Shades of Passion (38 page)

The door behind them banged open and several people, including Stevens, Archer, the mayor and Jase—who, along with Carrie, had been covering Simon’s back inside—exited the building. Jase and Stevens immediately rushed to Nina and DeMarco’s side.

“Jase?” Simon called. “Rita Taylor?”

“She’s with Carrie,” he said. “She took her out the front when DeMarco headed out that way. I kept an eye on things inside to make sure they didn’t pose a problem for you.”

Meaning he’d kept an eye on Gil Archer, just as Simon had asked him, too. He nodded his thanks to Jase, turning when Stevens said, “Granger, get your ass over here and tell me what the hell is going on.”

Simon complied, but only told him part of the story. He’d tell him the rest, but only when Gil Archer was no longer within earshot. As it was now, Simon kept his guard up and his gaze on the man, but he acted normal, assisting Stevens and the others any way he could. Within minutes, the ambulance came and took DeMarco away. First, however, Simon spoke to his friend. “Thank you,” he said simply, placing a hand on DeMarco’s uninjured shoulder.

DeMarco nodded weakly. “I’d say anytime, but I’m really hoping that’s not the case. My date’s inside, probably wondering where I went. Will you let her know I’ll call her?”

“I’m betting I won’t have to. She’s a doctor, right? She’ll probably head to the hospital as soon as she knows. And I’ll see you there myself,” Simon said.

“Sounds good,” DeMarco breathed and then was whisked away.

Simon immediately sought out Nina, who was standing next to Stevens, talking to him and Archer, the man he’d suspected of murder.

And despite everything, despite Rita Taylor’s failure to identify Archer, despite what had just happened with McGrogen, Simon, in his gut, still believed it to be true.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

O
VER THE NEXT FEW HOURS,
Harold McGrogen was booked into jail, but he wasn’t the only one having to answer to the police. Even now, Gil Archer was at the SFPD with his attorney answering some very tough questions.

After checking in with Stevens, Simon joined Nina on her living room couch. “McGrogen was more than happy to bring Archer down with him in exchange for a deal from the DA. McGrogen’s worked for Archer for almost a year, and he claims that Archer paid him to send SFPD a message by killing a homeless man or two, and blaming it on a cop. That’s why Archer offered to provide McGrogen as a part-time security detail to Welcome Home at a discounted rate. Of course, he made it seem like all he cared about was helping those less fortunate than him. Hell, he even had McGrogen deliver bags of his used golf clothes to the shelter on his first day there.”

“So those green-and-white-checkered golf pants the second murder victim was wearing...those were his?”

“Yeah. There’s gotta be something humorous in there somewhere, but I’m just not seeing it at the moment.”

“So despite helping put on that big fundraising gala, he’s never really cared about helping out the homeless or mentally ill. He’s just seen them as weak. Potential victims. And when he needed a convenient victim, he knew exactly where to go.”

“Right. He told McGrogen he blamed the police for Lana’s death, and that included me in particular. That we’d failed to protect what was his. When city law enforcement started getting bad press for their recent encounters with the homeless, Archer told McGrogen to take advantage of it. Kill a homeless man. Blame it on the cops. And, just for Archer’s own personal satisfaction, leave a clue that the reason Archer was doing all this was because of his anger over Lana. His beloved daughter. God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“You focused on the more rational thing—Davenport’s threat to me and the fact the initials seemed to stand for Beth Davenport. You couldn’t have known how Archer’s convoluted mind was working. But why did McGrogen play along?”

“Pure greed, prodded along by resentment that I’d been the man who’d axed the SFPD’s retired annuitant program.”

“So this all started before we ever met. What made McGrogen or Archer focus on me?”

“After Archer learned about your role in helping me find Rebecca Hyatt, he railed at McGrogen for over an hour about how unfair it was that you were alive, looking so much like his daughter and doing the kind of work Lana would be doing if only she were alive. He ordered McGrogen to up the ante and the two of them kept close contact, with Archer periodically feeding McGrogen information about you, your involvement with Beth Davenport, and the trauma of your sister’s suicide.”

“Unreal,” Nina breathed. “But this is all assuming McGrogen is telling the truth about Archer. He doesn’t have any real proof, does he?” Nina asked.

“He says Archer is the one who actually broke into your house and planted the teddy bear in your bedroom. If that’s true, we should be able to get a match on those muddy footprints he left behind.”

Nina winced. “To think that something so small can be used to bring down someone so big.”

“Yeah, well, more often than not, that’s usually how it plays out in cases like this. But you just winced....Are you feeling sorry for Archer? Because, like Davenport, he was acting out of love for his daughter? Out of grief?” As he asked the question, Simon tried to keep his tone even so Nina wouldn’t think he was criticizing her professional beliefs again. Personally, he didn’t believe Archer’s grief mitigated his actions any more than McGrogen’s need or anger had, but the thought of Nina disagreeing with him no longer bothered him the way it once had. He wasn’t trained as Nina had been trained. And, frankly, he wasn’t as naturally nurturing or compassionate as she was, either. Their professional beliefs didn’t mean they couldn’t sustain a fulfilling personal relationship. But would she agree with him?

“No, I’m not,” she said quietly, surprising him. “I don’t think Archer is like Davenport. Not given what I know right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something you just said. If we can believe McGrogen, Archer told him that Lana was
his.
I haven’t heard anything about Archer crying with grief or saying how much he loved and missed his daughter. Instead, he seems to have taken the police’s alleged failure to save Lana as a personal affront to him. If that’s what he believes and what’s motivating him, he, like McGrogen and unlike Davenport, is most likely a sociopath. I suspect it’s true given how well he’s been able to hide his darker side, and given how complicated and symbolic the nature of his crimes were.”

“You going to follow-up on that theory? On whether he’s a sociopath or not?”

“Not unless there’s an important reason to. Honestly, I want nothing more to do with the man. But I assume his defense attorneys will hire a reputable mental health expert to advocate for him should he go to trial.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said. Was he right about their ability to sustain a long-term relationship, he thought? God, he hoped so, but he was unsure how to present his thoughts to Nina.

“What is it? You’re not buying into what he told McGrogen, are you? That you were to blame for Lana’s death?”

He shook his head. “No. I mean, that’s where my mind goes sometimes. Because like you with your sister, I wish I had been able to save Lana. But I suspect you’d say that just proves I’m human.”

“I’m glad you see that. So, what’s next? You going to start on another case right away?”

* * *

S
IMON PURSED HIS LIPS
as if contemplating his next move, then shook his head. “Actually, Commander Stevens has been after me to take some time off for a while and I think I’m finally going to take him up on it. Maybe go to the beach again, but this time for an extended stay.”

“That’s wonderful. Are you planning on doing anything special?”

“Well, I’m hoping to do something special...and do
someone
special...if she’ll have me.” He watched her closely, sensing that she’d caught his meaning when she blushed and fought to hide a smile.

“I can’t imagine any sane woman turning you down. I know—I know I wouldn’t,” she whispered.

“No? Because it won’t be all fun in the sack. I still have to decide if I even want a management role anymore. But I have a very personal mission to complete, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Ask a lot of questions. Get a lot of answers. About what makes this woman tick. What she dreams about. What makes her happy and sad. But mostly what makes her happy.”

“You make me happy,” she said, and he knew she’d just taken a huge risk. That they were both taking one. At least, it felt that way.

“Then we’re going to make a great pair,” he said. “Because I find there’s very little I like more than to make you happy. Still...”

“What is it?”

“I can’t help but be worried,” Simon confessed. “Our entire relationship so far has been based on working together, debating your job or at least certain aspects of it, or helping you forget what’s going on through sex. That’s no foundation for a long-term commitment.”

“You don’t think so?” Nina challenged. “Because whatever the foundation of our relationship consists of, it feels like a pretty strong one to me. A
good
one. Good enough that I’m feeling strong enough to conquer some of my fears. Good enough that I’m thinking I can work with my geriatric patients, and do other things, too—like help Karen with the MHIT training and maybe do some crisis counseling on the side.”

“It does, huh?” He grinned, elated that she was finding the courage to again explore the career options she’d once loved. Elated that maybe part of the reason she felt stronger was because of him. “Maybe you just need to remind me exactly
how
good it feels? And keep reminding me every...well, let’s see...every decade or so?”

“That would be my absolute pleasure.”

He cupped her face and grinned. “Mine, too. I love you, Doc.”

“And I love you, Simon.”

“That’s not just your desire for me talking, is it? Because while that would be perfectly understandable, I find I want you to speak with your heart, too.”

“It was never just the sex talking. Being with you was never just about distraction, either. Even so, saying I love you during sex? That felt pretty fabulous the one time I let myself do it. Wanna give it a shot?”

“Just try to stop me.” He kissed her, then murmured against her lips, “On second thought...”

She laughed, pulled him closer, and together they basked in the words they each repeated again and again that night.

Words of healing. Words of respect.

Words of love.

* * * * *

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ISBN: 9781460309803

Copyright © 2013 by Virna DePaul

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