First Do No Evil: Blood Secrets, Book 1 (7 page)

“Katie?” Danny tried again.

Sky took a seat on the leather sofa and tilted her chin, gazed up at the rough-hewn beams of the cathedral ceiling. This place might be homey all right, but it certainly wasn’t cheap.

Reading her mind, Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Not what you’d expect of a cop’s house. My brother Christian’s a hotshot plastic surgeon. He offered me a loan to do this place up right, and for Katie’s sake, I took it.”

“Christian sounds like a fine brother,” she said.

“Got that right.” A tall, fair-haired man with gold-flecked eyes reminiscent of a jungle cat pushed open the door from the kitchen and joined them. “Christian Benson, one damn fine brother, at your service. And what I offered was a gift. But Knucklehead here insisted on paying me back with interest. Take off your shirt, Knucklehead. I want to see if that scar needs revising.”

Sliding his eyes in Sky’s direction, Danny jerked a no with his head.

“Take it off, Danny Boy. Since when do you pass up the chance to show off your pecs for a beautiful woman?”

Her cheeks heated. “I’d also like to see how that shoulder wound’s healed.” For Christian, she added, “I’m a doctor.”

“You Skylar Novak? The one who saved Knucklehead’s life?”

“I didn’t—”

“Yeah, she did.” Danny dropped his coat and eased his sweater over his head.

And doctor or no, Sky’s breath caught. Not because of the way Danny’s cut muscles rippled beneath his soft olive skin, but rather because his chest bore the permanent marks of courage. Scars from bullet wounds. She counted three. The first time she’d seen his bare chest, she’d been too focused on keeping him alive to think about the valor those scars represented. Now it struck her with heartbreaking intensity that Danny had put his life on the line for strangers more than once—and that he might be called upon to do so again. Her eyes landed on a photograph of Danny and Katie. Lowering her gaze, she steeled her jaw and fought back a stinging flash of tears.

When the pressure behind her eyes subsided, she lifted her gaze to find Danny’s back turned. Christian was prodding newly formed scar tissue that had been caused by the bullet exiting Danny’s left shoulder. “This is the guy I’m thinking needs work. Skin’s contracted. Not to mention how ragged and raised the edges are—looks like somebody went after you with a rusty can-opener. Raise your arms, Bro.”

Danny complied, revealing thatches of dark hair in his armpits. His left arm lagged behind the right, jerking as he fought hard for each inch of gain.

“Higher. That the best you can do?” Christian pushed up on his victim’s left triceps muscle.

A harsh grunt escaped Danny’s throat, and his arm plummeted.

“Your range of motion sucks. Squeeze my fingers.”

Danny made a weak fist around Christian’s hand.

“Pitiful. You got brachial plexus inflammation, that’s for damn sure. Work on that with your PT, and I’ll put you on the schedule to revise the scar. When can you make it down to Phoenix?”

Pulling his top on, Danny turned around, his face screwed tight, either from pain, or consternation, or both. “For your information, my physical therapist is pleased with my progress. I’m cleared for take-off. Back to work Monday. No way in hell am I going under the knife again. Not even if it’s your knife.”

“Who gave you clearance with that much goddamn limitation on your left side?”

“My Ortho. That’s who.”

“Does your Ortho know that’s your gun hand? Or did you tell him you’re right handed so you could get your walking papers faster?”

“Stay out of this, Christian.”

“Like hell I will.” Nothing weak about the fist opening and closing at Christian’s side.

Sky wedged herself into the narrow gap between Christian and Danny. Dwarfed by the stature of the brothers, she tiptoed to her maximum height. “I agree with Christian. It’s unsafe to return to duty so soon.”

“If I wanted your opinions, I would’ve asked for them. So back off…both of you.”

Christian sidestepped Sky and cut in front. Nose to nose with Danny he said, “I left my toasty home in Phoenix and braved black ice on the I-17 to come up to this frozen berg to check out your shoulder and this is the thanks I get?”

Footsteps thudded above their heads, followed by the sound of a girl’s voice. “But Uncle Chris, I thought you said you left your toasty home and braved black ice on the seventeen to take Grams and me to the movies.” A skinny teenager appeared at the top of the staircase, and Danny hastily signaled a time-out to his brother.

So this is Katie
.

Like her father and uncle, Katie was tall. Sky estimated she’d overshoot the 95th percentile on a growth chart. With a grace not usually found in girls her age, Katie descended the stairs and joined them, favoring her uncle, but not her father, with a hug.

“That too,” Christian said, lifting Katie off the ground with his embrace. “We better get moving. I promised Grams we’d pick her up by 8:30.” Politely, he included Sky in the conversation. “Mom likes to get there early and munch popcorn during the previews.”

“Sounds fun,” Sky replied. “What movie?”

“Dumb chick flick.” Katie shuddered. “I’m only going ‘cause Grams wants to see it.”

A look of gratitude replaced the frustration on Danny’s face. “Thanks, Bro, I owe you one.”

“No problem, Bro. Don’t I always have your back? Not to mention the fact that I’m a big Drew Barrymore fan.” Christian gave Sky a devilish wink that reminded her of how lighthearted Danny had been the morning she first met him. And she couldn’t help thinking that if Danny’s path had never crossed hers, he still would be. He looked so serious now, watching his daughter cross the room.

Gathering her silky auburn waves into a ponytail, Katie stepped in front of the entry-hall mirror, glanced defiantly in her father’s direction, and cranked up a tube of jet-black lipstick. A muscle vibrated in Danny’s jaw, and Christian shot him a stay-cool look.

A look that went unheeded.

“Don’t even think about it,” Danny barked.

Katie brought the lipstick to her mouth and paused. A taunting move that shouted:
I dare you to stop me
. In her office, Sky had seen such battles between parent and child played out time and again, and they usually ended badly. Clearing her throat, she said, “Since your father seems to have forgotten his manners, I guess I’ll introduce myself. I’m Sky.”

“I’m Katie.”

“Nice meeting you, Katie. May I offer a word of advice?” Without giving her a chance to decline, Sky walked over and placed two fingers beneath the girl’s chin, lifting her face up.

Katie’s green eyes—so fresh and dewy they called up an image of meadow grass on a spring morning—widened in surprise.

“Nothing wrong with black lipstick. There’s such a thing as freedom of expression, you know.” This Sky directed at Danny, before turning Katie’s face to the mirror. “But your eyes are stunning. If I were you, I’d want to keep the focus here.” She touched Katie’s temple. “I wonder if that dramatic lipstick will draw attention away from your eyes. Don’t you have a color that would complement them without stealing the show?”

“She’s got a point. Your eyes are a knockout,” Christian put in.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” Danny said softly.

“I do?”

Danny nodded. “I’ve said so before, haven’t I?”

Sky held her breath, hoping Katie could hear the reverence in her father’s voice. Reaching inside her purse, Katie produced a round tin and opened the lid. The pungent smell of sweet cherries wafted past Sky’s nostrils. The gloss was clear with a hint of red tint.

“Oh, that’s the ticket,” Sky said.

Katie applied the gloss, and Christian let out a whistle. “Let’s go, gorgeous. If we keep Grams on ice any longer she might never thaw out.”

“Catch ya later.” Katie waved as she made her exit with her uncle Christian in tow.

Latching the door behind them, Danny turned back to Sky. “I suppose you think I should pick my battles. I realize black lipstick is a little thing—”

“Little things add up.” On impulse, she took his hand. “Didn’t you promise me a microwave dinner? I’m famished.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even felt hungry, but somehow her stomach had come back to life and was currently making its presence known with a chorus of not-so-ladylike growls.

Danny laughed. “Kitchen’s through here. Let’s feed that hungry wolf before it scares the neighbors.”

Hanging onto her hand, he led her into the kitchen. Pulling free, she covered her mouth and faked a cough. Danny scraped out a chair for her at a round mosaic table, and she watched as he removed a Tupperware container from the freezer and took out a family-size pie.

“I was expecting Swanson’s, maybe Marie Callendar’s if I got lucky, but not homemade. I’m impressed,” she said.

“Don’t be. Faith—that’s Grace’s sister—keeps my freezer stocked. Every Friday she brings over a new batch of meals, complete with heating instructions.”

“
Every
Friday? That’s a lot of work.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Faith took a leave of absence from her psychiatry residency at Yale to help out with Katie while I was in the hospital.”

“She’s obviously special…and very devoted to you. When’s she going back?”

“Don’t know. She took a job part-time at the library. Says she wants to stick around a while just to make sure I don’t poison her favorite niece with my cooking.” Danny programmed the microwave and talked over the beeps. “Speaking of Katie, I gotta thank you for what you did with her just now. You don’t know how many rounds we’ve fought over that hellish black lipstick. I don’t know how you got through to her, but I’m grateful you did.”

“That wasn’t me. That was you.”

“How do you figure?”

“When you said she had her mother’s eyes.”

The corners of Danny’s mouth tugged into an irresistibly crooked grin. Then he pulled a chair away from the table and hunkered down across from her. When his knees bumped Sky’s, they both scooted back an inch.

Resting his elbows on the table, Danny said, “Before we feed the wolf, how ‘bout we have that talk.”

“This some kind of hard-core interrogation technique? Promise the witness pie and then starve her until she cracks?”

“Whatever it takes. Like I said, I’ve got questions, and I intend to get answers.”

Sky’s mouth had been salivating. It stopped. Her palms were moist, and her heart hammered in her chest just thinking about that day. Swallowing hard, she said, “I know I promised. And I would answer your questions if I thought it would make a difference. But the mayor said the case is closed. Can’t you be satisfied with that?”

“No. I can’t. Frankly, I don’t get how you can be either.”

“Because it’s over.” She wanted to forget, and she knew how selfish that was, but she didn’t know how else to keep herself going. Her hands twisted in her lap. Maybe keeping herself going was the crux of the problem. As it stood now, she was surviving, but she wasn’t really living.

“I owe it to Edmond—I owe it to
you
, to see justice served,” Danny said.

“According to the mayor and your commanding officer, justice has been served. Jack Spurlock is dead.” The coarse fibers of her woolen pants scratched her palms as she wiped moisture from them. “Nothing you can say or do will bring Edmond back to me.”

The look on Danny’s face made her wish she could take back those last words. Obviously he’d been torturing himself with that very thought, and she’d just handed him a fresh batch of bamboo shoots to stick under his fingernails. Her remorse overtook her discomfort. “I appreciate your efforts though, so if you’re determined to ask your questions, you may as well fire away.”

Leaning back in his chair, he pulled out a notebook. “Let’s start with the basics. Did you know Jack Spurlock? Ever see or hear of him before?”

Danny’s initial question hit her wrong. Way wrong. Her face flushed, and her empathy for the anguished detective evaporated. “What kind of asinine question is that? If I knew anything about Jack Spurlock don’t you think I would’ve screamed it from the diner’s tabletops? How dare you accuse me of hiding the truth from the police?”

Danny put up his hand. “Take it easy. I’m not accusing you of anything. You and me, we’re on the same side. Maybe you should try and remember that.”

“
You
try and remember that.”

His eyes squared with hers. “I’ll ask you again. And this time, don’t knee-jerk your answer. I want you to really think about it. Have you ever heard the name Spurlock before? Could he have been a patient at the clinic?”

“The police checked that already. Spurlock wasn’t a patient.” Closing her eyes, she searched her memory, but her brain began to fog, her chest to burn, as if she were breathing in poison gas instead of the aroma of potpie. The bell on the microwave sounded. She opened her eyes. “I haven’t heard the name Jack Spurlock before. Ever.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

Danny rose and cranked up the heat on the kitchen thermostat. Took the pie out of the oven. “Dig in.”

“Next question please. I’d like to get this over with.”