The White Carnation (20 page)

“Make love to me, Rob. Make me forget everyone and everything if only for a short while.”

“I want to, God only knows how much, but the last thing I want is to take advantage of you, especially now. I don't have a condom. Maybe we should stop …” His voice was rough, his breathing heavy.

“No. I want this. I need it. Nothing else matters right now.”

She felt his tension, saw on his face the war raging within him, and knew the moment she could claim victory.

“Damn you, Faye.”

This time, his mouth came down on hers with a ferocity that stunned her. He plundered and pillaged, and when he entered her, she was rocked by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. The heat spiraled, and she cried out his name. It had always been like this between them—chemistry so combustive it threatened to consume them each time. Their bodies moved together, perfectly in sync, meshing seamlessly, and when the wave crested, she rode it and pulled him into her orgasm. Afterward, exhausted by the strength of their passion, she snuggled into Rob's arms once more and fell asleep.

• • •

When Faye awoke again, she was alone in the enormous bed, her naked body tangled in the sheets, proof that the sex she'd enjoyed had been real and not a dream. The escape provided by joining their bodies had been what she'd needed. It hadn't fixed anything, but for a few minutes she'd been in complete control of herself and that was the way she wanted to be. Her life, her body, her decision. Whether or not it happened again would depend on her physical needs and nothing else. Was she being selfish? Yes, but she doubted Rob would complain about it. He'd needed the release as much as she had.

According to the clock, it was almost ten. Listening intently, she heard Rob moving around downstairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled. Grabbing the jersey she'd worn to bed, she pulled it over her head and padded across the room to the bathroom.

Faye showered, relishing the hot water running down her body. Taking control and pushing away her fears wouldn't happen overnight. A romp in the hay, no matter how good, wouldn't slay her dragons, but the feeling of empowerment it gave her went a long way toward making her feel normal. After pulling her wet hair back into a ponytail and clipping it atop her head, she dressed in jeans and a green top she'd purchased in Albany. She slipped her bare feet into sandals, made the bed, and went downstairs.

She hoped there wouldn't be any awkwardness between them and that Rob wouldn't think what had happened meant more than it did. Things got complicated when you overthought them. There were more than enough complications in her life as it was. The last thing she wanted was regret from either one of them.

He sat at the table, the folders spread out in front of him.

“Good morning,” she said, determined not to let what had been a normal need overshadow the work relationship they'd developed.

“Morning.” He turned toward her and smiled. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” She walked over to the counter to make coffee. “Have you eaten?”

“No. I thought I'd treat you to bacon and eggs this morning.”

“Sounds good. Scrambled eggs with cheese?”

“You got it.” He leaned against the counter beside her. “I don't know where this is going, Faye, and at the moment, I don't much care. What happened this morning was your idea, but if it were up to me, I'd take you back to that bed and make love to you all over again. What we had was good, and it still is, but what is it? What happened fifteen months ago won't go away just because the sex is good. This isn't the time to go into that, but one of these days, when we've caught the bastard, we're going to have to have a serious talk.”

“I know,” she said. “But for now, what we've got going will have to be enough.”

“You're right. Clark hasn't returned my call, but I expect he will soon. Now, how about that grub?”

Half an hour later, her appetite satisfied, Faye returned to the folders she'd examined last night, searching for what continued to elude her, while Rob finished the dishes.

“You know,” she said, gathering the pictures and documents and placing them in the correct file folders, “maybe there isn't anything more here than what we've found. Maybe the whiskey addled my brain that night. So, what's on the agenda for today?”

“Clark should call soon, and then we need to go into Lake Placid. We can take a walk around Mirror Lake and check to see if your mail has arrived. Have a beer or a glass of wine at a lakefront café. I'll treat you to a seafood dinner.”

“My mail? Why would I have mail there?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Rob laughed. “Have I ever told you how cute you are when you make that face?”

“I forget I even do it,” she said, ignoring the compliment.

“You have mail because Clark managed to acquire it from the paper's mailroom Thursday afternoon and from your mailbox at the loft. He was surprised at how much mail you had at the paper. Don't you ever collect it?”

She shook her head. “I haven't had more than a couple of letters in months. Jimmy usually brings it up to me. He sorts mail while the clerk is on lunch.”

“The mail clerk told Trevor you hadn't emptied your mailbox in at least six months, and she was getting pretty fed up with the ‘do not deliver' notice you'd sent down.”

“I never sent down a notice like that. Why didn't she say something to me?”

“Beats me, but Trevor included the note you sent her. Since it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail, he's sent everything along. They managed to track down the florist who delivered the carnations. The girl who was on duty is on vacation. Trevor will email a sketch of whoever ordered those flowers as soon as he gets one. He's hoping you might recognize the person.”

Faye shuddered. “I'm not sure I want to, but I love the idea of going into the village for a couple of hours—and did you say seafood? Let me go see what I have in the way of clothes, and I'm all yours.” She moved away from the door, but he reached for her.

“I'll hold you to that.” He kissed her tenderly, but she broke off the kiss before he could deepen it. Sex was one thing, but daytime kisses shrieked
relationship
, and she wasn't going there. She'd been down that road before, and it had only led to heartache and disappointment. This time around, she'd stick to the KISS principle—keep it sweet and simple.

She smiled playfully as she moved out of his arms. “Didn't you say something about seafood?” She ran toward the staircase.
“I'll be ten minutes, tops.”

• • •

The phone rang while Faye was changing, and Rob filled Clark in on her cult theory and asked him to check on the things they'd noted.

“I'll contact Homeland Security and arrange for someone specializing in cults to see if they've got anyone on their radar who might fit Faye's parameters,” Clark said.

“I'm glad you let me share this with her. Your people might've gotten around to thinking that way, but she zeroed in on it right away.”

“Well, keep her involved. How's she doing?”

“Good. She's working on trying to move on.” He thought of their early-morning activities. It wouldn't be easy to go back to a platonic relationship if that's what she wanted.

“No one's asking questions about her at the hospital, but Agent Pierce and your partner are royally pissed about being pulled away from there and being unable to get hold of you. Tom seemed genuinely concerned. I think you need to call him because otherwise, he's going to become a problem.”

“I'll phone in this afternoon from the burner phone. How's the search for the mole coming?”

“I'm no closer to identifying the leak than I was, but Amos has noticed some irregularities in his lab reports. The man makes a habit of keeping multiple copies in different places, and it's a damn good thing. Among the missing data is the DNA analysis from Faye's rape kit.”

Rob whistled. “That's significant. How many people had access to that file?”

“We've narrowed it down to six, and Tom is one of the six, so watch what you say to him. I'll get Amos to do that drug test on Liz Howard's hair and get back to you. If he finds the scopolamine, it'll clinch your theory.”

“Any ID on the Smiths? I assume Baby Howard is home?”

“He is. So far nothing's come up on the local DMV search, so we're branching out. Have you collected the mail yet?”

“No. We're on our way there now.” He said goodbye and ended the call just as Faye returned.

“What did Clark say?”

“He's going to contact someone who specializes in cults and get back to us. Come on. Let's get going.”

The trip to Lake Placid would take only half an hour, and he was determined to distract her and raise her spirits. He knew she was struggling with those files and her own doubts and fears.

“We'll take the ski gondola up to the top of Little Whiteface another day,” he said as they drove past the Whiteface Mountain ski area that had been the focal point of the 1932 and 1980 Olympics. “We can drive up the Veteran's Memorial Highway to the Toll House and take the elevator built into the core of the mountain to the top when it's warmer. This weekend is Victoria Day, a Canadian holiday. The tourists will be here in droves, but I doubt the highway will be open. They had three feet of snow on the mountain last week. It might be open for Memorial Day, but we'll have to wait and see.”

“How did you find out so much about the area? We just got here yesterday.”

“I'm a detective, remember?” He chuckled. “I used the Internet, but I've been here before. I used to come here with my parents when I was a kid. When you go up to the top, on a clear day, you can see all the way to Lake Champlain. If you're a good girl, on our way down we can stop and visit Santa.”

She giggled. “I haven't been to Santa's Workshop since I was little. What do I have to do to be a good girl?”

“Hey, you're always a good girl, but yesterday, you were terrific.” He watched her redden. “I was referring to the way you analyzed those files and came up with the cult theory, but today's early-morning calisthenics were pretty good, too.” He swallowed as desire flooded him. Their sex life had always been rich and satisfying. Making love had only whet his appetite for more. “If that's likely to happen regularly, I should pick up a box of condoms.”

She smirked and changed the subject. “How long do you think we'll have to stay here?”

“At least a couple of weeks, maybe more. We can't go back until we know you're safe. Until last Friday, the case was cold. Now, only one week later, I've got another victim, Lucy Green's murder, a recovered infant who wasn't the Harvester's, a missing pregnant woman, a missing victim, and your attack. If we can find the Smiths, we'll get some answers, but we both know this isn't television—the big ones don't get solved in an hour. Let's forget about the case for a while and enjoy what's left of the day.”

Once she nodded, he continued to describe the area in his best tour-guide persona, trying to distract her with his knowledge. He felt a bit like a teenager trying to woo the hottest girl at school.

“If you ever want to quit police work, I'm sure you can get a job working as a tour guide here.”

“Only if the tourists are all as beautiful as you are.”

He signaled and got off the road at a designated lookout point. They were east of a small bridge over a fast-moving stream. The water gurgled and splashed over huge chunks of igneous rocks on the stream's bottom, bubbling and roiling as it raced along in a swift current.

Faye leaned against him, threading her arm through his. He could smell the pine trees, a scent he always associated with the fresh air.

“It smells like Christmas here—like it did when I was young and we had a real tree each year.” There was a sadness and longing in her voice he hadn't noticed before. “It's peaceful, too. We're right next to the road, and yet, I can hear everything clearly. It's as if the water is singing. You can almost make out a tune in your head. Thank you so much for showing me this.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, bringing heat to his entire body. “You know, despite the circumstances, I'm glad we have the chance to be friends again.”

It was like having a pail of cold water dumped on him. “Just friends, Faye? I think we've established that we're more than friends.”

“Have we?” She moved away from him. “I'm glad Dr. Chong suggested we hide up here.”

He wouldn't press the issue. She might have only wanted a romp in the hay, but he wanted more—how much more, he wasn't sure, but if they could clear up the mess from last year, they might have a chance. They had great chemistry. It was a place to start.

“So am I. My parents came up here every year. My dad loved fly fishing, and Mom was a landscape artist. She didn't make a fortune, but she sold a few pieces now and then. I have some in storage. Remind me to show you them sometime.”

“Isn't there a joke about a guy wanting to show a girl his etchings?” She giggled nervously, and he could tell she was trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled. “There might be. Much as I'd like to keep playing tourist, the post office closes at five. Trevor sent our package express—that should give the U.S. Postal Service a reason for improved efficiency. Come on.” He took her hand and led her back to the car.

While he'd always been physically attracted to Faye, he'd never admired her as much as he did now. She had class, something you were born with that had nothing to do with the way you were raised. Looking at her now, no one would suspect what she'd been through. It had taken guts to look at those files, knowing the fate of those women was probably the one her assailant had planned for her. Rob had known she was a brilliant analyst, but watching her piece the evidence together had been incredible.