Brazen Virtue

by Nora Roberts

  “Papaya,” Ed muttered as Tess sniffed dubiously at her glass.

  “A toast then.” Grace lifted her glass in salute. “To new beginnings and continuity.”

  Glasses clinked.

  “So when are you going to get some furniture in here?” Ben sat on the edge of the crate beside Tess. “You can’t live in a construction zone forever.”

  “It’s a matter of priorities. I’m finishing the drywall in the bedroom over the weekend.” Ed sipped as he considered his partner. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Busy,” Ben said immediately. “I’ve got to—ah, clean out the vegetable bin in the fridge. Can’t have Tess slaving over housework in her condition.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Tess took another tentative sip of the juice. “Anyway, I’ve got to run into the clinic for a couple of hours tomorrow. I could drop you off.”

  Ben gave her a sour look. “Thanks. Ed, don’t you think Tess should cut back, take some time off? Put her feet up?”

  “Actually …” Ed leaned back comfortably against a sawhorse. “An active mind and body make for healthier mother and baby. Studies initiated by obstetricians over the last ten years indicate that—”

  “Shit,” Ben interrupted. “Ask a simple question. What about you, Grace? As a woman, don’t you believe an expectant mother should pamper herself?”

  Unmindful of sawdust, Grace lowered herself to the floor, Indian style. “It depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether she’d die of boredom. I would. Now, if she were considering the Boston Marathon, it might require discussion. Are you thinking of that, Tess?”

  “I was thinking of starting with something local first.”

  “Sensible,” Grace decided. “This is a sensible woman. You, on the other hand,” she said to Ben, “are typical.”

  “Typical what?”

  “A typical male. And that makes you, under the circumstances, an overprotective worrywart. Which is okay. It’s cute. And I’m sure that Tess, being a woman, and one with psychiatric training, will be able to satisfactorily exploit that over the next seven months, one week, and three days.” Lifting the bottle of wine, she tipped more into Ben’s glass.

  “Thanks. I think.”

  Grace smiled at him over the rim of her own glass. “I like you, Detective Paris.”

  He grinned and, leaning over, touched his glass to hers. “I like you too, Gracie.” He glanced up when Ed’s phone rang. “While you’re answering that, see if you’ve got anything to eat in the kitchen that isn’t green.”

  “Amen,” Grace murmured into her glass. After glancing over her shoulder, Grace spoke again. “You won’t believe what I ate over here the other night. Artichoke bottoms.”

  “Please.” Ben shuddered. “Not while I’m breathing.”

  “Actually, they weren’t nearly as bad as I thought they’d be. Has he always been this way? Eating roots and things?”

  “That man hasn’t had a hamburger in years. It’s scary.”

  “But sweet,” Grace added and smiled into her glass in a way that had Tess speculating.

  “Sorry,” Ed began as he walked back in. “We’ve got a call.”

  “Christ, can’t a man even celebrate childbirth?” But Ben automatically set his drink aside.

  “It’s in Montgomery County.”

  “Over the line? What do they want us for?”

  Ed glanced at Grace. “Attempted rape. Looks like our man.”

  “Oh God.” Grace jolted to her feet so that wine sloshed over her hand.

  Tess rose with her husband. “Ed—the victim?”

  “Shaken, but okay. Got her hands on a butcher knife. Between that and the family dog, she held him off.”

  “Let me have the address. I’ll drop Tess off and meet you there.”

  “I’m going with you.” Before Ben could object, Tess laid a hand on his arm. “I can help, not only you, but the victim. I know how to handle this, and it’s almost certain she’ll be more comfortable talking to a woman.”

  “Tess is right.” Ed walked to the closet off the hall to get his gun. It was the first time Grace had seen him with it. She tried to equate the man who so easily strapped it on with the one who’d carried her through the rain. “This is the first woman we know of that he’s made contact with who’s still alive. Tess might make it easier for her to talk.” He pulled a jacket over his shoulder holster. Grace’s long, speculative look at him, and at his weapon, hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I’m sorry, Grace, I don’t have any idea how long we’ll be.”

  “I want to go. I want to talk to her.”

  “It’s not possible. It’s not,” he repeated, taking her shoulders as she started to move past him. “It won’t help you, and it would only make it harder on her. Grace …” She had a stubborn chin. Ed cupped a hand under it until her gaze met his. “She’s been badly frightened. Think about it. She doesn’t need more people around, especially one who would remind her of what might have happened. Even if I bent the rules, going there wouldn’t help.”

  She knew he was right. She hated knowing he was right. “I’m not going home until you get back and tell me everything. I want to know what he looks like. I want a picture in my head.”

  He didn’t like the way she made the last statement. Revenge almost always bit the one who held it the tightest. “I’ll let you know what I can. It could take a while.”

  “I’ll wait.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Right here.”

  He kissed her, lingering over it a moment. “Lock the door.”

  MARY BETH DIDN’T WANT a tranquilizer. She’d always had a morbid fear of pills that had prevented her from taking anything stronger than aspirin. She was, however, holding on to a snifter of the brandy she and Harry saved for special guests.

  The children had been sent to a neighbor’s as soon as Harry had gotten a grip on what had happened. Now, he was sitting as close to his wife as he could manage, his arm around her waist and his hand stroking wherever he could reach. He’d always known he loved her, but until tonight he hadn’t known she was the beginning and the end of his world.

  “We’ve already talked to the police,” he said when Ed showed his identification. “How many times does she have to answer the same questions? Hasn’t she been through enough already?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Morrison. We’ll do everything we can to make this easier.”

  “The only thing you have to do is get the bastard. That’s what cops are for. That’s what you get paid for.”

  “Harry, please.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” His tone changed instantly as he turned to his wife. It was more difficult for him to look at the bruise on her face than to think about what might have been. The bruise was tangible, the might-have-been a nightmare, unreal. “You don’t have to talk anymore if you don’t want to.”

  “We just have a few questions.” Ben eased down in a chair, hoping that seated he’d be less intimidating. “Believe me, Mr. Morrison, we want to get him. We need your help.”

  “How the hell would you feel if it was your wife?” Harry demanded. “If I knew where to start I’d be after him myself.”

  “This is my wife.” Ben spoke quietly as he gestured to Tess. “And I know exactly how you feel.”

  “Mrs. Morrison.” Instead of sitting, Tess crouched down beside the sofa. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable talking to me. I’m a doctor.”

  “I don’t need a doctor.” Mary Beth glanced down at the brandy as if surprised to find it in her hand. “He didn’t—he was going to, but he didn’t.”

  “He didn’t rape you,” Tess said gently. “But that doesn’t mean you weren’t violated, and frightened. Holding in the anger, the fear, the shame—” She saw the last word hit home and waited just a moment. “Holding it all in only hurts more. There are places you can go, people you can talk to who have gone through the same ordeal. They know what you’re feeling, and what your husband is feeling now.”

  “
It was in my home.” Mary Beth began to cry for the first time. The tears that squeezed out of her eyes and ran down her face were thin and hot. “It seemed so much worse that it was in my home. I kept thinking, what will I do if my children come in. What will he do to my babies. And then …” Tess eased the snifter from her as her hands began to shake. “I kept praying that it was all a dream, that it wasn’t really happening. He said he knew me, and he called me by name. But I didn’t know who he was and he was going to rape me. He—he touched me. Harry.” She turned her head into his shoulder and sobbed.

  “Oh baby, he won’t hurt you again.” His hands were gentle on her hair, but there was a look in his eyes that said murder, plain and simple. “You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Damn you, can’t you see what this is doing to her?”

  “Mr. Morrison.” Ed wasn’t sure how to begin. The anger was justified. He felt some of it himself but knew, as a cop, he could never let it blind him to procedure. Still, he understood, and he decided to play it straight. “We have reason to believe your wife was very lucky tonight. This man has attacked twice before, and the other women weren’t so lucky.”

  “He’s done this before?” The tears were still flowing but Mary Beth turned to Ed. “Are you sure?”

  “We’ll be sure, after you answer some questions.”

  She was breathing very fast, but he saw that she was fighting to steady herself. “All right, but I’ve already told the other officers what happened. I don’t want to go through it all again.”

  “You won’t have to,” Ben assured her. “Will you work with a police artist on a composite drawing?”

  “I didn’t see him very well.” Grateful, she accepted the snifter back from Tess. “It was dark in the kitchen, and I’d taken out my contacts. I have very bad vision. He wasn’t much more than a blur.”

  “You’ll be surprised how much you saw when you start piecing it together.” Ed took out his notebook. He wanted to treat her gently. With her cozy little house and pretty face, she reminded him of his sister. “Mrs. Morrison, you said he called you by name.”

  “Yes, he called me Mary Beth several times. It was so strange to hear him say it. He told me, he said something about how I’d promised him things. That he wanted …” Even with her blurred vision, she couldn’t look at Ed. Swallowing, she looked down at Tess. “He said he wanted me to do things to him, sweet, gentle things. I remember because I was so scared and it seemed so crazy to hear that.”

  Ben waited while she sipped the brandy. “Mrs. Morrison, do you know anything about a company called Fantasy, Incorporated?”

  When she blushed, the bruise on her face stood out. But she would no more lie than cut out her tongue. “Yes.”

  “That’s none of your business,” Harry began.

  “The other two victims were both employees of Fantasy,” Ed said flatly.

  “Oh God.” Mary Beth squeezed her eyes shut. There were no tears now, just a dull, dry fear. “Oh my God.”

  “I should never have let you do that.” Harry rubbed his hand over his face. “I must have been crazy.”

  “His voice, Mrs. Morrison,” Ben prompted. “Did you recognize it? Have you talked to him before?”

  “No, no, I’m sure I haven’t. He was only a child. We don’t take calls from minors.”

  “Why do you say he was a child?” Ed spoke quickly, while they had the edge.

  “Because he was. Seventeen or eighteen at best. Yes.” The flush faded into pallor as she thought back. “I’m not sure how, but I know he was young. Not tall, only a few inches taller than me. I’m five-five. And he wasn’t, well, filled out. I just kept thinking he was a kid and it couldn’t be real. I know I’ve never heard his voice before. I couldn’t have forgotten it.” Even now, with her husband’s arm around her, she could hear it. “And he said—” Without thinking, she reached out for Tess’s hand. “Oh God, I remember he said it was going to be different this time. He wasn’t going to rush. He kept talking about someone named Desiree and how he loved her. He mentioned her a few times. He said something about a Roxanne and that she was a slut. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ed noted it down. One more piece, he thought. One more piece to the puzzle.

  “Mrs. Morrison.” Tess touched her hand again. “Did he seem to confuse you with Desiree?”

  “No,” Mary Beth decided after a minute. “No, it was more like a comparison. Whenever he said that name, it was almost with a kind of reverence. That sounds stupid.”

  “No.” Tess turned until her gaze met Ben’s. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “He seemed, well, almost friendly in a horrible way. I don’t know how to explain it. It was as if he expected me to be pleased to see him. He only got angry when I resisted. Then he was furious—like a child is when you take something away. There were tears in his voice. He called me a whore—no, he said we were all whores, all lying whores and that the next time he’d make all of us suffer.”

  The fat cocker spaniel waddled in and sniffed at Tess.

  “That’s Binky,” Mary Beth said with a few fresh tears. “If it hadn’t been for him—”

  “He’s eating steak for the rest of his life.” Harry brought her hand to his lips as she managed a watery laugh.

  “I’d dragged the poor dog outside thinking he was barking at the cat, and all the time …” She trailed off again and shook her head. “I know this is going to get in the papers, but I’d appreciate it if you could minimize it. The children.” She looked toward Tess again, feeling a woman would understand. “I don’t want them to have to face all of this. And the business about Fantasy, well, it’s not that I’m ashamed of it, really. It seemed like such a handy way to start college funds, but I’m not sure the other mothers would like the Brownie troop leader involved in that sort of thing.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Ed promised. “If I could give you some advice, I’d say to turn in your resignation there.”

  “Already done,” Harry said.

  “It would also be best if you weren’t alone for the next few days.”

  Mary Beth paled again. This time her skin seemed translucent. Whatever courage she’d managed to work up trembled on the edge. “You think he’ll be back?”

  “There’s no way to be sure.” Ed hated to frighten her, but he wanted to save her life. “This is a very dangerous man, Mrs. Morrison. We don’t want you to take any unnecessary chances. We’re going to arrange for protection. In the meantime, we’d like you to come down to the station and look at mug shots, and work with the police artist.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can. I want you to catch him soon. Very soon.”

  “You may just have helped us do that.” Ben rose. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

  “I—I never offered you coffee.” Mary Beth found herself suddenly and terribly afraid to let them go. She wanted to be surrounded and safe. They were policemen, and police knew what to do. “I don’t know what I could have been thinking of.”

  “That’s all right.” Tess squeezed her hand so that they rose together. “You should rest now. Let your husband take you upstairs. He’ll stay with you. When you go down to the station tomorrow, they can give you numbers to call, organizations that can help you deal with this. Or you can just call and talk to me.”

  “I’m not used to being scared.” In Tess’s eyes she saw compassion, female compassion. And she needed it, she discovered, more than she needed the police. “In my own kitchen. I’m afraid to go in my own kitchen.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you upstairs?” Tess murmured as she slipped an arm around Mary Beth’s waist. “You can lie down.” Tess led her from the room. Frustrated, helpless, her husband looked after her.

  “If I’d stayed home—”

  “He’d have waited,” Ed interrupted. “We’re dealing with a very dangerous, very determined man, Mr. Morrison.”

  “Mary Beth never hurt anyone in her life. She’s the most generous woman I’ve ever known. He had no
right to do this to her, to put that look on her face.” Harry picked up Mary Beth’s brandy and downed it in two swallows. “Maybe he’s a dangerous man, but if I find him first, he’s going to be a eunuch.”

  Chapter 12

  SHE’D LEFT A LIGHT burning for him. Ed was glad Grace had gone home to bed because she would ask questions. And he would have to answer them. Still, it touched him, foolishly, that she’d left the light burning.

  He was tired, dead tired, but too wound up to sleep. In the kitchen, he reached for the juice and drank straight from the pitcher. She’d put the wine away and washed the glasses. When a man had spent so many years doing for himself, such little things were overwhelming.

  He was already in love with her. The first romantic fantasies he’d indulged in had cemented. The trouble was, he didn’t know quite what to do about it. He’d been infatuated before, and had never had a problem taking those feelings to their logical conclusion. But love was a different ball game.

  He’d always been a traditional man. Women were to be treasured and appreciated and protected. The woman you loved was to be treated gently, respected, and above all, cherished. He wanted to put her on a pedestal, but he was already aware that Grace would squirm until she toppled off.

  He could be patient. That was one of the best qualities in a cop and one he’d been lucky enough to be born with. So the logical step was to give her time and space until he could successfully maneuver her exactly where he wanted her to be. With him.

  Ed left enough juice for breakfast, then started upstairs. On the top landing he began to strip out of his jacket. He’d meant to leave both that and his weapon in the closet downstairs but was too tired to go back. Rubbing the tension at the nape of his neck, he pushed open the bedroom door with his foot, then hit the lights.

  “Oh God, is it morning already?”

  His hand was on the butt of his weapon instantly, then his fingers went quietly numb. Grace was stretched out over his bed. Shifting, she shielded her eyes with one hand and yawned. It took him a minute to realize that she was wearing one of his shirts and nothing else.