The kiss deepened. He pulled away, leaned on an elbow, studying her.
“I didn’t know that’s what I was going to do. I hadn’t even decided to take the position when we…when I saw you. I had a meeting this morning to find out more about it. I couldn’t have said anything, because I didn’t know anything.” He remained silent, watching her. She was talking too much, she knew, as if she had to keep going. “I know seeing me there, doing something so important for your investigation…I’m sure it was surprising. But I didn’t know a thing about it until we were on the way to the morgue. I was an art major for a long time. And…well, usually people have a relationship first and then sex, rather than sex and then…”
Her voice trailed off. She still wasn’t sure they had a relationship.
“Ms. Montague?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up,” he commanded before his lips touched hers again. The tenderness was still there, along with a raw edge of urgency. And with that one touch, she was electrified. She turned into his arms, pressed her lips to his flesh. And felt his tongue moving into her mouth with that intimacy that seemed to suggest the most carnal acts to follow. She was bathed in the warmth of his body, the extraordinary expertise of his lightest touch, and the greater force of the urgency replaced sensual finesse. She lost all concept of time, place or reality. Later, as she lay quietly at his side once again, she drifted to sleep, awakened, knew that he, too, was awake.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“How come you came to the hospital tonight? Have you learned anything?”
“No, I’m sorry.” He didn’t turn toward her.
“But you believe me? That there’s got to be more behind what happened to Stuart?”
He was silent for a few moments, then turned toward her. “Ashley…I don’t know what to believe. I do know that Carnegie is a good cop. I can do some investigating on my own, especially where that paper he’d been freelancing for is concerned, but…you have to think long and hard about whether what you’re feeling is absolutely solid, or if…”
“If what?”
He rose on one elbow as he spoke seriously. “If maybe you just feel a certain guilt or something because you slept with him and then lost touch.”
She felt as if she’d been drenched with a bucket of ice water. She stiffened, coming up one elbow so she was face to face with him. She was not going to dignify his incorrect assumption by even responding to it. “Oh, really? The way you think there are people breaking into your boat but really it’s all tied up with the fact that you were sleeping with your partner?”
She was startled by the violence of his reaction. Not that he touched her. But he withdrew with such force that it felt as if a whirlwind had gone through the bedroom. Up and on his feet, he padded out of the cabin naked, presumably in search of his swim trunks.
Ashley lay there for several seconds, feeling the sudden chill in the air. She bit her lip, sat up and decided that their insane, instantaneous, affair—was over. As to what emotion that evoked in her heart…she couldn’t even fathom it. She just knew that she had to get out.
She reached for her clothing and realized that it, too, was all over the living room. Summoning what dignity she could, she walked out of the bedroom, taking the two steps down to the living area. The door to the deck was open. A soft breeze was drifting in, touched with the scent of the salt and the sea. As she searched frantically for her things, she was startled when she heard him speak.
“Don’t go.”
She’d just found her bra. She turned and stood at the sound of his voice and cracked her temple against the counter. He reentered the cabin, closing the door behind him. He walked straight to her, heedless of the scrap of clothing she was clutching over her chest. His palms cupped her skull, and he looked into her eyes. “Don’t go. I’d like you to listen to me, if you’re willing.” She nodded as best she could with his fingers threaded so tensely through her hair. He wasn’t hurting her; she didn’t want him to think that he was.
“I’m listening,” she said softly.
“I never slept with Nancy. Never. I don’t know who told you I did, but it doesn’t matter—a lot of people thought we were an item But it never happened. She was married. I was in love with her, yes, but we never slept together. We came close a few times, but one or the other of us always withdrew. She, because she still believed in her vows. Me, because I loved her. And she had to either make it with Brian or decide on a divorce without me being involved. She really was one of my best friends. I knew her like I’ve seldom known anyone in my life. I stick like glue to my conviction that something’s going on because I knew her—not because I slept with her. She didn’t commit suicide. And she didn’t decide to go out for a wild night of drinking and drugs because she was depressed. I don’t care what the police psychologist considers a plausible scenario. That’s not what happened.”
He stopped speaking. His eyes had such an intense quality. They could give away nothing, or, like now, they could blaze with vehemence and conviction.
“Do you know what?” she said.
He started, frowning slightly, expecting a different reaction.
“What?”
“I never slept with Stuart. He was my friend, my best friend.”
The fingers knotting in her hair eased. And he smiled slowly. “Hmm. I guess that means I’m supposed to be sorry again.”
“Yeah, you should be.”
“I am sorry. You were so passionate in his defense, but I should have realized that could have been because of friendship. We’re more alike than I’d ever begun to realize,” he said. She found herself released. “I’m going to lock up and set the timer on the coffee for the morning.”
“Okay.”
She stood still, letting the bra she had retrieved drop back to the floor.
A moment later, the houseboat was secured and the coffee had been set for the following morning. In the bedroom, Ashley found herself telling Jake about her friendship with Stuart, how she had adored his parents.
“So you two were that close but never high school sweeties?” he queried.
She laughed. “It was a big public school,” she reminded him. “We all hung in the same crowd. We weren’t the wild crowd, we weren’t quite nerds. I had a thing for a football player, though. Stu made this announcement about it. I was totally humiliated, but the guy liked it, and we went together for several years. I guess that was my big high school romance.”
“But it ended?”
“Oh, you bet. He wound up being the biggest, most insufferable jerk I’d ever met.”
“Including me?”
She smiled ruefully. “Well, you did remind me of him a bit. He wanted to get married right after school. Live at Nick’s with me, and let me work to put him through college. He had a football scholarship, but it didn’t pay for everything. He thought art was a hobby, not a career. And he thought he should be able to go to bars, hang out with the guys—and the college girls, of course—because he was a guy. I should have been grateful just to have a guy like him and turn a blind eye to whatever he did. Luckily for me, in those insane moments when I was ready to buy into his line, Stuart was there, telling me I was an idiot if I didn’t see my own value, that I’d be insane not to pursue art. So I did. But then…I don’t know. I really did feel the urge to become a cop. Because of my dad, I guess. Maybe I thought I could get closer to him, somehow. And I still want to go through and finish the academy, but I know the on-the-job training I can get from this position is going to be incredible.”
“It will be incredible,” he told her. “I think it was just hard for an old-timer like me to see such talent from an upstart.”
“Upstart?”
“You’re supposed to protest that I’m not an old-timer.”
“How old are you?”
“Nearly thirty-six. Thirteen years on the force.”
“You always knew what you wanted to be?”
“Nope. I was supp
osed to grow up to be a lawyer. In some ways, I was like that asshole football player you dated.”
“You are a chauvinist.”
“Not at all, not anymore. Except….”
“Except when it comes to me?”
He hesitated even longer then. Before he spoke, he gritted his teeth and shrugged. “There’s something about you that reminds me of Nancy.”
“She was a cop. A homicide cop. Your partner. And you loved her.”
“Right. But I know—I know—that she went off on her own, and that’s what got her killed. She made a mistake.”
“A male cop can make a mistake. You could make a mistake,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “Yeah, I could.”
“But you stay out there.”
“You bet.”
“So…?”
“You know what?” He turned to her, face bronze against his pillow. “Cops can be assholes. Male, female, gay, straight, you name it. Macho guys with big guns, women with chips on their shoulders…cops are human. Some guys have gone bad, really bad. But most cops really are the good guys. I met one when I was a kid. He straightened me out, and I saw that he could make a difference. That’s what this job is to me. Making a difference. I see guys doing it all the time, sometimes just in small ways. I know there are times when we won’t get the answers. Doesn’t mean we stop trying. If you’ll keep it a secret, I’ll even admit I’m obsessed with the Bordon case. And I know our Jane Doe is connected somehow. I’m sure I have the missing piece of the puzzle somewhere. I just don’t know what it is. Maybe that’s why I understand your conviction about Stuart, why I’ll ask some questions and do some investigating on my own. But when your drawing hits the papers tomorrow, I’m willing to bet we get an identification on Jane Doe, and that means I’m going to be busy as all hell, so you’ll have to understand if it takes me a little time.”
She drew a line down his cheek with her fingertip. “I’m grateful for whatever you can do.”
He caught her finger. Teased it with his tongue. “Hey, you wouldn’t be here because you think I’m a good investigator and can get you answers, would you?”
She felt her lips curving into a smile. “I’m here because I think you’re very good at something else.”
“Great. Just after my body.”
“Brains or body. Pick one,” she told him. “And hey—am I here because I can draw? Or because I’m convenient and have the right body parts?”
“Convenient, the right body parts…and hair. I’m a sucker for a redhead.”
She laughed, and he drew her closer. His knuckles moved down her back; his fingertips teased the flesh of her hip. A thought crossed her mind.
Or am I here because I remind you of Nancy?
She didn’t ask him.
As his lips joined his fingertips against her naked flesh, she didn’t want to think at all.
The alarm hadn’t gone off. Ashley was certain it was still night, but the pounding at Jake’s door would have roused the dead.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, jumping up and reaching for his trunks.
“Jake!”
“It’s Marty,” Jake murmured briefly, before heading out of the cabin.
Ashley sat up, still crawling out of the depths of sleep, blinking. She heard Jake undo the locks, heard Marty burst in.
“We’ve got it,” Marty said.
“What?”
“The newspaper has barely hit the streets, and we’ve got an identification on Cinderella.”
Nathan Fresia sat in the hospital chair, his head sunk into his hands. The depths of his despair were almost overwhelming.
Lucy had been admitted to the hospital, as well. Her blood pressure had risen sky high, and she was a prime candidate for a full-scale heart attack. She was sedated, sleeping in a different wing of the hospital. He felt torn. He should be with her, but she had insisted that he be here, that he not leave their son’s side.
“Mr. Fresia?”
He looked up. Dr. Ontkean, the neurologist in charge of Stuart’s case, was standing quietly before him.
He must have looked really horrible, because the doctor knelt down before him. “Mr. Fresia, the important factor here is that your son is a real trouper. His will to live may actually pull him through.”
Nathan nodded, realizing that, despite everything, he needed to be grateful. Stuart had been brought back to life. Not to consciousness, but he was still hanging on.
“Your wife’s cardiologist has assured me that as long as she gets some real rest, she’s going to be fine, too.”
“Thank you.” He heard the words, though it didn’t sound like his voice speaking at all.
The doctor cleared his throat. “But now, I need your help. We nearly lost your son last night because a plug was pulled out of the wall. There are just too many people coming through to see him. Thank God he is the fighter he is—he hung on breathing on his own for a long time. We don’t even know how long, but…it’s a good sign, and also a good warning. This is an intensive care unit. He can’t have a parade going through, do you understand?”
Nathan nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Mr. Fresia? You need some sleep yourself.”
“I can’t leave my boy. I won’t leave my boy.”
Ontkean nodded. Maybe he had kids himself. “Sleep in the recliner, then. I’ll check with you later,” he said. He departed.
Nathan listened to the sound of the respirator and closed his eyes, thanking God.
And kept his vigil.
“Jake, I—” Marty broke off suddenly. “Oh, jeez, you’re not alone. Man, I’m sorry.”
“What?” Jake said. He followed the direction of Marty’s eyes and saw Ashley’s bra on the floor. He swore silently to himself.
“Don’t worry about it. Cinderella. Who is she?”
“The night guys got the call right after the morning edition was published,” Marty began. But before he got any further, they both heard a sudden scream coming from the direction of Nick’s place.
They both started instantly for the door.
Len Green parked some distance from the lot that belonged to Nick Montague, exited his car and walked silently toward the building. He meant to take a circuitous route around the back of the establishment. The sun hadn’t really hit the horizon yet, and there were plenty of trees and bushes for cover. He was sure he could make it to Ashley’s door without being seen.
Then he stopped dead in his tracks as a blood-curdling scream split the morning air.
Ashley’s cell phone was ringing. She could hear it, but she had no idea where she’d dropped her purse last night. All she knew was that her clothes were strewn all over the living area, and both Marty and Jake had gone racing out the front door at the sound of the scream.
She scrambled quickly, forgetting her shoes and her underwear, hopping her way into her jeans and drawing her shirt over her head even as she reached the door and pelted barefoot across the deck. She leapt to the dock, then saw that Jake, Marty, Nick and Sharon were out on the terrace.
As she raced toward the foursome, Sandy, scratching his white head, emerged from his houseboat.
“What? My God, what?” Ashley cried, reaching them.
It felt as if they were all staring at her. Except, of course, Jake, who was staring at Sharon.
“Ashley!” Sharon said.
“Was that you screaming? Why?” Ashley demanded.
“She was worried,” Nick said flatly.
“Worried?”
“I saw your drawing in the paper,” Sharon explained. “I recognized the woman immediately. I went to your room, but you weren’t there…and then I screamed. I was so scared.”
“Why were you frightened for Ashley?” Jake asked.
“We didn’t even know you took the job,” Nick said, staring at his niece. Ashley felt her heart sink. No, of course, he hadn’t known. He’d raised her. He’d been a best friend. And she hadn’t told him about one of the most important
decisions of her life.
“I’m sorry.”
“Is her name on the drawing?” Marty asked, bewildered. But he, too, stared at Ashley. She wondered if she should just have a sign made for her forehead: Yes, I’m sleeping with Jake Dilessio.
“I’d recognize Ashley’s work anywhere,” Nick said with dignity, and a touch of reproach.
“I would, too,” Sharon added.
“Nick, it just happened yesterday,” Ashley explained.
“Who is the woman?” Jake demanded, his tone impatient as he cut into the conversation.
Sharon’s eyes turned to him. “Her name is—was—Cassie Sewell.”
“And you recognize her because…?”
“She was a Realtor down here for a little while. She came down from the center of the state several months ago, and I met her because we were both involved in the sale of a place out by the Redlands.”
“Why wasn’t she reported missing?” Marty asked.
“Well, from what I heard…” She took a deep breath, then went on. “I almost had a deal, then the whole thing went up in smoke because the sellers felt they weren’t being represented properly. And when I tried to get hold of her, a fellow she worked with told me she’d just come in and quit. She said she was changing her lifestyle or something. Fred Hampton, a guy in the office, said it was like she had fallen in love. That’s all I know. Naturally, I wasn’t that fond of her—she blew a deal for me—but when I saw her face…and Ash’s drawing…”
“What’s the name of the company she was working for?” Jake demanded.
“Algemon and Palacio,” Sharon supplied.
Jake turned to Marty. “I’m heading straight over there. You head in and see what the night guys have.”
“Right,” Marty agreed.
Jake turned and started back for his boat. Nick and Sharon stared at Ashley, who braced herself to hear what her uncle had to say.
But he didn’t speak. He simply turned around without a word and headed back toward the bar.
“It—it’s all right, dear,” Sharon said.
“No, no, it’s not,” Ashley said, shaking her head.
Picture Me Dead Page 24