Mission: Cavanaugh Baby (18 page)

And nothing was processing except for this wildly insatiable need.

“Upstairs,” she told him hoarsely.

About to get up from the sofa, she found herself being picked up in his arms instead. The next moment, her head swimming, she felt Shane walking toward the stairs with her.

As he reached the staircase, he sealed his mouth to hers. And then he began to carry her up the steps, one by one, prolonging her anticipation, creating a haven for her in his arms.

Utterly lost in desire, it took Ashley a second to realize that they had reached the landing.

He was waiting for instructions.

“First door on the right,” she said hoarsely before he could ask, her desire for the ultimate union all but blotting out her already shaky thought processes.

She both felt and heard the door closing despite the fact that Shane continued to hold her in his arms.

Then suddenly, there was the bed beneath her. And then he was above her, his eyes making love to her moments before his body lowered onto hers.

When had her clothes come off?

When had his?

For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the actual act of stripping away his clothing, or taking off hers. Had he done that?

Had she?

Her breath caught in her throat, then began to echo her frantic heartbeat as she felt him caress her over and over again before entering.

Felt his startlingly gentle first thrust.

The movement grew in momentum, in power. As it escalated, so did her reaction. By the time they raced over the peak together, Ashley was as breathless as if she had run a marathon in double-time.

The exhilaration that shuddered through her was indescribable.

She cried out his name even as she wrapped her legs around his torso, sealing him to her for all eternity.

Or at the very least, a little longer.

Chapter 17

D
oing her best to understand, Ashley still had no idea how she had gotten to this place of frightened contentment.

She had never felt so happy and so afraid before in her life. So stable and yet so unsteady. At the same time.

All in all, it felt as if she was a walking mass of contradictions, and every single one of those contradictions could trace back its origins to Shane.

He
was responsible for all the positive feelings going on within her and, in a general sort of undefined way, all the negative vibrations she was experiencing, as well. Not directly, but definitely in the form of the anticipation that shimmered within her.

It was the kind of anticipation involved in waiting for a second shoe to drop.

Ashley didn’t trust being happy.

She didn’t want to give this feeling up, but she knew that she had to. It was inevitable. It was just a question of when. After all, what went up eventually came down, right? It didn’t stay hovering in the sky forever. She was braced for coming down and yet desperately wanted to fight it, to keep it at bay for as long as humanly possible.

She sighed. Maybe she was just going crazy.

“You know,” Shane said to her as he looked across his desk to hers the following Monday after her birthday party, “my partner used to talk all the time. About everything and anything. Drove me absolutely crazy, and I would have sold my soul for a little peace and quiet just once in a while. But you’re so quiet, it’s like you’re not here at all.”

In the middle of yet another fruitless search on the computer, Ashley raised her eyes to his. “You want me to say something?”

“An occasional grunt will do if you can’t think of anything,” he told her. And then he looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. The squad room was relatively empty for a Monday midmorning. He moved his chair in closer to his desk to be closer to hers. He managed to make an imprint of the desk into his waist. Lowering his voice, he asked with concern, “Are you all right?”

An entire day had passed since the impromptu birthday party and the glorious night that followed. She had hardly said anything to him when he’d dropped her off at her car yesterday, and this morning it seemed like just more of the same. He’d found her working when he came in. She’d looked up, spared him a quiet greeting and gone back to doing whatever it was she was doing.

Had she ultimately decided to be upset over what had happened between them? If she did, he needed to know so that he could find a way to fix it, to make her understand that it hadn’t been just a casual night of sex for him. It had meant something.

And he wanted it to mean something to her.

“Yes, I’m all right,” she told him, then asked, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Well...” He looked around again to assure himself they wouldn’t be overheard, then went on to say in a barely audible voice, “after two people make love, they usually open up a little to each other, not shut down completely like a rusty trap. So I just wanted to know if you’re all right with what happened— Or if you’re upset,” he tagged on, watching her carefully for any telltale clues that gave him an answer to his question.

Ashley drew in a breath, then released it softly as she shrugged. “I guess I’m just waiting for the crash.”

He was doing his best to read between the lines, but found that right now, the lines had been deliberately redacted, leaving him completely in the dark.

“The crash?”

She nodded. “The crash.” Judging by his expression, what she was saying was obviously no clearer to him now than the first time, so she elaborated. “The bubble to burst. Cinderella to wake up. Judy Holliday to sing, ‘The Party’s Over.’ You know, that kind of thing.”

She was telling him in her own unique way that pessimism was creeping in. Not that he could really blame her. He was a little leery himself, especially after what he’d been through with Kitty. But as long as it meant that he could go on hanging on to this exhilarating feeling, he was willing to give it his all.

“Bubbles don’t always burst, nothing needs to crash, and what if Cinderella wasn’t asleep? She can’t wake up if she’s not sleeping,” he pointed out. “And who the hell is Judy Holliday?”

“A movie star from the fifties. The song’s from a 1956 musical,
The Bells Are
—”

“Stop,” he pleaded, holding up his hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t you just enjoy what’s happening, and with any luck, it’ll continue?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He wanted to know.

There was a very good reason for her to distrust what seemed to be happening. “Well, for one thing, because I’ve never been happy before,” she admitted.

Ashley’s simple admission stunned him. “Never?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Never,” she repeated. “The best I’ve ever been is not unhappy.”

Life, he thought, had so much to make up for to her. And he fully intended to lead the way—if she’d only let him. But right now, she needed to stop over-thinking everything. Otherwise, what was between them might not have a chance to grow. She’d wind up stifling it.

“Tell you what. Let’s concentrate on the case and let the other thing take care of itself. It might surprise you,” he quipped.

And it might not, she couldn’t help thinking.

But in any event, Shane was right. The case came first. Everything else right now was just incidental. “I can’t shake the feeling that the key to this whole thing is the baby.”

He tended to agree, but he wanted to hear her thoughts on the matter. “Go on,” he said encouragingly.

She’d been giving this a lot of thought. “Monica wasn’t killed because someone wanted to get rid of her, she was killed because someone wanted her baby and she was in the way, so to speak. From what we know, it had to be someone with more than just passing knowledge of how to perform a C-section. I think we’re looking for either a doctor or a nurse. Probably a nurse.” She saw the skeptical look on his face. “You don’t agree?”

“No, it’s not that. But what if it’s a guy doing it for his wife or girlfriend? Say she just lost a baby and is going off the deep end. He might have been trying to get her a substitute, saw Monica and felt like his prayers were answered.”

Ashley nodded. She could see his take on it. “You’ve got a valid point. But it would still have to be someone Monica knew. That surveillance tape we have shows her letting the person into her apartment without any hesitation. If it was a stranger, she wouldn’t have thrown open her door that way.”

They agreed on that. It had to be someone Monica had recognized. “Well, since it doesn’t look as if she had any kind of social life except for work, let’s go back and talk to the boutique owner to see if maybe there’s something we’ve missed,” he suggested. He was getting restless, sitting here like this, just a few feet away from her and doing absolutely nothing about it. A little fresh air might do him good.

With no other options currently available, it sounded like going back to where the woman worked was their only available avenue of pursuit.

“Sure,” she said, getting her purse out of the drawer. “Let’s go.”

* * *

When they arrived at the baby boutique some twenty minutes later, they were surprised to find the shop closed for business. Instead, the owner, the sales clerks and a number of people, some of whom they’d interviewed and recognized to be Monica’s clients, were holding a small vigil. It was intended for Monica, to pay their final respects to the slain woman.

“What’s going on?” Shane asked the owner as he and Ashley wove their way through more than a couple dozen people.

Abigail looked around at the crowded store and smiled sadly. “They all wanted to say goodbye to Monica. This was the next best thing,” she told him. “By the way, I’m glad you’re here,” the woman said to them.

“How’s that?” Shane asked, fully expecting to hear the woman say something about this proving that the police department had a heart.

Instead, Abigail Reynolds was glad they were there for a very practical reason. “The other day, when I gave you that list of Monica’s customers, I somehow left one off,” she confessed. “It’s like the woman just fell through the cracks.” As she spoke, she shook her head. “I don’t know how I missed giving you this woman’s name,” she said. “She was Monica’s exclusively. Monica was the only one in the store who could wait on her.”

“Was that by request?” Ashley interjected.

Abigail accompanied her answer with a shrug. “That and the woman was so weird, she had a tendency to creep the other girls out. Only Monica was patient with her. She told me she felt sorry for the woman. According to what the woman told Monica, she’d gotten fired from her job and now was having trouble supporting herself and her children.

“You ask me, she couldn’t have been having
that
much trouble,” the woman commented. “The items she bought from us weren’t cheap. But Monica has—
had—
” Abigail corrected herself “—a big heart. She even took the woman to lunch a couple of times. Oh God, I’m going to miss her.”

“Would you happen to know what sort of job this woman was fired from?” Shane asked. He had a gut feeing about this. He didn’t get them often, but when he did he was seldom wrong, and something told him they were on to something here.

“I think Monica said she was a nurse, or somebody who worked in the hospital.” The owner shrugged, dismissing the other woman’s story as fabrication. “Personally, I think she made it all up to get Monica’s sympathy.”

Shane’s interest was totally piqued. “Do you have an address for this woman?”

The owner nodded. “Absolutely. We just delivered another crib to her house the week before Monica—” She couldn’t get herself to complete the sentence. Instead she explained why she hadn’t turned the woman’s name over with the others when they were here the last time. “Her name and order form got mixed in with Sondra’s clients,” she said, referring to another saleswoman. “That’s how I missed it last time,” she admitted. “You wait right here. I’ll get it for you.”

“Think this could be it?” Ashley asked as the owner hurried off.

“God, but I hope so,” he answered. For now, he said nothing about his gut feeling.

Abigail was back in a couple of minutes, holding out the page she’d just printed for them. Shane took it from her.

“I would have thought she’d be here,” the owner said, referring to the client. “It’s no secret that we were going to be holding a vigil for Monica. The girls sent out emails to all the clients.” Her lips twisted in a sad smile. “It seems ironic that it’s the same day that we were going to have Monica’s baby shower.” She shook her head, her eyes beginning to glisten. “She would have made such a wonderful mother,” she said softly.

“I’m sure she would have,” Shane replied with compassion.

“Detectives,” Abigail began, addressing them both. “Is anyone claiming her body? The reason I ask is that I know she and her father didn’t get along, and she’d said that he wanted nothing to do with her. So if he’s washed his hands of her, I’d like to give her a decent burial—unless there’s some rule against it.”

“No rule,” Shane told her. “I’ll leave word for the coroner to release the body to you.”

“Thank you,” Abigail said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. Shane glanced at the address on the sheet she’d handed him before folding the paper and putting it into his pocket. “Let’s go check this out,” he said to Ashley. “I think it’s about time we got lucky.”

* * *

The address the boutique owner had given them took them to a residential area on the very outskirts of Aurora. Had it been located one block over, they would have officially found themselves in the neighboring town.

Unlike the other houses that populated the tree-lined block, the house where Monica’s former customer lived was rundown in appearance. The garden was overgrown with weeds, and the building itself was sagging in places and in dire need of a new coat of paint all over. The facade was such that it fairly screamed of a termite infestation. The area just beneath the eaves was especially bad. It was obvious that the insects were still currently feasting in that section.

The person who owned the house was either unable to raise the funds to undertake repairs, or was completely oblivious to the condition of the house.

Shane had a feeling it was the latter.

“Looks like a house for a grade B horror movie,” Ashley commented.

That impression was further reinforced by the appearance of a hole on the top step. The wood had obviously rotted through and given way when someone had made a misstep. Ashley took care to avoid it.

“At least the doorbell works,” Shane observed when he pushed it and it chimed.

No one came to answer.

There was a car parked in the driveway, so he tried again. After a third attempt with no response, he tried the doorknob. To his surprise, Shane found that it was unlocked.

Glancing at Ashley, he asked, “You hear that? Sounds like someone yelling for help, doesn’t it?” he said to her.

She knew what he was doing. They needed a plausible excuse to enter the premises. If the kidnapped infant was there, they were running out of time. Ashley played along.

“Sounds like that to me,” she agreed.

Turning the doorknob, he opened the door at the same time that he carefully drew out his service revolver. If Monica’s customer was their suspect, there was no point taking unnecessary chances. The person had already killed once that they knew of.

Ashley took out her own weapon. She’d only used it on the firing range, and the very feel of it in her hand under these circumstances felt strange. The weapon seemed oddly heavy to her.

They inched their way along through the eerily darkened hallway. Sunlight, so bright outside today, had not been invited into this place.

The entire house seemed as if it was built around menacing shadows.

There were a total of four rooms downstairs, each empty. By the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, Shane thought he heard noises coming from upstairs.

“Sounds like a woman singing,” he whispered to Ashley.