Chapter Twenty-Nine
Annie recognized the wide, warm chest through the tiny peephole. She stepped back.
Her phone rang. Thinking it was him, she answered. “What do you want?” Her words rang half leery, half longing. She had to stop hoping.
“Annie?” Isabella asked.
“Oh, I thought—”
“Mark just left here. He’s drunk. I thought Jose was going to belt him. He kept insisting you were here.”
“Sorry,” Annie said. “He’s at my door now.”
“You aren’t going to answer it, are you?”
Was she? “Yeah.” He shouldn’t be driving.
“Do you want Jose to come over?”
“No. I’m fine.” She hung up and opened the door.
Mark stood there. Or not actually stood, he half leaned against her doorjamb.
“You’re supposed to be staying at your friend’s.” He didn’t slur his words, but there a slow drag that said Isabella was right. Mark was drunk.
“Did you drive here?” she asked.
“No. I took a taxi. I needed…to see you.” He pushed off the door and came inside. His steps faltered as he passed her. He looked down at her. “God, you smell good.”
“Why are you here?”
He dropped on her sofa beside Pirate. The cat jumped up and left. Mark looked up at her. At her bat. She set it against the wall.
“I needed to…tell you, that you aren’t…aren’t crazy.”
“I know that.” She tilted up her chin.
“Good,” he said. “You needed to know.”
And she needed to tell him to leave. If only he didn’t look so sad. If only her heart wasn’t breaking right now.
“You’re beautiful.” He blinked. “You make my soul feel better.”
His words rang so honest. “What’s wrong with your soul?”
“I keep losing pieces of it. But you give me a little of it back.”
He wasn’t making sense. “Do you have a drinking problem?”
“No. I got a dead-kid problem.” His voice deepened and the words came out sad. “This time someone beat her with something. I shouldn’t have looked at the picture.” He paused. “They say I’m good at this.”
Parts and pieces of what he said almost made sense and that broke her heart. Her throat tightened. “I’ll make coffee.”
She went into the kitchen and leaned against the counter for several long seconds. Then she started the coffee but stayed there trying to get her head straight and her heart centered.
“Did you leave me?” he called out.
“Making coffee,” she called back.
“Okay, I’ll be patient. I’m not always a piece of shit.”
“Good,” she said, leaning against the counter while her chest swelled with even more emotion. Her sinuses stung, and she swallowed the need-to-cry lump.
Coffee done, she walked out with a cup. She was determined to sober him up and call him a taxi.
He sat up straighter when he saw her. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”
“Yeah.”
“Did I tell you how sorry I am?”
“No.” She handed him the cup. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Well, I am.” He studied the coffee but didn’t drink it. Seconds later, he looked up. “She held you the way I wanted to.”
“What?” she asked.
“Your friend at the morgue. She comforted you. I wanted to do that.”
“You’re jealous of my friend?”
“Noooo.” He shook his head then nodded. “Yeah. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I understand it. You trust her. Not me.”
Annie stood straighter. “She didn’t tell me I was crazy.”
He nodded. “But I told you you weren’t. And I proved it. I told you that, right?”
“You can’t unsay some things.”
“I know. Can’t undo things, either. But damn, I wish I could.” He put one hand on his chest. “It sits right here.”
“What sits there?”
“Guilt. She asked me not to go. But I wanted to drink beer and get laid. If I hadn’t been a sorry son of a bitch she wouldn’t be dead.”
Annie’s breath caught. He was talking about his sister. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but now wasn’t the time to tell him anything.
Two words still slipped out. “I’m sorry.” She sat down beside him.
He leaned over and put his head on her shoulder. “Me too.” After a second, he said, “Did I tell you that you smelled good?” He nuzzled her neck.
She inched over. “I’m not having sex with you.”
He lifted his head. “I don’t want sex.” He made a face. “Well, I didn’t until you mentioned it.”
He shifted again and sloshed coffee in his lap. “Shiiit!” He held the coffee out with one hand and grabbed the crotch of his jeans and pulled them outward with the other. He met her eyes. “You’re right. It’s hot.”
She stood and took the coffee from him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m putting the coffee away before you scald yourself.”
He chuckled and she carried the cup in the kitchen.
When she came back, he was sitting there, chin against his chest, eyes closed.
What would it hurt if he slept here? On the sofa? Alone?
Giving in, she went to collect a pillow and blanket.
She walked back in. “Mark, lay down. I got a blanket and pillow.” When he didn’t move, she gave his shoulder a nudge. He complied, and she barely got the pillow in place before he fell back.
He opened his eyes slightly. “You’re a slice of heaven.”
She took off his shoes and stretched the blanket out over him. When the back of her hands came against his chin, she got zapped by emotional pain.
She didn’t love him, she told herself. But her heart begged to differ.
His eyes opened. He reached up and touched the back of her hand. Just one slow, soft touch.
“I wish I deserved you.”
She swallowed a lump of emotion. “You don’t think you deserve me?”
“Nope,” he said. “Not you or music.”
Annie remembered the saxophone in his game room.
His eyes closed, but he kept talking.
“You want the white picket fence, the house, the kids.”
“What do you want?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“I want…to keep my soul.”
She recalled all the cases he’d solved, the justice he’d brought to others. How hard must it be solving cases like Jenny’s and the Talbot case when he was haunted by his sister’s death?
He let out a soft snore.
“I could do without the fence,” she whispered.
Still hurting, Annie walked back to her bedroom.
* * *
“I wrote a list for you.” Mark handed Connor the notebook with questions for the Reed interview. It pissed Mark off that he couldn’t go himself, but he knew Brown was right.
Connor took the notebook but eyed Mark. “You look like shit again!”
“Thanks.” Mark had woken up at four on Annie’s sofa with only vague memories of the night before. Before he left her place, he found a piece of paper and wrote a one-word note. Sorry.
“Where were you yesterday?” Connor asked.
“Working. Can you look at the questions and make sure you understand everything?”
“Yeah.” Connor parked his ass at his desk. Mark sat down, too.
He had to tell him what he found out from the CPS, but he wanted to wait until…“Where’s Juan?”
“Right here.” Juan stepped in. His gaze found Mark. “Something wrong?”
“No.”
“He was trying to look like shit today,” Connor said, laughing.
Juan claimed his desk. “I stayed up last night doing the background checks.”
“And?” Mark tu
rned his chair around and sat in it.
“DUIs all over the place. The whole family has a drinking problem. Well, everyone but JoAnne Lakes. And they’re mean drunks. The old sheriff went out on six domestic violence calls. And that’s not including Patrick Reed.”
“Who?” Mark hadn’t heard that name.
“He’s another Reed,” Juan answered. “Died eight years ago.”
“How many Reeds were there?” Mark asked.
Juan turned a page in his file. “Seven. Four boys and three girls. Harold and Patrick are deceased. But Patrick’s record was a tad more interesting. Child and spousal abuse. One time, the wife almost died, but she swore hubby didn’t push her out of the car.”
“Shit.” Mark started putting the pieces together. “Patrick must be the sheriff’s secretary’s father. You know, Jennifer Reed.”
“Yeah, but the abuse wasn’t with Jennifer or her mother, but his first wife and kid. Supposedly he got his wife pregnant when she was thirteen. He was nineteen. He likes them young. She left him to keep CPS from taking her kid. He married Jennifer’s mother a year later.”
“Was there any sexual abuse charges?” Mark asked. It could have been the reason he killed Jenny. His chest hurt from just asking the question. Why did the world have to be so fucked up?
“No sexual abuse charges listed. But I’ve got a number for the ex-wife. She lives in Alabama. I’m calling her. Do you want to try to contact Karen Reed, Jennifer’s mother, and see if she had anything on Patrick?”
“Since it’s the mother of his receptionist, let’s let the sheriff handle that one.” Mark looked at Connor. “Did you get anything at the park yesterday?”
“They had a file. But it offered nothing new except the location of where the Reeds were camping.” Connor picked up a file. “Here it is if you need it.”
“Did you get anything?” Juan asked Mark.
“Yeah. The DA won’t question Annie’s credibility.”
“What?” Connor asked.
“Three of the four kids she reported to CPS have since been removed from their homes. Annie was right.”
“Shit. She needs to work for CPS,” Juan said.
Mark looked at his watch. “Can you read over those questions? I gotta head out.” Mark collected the file Connor had started on the park.
“Where you going?” Connor asked.
“To see if I can find Officer Ruffin again. And I’m contacting Roger Duncan to see if he can meet me at Anniston State Park with his cadaver dogs.” He also had to meet the two homicide detectives working the Kelly murder case to hand over his thoughts and the piece of soul. But he didn’t want to talk about that.
After that, Homicide was on its own. His soul was getting smaller and smaller. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t have one.
After going over the questions, Mark got up to leave.
“Hey,” Connor said.
Mark turned around. “Yeah?”
“You really okay?”
The question sat on his nerves. “Yes. Why?”
Connor rolled his shoulders.
“You seem to be drinking more,” Juan said.
Mark looked from Connor to Juan. “What is this? An intervention?”
“No,” Connor said. “It’s friends letting you know we care.”
“Well, stop worrying. I’m fucking fine.”
“Don’t get pissed,” Connor said. “If the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be speaking up.”
He bit back his anger. “You’re right. I would. And I’m not pissed. But I’m fine.”
He stepped out and then turned and walked back into the room. “Sorry I can be an ass. We make a good team. And I normally don’t like teams.”
“Ditto,” Juan said.
Connor nodded and looked at Mark, who was standing a few feet from his desk. “But if you’re waiting for a hug, you’re going to be disappointed.”
They all laughed. Mark left. And somehow, in spite of knowing he screwed up with Annie, the weight on his chest was a little lighter. He was going to solve her case. It was the least he could do.
* * *
“He left a note. ‘Sorry,’” Annie said.
“What all did he say last night?” Isabella asked.
Annie stabbed a piece of lettuce in her salad. “He was so drunk most of it didn’t make sense.” She took a sip of her diet soda. The watered-down drink, slightly sweet and low on fizz, slid down her throat.
“Is he an alcoholic?” Isabella asked.
Annie looked up. “I asked. He said he wasn’t, that he just had a dead-kid problem.” Annie moved her salad around her plate. “His sister was murdered.”
“What? When?”
“When he was young. I don’t know the whole story, but…” She told Isabella about what Judith Holt had said the day she showed up at Mark’s. “Last night he said his sister had asked him not to leave her to go to a party. But he went anyway. She was killed.” She exhaled. “He blames himself.”
“That’s sad.”
“I know.” Annie inhaled. “He told me he wished he deserved me.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. He fell asleep.”
Isabella stared at her as if seeing through skin and bone. “You love him, don’t you?”
“I barely know him.” Annie gave her friend the same argument she’d given herself.
“I think I fell in love with Jose the first time I saw him. He was a cousin of a friend of mine. It was her quinceañera. He asked me to dance. We walked back onto her patio and he kissed me. Kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. Then he found out I was only fifteen.”
“How old was he?”
“Nineteen. He told me to look him up in three years.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“And?” Annie needed to hear something positive.
“Two weeks after my eighteenth birthday, I got his phone number and where he worked from my friend. I showed up at his work right before noon and asked him to lunch.”
“He remembered you?”
“He asked me what took me so long. Said he knew my birthday had been two weeks ago.”
“That’s romantic.”
“Yeah.” A touch of sadness echoed in her tone.
“Have you told him yet?” Annie asked.
“We agreed to talk tonight. I’m scared I’m going to lose him.”
“Hey.” Annie put her hand over Isabella’s. “He loves you. It’s going to be okay.”
* * *
Adam Harper sat across from Mr. Erving, the Reeds’ lawyer, who had insisted on doing the interviews at the office. They were on their first witness, Doris Roberts. Adam just sat and listened. Detective Pierce had taken the lead.
“I think we’re finished here,” Erving said. No doubt afraid the woman was too drunk to hold her tongue.
“I just have a few more questions,” Pierce said.
“We’ll reschedule,” Erving said.
“Oh, honey.” Doris Roberts leaned forward, letting her shirt drop open. “If you want to swing by my house later, I’ll be there with bells on.”
“No,” Erving snapped, then looked at Roberts. “Call your brother to pick you up.”
Ms. Roberts ignored her lawyer and ran her tongue over her lips while giving Detective Pierce a hungry look. The shock on the young detective’s face had Adam coughing to disguise his laugh.
When Ms. Roberts walked out, Adam spoke up. “You’d better drive her home.”
The lawyer frowned. “She’s calling her brother.”
“She won’t do it. She’s going to drive herself, and I think I’ll follow her and arrest her ass.”
Scowling, the lawyer walked out with his client.
Detective Pierce, one of Sutton’s partners, looked at him. “Was she really—”
“Don’t let it go to your head. She offered me the same thing.” Adam stood. “I’m going to grab a cold water. Want one?”
“Yeah, but
after that I think I need a stiff drink.”
Adam chuckled. “You’re only getting started. Wait until you meet the Reed brothers.”
Pierce flipped through his paperwork and looked up. “I don’t see Karen Reed, Patrick Reed’s wife, on the list?”
“She’s not,” Adam said. “She wasn’t married to Patrick when Jenny died. I talked to her, but I can call her in.”
“Did she say much about her husband?” Pierce asked.
“She told me he was an alcoholic, but he was sober when they married.”
“You know he had a record? We were even thinking he might be the one who killed Jenny.”
“Yeah, Sutton told me. I asked his wife about her husband’s past. She said he wasn’t nearly the man people accused him of being. She even accused the whole family of judging him when they were as bad as he was. Considering his daughter seems so well adjusted, I kind of believe her. But I’ll call her if you want.”
Pierce shook his head. “Nah. Who do you like for this?”
“I’m betting George. Though Sam is right up there.”
Adam went to grab the waters from the breakroom. He pulled the last two out of the fridge. Heading back, Adam overheard Jennifer telling someone it’d be a few minutes before her lawyer returned.
When he got to his door, he saw JoAnne Lakes sitting in a chair. She had on a pretty light blue sundress, not too short. Not too tight. But it looked damn good.
He pulled in his gut. But damn, it was hard to believe she was kin to the woman who’d just left.
Jennifer looked back at him and her aunt. “I’m going to step out for lunch.”
“Sure.”
Jennifer left in a hurry as if she’d skipped breakfast. Ms. Lakes looked up. Emotion flashed in her eyes.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking without the lawyer.”
He frowned. “We just can’t talk about the case. Water?” He held out a bottle.
“Thank you.” She took it and glanced down.
It got awkward really fast. He was about to leave when she spoke up.
“I love my daughter.” She still didn’t meet his gaze.
“You could show it better.” He recalled insinuating she wasn’t a good mom.
“You haven’t walked in my shoes.” Hurt echoed in her voice.
His gaze lowered to her shapely calves, down to her sandaled feet. Her pale pink painted toenails. “I’m afraid my big feet wouldn’t fit in those.”
Don't Close Your Eyes Page 28