Authors: Sarah Grimm
“I love you like a brother, Justin. You know that.”
He did know and he felt the same. Still, he felt completely unprepared for the affect
this conversation had on him. He breathed deeply to steady himself. “Allan.”
“Just be careful these next few weeks,” Allan responded, his voice choked. “Suzanne
would never forgive me if something happened to you while I wasn’t there to watch
your back.”
Allan’s family leave would start today—had probably started the moment his son drew
his first breath. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”
But he was going to miss his partner’s grounding presence at the precinct. As well
as his cool, analytical mind.
In a flash of intuition, Justin knew that no matter how difficult it had already been
keeping up the pretense that he was back in top form, it was only going to get harder.
His days would stretch longer. His stress would increase tenfold.
For the first time in his career, he didn’t look forward to doing his job.
“I’m sorry, Justin. I know this couldn’t have come at a worse time. Maybe you should
approach Taylor yourself, ask him for help. Admit you’re struggling.”
“I’m not struggling,” Justin insisted, trying to ignore the bad taste in his mouth
brought on by his denial.
“No?” Allan gazed pointedly to where Justin unconsciously manipulated the ache in
his side.
Justin’s hand stilled. He shifted it away from his side and rested it atop the table.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
“I’ve just overdone it recently. Therapy wise.”
“Let me guess, you decided if once a week was good, twice was even better?”
He opened his mouth, shut it. Sometimes it really rankled that Allan knew him so well.
“Justin, there’s more to life than being a cop.”
“I
am
a cop.”
“A damn good one, if not a very intelligent one. You didn’t see yourself in that hospital
bed, Justin. I didn’t know if you would pull through. Then, when it became obvious
you would, all you could talk about was getting back to the job.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re back. But at what cost to yourself? A few more weeks—”
“I can’t do that, Allan. I need to help Paige.”
“You are helping her. She’s safe here, with you.”
“For how long? She won’t hide here forever.”
Allan sat forward, curled his hands around his mug. “You want her to? Stay here with
you?”
“I want her safe.”
Allan’s left eyebrow rose a fraction. He gave Justin a pointed look. “Does she know
how you feel?”
“She knows I’ll do everything to keep her safe.”
“Of course you will.” But that wasn’t what Allan had asked and they both knew it.
Justin pushed to his feet and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He looked away
from his partner’s knowing gaze and focused on the wall instead.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Allan asked.
“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. He rubbed his hand over his face and mumbled
under his breath. “I don’t know how I feel about her.”
“Choosing not to risk can be lonely, Justin,” Allan said, his tone full of understanding.
“This from the man who, only a few days ago, told me to stay away from her.”
“You’ve been known to ignore my advice in the past. I never really expected you to
listen to me.” He lifted the mug to his lips and gave Justin a level-eyed look over
the rim. “I really wish you’d listen this time. Talk to Taylor, Justin.”
“I can do the job.”
“Are you certain of that? What if you’re too close to this? We both know from experience
that emotion clouds judgment.”
“You said you believed in me.”
“I do, damn it!” Allan set his mug down with enough force to send coffee sloshing
over the lip and onto the back of his hand. He swore under his breath. “At least ask
Taylor to reassign someone to help you with this. Face it, you’re running out of time.
You have his attention now. He’ll be watching you like a hawk.”
Justin wanted to be angry. He didn’t need Allan reminding him of his limitations,
his own traitorous body did that on a daily basis. But then he looked at the man who’d
been his partner these past ten years, his best friend. In his eyes he found compassion
and concern.
Justin ran his palm over the knotted muscles in his neck. Allan was right—he was running
out of time. Hell, if he were honest with himself he’d admit to already being out
of time. With Lieutenant Taylor already looking so closely at him, come Monday, he
would inevitably be pulled from the case.
Unless he did as Allan suggested and went to Taylor before Taylor could come to him.
The muscles in his neck and back tightened as a strange sense of foreboding stole
over him. He locked his eyes with Allan’s and wished, not for the first time, things
had worked out differently. Why now, when he needed his help the most, did Allan’s
leave have to begin? If only his godson had waited a few more weeks to arrive, Justin
could back off, leaving the case in the hands of the man he trusted above all others.
“What is it?” Allan asked, reading his discomfort.
Swiping a hand over his gritty eyes, Justin sank back into his chair. “I can’t shake
loose the feeling that I’m not the only one running on borrowed time.”
“You’re talking about Paige. What haven’t you told me?”
“He searched her house. Not just her studio, but her living quarters as well. He took
enough time doing it that she didn’t immediately notice anything out of place.”
“Any idea what he wanted?”
“No.”
“So he might have found it.”
“Or he might be back to have another look.”
Pushing his mug aside, Allan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. His
forehead furrowed. “You think he will be back, that he’s not done with her yet.”
“I don’t think he’s done with her, no. He left something for her, to let her know
he’d been there.”
“Besides the pictures you mean. Another scare tactic? What did he leave her?”
“Her engagement ring, the one Preston gave her.” He’d bagged the ring on the off chance
that he could get a viable print off it, but Justin would bet his career there’d be
none.
“Didn’t Paige mention that the picture left in St. John’s hotel room was taken at
her engagement party? Do you think it’s a message?”
“I think it’s a ploy to bring back painful memories. She took Preston’s murder hard—very
hard. She ran away from the pain of Preston’s death, ran clear across the country.
If he can bring that pain back…”
“Maybe she’ll run again. He certainly seems to know which buttons to push.”
“He’ll keep pushing them until he gets what he wants. The only problem is, Paige won’t
run.”
Because she wasn’t the same person as she had been then. Whether she saw it in herself
or not, Paige was strong, she was tough. Where a few years before she had settled
for an unsatisfactory relationship, had allowed pain to push her from her home, today
she stood her ground and threatened to face her fears head on.
“Eventually, he’s going to figure that out.”
“Yeah,” Justin muttered as unease crept up his spine. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The day was warm. The sun shone brightly through the living room window, casting a
shaft of light across the computer screen that made it impossible to read. Paige adjusted
the angle of the monitor and glanced at the bottom right corner of the display. The
clock read quarter to twelve.
She groaned as she realized that she had been sitting there for over an hour, staring
sightlessly at the monitor. She’d turned it on to check her e-mails, to keep her mind
focused on something other than Justin’s absence. Obviously, her plan for distraction
failed.
She’d drifted awake that morning in the center of Justin’s bed, surrounded by a tangle
of sheets and the scent of him. Filled with contentment, she’d reached for him, but
instead of warm flesh, her hand met with cold, empty space. Barely awake, she wrapped
the sheet around her middle and stumbled into the living room, expecting to find him
sitting on the couch, buried in his files. But the couch was empty and the files
gone.
It wasn’t hard for her to figure out where he’d gone or what he was doing. Still,
that didn’t stop the seed of disappointment that filled her. More than anything, she
had wanted to wake up in his arms, the warm press of his body against hers. Wanted
to make love with him again, look into his dark chocolate eyes and see her longings
reflected back at her.
Instead, she’d been alone. Left to wonder if he regretted a single moment of their
night of lovemaking—regretted that he’d opened up to her.
Justin had done more than claim her body last night—he’d claimed her heart. He’d told
her of his injury, his struggle to recover, and his partner’s concerns about his ability.
As a result, she felt his pain, heard his own unspoken fears, and quietly slipped
the rest of the way in love with him.
Leaning back in the executive chair, she stared at her web provider’s home page and
waited for the realization to stop her cold. But like the previous day, as she’d watched
him prepare to go to work, it didn’t. She loved Justin. No matter his job or the chance
that he might never return her love, she loved him.
It was that simple.
It was that complicated.
Raising her hand to her forehead, she carefully fingered the stitches that bisected
her left eyebrow. Odd, how things could change so drastically in less than a week’s
time. The swelling around her eye had lessened so she could once again see out of
it, the bruising shifted from vibrant purple to an unfortunate combination of purple
and green. Still, it wasn’t the signs of violence that she saw the most change in,
but herself.
She accepted that Justin might never return her feelings. Knew that falling in love
with a man who didn’t want a relationship wasn’t her smartest move. Yet she’d done
it. She loved him and that left her future even more up in the air than ever.
The phone on the desk rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. Since it was Justin’s
home line, Paige didn’t answer it. Instead, she squared her shoulders and entered
her password.
She held her breath as the page loaded, breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered
no more threats awaited her in cyber-space. After deleting the spam emails promising
her a better sex life or wealth beyond her wildest dreams, only one new message remained.
A message from her father. She positioned the cursor over the command to open the
message then stopped as a deep, male voice sounded from the answering machine.
“Sergeant Harrison, this is Detective Jon Brennan.”
Brennan. Didn’t Justin tell her that Leroy’s partner was named Brennan?
“I’m trying to reach you regarding the murder of Detective St. John. I’m in San Diego,
staying at the...”
Paige lifted the phone from its cradle, cutting off the recording mid-sentence. Normally,
she would not have answered Justin’s telephone. But nothing about the past week could
be called normal. Besides, she figured he would want to talk to this man as soon as
possible.
“Detective Brennan?” She waited while the detective realized he was no longer speaking
to a machine.
“Hello, yes?”
“Justin’s not here right now. You might try the station where he works.”
“I’ve left multiple voice messages there for him already,” he said briskly. “He has
yet to return any of them.”
She glanced at the coffee table, to the spot where the files had sat all day yesterday.
No files sat there now. “I’m reasonably certain that’s where he is right now. I can
give you directions from your hotel.”
“I know where it is. I’ll head over there right now. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She hung up the phone and turned back to the computer. The subject line attached to
the message from her father drew her attention.
Second honeymoon.
She stared at the two words for a few minutes before their meaning clicked. With everything
that had happened to her recently, she had forgotten her parents’ anniversary.
A warm smile curved her lips. Her parents had been married for thirty years. In love
with each other, even longer than that. Her mother always dreamed of a trip to Europe
and this year, her father surprised her with one.
He’d spoken of nothing else, the last time Paige had talked with him. His mood giddy,
his excitement contagious. In great detail, he’d told her of the trip he’d planned,
about each stop they would make, and the sights they would see. He’d been so pleased
that he’d managed to keep the trip a secret from her mother, not an easy feat, Paige
knew. Elizabeth Conroy had the uncanny ability to uncover any and all secrets. None
were safe around her. Yet somehow, her husband had managed to keep her from finding
out about a major trip overseas, a second honeymoon, he planned for her.
She looked at the subject line again and opened the message. Read with delight the
words on the screen before her, telling of the good time they were having and some
of the adventures they’d taken. Her smiled broadened at the attached photo—her parents,
arm in arm before the Eiffel Tower.
As the cell phone near her elbow went into its own unique rendition of Beethoven’s
fifth symphony, Paige reached out and snapped it up. She’d forwarded all calls coming
in to her business phone to her cell two days ago, before leaving with Justin to come
here.
“Conroy Photography,” she replied automatically.
Silence.
“Hello?” No one spoke. Only light static, the kind that told her the line was open.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Pressing the ‘end’ button, she replaced the cell atop the desk and decided that while
she was on the internet, she would begin her search for a new car. She entered the
web address, classiccars4sale.com, and waited while the web page loaded.
Her cell phone began its dance again.
Believing the person was calling her back after getting a bad connection the last
time she answered, “Conroy Photography.”
Silence.
Her mouth went very dry. A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. Unsettled,
Paige pulled her cell phone away from her ear and looked at the display.
What she saw there caused the hair on her arms to stand on end as a chill snaked up
her spine.
* * * * *
Justin set aside Rick Preston’s autopsy report and rubbed at the ache in his neck.
He’d been at this for hours. Poring over what information they had on Preston and
St. John, searching for that one piece of information that made everything slide into
place. It was here, somewhere, it had to be. The niggling in his gut told him so.
For days now, something had been bothering him, something he couldn’t quite put his
finger on. He felt it again now, the sense that there was something he should be seeing.
Some clue, hidden amongst the reports he had read uncountable times. He needed sleep,
he told himself, blowing out a breath. Everything he looked at seemed to be clouded
in fog because he hadn’t been sleeping well all week. His concentration suffered as
well, no matter how hard he fought against it, his mind kept drifting back to Paige.
She looked good in his bed, her dark hair spilled out across his pale sheets, arm
wrapped tightly around his pillow. He’d stood by the edge of the bed and watched her
as she slept, all the while fighting the need that rose inside him. More than anything
he wanted to shuck his jeans and slide back into her arms. He wanted to forget she
was in danger and that it was his job to help her. For once, he wanted something more
than his job.
Because he wanted it so badly, Justin gathered the notes he could have reviewed at
home and headed into the office. He needed time, space to get used to the unfamiliar
emotion. He knew that if he wasn’t careful
he
would be the one to get ideas. Like coming home to her on a regular basis. Waking
up with her in his arms on a regular basis. Her caring enough to stay with him after
he closed the investigation.
What had he been thinking?
He’d believed he could take her to bed and work her out of his system. But what he’d
expected just to be good sex was much, much more.
So what was he supposed to do now? Damn it, he didn’t know how to handle this. He
had no idea how to act the morning after the most amazing night of his life.
Rubbing at his gritty eyes, he had to wonder if Allan was right. Could he be falling
in love with Paige? Had he already fallen?
No. No way. Just because Paige was the first woman to slip under his skin, the first
he needed as much as he needed his next lungful of air. The first to make him imagine
there could be more to life than work.
Justin tightened his jaw against the very idea. He slid his fingers into his shirt
pocket then mumbled under his breath when he found the pocket empty. Love equaled
pain. Loving Paige—a woman who told him she couldn’t handle his being a cop—was suicide.
Eventually she would leave him. Better now than later, after getting used to her in
his life.
Ignoring the tightening in his chest at the thought of letting her go, he refocused
his mind on the information spread across his desk. He shifted the items found in
a locked drawer of St. John’s desk before him and shuffled their order the same as
he’d done on the morning St. John’s partner had finally showed up.
The telephone on his desk rang. Thinking it was Sunday and therefore no one should
be expecting him to be here, he listened to its insistent ring for a few seconds before
answering it. “Harrison.”
“Justin. I hoped I’d find you there.”
“Paige? What is it, is something wrong?”
“My cell phone rang. I didn’t think anything of it, I just answered it.”
“And?” he asked, knowing there had to be more in order for her to be as upset as she
sounded.
“No one was there so I hung up. When it rang again right away, I figured because of
the bad connection the person called back. But there was no one on the line, just
silence.”
Games
.
More games
. “He’s trying to scare you.”
“He’s doing a good job. The calls are coming from my house. I always program my home
telephone number into my cell’s phone book in case I lose the phone. Then, when it’s
found, the person who found it has a number to contact me.” She drew in a steadying
breath that he heard through the phone. “The two calls just now, they appear on my
caller ID as ‘home’. He’s in my house.”
“How long ago did you get the calls?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. I told myself not to panic. That there is no way
for him to know where I am, and that I’m safe here. I told myself not to give him
the satisfaction of letting it get to me but…I needed to hear your voice.”
He propped his elbows on his desk and absorbed the hot spike of emotion that her words
caused. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you.”
“You don’t have to apologize for doing your job, Justin.”
Except that it wasn’t his job that drove him from his home this morning, but his growing
feelings for her. He sighed, rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck. “I’ll swing
by your place and check it out.”
“No! I mean, you don’t have to do it, do you? Can’t you send a patrol unit instead?”
Warmth spread through him at the concern that colored her words. Concern for him.
“It’s okay, really. He’s just trying to scare you. He’ll most likely be gone by the
time I get there.”
Unless he’d come back to finish his search.
On the off chance that he just might be able to catch the guy at Paige’s home, bring
an end to this once and for all, Justin rose. He pulled his leather jacket off the
back of his chair.
“You’ll call me?” she asked. “Once you check it out?”
He shifted the phone to his other ear in order to push his arm into his jacket sleeve.
“If you’d like.”
“I would.”
Justin hung up the phone and began collecting the information that littered the top
of his desk. As he did, he debated taking a few uniforms with him to check out Paige’s
house. With the chance of the caller still being in her house when he got there so
slim, back up could either be necessary, or a waste of manpower. There was no way
to be sure.
“Sergeant Harrison?”
He cast a glance over his shoulder to find a tall, wiry man with straight black hair
and dark eyes standing behind him and to his right. Although he had a healthy dose
of gray at his temples, Justin guessed the man’s age to be somewhere close to his
own thirty-five years. The man stood with his hands behind his back in an almost military
stance and surveyed him openly.
“I don’t have time right now,” Justin said, turning his attention back to the files
on his desk.
“That seems to be your prevailing attitude,” the man replied flatly. “However, in
the interest of professional courtesy, I think you could give me a few minutes of
your time.”
Professional courtesy?
The muscles in Justin’s side tightened one by one.
He gave his full attention to the man behind him. “Who are you?”