Authors: Virna DePaul
“He might have seen the photo.”
“What photo?”
“In our local paper. A reporter caught a shot of me sitting outside our house with my mother while the medics worked on Rachel. I was—I was cradling the doll. Again, the picture wouldn’t be easy to find, and pinpointing the doll would be tough, but if someone really cared enough to look and use it against me, it’s one explanation.”
“Damn it, I saw that picture in the paper, but I must have missed the doll. But even assuming that’s how Davenport saw the doll...why would he think it’s something he could use to torture you? Why would he risk breaking into your office to get it?”
When she remained silent, he urged, “Talk to me, Nina. Tell me why you’d blame yourself for Rachel’s death.”
Her mouth twisted with resentment. “Sure. Why not? You know every other mistake I’ve made in my life. Why not this, too?”
“That’s not why I’m asking and you—”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know how he knew about it or what it meant to me. But seeing it is both a comfort and a torture.”
“Why?”
“The day Rachel died? She’d come home from high school that afternoon and was horrid to me. She’d been going out with a boy for a year, Mason Ford, and he treated her like dirt. He’d break up with her one day and then demand she come back the next. I—”
Nina’s words broke off as she took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier. Determined. “I’d found out he was cheating on her. With not just one but four other girls. And in the middle of a fight about who was supposed to set the table for dinner that night, I got angry. So angry I told her about Mason. She was devastated and thought I was lying. She charged out of the house to go tell him how horrible I’d been. Instead, he laughed in her face and told her she was his go-to girl. The one he had sex with when no one else was available. She came back to me, sobbing and begging me to help her. I held her. I said I was sorry. And I tried to say the right thing to help her. But I obviously wasn’t able to find the right words. She’d tried to commit suicide twice before. And this time, she succeeded. My dad was the one who found her.” She looked up at Simon with haunted eyes. “He said he blamed me,” she whispered. “He apologized later. Said he didn’t mean it over and over again. But at that moment, he believed it. And I believed him. Part of me still does. After all, my words drove her to something horrible and yet I couldn’t find the right words later on, the ones to stop her from hurting herself.”
“So you became a psychiatrist to find the right words? To save others?”
“Right. Only I failed again, didn’t I? Beth Davenport is proof of that.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
N
INA COULDN’T STOP HER
body from shaking. Her hands shook. Her knees shook. Her belly spasmed. Even with the late-afternoon sun warming the interior of the unmarked car Simon had gotten hold of, she shook as if she’d never be warm again.
As he drove to his place, he didn’t speak—didn’t press her to reflect on what she’d said back at SIG headquarters.
About how she’d driven her sister to suicide, only to fail Beth almost twenty years later.
Even now, years later, the memories shredded her insides. She fought to keep her eyes open, to not blink, so she couldn’t imagine Rachel lying in a bathtub of water and blood. So she wouldn’t see the rag doll that had been Rachel’s since childhood—the one she’d been clutching in her arms as she’d sat on her own bed, being berated by an angry sister—slumped on the wet floor beside the tub. And so she wouldn’t see Beth hanging from a closet rod, a pink ribbon tied around her neck.
But it didn’t matter. She saw all of those things, anyway.
“My dad was already big in politics when we were young,” she said, surprised by the sound of her own voice. “He expected Rachel and I to both go into law, the way he had. I did great on my SATs. Had straight As since grade school. Captain of the debate team, class president. I broke long-standing records on the swim team.”
“And Rachel?” Simon asked, his low voice rumbling through her.
She cleared her throat and tried to speak past the tension that tightened her vocal cords. “Straight Cs in high school. Flunked her first year in college. Chubby and unathletic. Desperate for my father’s attention, but he lavished praise on me for my achievements and gave her the cold shoulder. She could never measure up to me in his eyes. I think that’s why she’d been so desperate for Mason’s attention—she wanted to be seen by a man as desirable in some way.”
“Makes sense,” Simon said. He flashed on the turn signal and eased the car off the main street. She didn’t pay attention to the residential area they drove through. She didn’t care where they were headed. Nowhere felt safe.
“Somehow this all links back to me. To something I did. But what?” she asked, her throat so tight now the words barely came out. “Which of my mistakes has come back to haunt me? And who’s trying to seek justice for them?”
He whipped the car into the parking garage of his apartment complex, the sudden turn throwing Nina against the passenger-side door. “Don’t say that,” Simon said angrily. “Don’t blame your decisions for someone else’s sick vendetta. The choice to kill, to mutilate, was his, not yours. You did nothing wrong.”
She smiled gamely. “No. You’re right. I’m just being silly. One shock too many, I guess. This isn’t my fault. Logically, I know that.”
But they’d already discussed how logic didn’t always match up to what one was feeling. And right now, she felt she was being punished.
And that she deserved it.
* * *
N
INA AWOKE DISORIENTED
, but quickly realized she still lay on Simon’s living room floor, his naked body sprawled next to her, his arm under her neck. Once again, he’d given her something wonderful—not just his body but a temporary respite from unpleasant memories and the fear of what was coming next.
She was becoming addicted to him, she realized, and it had to stop. He wasn’t her magic pill to make her troubles go away. If they were in a committed relationship, it would be different. She’d be entitled to lean on him once in a while. But they weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t going to have a happy-ever-after here. And that meant she needed to start facing the realities of her life on her own.
Sighing, she shifted and looked out the bay window to see dusk had come. Across San Francisco, lights popped on, twinkling and glowing, wrapping the city in beauty. So lovely, like the grand lady she was. But the lights were a warm and glowing facade, hiding deep dark secrets under its blanket of brilliance.
Simon stirred next to her and her body responded with a sudden and unexpected rush of desire. He’d made love to her so sweetly. So tenderly. At the same time, just like always, the sex had been powerful. Primal. And so had her response. This time, however, something had been different, too.
She’d
been different. For a few moments there, as she’d been soaring on the pleasure he was giving her, she’d felt her whole heart open up to him. For a few moments, she’d felt loved.
Love.
She hated that word.
She’d loved her parents, but had never forgotten her father’s horrible accusations. She’d loved her sister, but Rachel had left her behind, choosing death instead. She’d loved her college boyfriend, but he’d cheated on her with a girl from the swim team.
And she’d loved her cat. But a sick man had taken her cat. Her stomach clenched at the memory of Six, dead in the back of her car. And she tried not to think of the two men, strangers to her, who had met a similar fate.
“You awake?” Simon whispered into her hair.
When she nodded, he placed a kiss on the top of her head.
“Want to talk about what just happened?” he asked.
“No,” she said in a small voice, thoughts of love still playing in her head.
Simon rolled over until he was on top of her, framing her shoulders with his elbows. With both hands he smoothed the wayward hairs off her face, taking his time to loosen knots and to tuck her hair behind her ears. Then he lowered his head and kissed an eyebrow. Then the other. He followed up with light kisses on each temple, down her nose and up her jawline. But not her lips.
Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, touched the tip of his nose to hers and breathed.
She sucked in his breath as if she were sucking in life itself.
“Do you remember what you said as you came?” he asked, his voice low, sending vibrations echoing through her body.
What had she said? She could recall frantically whipping her head back and forth, could recall the building orgasm, Simon pumping hard into her. She could remember her hands on his ass, pulling him in deeper as she raised her legs high to allow him full access. She remembered panting and the sounds of his groans. And she remembered him calling her name as he came. But she couldn’t remember what she’d said in response.
“I didn’t say anything,” she whispered.
He pulled his head up then, searching her eyes with his. “Yes, you did.”
Oh, God. The memory came over her then. At the moment of her climax, she’d felt bathed in warmth. Enveloped by a sense of comfort and belonging so strong that she’d...
Embarrassment swept through her.
Love. That’s what she’d felt. And that’s what she’d told him. That she loved him.
And she did.
But she wouldn’t admit that to him. Couldn’t admit that to him.
She pushed against his shoulders until he rolled away, then got to her feet and started pulling on her clothes. “It didn’t mean anything,” she said, forcing the words out of her mouth. “It’s just an old habit. I say the words when I come hard. Take it as a compliment, but not as the truth.”
He looked at her fiercely.
“What?” she said. “You don’t believe me? Well, you’re wrong. I was carried away by the moment, Simon. With everything happening, it’s only natural that I’ve become attached to you. Dependent. That’s going to come to an end soon.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes. You’re a good cop.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re going to find the man doing this. When you do, our lives will finally get back to normal. You’ll get your management position. I’ll go back to working with my patients.”
“Have you forgotten that you’re going to be heading up the MHIT program?”
“I can supervise, but I don’t have to be on-site.”
“Right. Is the reason you want to get back to your patients so badly because that’s really where your passion lies or is it so you don’t have to be responsible for life and death situations that you aren’t already prepared for?”
“It doesn’t take a genius to know why I’d want that kind of safety net. And you, of all people, know all about that, so don’t go using that high-and-mighty tone with me.”
“I wasn’t. I’m not,” he protested. “I just think—”
His phone rang and after a few seconds, he cursed, looked away and answered, “Simon Granger.” After a minute of listening to the person on the other line, he cursed. “Call the shelter and tell the director I’m on my way.” He snapped his phone shut and cursed again.
“What is it?”
“A kid’s been attacked in Golden Gate Park. He’s alive. But barely. I want you to come with me.”
That surprised her. “Are we going to the hospital?”
“Not yet. There’s an officer already there and the victim is being treated. We’re heading to the Welcome Home homeless shelter. The director specifically asked me to come see her and she said it was an emergency. That it had something to do with this latest attack.”
“But why do you need me to come with you?”
“Because despite you’re belief that things are coming to an end between us, I care about you, Nina. I’m not leaving you alone. And even once these murders are solved? I’m not planning on leaving you even then. Whether we decide to call it love or something else, it doesn’t matter. We’ll settle things between us eventually. Now let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A
S THE
W
ELCOME
H
OME
homeless shelter came into view, Nina’s eyes widened.
“What the hell?” Simon exploded.
Three black-and-whites were parked zigzag up and down the street. Uniformed police officers were attempting to push back the gathering crowd on the sidewalk while two more stood directly in front of the shelter talking heatedly with Elaina Scott and a gray-haired man wearing a blue polo shirt. Simon remembered seeing the man in the office the first time he’d visited the shelter.
The shelter itself looked reminiscent of bedlam. From open windows and the doorway, the inhabitants were shouting. Some even looked to be crying.
Simon threw his car into Park. Nina had her seat belt off and the door opened even before Simon turned off the ignition.
“Stay in the car!” Simon yelled at her.
She ignored his order, and instead hit the sidewalk. “I can help,” she threw out over her shoulder.
“Damn it, Nina!” He caught her arm and pulled her to a stop before she’d taken more than five steps. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you ever separate yourself from me like that again. Not when we’re on a call.” He shook her slightly. “Do you understand me?”
She immediately looked penitent for worrying him. “Whoa. Okay, Simon. I’m sorry. I just—”
“You just were thinking of others more than you were thinking of yourself. But that is not acceptable. You do it again, and I will haul your ass out of here immediately. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said quietly.
He stared at her, saw that she was serious then let her go. “I see the director. Let’s go.”
As Simon walked toward Elaina Scott, the man in the blue polo shirt walked inside the shelter. Of course, he immediately wondered why. If he was avoiding Simon for some reason. He’d make sure to talk to the man. But first he had to get his head on straight.
Simon took a calming breath, cursing the panic he’d felt at seeing Nina run into the crowd. All he’d been able to think about was that she would be hurt. And it would be his fault. And how he’d be grieving the loss of another woman he cared about. The loss of another woman who loved him. And no matter what she’d said earlier about having said the words during sex, Simon wasn’t buying it. It hadn’t been the sex talking. It hadn’t even been the stress over everything that had been happening talking.