Fatal Exposure (10 page)

Brynn nodded. Of course Parker would know the details. The dead man had been found near his brother’s body. “There were a couple of gang members with him. Two, for sure, but I only saw one man’s face. He was facing in my direction. He was Caucasian, with tattoos on his cheeks and neck. Crosses. He was in his early twenties, I’d guess. I couldn’t see the other person from where I stood, just his weapon. There was a pillar blocking my view. But they both had guns.”

She clasped her hands and curled forward, the terror of it flooding back. “I was so scared. I couldn’t move. I was just...frozen. I don’t know how long I stood there, probably only seconds, but it felt like hours. The kneeling man kept sobbing and begging for them to let him live.

“And then...they shot him. I’m not sure who fired the gun. I thought it was the other man, the one I couldn’t see, but it happened so fast I couldn’t tell. There was this enormous bang and the man flew back.”

She hugged her arms and rocked, trying to block out the images. The blood. The dead man’s vacant eyes. The dreadful silence of a life abruptly gone.

“They realized I was there. I don’t know how. Maybe I cried out, or I moved and it caught their eyes. But the guy with the tattoos looked up. He raised his gun. That’s when I turned and ran.”

Her palms turned slick with sweat, her heart thudding against her rib cage as she relived that frantic flight, the wild hysteria fueling her steps. “They chased me. I knew they wouldn’t give up, that they’d never let me live. I’d just seen them murder that man. And they were fast. I could hear their footsteps pounding behind me. All I could think was that I had to warn Haley and Nadine.

“And then, out of nowhere, Tommy leaped out. He must have been coming to find me.”

She dragged her gaze to Parker, meeting his tormented eyes. “He saved my life. He got in their way on purpose, stopping them so I could escape. I heard the shots....”

Parker closed his eyes. The stark pain on his face twisted inside her, like a knife cleaving her heart, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Parker. It was all my fault. If I’d only listened to him and not gone there...”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He hung his head, anguish radiating from him in waves. And then he scrubbed his face with his hands, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a weary slump. Acceptance. Resignation. Despair.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, his voice raw. “You didn’t pull that trigger.”

“I might as well have. He never would have been there if it weren’t for me. And I was a coward. I kept running. I didn’t even go back to help.” To her everlasting shame.

Parker shook his head. “You were how old? Eleven? Twelve?”

“Thirteen by then.” She’d just been small for her age.

“You were a child.”

Not in the ways that counted. She’d lost her innocence long before that. “Still...”

“What good would it have done? He probably died instantly. And if you’d gone back they would have shot you, too.”

But at least she would have deserved it. And leaving Tommy alone like that after all he’d done for her... “I should have been there for him. He was my friend.” A friend she’d left lying dead in an abandoned warehouse after he’d sacrificed his life to save hers.

“So what did you do?” Parker asked, emotions roughening his voice.

“I caught up with Haley and Nadine, and we ran for blocks.” Racing through the streets in abject panic, frantic to save their lives. “We finally found a drainage pipe and hid. We huddled there for hours. Later, when it was dark enough and we were sure they’d left, we came back out.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“The police?” She shot him a look of disbelief. “We were minors. Runaways. The cops were our enemies. They would have hauled us in for questioning and sent us home.”

“And that would have been so bad?”

“Weren’t you listening? Nadine’s father had vowed to kill her. We couldn’t let her identity come out.”

His gaze narrowed. “And you?”

Her stomach tensed. She chose her words, knowing she had to tread carefully now. “My stepfather was a cop. He had...things he needed to hide. He would have made sure I didn’t talk.”

Not that the police would have believed her. They never had before. Still, he couldn’t take the chance that she’d finally get through to someone and expose him for the monster he was, blowing his facade of respectability to shreds.

Parker cocked his head, his eyes narrowed on hers. “You’re saying he would have hurt you?”

“I know he would have.”

“And that’s why you didn’t want me to call for backup today? Because he’s still around?”

“Yes.” She picked up her empty glass, then set it down, scrambling over what to say. “It’s...complicated. I can’t tell you the details right now.” And she prayed he wouldn’t press her yet. “But even if I’d talked to the police back then, it wouldn’t have done any good. I only saw the one man, the one in the photo. Haley and Nadine didn’t see anything, either, so they couldn’t help. But I’m sure that the shooter saw us. And he knew I’d caught the execution on film. That’s why we had to hide.”

Parker’s head came up. “Whoa. Back up. You’re saying you took pictures?”

She frowned. “Didn’t you see them?”

“How could I do that?”

It was her turn to be confused. “I mailed them to the police.”

He shot to his feet. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to take them. It was a reflex. That’s why they ended up blurred and underexposed. But I wanted to help the police catch the killer, so I made prints.”

“You took photos,” Parker repeated, sounding incredulous. “And you mailed them to the police?”

“Right. I’d been doing odd jobs at a photography store on Charles Street for a while part-time. I’d figured out the code for their alarm system, so I snuck inside that night and developed the film. I wrote Tommy’s name on the back of the pictures and sent them to the police. I figured someone would know what to do with them and get them to the right place.”

Parker still looked thunderstruck. “They weren’t in Tommy’s file.”

“Maybe they were in the other guy’s file—Allen Chambers, the one they executed.”

He shook his head. “I followed that case. His body was found near Tommy’s, so they assumed the deaths were linked. I would have known if they had evidence like that.”

“But...that doesn’t make sense. I thought for sure they’d get there.” It was the only thing that had assuaged her guilt, believing she’d provided the police with evidence—imperfect though it was.

“So if you never saw them, where did they go?” she asked.

“Good question.”

“They were out of focus and dark. You could sort of see that one guy, but that was it. Maybe the police figured they were worthless and threw them out.”

“Not a chance. They would have run them for prints, probably sent them to forensics to see if they could clean them up. They’d never toss evidence like that out.”

“So what are you saying? That someone kept them out of the file on purpose?”

Parker’s mouth turned grim. “It’s a possibility.”

“But that means...” If a cop had destroyed those photos... Her heart beat faster. A chill snaked through her blood, sending prickles slithering over her spine. All this time, she’d believed she had two dangerous enemies, two men who wanted her dead—her stepfather and Tommy’s killer. But what if she didn’t? What if the two men were the same?

Parker’s gaze connected with hers, the stunned realization in his eyes mirroring hers. There was only one reason the police would have destroyed that evidence. A cop must have been involved in his brother’s killing.

And her stepfather had worked in Homicide at the time....

Chapter 9

P
arker stared out his condo window at the gathering night.

A cop might have killed his brother. Someone he’d worked with. Someone he respected and trusted.
Someone he might even work with now.
A coldhearted murderer could be masquerading on the police force, a man who’d violated his vow to protect and defend the innocent, sullying the integrity and responsibility of the badge. A man who defied everything Parker believed in—honor, justice, truth.

And he might have worked in the homicide unit at the time of Tommy’s death, destroying evidence, compromising his brother’s investigation, committing any number of other crimes.

Still not willing to believe it, Parker braced his forearm on the glass and struggled to marshal his thoughts. He knew better than to rush to conclusions; he had to stay objective and let the evidence build his case. There might be a logical explanation why those photos had disappeared, one that didn’t implicate a cop.

But what the hell it was, he didn’t know.

He turned his head toward Brynn. “You’re sure you sent those photos to the police?”

Her eyes troubled, she gave him a nod. “I looked up the address in a phone book—the Baltimore Police Department on East Fayette Street. Then I went to the post office and bought a bunch of stamps from the machine. I’m sure it was enough.”

So those photos must have reached the department. And someone had either mislaid or destroyed them. The queasy feeling inside him grew. “Did you keep a copy?”

“No, but I hid the negatives. I wanted Haley and Nadine to be able to find them if something happened to me.”

His pulse began to race. “So they still exist?”

“Hopefully.”

“Where did you hide them?”

She hesitated a beat. Her distrust stung, but he understood her reluctance to speak. Someone could be trying to kill her to keep that evidence from coming to light. And it appeared to be a cop.

“In the Central Library,” she finally said. “The Enoch Pratt Library on Cathedral Street. I used to go there a lot to study their photography books.”

He glanced at his watch. “They’ll be closed by now. We’ll have to look for them tomorrow.”

“They might not be there,” she cautioned. “It has been fifteen years.”

But if those negatives still existed, he intended to find them. Because if they could provide a clue to Tommy’s death...

Suddenly needing another drink, he walked over and retrieved his glass. “More vodka?”

When she shook her head, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a refill, still mulling over the case. He’d been a patrol cop when Tommy had died. He hadn’t known many people in the homicide unit back then, aside from Hoffman and Vernon Collins, the lead investigator on his brother’s case. It wouldn’t hurt to check his background for a possible connection to that gang.

Parker knocked back a slug of vodka and swore. Complicated didn’t begin to describe this case. Implicating Hoffman in Erin Walker’s death was risky enough. If Parker tried to tie him to his brother’s crime scene, he’d ignite a firestorm, thrusting the entire Baltimore police department into an uproar, causing repercussions that could last for years.

And what if he was wrong? What if a cop wasn’t involved in Tommy’s death? All Parker had were random incidents he couldn’t connect—two dead girls, missing photos from his brother’s crime scene, a mysterious, hand-engraved necklace and a gang who wanted them dead. And he couldn’t accuse anyone without proof.

Brynn strolled through the kitchen doorway and set her glass in the sink. She leaned against the counter beside him and crossed her arms. “So what do you want to do next?”

“I’ll make some calls, find out who worked in Homicide when Tommy died. We can see if anyone had connections to the C.D. gang.”

A frown creased her brow. “What I don’t get is why the Ridgewood gang is after me. They weren’t even around back then. Why would they care what I’d seen?”

“Good point.” And a disturbing one. “I doubt many City of the Dead members are still alive. Fifteen years is a lifetime on the streets.” So how were the two gangs linked? And if they
weren’t
connected, why was the Ridgewood gang after Brynn? Unless they wanted Jamie’s necklace... But that made even less sense.

“My supervisor transferred over from the gang unit,” he told her. “I’ll ask him what he knows.”

Brynn tilted her head, her eyes curious. “Where
do
you work? You never said what unit you’re in.”

Realizing what he’d let slip, he took a swallow of vodka to buy some time. “Homicide,” he said, deciding to stick close to the truth. “But I didn’t join the unit until years after Tommy died, and there’d been a lot of turnover by then. The burnout rate is pretty high.”

It wasn’t a total lie. He
had
worked in Homicide until Hoffman had decided to prioritize the cold case squad and invited Parker on board. Still, deceiving Brynn felt wrong.

But he couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d never trust him if he did. And she was keeping secrets, too. She hadn’t revealed that Hoffman was her stepfather. She hadn’t told him why she’d run away from home—even if he’d guessed the reason behind her flight.

But could he blame her for not coming clean? If no one had believed her before...

He skimmed her glossy, auburn hair, the beckoning lilt to her bowed lips, the sweater molding to her slender curves. Then his mind flashed back to the photo of her standing in the alley beside Tommy—a scrawny, underfed kid with torn jeans and untamed hair. She’d been so damned young, her eyes so wounded and hollow, with the same raw, traumatized look of the victimized kids she photographed now.

His thoughts swerved back to her file, and the doubts he’d been harboring returned with a vengeance, impossible to ignore. What if she’d told the truth about the sexual abuse? What if no one had believed her back then? What if no one had looked for the cause behind her angry behavior and listened to her cry for help?

And what if no one had stopped a dangerous predator who’d continued racking up victims for years while he pretended to champion their cause?

That thought shuddering through him, he gazed into her blue-gold eyes. And despite not having proof, despite Hoffman’s warning that Brynn would manipulate him, the temptation to believe her grew. It explained why she’d acted out, why she’d run away from home. She’d been desperate. Abandoned. Alone.

He ran his gaze over her face, the delicate lines of cheeks and jaw. She was so beautiful. So determined. So strong.

Because if he’d guessed right, the terrified child who’d fled an abusive home had not only survived; she’d grown into a formidable woman—a woman who’d dedicated her life to helping the hopeless. A woman who championed forgotten kids. A woman who confronted hypocrisy head-on, refusing to let society brush these victims aside, no matter how dirty or inconvenient the truth.

But he wasn’t blameless, either. He’d always prided himself on his integrity. He’d vowed not to repeat his father’s mistakes. But he’d never questioned Hoffman. He’d let the man’s position and reputation blind him to his sleazy crimes—enabling him to destroy more lives.

But could Hoffman really be that evil? Could he really be trying to quiet Brynn permanently, as she claimed? Could a man he’d put on a pedestal—who even Senator Riggs lauded as a hero—have molested children for all these years?

“Listen, Parker...I’m so sorry about Tommy,” Brynn said, pain lacing her soft voice.

Realizing she’d misunderstood his silence, he sighed. “I know.”

She took another step closer, her eyes searching his. “I wish... I’d do anything to go back and relive that day, to make it right.”

Her sincerity humbled him. Even now, after everything she’d suffered, she was worried about hurting
him.

His throat thickening, he reached out and tucked her fiery hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t your fault. And what you told me... It means a lot to know how he died.” To know his brother’s death hadn’t been wasted, that he’d died a hero, saving her.

“I wish I’d listened to him,” she whispered, her full mouth wobbling, her eyes shining with tears. “I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn. You don’t know how many nights I’ve lain awake wishing so badly he hadn’t died. If I could just go back and do it over...”

He understood. The same guilt had tormented him for fifteen years. “I tried to hold my family together after my father died,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t do it. Tommy ran away no matter what I did. I keep wondering what I did wrong, if there was something I should have changed. Maybe if I’d found a different counselor, maybe if I’d quit my job... And I’d give anything to do it over, to do things differently this time.”

She rested her hand on his arm. Her luminous eyes stayed on his. “Tommy didn’t talk about his family much, but he admired you, Parker. He knew he’d let you down. I think he wanted to go back home, but he couldn’t conquer the drugs.”

Oh, hell.
Parker tipped back his head and closed his eyes, emotions piling up on him, the horrible grief he’d harbored threatening to break free. If only he could go back. If only he could see his little brother one more time. If only he could convince him that he wasn’t a failure, that everything would be all right.

A huge lump blocked his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling against the crushing remorse. Then he heaved out a breath and looked at Brynn, the compassion in her eyes swamping his heart.

And once again that connection shimmered between them, the awareness that she understood.
That she cared.
And something around his heart unwound, his self-blame easing up a notch.

The sympathy in her eyes held him captive. A tumult of emotions gripped his heart. Gratitude that she was here. Sorrow for what she’d endured. Regrets that he couldn’t redo the past.

And he realized something else. His feelings for her had gone beyond admiration for her considerable talent, beyond attraction to a beautiful woman, beyond respect for what she’d endured. They’d morphed into something at once primitive and complex.

He stroked the curve of her throat, her slight pulse pattering against his palm. He drew in a breath, filling his senses with her calming scent. He’d never expected her to be like this. He’d never dreamed that the girl whose photo he’d carried in his pocket could touch his heart. He never expected to feel this bond, this rapport, this heat.

He knew he should resist her. He knew she was keeping secrets. He shouldn’t get involved with a potential suspect until he was sure of what was going on. And he had a duty to follow the rules, an obligation to bring her in and let her stepfather handle this. But memories of that kiss muddled his brain, beating down his resistance. And he’d be damned if he could walk away.

Their eyes remained locked. His heart stuttered through several beats. And the need to possess her drummed through him with primal urgency, demolishing his restraint.

She dropped her gaze to his mouth, making his belly clench. He slowly stalked around her, backing her against the sink.

“This is still a bad idea,” she whispered, the raw hunger in her voice thickening his blood.

“I know.” His voice came out low and rough. “But damned if I can make myself care.” He skimmed his hands down her arms and hips to the base of her slender spine. Then he moved in close, his blood rocketing through his veins.

Her breasts grazed his chest. The heady scent of her filled his lungs. Her lips parted in invitation, and everything male inside him took charge.

“Parker,” she said, but whether it was a protest or a plea, he couldn’t tell.

He lifted his hand and bracketed her jaw. The memory of her taste flooded through him, deleting his thoughts. He traced the contour of her lips with his thumb, the seductive curve of her pale throat. Damn, but he wanted her. He wanted to feel her naked skin, to plunder her tempting mouth, to delve so deeply inside her that they both lost the capacity to think.

Unable to resist, he dipped his head. He waited one last heartbeat, giving her time to come to her senses and move away. But her eyes fluttered closed. Her hands clutched his arms. And instead of acting sanely, she pulled him closer still.

His lips met hers, the sweet, downy feel of her inciting a riot of need in his blood. Her mouth was warm, tender, soft. Endlessly intriguing. A mouth he could spend forever exploring. He shivered hard, his body and soul blazing to life.

And it wasn’t nearly enough. He took the kiss even deeper, giving rein to his burgeoning need. He rocked his hips against her, desperate to feel her softness cradle his rigid length. She gasped against his mouth.

Knowing he was moving too quickly, that he was teetering on the edge of losing control, he broke the kiss with effort, then pulled her head to his neck. His breath came in uneven rasps. His body tightened and throbbed.

But beyond the hunger was something more—tenderness, protectiveness, the need to keep her safe. This thing between them had gone beyond wanting to find Tommy’s killer, beyond wanting to find the truth. It had changed into something far more complicated, feelings he didn’t understand.

Making a final grasp at sanity, he reminded himself that this wasn’t wise. He had no proof that she was a victim, no proof that Tommy had died the way she’d said. For all he knew, she’d fed him a pack of lies.

And he hadn’t been forthright with her. When she found out he worked for her stepfather, she would detest him. If he had any sense of decency, he’d tell her the truth right now.

Lowering his hands to her hips, he eased away, giving them some badly needed room. “Listen, Brynn...”

She lifted her gaze to his. And the sudden wariness filling her eyes—as if she expected him to reject her—stopped him cold.

He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t put that hurt and disillusionment back into her eyes. Instead, he wanted to prove that he wouldn’t betray her, that he was a man she could depend on, that he deserved her loyalty.

“I want you so damned much,” he said instead—because it was true.

Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she dragged his head down to hers. He had one final thought, that maybe this was how his father had begun his downward slide, one mistake compounding another until he’d reached his doom.