Brazen Virtue (33 page)

“Jerald?” Years of training had her lips curving automatically. “What’s this about?” The Lithgow boy, she thought. His parents were going to press charges.

“We have a search warrant, ma’am.” Ben passed it to her. “Jerald Hayden is wanted for questioning in connection with the murders of Kathleen Breezewood and Mary Grice and the attempted rape of Mary Beth Morrison.”

“No.” She was a strong woman. She’d never fainted in her life. Now, she dug her nails into her palm until her vision cleared. “There’s a mistake.”

“Is there a holdup, Claire? We’ve pushed right to the time limit.” Hayden strode to the door. The friendly impatience on his face changed only slightly when he saw the identification. “Officers, is there a problem?”

“It’s Jerald.” Claire dug her fingers into his arms. “They want Jerald. Oh God, Charlton. They’re talking about murder.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Your wife has the papers, Senator.” Ed’s usual compassion had dried up on the drive over. “We’ve been authorized to take your son down for questioning.”

“Call Stuart, Claire.” It was a time for lawyers, he thought. Though he didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, Hayden saw the years of building a strong, careful platform disintegrating. “I’m sure we can clear this up quickly. I’ll send for Jerald.”

“We’d prefer to go along,” Ed said.

“Very well.” Turning, Hayden started for the stairs. With every step he felt his life, his ambitions, his beliefs slip away. He could see clearly, painfully clearly, the look in Jerald’s eyes as they’d sat in the dean’s office. He held himself straight, as a courageous man would facing a firing squad, and knocked on Jerald’s door.

“Excuse me, Senator.” Ben reached around to push the door open. The light was burning, the radio playing quietly. And the room was empty.

“He must be downstairs.” Cold sweat ran a line down Hayden’s back.

“I’ll go with you.”

With a barely perceptible nod to Ben, Ed stepped inside Jerald’s room.

It took under ten minutes to determine that Jerald
Hayden was no longer in the house. When Ben returned to the bedroom, the senator and his wife were with him.

“He’s got quite a cache.” Ed indicated the open desk drawer. “Please, don’t touch anything,” he warned Hayden as the senator stepped forward. “We’ll have someone come down and log this. Looks like about forty grams of coke, maybe an eighth of a kilo of grass.” He touched the lid of a jar with the tip of a pencil. “Some flake.”

“It’s a mistake.” Hysteria began to bubble in Claire’s voice. “Jerald doesn’t take drugs. He’s an honor student.”

“I’m sorry.” Ben looked from Claire to the computer which took up most of the desk, then to Ed. As Billings had said, the equipment was state-of-the-art. “He’s not in the house.”

W
HILE HIS MOTHER WAS
sobbing in his bedroom, Jerald was climbing the fence between Ed’s property and the Breezewood house. He’d never felt better in his life. His blood was pumping, his heart was hammering. Desiree was waiting for him, to take him beyond the mortal into forever.

Renockie drank coffee in the living room while Grace played with hers and watched the clock. Where was Ed? Why didn’t he call?

“I guess you could say I’m a big fan of yours, Miss McCabe.”

“I appreciate that, Detective.”

“I waited to tell you until Lowenstein was out with Billings that I’m an amateur writer myself.”

Who wasn’t? she thought, then forced a smile. It wasn’t like her to be unkind. “Oh, really? Are you writing detective novels?”

“Just short stories.” His wide, pleasant face flushed with the admission. “You spend a lot of time in the car and
just sitting and waiting in my business. Gives you a lot of time to think.”

“Maybe you could show me something you’ve done.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’d like to see it. Why don’t you …” She trailed off when the expression on his face changed. She’d heard it too, a shuffling, the opening of a door.

“Why don’t you go upstairs? Lock the door.” He drew his weapon out as he took her arm. “Just in case.”

She moved quickly and without argument. Renockie held his weapon in both hands, pointing up, as he moved.

In the bedroom, Grace stood with her back to the door, waiting, listening. It was probably nothing. How could it be anything? Ed had him by now. The phone would ring any minute and he’d tell her it was all over.

Then she heard a board creak and she jumped. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, into her eyes. Calling herself a fool, Grace wiped it away. It was just the aspiring writer coming to tell her all was clear.

“Desiree?”

The whisper dried every drop of sweat on her body. She tasted fear. It filled her mouth, but she couldn’t swallow it. As she watched, the doorknob turned to the left, then to the right.

“Desiree.”

Trapped. Trapped. The word ran through her mind over and over. She was alone, somehow alone with the man who’d come to kill her. Grace muffled the scream with both hands before it could burst out. She’d known he would come. She’d known yet still she was trapped. But she wasn’t helpless. She scrambled to the drawer that held the gun and fumbled for it just as the door broke in.

He’s a child, she thought as she stared at him. How could it be that this young boy with an alligator stitched on his shirt and a smattering of pimples on his chin had killed
her sister? Then she looked into his eyes, and his eyes told the story.

“Desiree, you knew I’d come back.”

“I’m not Desiree.” He had a gun as well. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it and the smear of blood on his wrist. He carried flowers in his other hand. A bouquet of pink carnations.

“It doesn’t matter what you call yourself. You came back. You called me back.”

“Don’t.” She lifted the gun as he took a step toward her. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t.” He laughed as though delighted with her. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her. Never wanted anything more than he wanted to please her. “We both know you can’t hurt me. We’re beyond that now, you and I. Remember what it was like? Remember, Desiree? Your life flowed out into my hands while mine flowed into you.”

“You killed my sister. I know it. The police know it. They’re coming.”

“I love you.” He stepped closer as he spoke, nearly hypnotizing her with those eyes. “It’s only been you. Together we can do anything, be anything. You’ll keep coming back to me. And I’ll keep listening, and waiting. It’ll be just like before. Time after time.” He held out the flowers.

They heard the sound at the same time. Grace saw Renockie, the blood flowing down his face from where the butt of Jerald’s gun had struck him. He was propped against the door, struggling to steady himself.

Jerald turned, his lips drawn back in a snarl. As he raised his gun, Grace fired.

W
HAT THE HELL’S GOING
on?” Ben and Ed raced up the walk just as Lowenstein managed to kick the front door in.

“I went to get doughnuts for Billings and tell him to wrap it up. When I came back, the door was locked.” Weapons came out and the three of them entered and separated. Ed saw the blood. His gaze followed the trail upstairs. He’d already sprung forward when they heard the shot.

His heart stopped. He felt it wink out as he raced up. He heard Grace’s name shouted, roared, but wasn’t aware it came from him. Leaping over Renockie, he planted himself. He was ready, and more than willing to kill.

She’d slid to the floor so that her back rested against the bed. She still had the gun in her hand. Her face was colorless, her eyes dark and dazed. But she was breathing. Ed crushed carnations underfoot as he went to her.

“Grace?” He touched her, her shoulders, face, hair. “Grace, I want you to tell me if he hurt you. Look at me, Gracie. Talk to me.” As he spoke, he eased the gun out of her hand.

“He was so young. I couldn’t believe how young. He brought me flowers.” Her eyes focused on Ed when he shifted between her and the body sprawled a few feet away. “He said he loved me.” When she began to gasp, he tried to gather her to him, but she held him off. “No, I’m all right. I’m okay.”

Lowenstein picked up the phone behind her. “According to Renockie, you saved his life. You handled yourself like a pro.”

“Yeah.” Grace rested her head on her hand a moment. “Ed, I’m okay, really. But I don’t think I can stand up without some help.”

“Lean on me,” he murmured. “Just a little.”

With her head resting against his shoulder, she nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re not going to make it, kid.” Ben leaned over Jerald. He’d already examined the wound, and though Lowenstein was calling an ambulance, it wouldn’t do any
good. “If there’s anything you want to get off your chest, now’s the time.”

“I’m not afraid to die.” He didn’t feel any pain. That made it all the sweeter. “It’s the ultimate experience. Desiree knows. She already knows.”

“Did you off Desiree and Roxanne, Jerald?”

“I gave them the best.” Looking up, he saw Desiree’s face floating above his. “Desiree.”

Though Ed tried to draw her aside, Grace stood where she was and stared down at Jerald. She’d wanted a picture, and now she would carry it with her the rest of her life. She’d wanted justice, but at this moment she couldn’t be sure just what that meant.

“I’ll be back,” he told her. “I’ll be waiting. Remember.” His lips curved before he died.

“Come downstairs, Grace.” Ed pulled her from the room.

“Do you think we’ll ever know why? Really why?”

“You learn to be satisfied with whatever answers you find. Sit down, I’ll get you a brandy.”

“I won’t argue with that.” She sat, elbows on knees and her face in her hands. “I told him I didn’t want to hurt him. And thank God, I meant it. Once I saw him, saw how it was, I didn’t hate him quite so much.”

“Here, drink.”

“Thanks.” She managed one shaky sip, then a second stronger one. “So …” After a sniffle, she rubbed the back of her hand under her nose. “How was your day?”

He studied her a moment. Her color was coming back and her hands were steady. Tough lady, he thought. She was one tough lady. Crouching in front of her, he took the snifter from her hands. She opened her arms, and he gathered her to him.

“Oh Ed, I never want to be that scared again, ever.”

“Me either.”

She turned her head so that she could press her lips to his throat. “You’re shaking.”

“That’s you.”

On a half laugh, she held tighter. “Whatever.”

Ben hesitated in the doorway, then cleared his throat.

“Kiss off, Paris.”

“In a minute,” he promised his partner. “Look, we’ve got Renockie’s statement, so there’s no hurry for yours, Grace. We’ll have our people in and out of here as soon as we can and leave you the hell alone.”

“Thanks.” Grace drew away from Ed far enough to hold out a hand. “You’re a pal, Ben.”

“I wish we’d been quicker.” He took the offered hand and squeezed. “You’ve had a rough time, Gracie. Tess would want me to tell you that if you need to talk it through, she’ll be there.”

“I know. Tell her I’m glad to give her back her husband in the evenings.”

Ben laid a hand on Ed’s shoulder. “In the morning.”

“Yeah.” When Ben slipped out, Ed handed Grace the snifter again. “Try a little more.”

“I could use the bottle.” She heard the steps and voices on the stairs and knew what they meant. This time she didn’t rise to watch. “Ed, would you mind? I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home.”

He touched her cheek before he rose. It wasn’t possible to stay close to her when he was losing. “I’m sorry, Grace, it wouldn’t be possible for you to go back to New York tonight. In a couple of days, after we’ve got the paperwork wrapped up.”

“New York?” Grace set the brandy aside. She didn’t need it after all. “I said I wanted to go home, Ed. That’s next door.” When he turned to stare down at her, she tried a half smile. “That is, if the offer still holds.”

“It holds.” He slipped his arms around her. “It’s not much of a home yet, Grace. It needs a lot of work.”

“My evenings are free.” Content, she snuggled against him. “I never told you that when I first came I picked your house out as the one I’d most like to live in. Let’s go home, Ed.”

“Sure.” He helped her to her feet.

“One thing.” She dragged the heels of her hands over her face until she was sure it was dry. “I’m not going to iron your shirts.”