Authors: Virna DePaul
“No, Simon. We both know that’s not a good idea.”
“Damn it, you’re stubborn.”
She snorted and arched a brow, as if to say, “And you’re any different?”
“Fine. At least let me go in. Check to make sure the place is secure.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And then you’ll leave?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.”
She shook her head. “That’s not good enough.”
“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” she said softly. “I’m—I’m not stupid. I’m shaken by what’s happened. It would feel good to let myself be comforted...”
He reached out and smoothed her arm. “Then why won’t you let me comfort you?”
“Because today established we’re not good for each other, Simon. I asked you to trust me. You did. Things didn’t go as well as they could have and that made you angry with me.”
“I was angry that you were put in danger. Justifiably angry!”
“But you were also angry with me. Angry that I put myself in danger. Part of you still is. Aren’t you?”
His expression turned decidedly mulish. “I can be angry with you and still comfort you.”
“But eventually you’re going to be so angry with me you’re not going to want to comfort me. And then where will I be? Yearning for something I should never have allowed myself to have in the first place. No, I can comfort myself. I’ve grown quite good at it.”
She was unlocking her front door when he called, “How good are you at comforting others?”
She froze. “What?”
“You don’t think I’m shaken by what happened?” He walked toward her, not stopping until the tips of their shoes almost touched and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I watched Anne Stanley get close enough to you to end your life. Someone’s threatened you several times on paper. Now some psycho has been bold enough to put a dead cat in your car? Hell,
I’m
shaken.” He smoothed his palms up and down her arms, probably not missing how she trembled. “I could use some comforting, even if you can’t.”
“Simon—”
“It’s been a rough year for me, you know,” he said.
Because his girlfriend—his psychiatrist girlfriend—had been murdered by a serial killer? Was he actually bringing that up, actually copping to the difficult time he’d been having as a result, in order to play the sympathy card to get inside her house? Or was it possible that Anne’s behavior and finding Six really had shaken him? That being closer to her would make him feel better?
“You’re ruthless,” she accused.
“Ruthless? Normally, I’d agree. Right now I need some TLC. Sex would be the ultimate, but I’m not asking for that. A cup a coffee will do. I’ll come in. I’ll take a quick look around. We’ll talk. And when you’re ready for me to leave, I’ll leave. Sound good?”
It sounded like both a temptation and a mistake.
Nina knew once she got Simon inside her house again, she wasn’t going to have the strength to ask him to leave. Not until she gave him the comfort he’d been asking for, and took some for herself, as well.
But she invited him anyway.
He checked the house while she made them coffee. When he was convinced everything was clear, they sat on her sofa, chatting civilly until Simon’s cell phone rang. He answered but kept his gaze on her as he spoke to Jase for a few moments, then hung up. “You were parked near security cameras. We should have been able to get the guy on tape. The bastard didn’t wear a disguise, but he didn’t have to. He knew where the cameras were. Knew the angles well enough to keep his face hidden. We can get a general sense of height but not weight. He was wearing a bulky jacket with a hood. Baggy pants. And, Nina—”
She didn’t like how he hesitated. Or the concerned look he gave her. “What?” she prodded.
“Your patient. The one who committed suicide. Her name was Elizabeth, but you’ve called her Beth. Beth Davenport, right?”
“Yes, she preferred Beth. Why?”
Simon leaned forward and held her arms, as if trying to brace her for what he had to say. “The coroner’s a friend of mine. He took a quick look at Six. She had the initials
BD
carved into her fur.”
Shock hit her like a slap in the face.
She swallowed back bile. She knew humans could cross the commonly established lines of decency for myriad reasons, grief being one of those reasons. She knew how dark a person could go in the throes of despair. Sociopaths and psychopaths weren’t the only people out there capable of carrying out horrific acts—one only had to look at the Nazis to know this to be true. But she still found the idea of Lester Davenport trying to pay her back for his daughter’s death by killing and mutilating her cat to be beyond repugnant. “Do you still think Beth’s father hired someone to come after me?”
“If your friend’s husband was right about him being in Charleston, then yes. The cat was still...warm. She hadn’t been dead that long.”
She nodded and blinked rapidly, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness.
Coffee and civility forgotten, he pulled her into his arms and she didn’t even bother resisting. She allowed herself to cry. Briefly.
Sooner than she wanted to, she swiped at her eyes and straightened. “I moved here to escape death...and I know she’s just a cat...but...but she was my cat. And—and seeing her that way...all I could think about was...was...”
“Was your sister?”
She nodded. “My sister. And Beth. I found her, you know. So I understand the pain Beth’s father is feeling. Why he would be angry and want vengeance. Do things that are out of character—”
Simon pulled back sharply. “Don’t try to justify what he’s done by the fact that he’s grieving. Not anymore.”
“I’m not justifying it. I’m explaining it. There’s a difference, remember? At least, that’s what DeMarco said. Even if he is responsible for this, it doesn’t necessarily make him a monster.” Or did it?
Simon stood and began pacing, running his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. “Jesus. Just what would make him a monster? If it wasn’t a cat he killed and mutilated, but a person? Would you believe he was a monster then?”
Right now she just wanted her cat back. No. That wasn’t true.
She wanted Beth to be alive.
She wanted her sister to be alive.
She wanted to believe it wasn’t Beth’s father doing such horrible things to frighten her, but a random act of violence that would stop as suddenly as it had started. “I’d believe he was dangerous and that he needed to be stopped, but whether I’d think he was a monster? I’m trained to see beyond a person’s actions. To not judge a person for his actions alone.”
“Then you obviously need new training.”
She sighed. “So it’s begun already. I guess I wasn’t as much comfort to you as you thought I’d be.”
“You’re still wearing your clothes. That might be why.” He said the words stiffly, but she saw them for what they were. Another attempt to lighten the tension between them. She appreciated his effort, even if it didn’t quite work.
“You said you’d leave when I asked you to. I think it’s time.”
“Is that really what you want? Because I don’t want to leave. And you didn’t really ask me to.”
“My mistake. I’m asking now.”
He seemed to struggle with himself, and she wondered if he would really fight her on leaving. And what she’d do if he did.
But he nodded. “Fine. Lock the door behind me.”
She followed him to the door, but before he opened it, he turned. “I’m sorry but I can’t leave without one more thing.”
“What?”
“This.” He kissed her. Gently. Thoroughly. As if the kiss could blast through their differences and everything that stood between them. When he pulled away, they were both breathing hard and he rested his forehead against hers.
“You managed to do it anyway, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Comfort me.”
This time, she was the one to smooth her palms across his arms. He was big, roped with muscle, and for a second he felt so good, so safe, that she wanted to say she’d changed her mind and beg him to stay. Instead, she simply said, “If that’s true, then I’m glad.”
“I’m not. Because you were right.”
“Right?”
“It’s just going to be harder to do without it when you’re gone.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
T
HE NEXT MORNING,
S
IMON
was back at Nina’s house, standing on her porch with coffee, bagels and a friend. Nina recognized the other man immediately.
“Detective DeMarco. How nice to see you again.”
DeMarco smiled and tipped his head in a gentlemanly gesture. “Nice to see you, as well, Nina.”
“I was expecting to meet Simon at SIG but—” She closed her eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot I left my car...” She smiled brightly rather than let her thoughts linger on why the police had impounded her car and taken Six’s body, as well. She’d have to make arrangements to have her cremated... “Are you going to be joining us today?” Even as she asked the question, she noted that Simon, just like yesterday, was wearing standard detective garb—slacks, a button-down shirt and a jacket. DeMarco, on the other hand, was wearing a casual shirt and jeans.
“Actually, it’s my day off. Simon here asked me to shore up your security seeing as you don’t really have any and he couldn’t do it himself today. If I can’t fix your current system, I’ll install a new one. It’ll be basic but reliable. Is that okay with you?”
Her startled gaze jerked first to Simon, then back to DeMarco. “He needn’t have bothered you. After—after what happened yesterday...” She paused, assuming Simon had filled DeMarco in.
DeMarco nodded.
“After what happened,” she explained, “I scheduled an appointment with a security company for this Thursday.”
“Well, I’m already here. No sense having them come all the way over when I can get the job done today. Assuming you’re okay with that, of course.”
She sighed. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not a fool. Someone’s threatening me. I need better security.” Now she looked at Simon. “I just wish Detective Granger had seen fit to talk to me before he bothered you.”
“It’s no bother. Simon and I are friends, not just coworkers.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. Please let me know how much I owe you. And—” she interrupted his automatic denial “—I’m afraid I can’t let you continue unless you’re willing to bill me for both your expenses and time.”
DeMarco grinned. “No problem.”
She looked between them suspiciously. It had been a little too easy to get his acquiescence.
“We need to stop by SIG on our way out,” Simon said. “I want you to look at the video surveillance we have. It’s grainy, but you might be able to catch something that we couldn’t.”
“Sounds good.”
When they got to SIG, Jase Tyler greeted her warmly, as did Carrie Ward. Simon took her to a small room with a television screen and DVD player and played the security tape. It showed exactly what he’d said it would. A man wearing a bulky jacket, the hood covering his head, his back to the camera, his arms cradling what she knew to be Six’s body and then depositing it into her backseat after he’d easily popped the driver’s side lock.
“I can’t tell whether he’s wearing gloves,” she said.
“He must be. We had them dust for prints while I drove you home, remember? They’ve come up empty so far.”
Just like the threatening letter. “Right. Well, I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I don’t see anything in the video that you haven’t.”
“It was a long shot, but one I needed to explore anyway.”
“Of course,” she said.
As they left and walked back to his desk, Simon said, “I haven’t heard back from Charleston P.D. yet. And while I’ve done some preliminary searches, I haven’t found any evidence that Davenport has traveled to California in the past few days. I’ll obviously keep checking on that.”
“Thank you.”
“I wish I could do more. In fact...I was thinking. Do you want me to make arrangements. For Six, I mean?”
He’d taken her by surprise again. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. Have you thought about how you wanted to...?”
“I’m going to have her cremated. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the ashes yet, though.”
“How about I have someone from the coroner’s office take care of it? I promise I’ll entrust her to someone reliable and you can pick up her ashes when you’re ready.”
She hesitated. Then said a quiet, “Thank you.”
He patted her arm in an absentminded gesture that, despite everything, made her smile. “Would you excuse me for a second? I want to call DeMarco.”
“Sure.”
A couple of minutes later, he was back, but he had a frown on his face.
“Something wrong?”
“What?” He shook his head and his expression cleared. “No. It’s just...I asked DeMarco to help out at your house and we agreed that we’d get that drink he’d talked about after we were done here today. I wanted to firm up where we were going to meet, but he apparently forgot. He said he’s got a date.”
“And you’re angry that he’s blowing you off for a woman?”
“No. If I needed him, I know he’d drop everything for me.”
“But?”
“But I want to make sure he knows the same thing. If he needs to talk to me, I want to be here for him.”
“He knows you’re here for him. You planned to have a drink with him. He’s the one who changed the plan.”
“I know but—” He shrugged, unable to give voice to what was making him uncomfortable.
“You’re worried about him?” she asked.
His gaze jumped to hers. “A little. He seemed fine this morning. And just now on the phone, too. Yet I can’t shake the feeling something’s bothering him. He’s worked some tough cases in the past few months. We all have. And then there’s what happened to Lana...”
“Was he close to her?”
“They were friends. Everyone at SIG liked Lana.”
“Well, safeguards are put in place for a reason. You don’t have to always handle things alone. You know that. You’ve talked to Dr. Shepard. Maybe DeMarco needs to talk to someone, too?”
Maybe, Simon thought, then blinked. What the hell was he thinking? He’d fought seeing Shepard and he had no doubt DeMarco would do the same thing. No, if DeMarco needed to talk to someone, he didn’t need to see a shrink. Simon was here for him. The entire SIG team was here for him. He knew that.