Triple Dare

by Candace Irvin

  “I’m fine, Detective. Thank you. But I am tired. Upset.”

  Her hands shook as she preceded them back to the table and reclaimed her seat. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now I didn’t see the man who attacked that driver—and Stuart—clearly. I wish I had. Maybe then—” She broke off, swallowed firmly and started again. “Please. If you could just give me my statement, I’ll sign it. Then I’d like to go home.”

  Pike shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ve got more to cover than your version of tonight’s events, Ms. Pembroke. For example, your relationship with Mr. Van Heusen.”

  The swift glance Abby shot toward the one-way mirror confirmed what Dare suspected. What Pike had been hoping for. Abby had been too upset during their conversation regarding Van Heusen to realize Pike had been eavesdropping. Dare had to hand it to her, though. Abby recovered well. She folded her hands primly in her lap. “What more do you need, Detective?”

  Pike flicked his stare across the table. “You sure you want to have this conversation in front of him?”

  “I trust Mr. Sabura not to repeat tales.”

  “Really? I mean, how well do you actually know the man? What he’s like? What he’s done?”

  Dare slammed his hand on the table. “Dammit, Pike, cut to the chase. What do you want to know?”

  The detective’s mouth tightened as he was finally forced to focus on him. The man was ticked. Good. So was Dare. The bastard had been gunning for him for years. Until now, part of him had even respected it. But there was no way Dare would allow Pike to involve Abby in a vain attempt to even the score. And Pike did intend to try. Dare didn’t need to read the depths of that blackened heart to know it, either. The thin smile Pike sketched as he claimed his chair said it all. Even at the age of fifteen, Dare had known that that narrow twist masked a streak of self-preservation a mile wide. Today the detective had used it to disguise his true intent.

  The second folder.

  He and Abby had been so consumed by the sight of the file Pike had tossed in front of her earlier, neither of them had realized there was another beneath it. Pike splayed the contents of the second folder out on the table. Abby’s face stared up at them in the form of her photocopied New York State driver’s license. Pike had scrawled a list of notes on the pages beneath. Several of the bullets were highlighted. Her Tristan address. The date she’d purchased the apartment and from whom; that she’d paid half a million dollars for it—with a note that the price was well under market value.

  Fury blistered through Dare as Abby blanched.

  The woman was a victim, dammit. And this ass was more concerned with scaring the daylights out of her so he could use that fear to try to lay the blame back on him. A hell of a way to exact revenge. “Dammit, Pike, this is—”

  “One more word, Sabura, and I’ll have you removed from the room.”

  The hell he would. “You can’t.”

  Fury fired the detective’s stare, smelting the rusted iron within. “You’re not a lawyer and we both know it. Near as I can determine, you still don’t even have a job.”

  If Pike had hoped to embarrass him, he’d failed. Dare leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie. “You’re right, Detective. I’m not a lawyer. But I can call one, now, can’t I? A damned good one.” The comeback earned him a swallow. The distinct fist of fear. Dare claimed both, then offered his own thin smile in return, softening it as he turned to Abby. “You don’t have to answer his questions. You’re not under arrest. Even if he wanted to hold you, he’s got nothing on you.”

  “Wrong.” Pike slapped his palm on the table, wrenching their attention back to him. “She said it herself at the scene. Or, rather, claimed it. Van Heusen was supposedly harassing her. Funny, I spoke to his mother at the hospital. Katherine Van Heusen seemed to think she might be harassing him.”

  “What?” Dare caught Abby as she lurched forward, pulling her back, steadying her. She swung her frantic stare to his. “That’s a lie, Dare. Of all people, Kath—”

  “Don’t.” He squeezed her arm. “Not another word.” He had no idea what she’d planned on spilling, but it wasn’t good.

  Not for her.

  Dare released her arm and turned back to Pike. “She’s done, Pike. She didn’t have a thing to do with what happened tonight and you know it. Every second of her evening can be accounted for.”

  “True. But yours can’t.”

  This time Abby jackknifed to her feet. “You think Dare tried to kill Stuart?”

  “It’s one theory.” Pike took the time to smooth the sleeves of his ill-fitting tweed jacket before he glanced up. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Van Heusen was harassing you. People have been known to fixate on public figures before—politicians, actors…musicians. And this guy’s an ex. When you returned to the States, he decided he wanted you back. But you no longer wanted him. So you cried on ol’ Triple D’s shoulders. And Sabura offers to play white knight for the damsel in distress.” Dare didn’t bother objecting. If this was all Pike had, his house of cards was about to crumble.

  He waited for Abby to pull the first one.

  She did. “That’s insane. I met Mr. Sabura a week ago. Why would I pour out my woes to a virtual stranger?”

  Pike shrugged. “As I said, it’s a theory.”

  She folded her arms across her T-shirt and locked them down. Her polite smile was just as tight. “Well, I hope you have another. A better one.”

  “Could be. You say you met the man a week ago. It may interest you to know Sabura’s known about you for at least a month. Even tried to keep you out of your building.”

  This time her spine locked. “I was aware of that.”

  “And you don’t mind?”

  When she didn’t turn, didn’t even look at him, Dare was forced to straighten. Because of her aura. Because of the doubt that was beginning to creep in—into her. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  “Could be.” Pike tapped the notes still splayed out in front of him. “Of course, it could also be that once Sabura failed to keep you out, he became fixated on you as well.” Pike’s black gaze flicked to him, then back to Abby. “It doesn’t take much with the strange ones. Hell, Sabura probably has a whole fantasy life worked out for the two of you by now. He learns your post-concert routine and decides to hang out and bump into you accidentally. But he runs into Van Heusen instead. Figures out the guy’s waiting for you, that you two used to be involved. Van Heusen might even have admitted that he wanted to rekindle the relationship. So Sabura panics and decides to take out the competition.”

  Just like that, Dare felt her doubt crumble. Abby actually smiled as she returned to her seat. “You make it sound like Dare has been stalking me, Detective.”

  “A man you just met—a man who lives in your new apartment building—just happens to be the one to save you from that van? To save your brother? You have to admit, it’s awfully convenient. What the hell was he even doing there?”

  “I already know why Mr. Sabura was there. I invited him. I gave him the tickets as a thank-you for helping me move in.”

  “So he told a cop on the scene. But he didn’t use those tickets.” The bastard broke eye contact with Abby and leveled that soulless stare on him. “One of the ushers remembers hooking up with Sabura just outside the hall ten minutes before intermission. Told Sabura he had to wait, Philharmonic policy. He must have waited too long because according to two guests I spoke to, Sabura never claimed his seat. So where was he?” That last was for him. When Dare refused to answer, Pike returned his stare to Abby. “Or did he forget to tell you he missed your solo?”

  The doubt was back.

  “No. I knew he wasn’t there.”

  “So what happened, Ms. Pembroke?”

  “He said he was ill. He was in the bathroom during the concert.” It was the excuse he’d offered at Marlena’s. Only now, where relief had filled her, the threads of doubt grew.

  Pike tugged at them. “Ms. Pembroke, I’m sure this has happened before.
I understand you were a child prodigy. Surely you’ve had admirers before who weren’t quite…normal.”

  Like a disturbed voyeur who got his kicks climbing buildings in the dead of night and staring into windows. Her building. Her window. She didn’t say it, but she was remembering. And the doubts were intensifying.

  Dare’s only hope was that she was fighting them. Abby wanted to believe in him, in the subconscious appeal he’d sent down the table. A table that looked far too much like another table in another interrogation room with a younger version of Pike sitting across from him. Dare focused his sense, used it to strengthen his plea.

  Though she still wouldn’t look at him, Abby grabbed onto the plea and held fast. “This is crazy. Detective, there was another man at that car. I saw him stab Stuart’s driver. I wish to God I hadn’t, but I did. That’s the man I saw grab my brother and smash his shoulder into the limo’s window, not Mr. Sabura.”

  Pike simply shrugged. “So he has friends. Associates. Given the quality of the batch, I’m sure one of them wouldn’t have been opposed to helping out. Hell, I ought to know. I’ve arrested most of them. Sabura, too.”

  Silence clogged the air once more. The doubt returned as well. The suspicion. This time, Abby embraced both. Worse, though the effect from their touch had worn off, Dare could feel the surge of need within her. It was that strong. She desperately wanted to lower her stare. To open the other file Pike had left sitting on the table. He knew why.

  Legally, Pike couldn’t tell her a damned thing. But if she opened that file on her own? Why, then it was simply an oversight, wasn’t it? One easily explained to Pike’s superiors. After all, the bastard had had plenty of practice at this game over the years.

  Starting with him.

  The moment Dare felt her cave in to the urge to look, he spilled it. The only part he could.

  “A friend and I were arrested for hot-wiring a car when we were kids. A police car. Bill’s father was a cop. He got to go home. My father was out of town so I spent the weekend in a holding cell at Riker’s Island.” He tipped his head toward the file, deliberately daring her, even as he prayed she wouldn’t take him up on it. “Go ahead, open it. Read it. I’m sure it’s all there. Including the fact that I was guilty—we both were—but my father offered the department a generous restitution when he returned the following Monday. I pleaded no contest and was released that afternoon.”

  Only to have his entire world leveled the following night.

  Dare fought the darkness and the pain, shored up his defenses. But the events of the evening had taken their toll on his psyche as well. The memory slipped through the cracks, slicing into his heart. His soul. By the time he succeeded in pushing it back, Abby’s astonishment had eased. So had her suspicions.

  She glanced at the file. “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Abby stiffened in her chair. “Fifteen? Isn’t that too young for Riker’s?”

  “Hmm.” His stare met Pike’s. “It seems there was a clerical error.” He severed his gaze and turned back to her. “It’s okay. I survived.”

  Physically.

  As for the rest? What had happened after? Pike would never repeat it. Not to Abby or anyone else. If he did, he’d have to explain his own actions. His own culpability. By the time the detective finished, Pike would end up sporting a straitjacket compliments of Bellevue…if the man didn’t end up doing his own stint at Riker’s first.

  In the end, Pike didn’t have to repeat anything. Abby made the connection herself. Part of it.

  She turned to Pike. “And you were the arresting officer?”

  Trapped, the detective shook his head. When the man refused to expound, Dare did it for him. She needed to know how far the man would go. “His mentor was. Pike was still green, along for the ride. Probably what saved his ass when the ax fell. His mentor, however, was asked to retire.”

  “Because you lied, Sabura.”

  Wrong. He’d told the truth. But no one had believed him. Not even his father. Not until it was too late. And even then, his father hadn’t been able to accept it—much less him.

  Just like his mom.

  The echo of that pain slammed in so hard, Dare hadn’t even realized Abby had had enough until she stood. He forced the memory deep into the prison of his mind. It wasn’t until he stood alongside her that he realized his touch had succeeded. Her doubts were gone. She’d unconsciously read his heart and believed it. Believed in him. If only Abby had been back there then….

  Pike glared across the table as he, too, stood. “We’re not done, Ms. Pembroke.”

  “I’m afraid we are, Detective. Your theory has more holes in it than a bass clarinet. If you’re looking for someone who had a reason to kill Stuart, try examining his cases. As I’m sure you know, the man is an assistant district attorney. Better yet, look into his politics. I’m sure you also know Stuart was running for city councilman this coming year. Either way, you can conduct your search without me. It’s late and I’m tired. And you, sir, have a serious conflict of interest. I’ll be happy to review my statement and sign it. But if your department needs any more information from me or my brother, they can send someone else. Is that clear?”

  At 1:00 a.m., after the night Abby had had, she should have been barely able to stand. And yet, even with her deathly pale skin magnifying the bruises marring her cheek and jaw, the shadows beneath her eyes, she carried herself with the quiet grace of a queen as she returned Pike’s stare.

  Even so, the man refused to bow.

  So Dare reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew his cell phone, stabbing out a number he’d sworn he’d never use again—his father’s. Dare paused over the send button. “Shall I?” For her, he would.

  Pike growled. “Get the hell out of here. But I’m warning you—both of you—this isn’t over.”

  That was the first accurate statement the detective had made since he’d walked in the room. Dare should have dealt with Pike long ago. But like Pike, he carried his own guilt.

  It was time to put a stop to that, too.

  Again, for her.

  Dare opened the door and waited for Abby to precede him from the room. He closed the door on the seething detective, taking Abby’s elbow as they entered the main portion of the station. Unfortunately, the touch was not to support her. It was for him. He was still too raw to deal with the onslaught of ugliness that began assaulting his psyche the moment they reached the noisy, oversized bay and its holding cell. He drew in Abby’s essence, using the balm of her inner self to deflect the bulk of the filth as they traversed the room. It worked. He managed to pass half a dozen burned-out detectives, two murderers, a rapist, a child molester masquerading as a teacher and a wife-beating street cop before they reached the glass doors at the opposite end of the room. Relief seared in as he made it into the neon night without retching.

  The crowded street—even at this hour—waited.

  Fortunately, glass shielded him from most of the passersby.

  “Are you okay?”

  He released Abby’s arm as they stopped beside the curb, raising his hand to hail an oncoming cab. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look like you’re about to pass out.” She reached up, gasping as she pressed the backs of her slender fingers to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”

  He covered her fingers with his and drew them down as a cab stopped beside them. “It’s okay. I’m at the tail end of a twenty-four-hour bug. It’ll pass.” Just as soon as he got her home. Reached his own apartment.

  His shower.

  Dare opened the passenger door, grateful when Abby slid across the rear seat. It saved him the exertion of rounding the cab. By the time he’d wedged his own body inside, she’d given the driver the Tristan’s address. The cabbie nodded, then turned back to argue with the opening statements of a late-night radio talk-show host as the car pulled away from the curb. To Dare’s surprise, Abby reached for his forehead, frowning a
s she smoothed the lingering sweat from his brow.

  “Pike was wrong. You were ill. You still are. You should be home in bed treating that fever, not traipsing around the city with me.” The passing glow from a neon sign enhanced the flush staining her own cheeks as she paused. “But I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

  He shook his head. “Nonsense. I should be thanking you. For your support in there with Pike. It…means a lot to me.”

  More than she’d ever know.

  She didn’t respond.

  At least, not verbally. With the connection from her touch still humming through him, she didn’t have to.

  “Abby?”

  More silence. But beneath it lay the distinct simmer of hesitation. And outright fear.

  “Do you…want to talk about it?”

  “No.” Her fingers quivered as she reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “But I think I’m going to have to.”

  He focused his sense.

  Pike. For all her calm assurance as they left, she was truly terrified of the man. Because of what the man had insinuated about him? “Hey, relax. Pike can’t hurt me.” The bastard had been trying to get something on him for years. But he couldn’t. Because there was nothing there.

  Nothing the man would testify to in court, anyway.

  Dare shook his head. “Look, without a motive that so-called theory of his is nothing more than a dream.” He’d never met her ex—including tonight. In fact, with his insides no longer scrambled, he’d finally realized Van Heusen had to have been stabbed into unconsciousness before he’d pushed Abby from the van’s path and assured himself of her safety. Otherwise he’d have felt the man’s presence as he left her side to check on the limo driver and then her brother. But he hadn’t.

  Or had he been too in tune with Abby?

  Like he was now?

  Dare could feel Abby’s presence keenly. Her fear. If anything, it had intensified. Unable to stop himself, he reached across the darkened seat and snagged her chin, drawing that beautiful face to his. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you don’t know me well. But I swear, you can trust me. Tell me what’s got you so scared. I’ll help.”