by Kylie Brant
Following the direction of his gaze to her arm, she ignored the undercurrent to his quietly spoken words and gave an embarrassed shrug. “He lost the power to do that a long time ago.” She shifted topics deliberately. “All in all, it’s been an…interesting day. You’ll forgive me for wanting to see the end of it.”
“I can’t go yet.”
“No? I don’t see why not. It’s getting late. You were uninvited.” She didn’t worry about being diplomatic, especially when a sudden thought struck her. “How did you know where I lived, anyway?”
He cocked a brow at her, and she made a face. “Of course, I forgot. Intrepid journalist that you are, no information is safe from you.”
“I was surprised to find that you’d moved.” His gaze traveled around the room, as if comparing it to her former plush apartment.
She lifted a shoulder, wished him gone. “I wanted something smaller. This suits me.”
As if recognizing the No Trespassing tone in her voice, he dropped the subject. But he still made no move to leave. “What are you doing for the next couple days?” At her blank look, his voice grew ironic. “It’s the weekend, Addie. What most people look forward to all week?”
She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Probably work.”
“On the Delgado case?”
Her deliberate stare made words unnecessary.
“Sorry.” He aimed a lopsided smile. “Occupational hazard.”
Hazard was a word more appropriately applied to him, she thought. He should come equipped with flashing lights and warning signs. Caution. Big fall ahead. She’d skated closer than she’d like to admit to that particular edge two years ago. She had no intention of repeating the experience. “You were leaving, remember?”
“Can’t leave before you try on the shoes I got for you,” he reminded her. “I couldn’t find anything to match that suit you have on. What do they call that hideous color, anyway?”
“Taupe.” She bit the word off, damning herself for letting him get a rise out of her.
He went on easily, as if he didn’t recognize the irritation in her eyes. “But I found something suitable.” He gestured to the box.
Jerkily, she crossed to the table where she’d set it and lifted the lid, refusing to acknowledge the sliver of anticipation she felt. And then she stared, nonplussed. The sandals nestled among tissue paper were spike heeled, black, with criss-crossing slender straps that looked more decorative than practical. Dangling one of the sandals from her index finger by a strap, she asked, “What, pray tell, would you deem these suitable for?”
He was looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, naturally, I can’t see you wearing them to work. Or jogging. But they’d look nice when you get dressed up for our date.”
He was smooth. That last line was almost slipped in without notice. But A.J. was paid to be observant. “Uh-uh.” She shoved the sandals back into the box. “No shoes. No date. No chance.”
“I’ll let you think about it,” he decided. A man had to know when to make an exit, so he turned to go.
“I don’t need to think about it.” There was no use allowing him to believe that she was going to put up with his nonsense. Especially when she was certain where his real interest lay. “I won’t let you jeopardize this case.” If she felt a fraction of regret at the sudden blankness of his gaze, she made sure it didn’t show. “Whatever is uncovered in the course of the investigation will not be made public, at least not unless Beardmore okays it. Hanging around me isn’t going to win you any exclusives for your column.” She braced herself, waiting for the explosion.
It never came. Though his eyes sent hot laser darts of blue fire, he gave her a curt nod. “Fair warning. But you’re going to have to get used to the fact that I’m going to know every blessed thing that happens in that investigation. My involvement doesn’t have a thing to do with you. Delgado just happens to be another link in an investigation I’ve been working on since before we ever met. I’m not going to stop digging into it. I’ve got the time, and I’ve got resources at my disposal that even law enforcement doesn’t.
“Because of my generous nature I’ll give most of it to the cops, and through them, to you. You don’t even have to thank me.” His voice was as glacial as a polar ice cap. “But, by God, you will stop treating me like I’m some second-rate hack who needs to seduce a woman to get inside info for a lousy article. You don’t have to like me, Addie, but I’ve damn well never given you reason to disrespect me.”
The door closed behind him with a gentle snick, an understated emphasis to the quietly lethal tone he’d used. His departure left A.J. feeling small and petty and mean. She didn’t care for the feelings. Maybe she’d misjudged McKay, now and two years ago. It was possible, she supposed, if he was as good as he seemed to think he was, that he’d come by that information he’d printed about her case entirely on his own. It was not even outside the realm of credibility that he’d been interested in her as a woman, rather than as an assistant state attorney. But regardless of his motivations, her decision wouldn’t vary.
She went to the kitchen and got a rag, held it under hot water. Her reasons for shoving McKay out of her life two years ago were her own and had little to do with her job. Allowing him to spend the weekend with her had been a mistake, and she’d moved quickly to rectify the unusual indulgence. Her mother was living proof of what happened when a woman allowed herself to get so wrapped up in a man that she’d risk her health, her independence, to keep him. A.J. would never repeat that mistake.
Reentering the living room, she began scrubbing the wall left sticky by Leo’s tantrum. The vigorous movements were in tune with her determination. Spending her life alone was preferable to relying on a man for protection. In her experience, the only one she could rely on was herself. The knowledge didn’t bother her.
She’d been taking care of herself all her life.
A.J. looked across the table in her office at Meghan Patterson and tried to keep the dismay from her voice. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re telling me that you didn’t ever see Delgado in the alley when he was escaping with Connally’s suspect.”
The pretty blond woman returned her regard steadily. “That’s right. I let Delgado believe I was the one who ID’d him. But it was my nephew, Danny, who actually saw the two men.”
Her gaze sharp, she looked at Gabe Connally, who was sitting beside the woman. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It gets…complicated.” Meghan’s voice was grim. “Danny was in the alley when D’Brusco and Delgado fled from D’Brusco’s apartment after shooting at Gabe and his partner. We were at a toy store, where my nephew was choosing his birthday present. He was able to give a description of both men. And…” She gave Gabe a quick glance, and he took one of her hands in his. “…he was also able to pick up on what they were thinking.”
Nonplussed, A.J. looked from Meghan to Gabe. “I’m not following you. You mean he saw their expressions and…”
“I mean he’s psychic, Ms. Jacobs.” Meghan’s blunt pronouncement left A.J. speechless. “His mother, my sister, had the same telepathic abilities.”
Carefully, scanning both of the faces before her, she discerned they were serious. Dead serious. So she tempered her disbelief with diplomacy. “That’s an unusual claim.”
Meghan inclined her head. She was obviously used to such reactions. “If you were to look up old media articles, you’d find my sister’s ability has been well documented since her childhood.” The evenness of her tone didn’t disguise clashing emotions held in check.
“Wait a minute…” A.J. screwed up her brow, tried to summon hazy details. “There was something in the paper several months ago about a local psychic helping the police in a gang investigation….”
“Sandra Barton,” Meghan said simply. “My sister. She was killed during the course of the investigation.”
While A.J. tried to adjust to the information, Gabe interjected. “We found a videotape she made before she died
. She’d been discovered by the two gang leaders, who forced her to use her ability to help them. There were connections between the case she was helping with and the one I was working on.”
“And do any of those connections relate to my case against Delgado?” she asked.
“I think so.” Meghan spoke again, and this time her eyes were haunted. “While Delgado was holding me he taunted me about Sandra’s death. Her car had gone over the embankment on Pike’s Hill Road. He said he wondered if I would scream the way she had when he ran her off that cliff.”
Interest sharpened A.J.’s voice. “Delgado admitted to killing your sister?” At Meghan’s nod, she looked at Gabe. “Was that before you got there?”
“Yeah.” His hand squeezed his fiancée’s, and the woman gave him a quick smile.
A.J. looked down, scribbled some notes on the pad before her. When she was finished, she tapped the pen rapidly against the paper, formulating her thoughts. “Okay, it sounds like there may be more to Delgado than the charges we’ve filed against him. But—” she raised a hand to stem the response Gabe would have made “—I can’t use any of this without corroborating evidence. What about those two gang leaders Sandra was mixed up with? What’s the likelihood of getting them to talk?”
Gabe was already shaking his head. “Both dead. Not coincidentally, their throats were slit by a blade the approximate weight and length of the one Delgado wounded Meghan with.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask if there’s any proof linking him to either of those deaths?” She read her answer in Connally’s expression. Mentally crossing that lead off her list, A.J. tried another tack. “And the suspect Danny saw Delgado with? Dead?”
His smile grim, Gabe said, “He was found floating in the Hudson. Someone had opened his throat, too.”
“Delgado was the last one seen with him.” A.J. leaned back, considering. “His rap sheet includes charges stemming from assaults with a knife before, so it’s clearly his weapon of choice. If I can find a way to get his criminal history introduced, that will help us prove deadly intent in Meghan’s case, but other than that…”
“It’s not enough.” Meghan’s voice was tight. “He needs to be held accountable for what he did to Sandra, as well.”
Choosing her words carefully, A.J. said, “That’s not the focus of this case. And I know it’s hard to accept, but we don’t have any proof of his involvement in it. It would be your word against his that he even said it, and possibly give his lawyer one more angle from which to attack your credibility as a witness.”
Eyes widening, the woman sputtered, “My credibility?”
“She means because of our relationship,” Gabe told her, his gaze never leaving A.J.’s. “Paquin will try to establish doubt about your motives. Maybe try to say you’re embellishing to help my case.”
“As if kidnapping and attempted murder needed any embellishment!”
The tart response had A.J. smiling. She was taking a liking to the woman. Some in Meghan’s position would have been broken, or at least crippled, by fear. Instead the woman appeared determined to do whatever she could to nail the man responsible.
“You’ve got me interested in the ways Delgado seems entwined in your earlier case,” A.J. told Gabe. “I’m going to authorize a broader scope in the pretrial investigation. Of the most immediate interest, of course, are the instances of assault in the man’s past…a history of threatening women, perhaps.” She wouldn’t be allowed to introduce Delgado’s criminal record at the trial, but there was a chance she could introduce witnesses who would testify about his penchant for violence. And if she could actually find someone who had been threatened by him the way Meghan had, she’d clinch a conviction.
“About my nephew…I refuse to let any of this touch him.” Gabe tried to interrupt his fiancée, but she went on despite his efforts. “He won’t testify, Ms. Jacobs. I won’t allow it. And I want your word that what I told you about his abilities will never go further than this room.”
A.J. studied the couple silently. She was no judge of Meghan Patterson, having met her only today. But she knew Connally, at least by reputation. She couldn’t imagine the cynical detective buying in to the idea of a child psychic. He seemed much too pragmatic.
“Unbelievable, huh?” The man accurately guessed her thoughts. “I thought so, too. But Danny was able to tell us where to find Meghan when Delgado had her. With his help, we knew right where to search. That was all the convincing I needed.”
Recognizing the anxious look on Meghan’s face, A.J. reassured her. “I can’t think of a scenario where it would do our case any good to mention your nephew’s…abilities. Just the opposite, in fact. And if a need arises for Danny to ID Delgado as the man he saw with Gabe’s suspect, I’ll arrange for him to videotape his testimony so he doesn’t have to appear in court. You have nothing to worry about on that count. But I’d be lying if I told you that this doesn’t complicate things.”
The couple exchanged a look. “In what way?” Meghan asked.
“First off there’s the relationship between the two of you.” A.J. shrugged. “That was a twist I was prepared for, after meeting with Gabe last time. But I’m going to have to rethink my strategy now. I have to show Delgado’s motivation for going after you…his criminal intent. Had you been the one who saw him with Connally’s suspect, I could have contended he feared having you ID him as the last one seen with the guy before he wound up dead. Now if I decide to run that strategy, I have to contend he incorrectly thought you could ID him.”
Meghan looked confused. “But that’s exactly what happened. And I don’t understand why there’s a problem in the first place. He was caught red-handed when Gabe and Cal found me.”
A.J. quirked a smile. Oh, to be that ignorant of the twists and turns of the justice system. “If you’ve spent any time at all around lawyers, you’d know that nothing is ever as simple as it seems.” She thought it wise to ignore Gabe’s sound of agreement. “Joel Paquin is an accomplished defense attorney. He’s going to come up with so much smoke and mirrors, he’ll have you questioning your own recollection of the facts.”
When she saw Meghan’s expression go ashen, she almost regretted her candor. But it would be far better for the woman to be prepared. It would be A.J.’s job to counter whatever allusions the lawyer devised. She knew, especially in light of what she’d learned here today, that it would be the toughest assignment she’d ever undertaken.
Chapter 4
Dare spread the bills on the table, keeping a firm grip on them to avoid their being grasped away by greedy hands. The skinny red-faced man across from him glanced down and did a rapid count.
“That’s not the amount we agreed on.”
“I think you’re forgetting our terms, Cooley. You get half for the tip, another half if it pans out.”
“Where’s your trust, McKay?” the man whined. “Geez, haven’t my leads always been gold?”
“And haven’t I always paid the other half when they are?” Dare countered. “So let’s hear what you’ve got. Prove to me it’s worth the price.”
Cooley tried to feign disinterest, but the jittering of his foot under the table betrayed him. His ruddy complexion gave him the permanent appearance of embarrassment. Since Dare had failed to ever detect a hint of conscience in the man, the impression was peculiarly incongruous. “I’ve been thinking…this information is worth more than my usual fee. This is big. I got other markets for it.”
Withdrawing the bills from the table, Dare replaced them in his pocket, watched the other man’s gaze follow his action. “Stop trying to drive the price up. As soon as I walk out that door you’ll be on the phone selling it to someone else, and we both know it.”
Cooley didn’t bother denying it. Although he objected to the term “professional snitch,” preferring the more genteel “information broker,” the fact remained that he made his living dealing facts for cash. With a philosophical shrug, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You’re
gonna love me for this, McKay.”
“Given your hygiene habits, I sincerely doubt it. But if your tip’s as good as you think it is, there’ll be the usual bonus in it for you.”
The promise seemed to satisfy Cooley. “You wanted information on Delgado? Well, I got you the best. I know the girlfriend he was shacked up with. Honey Stillwell.”
“Old news. She skipped when Delgado was arrested. The police searched the apartment and came up with nothing.” Dare felt a surge of frustration. This trip was going to turn out to be a waste of time, after all.
The smirk on Cooley’s face said otherwise. “Well, I got the address she skipped to right here.” He took a piece of paper from his shirt pocket, waved it in the air between them.
Dare reached for the paper, had to tug a bit to get the other man to release it. Reading it, he asked, “Is she there now?”
Cooley sat back and shrugged. “Don’t know. I could find out for an additional fee.”
Giving a short laugh, Dare pulled the bills out of his pocket and threw them on the table. “No, thanks. I’ll check it out myself.” He pushed his chair back and prepared to leave. Something caused him to pause. Cooley was already folding the money and shoving it into his pocket. “Who else have you sold this information to?”
The man’s eyes went sly. “Can’t divulge my customers, McKay. I got…whaddya call them things…scruples? Yeah, I got scruples.”
“Well make sure your ‘scruples’ and your common sense take precedence over greed. Peddling this information could make you very unpopular in certain circles.
Dare turned and left the fast-food restaurant they’d chosen as their meeting place. A young woman brushed by, and he stepped back to let her pass. Her perfume assailed him, something deliberately suggestive and musky. For some reason it made him think of Addie, if only because of the contrast. Her scent was subtle, alluring and drifted through the senses like smoke. Memories rose, an emotional ambush. It was difficult to banish the intimate images of their two nights together. The curve of her jaw had fascinated him; so delicate to hide a will that strong. The sight of her sleeping, that inner guard momentarily lowered by unconsciousness. The softness sleep had lent to her face, and the drowsy surprise in her eyes when she’d opened them the next morning to discover him beside her.