and she had his full attention. She shimmied out of her jeans, taking her time. Panties soon followed, and she kicked them off the end of her toe.

  John stood still, his eyes roving freely over her body. She felt feverish, as he seemed to take in every inch of her. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable for a long time and she was surprised to find that she wasn’t afraid to trust him.

  In a slightly strangled voice, he said, “You’re incredible.”

  Feeling anything but incredible after the night she’d had, she wrinkled her nose. “I need a shower, to wash away tonight. Come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and walked to the master bath.

  She turned around just in time to see him quickly stepping out of his jeans. Her eyes widened as she looked him over. Years of swimming had given him a powerful body. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist. His legs were long and strong. She smiled to herself when she saw how aroused he was.

  “C’mon, Doctor. You look like you could use some, um, soap yourself.”

  His response was more growl than words. He stepped behind her as she reached behind the shower curtain to turn on the water. John grabbed her hips and pulled her to him.

  There was an insistent ache between her legs. She turned around to kiss him deeply on the mouth. He groaned as she caressed him, hands exploring.

  John’s breath was hot in her ear. “I think we’d better get into that shower. I’m looking forward to soaping you up.”

  The shower stall was wide and deep, with a bench built into the wall. Steam swirled around them. Jo snatched the bar of soap and began to l
ather up her hands. She motioned for John to turn around and then rubbed the soap across his shoulders, down his back, caressing his buttocks. His hands braced himself against the wall, as if he needed help standing upright. He turned his head towards her, water streaming down his face.

  “You are a terrible tease.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.” Her hands moved down his hard thighs and calves. After soaping up her hands again, she gently turned him around and started rubbing his chest. She took her time moving down to his stomach and then stroked his inner thigh. His reaction was almost violent. He wrapped his hand tightly around hers and held it still.

  “Stop. Just give me a second.” He closed his eyes, as if mentally counting. When he opened his eyes again, he said, “Give me that soap. It’s my turn.” She shivered at his words, anticipating his hands gliding across her flesh.

  His hands were strong and slippery. When his thumb brushed across her nipple, her body vibrated in response. She roughly grabbed his hand and shoved it between her thighs. Closing her eyes, she whimpered, “Touch me.”

  His fingers explored her wetness. Jo’s breath came in quick, shallow pants.

  She opened her eyes to look at him. “I want to feel you inside me. Here, sit on the bench.”

  When he sat down, she straddled him. John gripped her hips and slowly she slid down on the length of him. He released a deep groan. Water pounded her back as she moved up and down, up and down. The bench dug into her knees on either side of his thighs. She held onto his shoulders as they moved together. Jo felt her breasts bounce with the rhythm of their lovemaking. Her eyes locked onto his.

  Just as she thought she couldn’t wait another moment, he closed his eyes at last and shuddered, calling out her name. She felt him jerk inside her, and a moan escaped her lips. She felt the pulse of her orgasm squeeze around him. She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “My God.”

  An hour later, Jo lay in the circle of his arms on the queen-sized bed in her room. She could hear his heart beat strong and steady as she rested her head on his chest.

  Moonlight streamed through the windows. It had been a long time since she felt this safe. “John?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you remember our conversation a while ago about my name change?”

  She felt him shift. “Yes.”

  She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso. “I’d like to tell you about it.”

  John propped himself up on his elbow, giving her his full attention.

  She took a deep breath. “You remember that Sid mentioned he went to med school with my father?”

  John nodded.

  “My father was a big shot doctor in Duluth for years. Had the biggest OB/GYN office in St. Louis County. When I was seventeen, he was accused of inappropriately touching one his patients. She took him to court. He was found not guilty, but his practice fell apart soon after. No one trusted him anymore. The whispering behind his back followed him everywhere. He closed his office one night and stuck a gun in his mouth.” The pain of that long ago night still caused her heart to constrict.

  John reached out to clasp her hand that had crumpled up the sheet. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Is that why you left the area and settled in the Twin Cities?”

  Her curls fell forward as she nodded. “My mother died of breast cancer when I was young, so it was just me and my dad for all those years. When he killed himself, there was nothing left for me here. I changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name, packed up my stuff and headed south. I was accepted at the U of M, finished my coursework and then was recruited by the FBI right out of college. And I haven’t looked back. Until now.”

  John was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “I’m glad you told me.”

  She bit her lower lip, not meeting his eyes. “You still want to be involved with me?”

  “What if I told you something about myself that I’ve never told anyone else?”

  “You don’t have to do that …”

  His eyes met hers in the dim light of the room. He cleared his throat. “During my first year of training to be a neurosurgeon, I shadowed Dr. Michaelson, an elderly but brilliant doctor. A pioneer in the field. He took me under his wing and favored me above all the other students. Looking back, I’m not sure why. I was just this dumb, cocky kid, fresh out of med school, no different than the rest.”

  John began to fidget with the blanket. “One night, Dr. Michaelson came into work drunk. I mean, plastered. I was horrified. Pretty tough to see a man I practically worshipped fall off his pedestal.” He swallowed.

  “An emergency case came through the doors, a head injury from a wicked car accident. It should have been Dr. Michaelson’s case, but by then he was passed out in the lounge. I … I took the case. Thought I could fix the poor woman’s head injuries. I couldn’t do a damn thing for her and she died. A more experienced surgeon might have saved her.” Jo could see the pain that still lingered in John’s eyes at the memory.

  “Did you get into trouble?”

  “No. When Dr. Michaelson woke up, he found out that I tried to cover-up for him and took all the blame. The only reason he didn’t lose his license was because of his reputation. He was ‘encouraged’ to take early retirement.”

  Jo looked at him. “And you blamed yourself?”

  “Yes. I know that my mentor shouldn’t have been drinking, but in the end, it was my arrogance that killed the patient. I took a six-month leave of absence after that to get my head back together. I’d like to think I came back a more humble man.”

  Jo leaned forward and pulled him into her arms. They were both silent as Jo felt his heartbeat once more. Sharing her story with him had released the weight she had carried for too long and for that, she was grateful.

  She thought about his story and was touched by his honesty. Somehow, in the space of a few hours, he had become more real to her than anyone she had ever known.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Turners Bend

  Mid-March

  March came roaring in with wicked winds that growled and snarled in a good imitation of a lion. Locals reassured Chip that its entrance foretold a lamb-like departure, but the end of the month was a long time to wait for a release from winter’s fangs and claws. Chip surfed the Internet, reading about cures for SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder.

  He sat in his kitchen, staring at his computer screen and feeling depleted. After writing Jo and John’s sex scenes, he was blocked. The ringing phone made him jump. He looked at the caller ID and hesitated, unsure whether or not he was in the right mood to talk with Lucinda. He braced himself and picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Lucinda. How’s my literary agent extraordinaire?”

  “Cut the crap. You’re giving me a migraine, and I don’t have a microchip in my brain like poor Belinda in Brain Freeze.” Chip held the phone away from his ear. Lucinda was at her bitchiest. “It’s friggin’ March 15 and you’re two months from your deadline. I get two sex-filled chapters from you and now squat. ”

  “Sorry, Lucinda, things have been hectic around here, and I’ve been really busy.”

  “I don’t care how many bovines go belly up or if it’s the Queen of France getting married, you need to be writing. Sounds to me like woman problems. Oh, God, that’s it, isn’t it? I’ll bet you anything that vet is derailing you.”

  “Where are my royalties?” said Chip, thinking a change of topic might be the best defense.

  “Lord, save me from two-bit hack writers. I’ll have the accounting department cut deposit your earnings to date in your Bank America account. The Cranium Killer continues to sell well, but don’t expect a lot of cash to trickle down to you, and you are going to earn squat from Brain Freeze if you don’t get humping. Goodbye.”

  Honey ambled over, sat and put her head in Chip’s lap. She always seemed to know when he needed canine love. “Sweet girl, what did I ever do without you?” He rubbed her ears, and she thumped h
er tail on the kitchen floor.

  The last two weekends at AgriDynamics had been hard on Chip. To say that he was not used to hard work was an understatement. Being a caddy at his father’s country club had been the extent of his experience with any work requiring physical stamina. The back strain was killing him and worse yet, he hadn’t gotten near to where any chemicals were stored. The only strange thing he had noted was that every night about 2:00 a.m., a truck loaded with barrels left the plant and returned with the same barrels in the back an hour later. He wanted to know what was in those barrels. What the heck, maybe he would just ask next weekend.

  Over the past two weeks he had been spending time with Jane, but never alone. She had begun to join him at the Bun most mornings. They chatted about puppy training, her practice, Sven and Ingrid, his new book, town gossip, the coming of spring. They took her kids out for pizza and a Twilight movie one night and had Sunday dinner with Mabel and Iver. He kept his hands to himself. They were just friends he reminded himself each time that he returned home from seeing her. He found her scarf in his car and kept it. It smelled of her coconut-scented shampoo.

  “Iver and Mabel are quite the lovebirds, aren’t they?” Jane said one morning. She and Chip were sharing a cinnamon roll at the Bun. “I caught him nuzzling her in the kitchen yesterday when we were there for dinner. Kind of sweet. I’m happy for them.”

  “Makes you believe in second chances, doesn’t it?”

  “You know what they say, ‘once burned, twice shy’. I don’t know if I really could handle a second time around.”

  “Well, I guess I had my second chance twice, so I’ve run out of chances.” Chip was trying to make a joke, but Jane didn’t laugh.

  She held her coffee mug in both hands and stared out the café’s front window. After a few moments she turned her pensive face into an overly bright smile and picked up the check. “On me today, Chip. I’ve got to get out to check Oscar’s herd this morning and then over to the firehouse to deworm Zeus and Jupiter. See what a fun life I have?”