Body of Evidence

by Pickart, Joan Elliott; Davis, Justine; Merritt, Jackie

  “Detailed closeups, I’d expect. Is the name of the insurance company anywhere in the reports, for the items reported stolen?”

  “Should be, it’s pretty routine.” He grinned at her. “Next time anybody hassles you about how you got this job, you send them to me.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  The look she gave him then made him feel as if he’d done a whole lot more than simply acknowledged that she had what it took to do this job. It also made him feel downright warm inside, a sensation he didn’t even bother to try and shrug off this time. At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if he was on a runaway train.

  “So Lyle Gardner is suspect number one,” he said after a moment.

  “His own brother,” she said, shaking her head.

  “He must have found out about the prostitution ring.”

  “You think he confronted Franklin about it?”

  Colin nodded. “He seems the type who would want to protect the family name.”

  “And they fought over it. Maybe he never meant to kill him at all.”

  “That would make sense,” Colin agreed. “And it would fit with the fall injury being the cause of death.”

  “So the rest, the ice picks and the stolen property, was just a cover-up, to make it look like a burglary.”

  “It’s all circumstantial,” Colin warned.

  “But it explains what Stephen said, and Cecelia’s protective reaction. It fits.”

  “Yeah. It fits.”

  “So now what?”

  “Nothing, until morning when we can get the photos of the ring. Then we’ll get them over to Maggie Sutter and see if the ring matches those bruises on the body.”

  “And if they do?”

  “Then we call in the D.A., and Mr. Lyle Gardner goes to jail.”

  “I could get used to this,” Darien said with an exaggerated yawn and stretch after she’d finished her last forkful of pasta and sip of wine. “Somebody else cooking is a novelty.”

  She got up and strolled over to the sofa, then turned to give him a sideways grin, and added, “Heck, somebody cooking in here is a novelty. I’ve become a takeout queen, much to my mother’s shame.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he said wryly as he followed her to the living room. “You’ve just had my entire repertoire.”

  “Good thing I love spaghetti, then.”

  She colored suddenly, looking as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded, as if she were planning many more nights like this one.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said softly. He’d been thinking about it a lot himself, and the appeal of an endless string of nights like this was growing rapidly. He could even, if he worked at it, put a kid or two into the picture.

  She had the grace not to deny it. “Sorry.” She lowered her gaze. Then, after a moment, she added in a near whisper, “I think.”

  It was that little whisper that undid him. “Damn, Darien. That kiss was…almost an accident. This would be with full intent. Do you realize what we could get ourselves into?”

  She looked up at him then. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice husky now.

  Heat flashed through him with the speed of an explosion. He’d been keeping himself on a short leash for what felt like an eon now, although it had, amazingly, only been a short time. He took a step toward her, reached out, then froze. When he spoke, his voice was thick and harsh.

  “If you want to stop this, you’d better say so now, because once I touch you, there’s no turning back for me.”

  “There was no turning back for me once you took that first step,” she whispered.

  He groaned, then reached for her again. But instead of pulling her up to him as he’d planned, he found himself sinking down beside her. His mouth sought hers hungrily, and the soft warmth of her lips somehow had more kick than his .357 Magnum. His gut knotted as if he’d taken one of those rounds, and he couldn’t have pulled away had someone drawn that gun on him.

  “Colin,” she said breathlessly, “I forgot. I…we…I’m not prepared for this.”

  He had to wait a moment for the hot, pleasurable haze to clear enough so that he could think. He mentally inventoried his wallet, remembered one of Sam’s parting gifts—with the accompanying suggestion that he get a life—then said roughly, “I’ll handle it.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief that made his body clench.

  He traced the line of her jaw with his mouth, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. His fingers tangled in the soft silk of her hair, and he did what he’d been longing to do forever, planted a long, lingering kiss at the nape of her neck bared by the impossibly sexy haircut. When she shivered in reaction, he felt it as if it had begun inside him.

  She moved, and only when he felt the sinuous caress of her hips against his aroused body did he realize he’d pulled her beneath him. She moved again, and he nearly gasped. Again, and he forgot to breathe at all.

  This train is definitely in trouble, he thought. He’d never been derailed like this. Ever.

  It was the last rational thought he had. He didn’t listen to it anyway.

  Darien had the fleeting thought that this was insane, that she was long past the age when she should be rapidly heading for a very intimate encounter on the couch in her living room. Yet here she was, half-undressed, and without hesitation helping a man she hadn’t even met a month ago shed his own clothes. A man she’d known from the first instant meant trouble. She’d thought she’d loved Tony, but this…

  And then he came back to her, his body hot, hard and ready, his hands moving over her with an eagerness that thrilled her and a tenderness that melted her. A delicious anticipation welled up inside her. When he slid into her she welcomed him with a matching eagerness, and a low groan of pure pleasure rumbled up from deep in his chest. She felt an answering ripple as her body strained to accept him, felt a glorious stretching fullness that made her cry out her own pleasure.

  Suddenly it didn’t matter where they were, or how long they’d known each other. The only thing that mattered was this glorious sensation, this building, tightening, rising tension that nearly made her scream.

  And then he moved one last time, driving hard and deep into her, and the tension shattered, flinging her in what seemed a thousand directions at once.

  And she did scream. His name.

  Colin hung up the phone and turned to Darien with a wide smile on his face. “It’s a match. Maggie says the ring in the photograph is a perfect match for the bruises on the body.”

  Darien smiled back, and potent memories of last night flashed through his mind in a hot, vivid stream.

  “Is it enough?” she asked.

  Never, he thought, then realized she was talking about the ring.

  “For a conviction? Probably not, we’ll have to keep searching for the thing. Stone’ll need all the help he can get, including that ring and any trace DNA evidence on it. But for an arrest, definitely. The warrant’s already in the works.”

  She let out a long breath. “What if we’re wrong?”

  “We’re the good guys,” he teased. “We’re never wrong.”

  She laughed, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek. She blushed and lowered her gaze, but she also nuzzled his hand. And instantly he was again awash in those intense images. He didn’t know what she’d done, had a strange feeling it was more what she hadn’t done, such as throw herself at him, but somehow she’d blasted through every reservation he’d had.

  “Ho, ho, ho, I smell fraternization!”

  Colin stifled a groan as Palmer’s voice told him he’d been caught. Served him right for succumbing to the urge to touch her here in the office.

  “Isn’t this sweet?” Palmer drawled. “Together at last. How convenient.”

  Colin summoned up an air of unconcern.

  “Don’t mind us,” he said with a creditable laugh. “We’re just celebrating the fact that in a minute we’re going to pick up a warrant
and make an arrest.”

  “In fact,” Darien said, getting up, “we’re going right now, aren’t we?”

  “Indeed we are,” he agreed, and they left so quickly Palmer was left with nothing to do but gape after them.

  They both breathed a sigh of relief that Mrs. Gardner wasn’t at home. They hadn’t looked forward to dealing with her when, after the murder of her younger son, they were about to cart off the eldest.

  Lyle Gardner was his usual haughty self when they arrived. He demanded to know if they had made any progress. Darien kept her eyes on Gardner’s face as Colin answered.

  “Yes, we have. In fact, we’re about to make an arrest. We’ve discovered a key piece of evidence.”

  Darien was sure she saw Gardner draw back infinitesimally.

  “Did you think we wouldn’t find out about it?” Darien asked softly. “It’s pretty distinctive, after all. All Gardner jewelry would be.”

  Lyle paled visibly. “I lost that ring. Long ago. You can’t prove otherwise.”

  Gotcha! Darien exulted silently.

  “Did you?” Colin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So there will be a claim on file with your insurance company?” Darien put in sweetly, already knowing perfectly well there hadn’t been.

  Gardner suddenly seemed to realize he was digging himself into a hole. “I’m through with your questions. My attorney will speak for me from now on.”

  “Fine. We’ll call him for you from the station,” she said.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Colin reached into his pocket and took out some folded papers. “I’m afraid you are, Mr. Gardner. This arrest warrant says so.”

  “Whatever judge you got to sign that won’t be on the bench for long.”

  “Amazingly enough, there is a judge in Chicago who doesn’t owe the Gardners a thing,” Colin said.

  Fuming, Gardner swore indelicately. “I’m calling my attorney now.”

  Colin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We won’t be needing to ask you any questions now anyway.”

  He spoke as if the case was open-and-shut, as if he were utterly confident that nothing Gardner could do would make any difference. It rattled the man, Darien could see it in his face.

  “Oh, wait,” Colin said. “I was wrong, there is one more question.”

  “I won’t answer anything.”

  “That’s okay. I already know the answer, anyway.”

  Darien could see he was struggling not to ask. And saw the moment when he gave up. “The answer to what?”

  Colin smiled. “To how you knew we were talking about your ring. We never mentioned it.”

  The man visibly blanched.

  “Lyle Gardner, you are under arrest for the murder of Franklin Gardner,” Colin said with satisfaction.

  Darien typed the last line on the jail booking form, hit the enter key with a flourish.

  “Voilà,” she said. “The end. Mr. Lyle Gardner is officially booked.”

  “Too bad the investigation hasn’t ended. We’ve still got to find that ring.”

  Darien sighed. “Don’t rain on my parade just yet, will you? Give me an hour or so to feel some job satisfaction.”

  Colin grinned. “Well, since it’s your first time…”

  She took a swipe at him, but she was grinning back. It did feel good, even he had to admit it. The case wasn’t a lock, not by a long shot, but he knew in his gut they had the right guy. Not that that would be worth a thing in court.

  “Do you need to go back to the office?” he asked.

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I don’t want Palmer to ruin my mood.”

  “He was right about one thing.”

  “Palmer? Hard to believe. What?”

  “The convenience.”

  She blinked. “What?” she repeated.

  “It’s convenient. If you were to marry me, you wouldn’t have to change your initial.”

  Her breath caught audibly, but she recovered quickly. As she always did. “What makes you think I’d change my name anyway?”

  “Then I won’t have to change my initial,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  She laughed then, warming him anew. Mostly because she hadn’t shut him down outright. He still felt a little bit like he was on an out-of-control train, but to his own surprise, he didn’t want to jump off.

  Not as long as his new partner was on board.

  VERDICT: MARRIAGE

  Joan Elliott Pickart

  With thanks to our editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle, who was buried in e-mail during this challenging project

  Dear Reader,

  It was a privilege to work with two such talented authors on this project, and the three of us were e-mailing back and forth in a frenzy to be certain that our descriptions and details matched.

  As Evan and Jennifer became living, breathing people to me, I could feel Evan’s frustration as he waited, and hoped, for the evidence that would convict Lyle Gardner. But despite Evan’s dedication to his career, Jennifer staked a claim on his heart. Beautiful, spunky Jennifer, with her precious secret she feared to share with Evan, and who was also dedicated to her unique career, had the womanly wisdom to know there was room for so much more in her life.

  While writing this book, I learned so much about what goes on behind the scenes as each step is taken to ensure that justice will be the victor when a horrendous crime has been committed.

  We all owe a heartfelt thanks to the men and women in every area of law enforcement who make these troubled times in our world safer for all of us.

  I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing it. I am very eager to read the first two stories in the collection now that they are completed. As you are curled up in the corner of your sofa turning the pages, know I’m doing the same right along with you.

  Once again, I want to thank all of you for your continued support through the years and for the wonderful letters you take the time to write to me.

  Warmest regards,

  Chapter 1

  Jennifer Anderson stopped in the hallway on the top floor of the courthouse and turned to look up at the very tall young man who had a camera balanced on his shoulder.

  “Take a break, Sticks,” Jennifer said. “I’m going to attempt to make some sense of these notes of mine while I remember what the scribbling means. Meet me in the lounge down the hall in half an hour or so.”

  “Yep,” Sticks said, then ambled away.

  Jennifer entered the empty lounge and sank onto one of the chairs that surrounded a large rectangular table. She propped one elbow on the top of the table, rested her chin in her hand and closed her eyes.

  Oh, gracious, she thought, she was sleepy. She’d like nothing better than to curl up on the lumpy-looking sofa on the back wall of the lounge and take a nap. If she allowed herself to relax for even three seconds she’d nod off. Just one…two…

  Jennifer jerked and opened her eyes as she began to drift off. She patted her cheeks, told herself she was wide-awake and looked at the notes.

  Next on the agenda, she thought, was to film the final footage of the documentary, which meant it was time to glue herself to District Attorney Evan Stone.

  Evan, Evan, Evan.

  Dear heaven, what would Evan do, say, if he knew that she…

  “Don’t go there, Jennifer,” she mumbled. “Not now.”

  Jennifer glanced at her watch, got to her feet, then smoothed the hem of her green sweater over the black slacks she wore with low-heeled, black shoes.

  Okay, here I go, she thought. She’d put this meeting with Evan off for as long as she could, had filmed so much footage of police detectives, and secretaries and assistant district attorneys it was ridiculous. She’d been gathering her courage to see Evan again and be able to act pleasant and professional.

  “I can do this,” she said, starting across the lounge.

  “Do what?” Sticks said, appearing in the doorway.

  “Oh. L
isten, Sticks, just hang out in here for now. I need to find out if Evan Stone is available, then chat with him a bit about how we’re going to do this.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Fine. Okay,” she said. “I’m going down the hall to his office now. Yep, that’s what I’m doing. Right now. Bye.” Jennifer didn’t move.

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “I am not,” she said, indignantly. “I’m…mulling over how to begin my conversation with Evan. He wasn’t exactly receptive to this idea of a documentary on the inner workings of the district attorney’s office, said D.A. being him. We ironed out the wrinkles three months ago, but there’s no telling how he might feel about it weeks later.”

  “Ah, go for it.” Sticks set the camera on the table. “Charm the socks off the guy.”

  “Right,” Jennifer said, then stepped out of the lounge and into the hallway.

  At that exact moment the door to Evan’s office at the end of the corridor opened and a plump young woman emerged, leaving Evan framed in the doorway as she walked away.

  Oh, my, Jennifer thought, there he was. There was Evan about a hundred feet down the hall and it appeared as though he was staring directly at her.

  Feet. She had to move her feet, put one in front of the other, and produce a nice friendly smile at the same time. She could do this. No, she couldn’t. She was going to turn around and hightail it out of there, never to be seen again.

  “Get a grip,” she said, under her breath, and started forward.

  There she was, Evan thought, as he watched Jennifer approach very slowly. His heart was beating like a bongo drum, damn it. And was that…? Yes, it was. There was a trickle of sweat running down his chest. Where in the hell was this nonsense coming from?

  Evan cleared his throat, causing Belinda Morris, his fifty-two-year-old secretary, to turn and look at him questioningly, then shift her gaze to what he was staring at.

  “Oh-h-h,” Belinda said, smiling. “So the time has come. I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with Jennifer Anderson already. She’s delightful. You could be a gentleman and meet her halfway, you know.”