Crazy About You (13 page)

She stared up at the night sky long enough to count each and every star. “When I was born, my dad was out at sea, fishing. He promised he’d be home to take Mom to the hospital in Hyannis, but couldn’t make it back to shore because of a storm.”

“So what did she do?” Chase snaked his hand under the arm of her sweater, her skin like silk sliding under his fingertips as he drew nonsensical lines along her forearm.

“You need to realize, the nearest hospital is an hour and a half from Provincetown. It was fall, but still the end of tourist season, so things were busy. My mom had to make promises to the woman who drove her there.”

“Promises? Like pledging your firstborn?”

She shook her head. “Almost worse. She let her choose my middle name.”

He chuckled and slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “What did she choose?” Despite the darkness, he saw her roll her eyes. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“My mom was at her shop when her water broke. It was the tarot card reader next door who drove her to Hyannis.”

“And your middle name is…”

“Andromeda.” She said it so softly he barely heard.

“Like the constellation? Or the daughter of Cassiopeia?”

Emma blew out a long breath. “I guess she meant the constellation, because she told my mom the stars would bring Dad home. Sure enough, he showed up at the hospital the very next morning. But I was already saddled with one heck of a middle name.”

“I like it.”

Her voice came out as a whisper. “You do?”

He nodded slowly. “I like you, too.” He bent his head to capture her mouth. She leaned into him slightly, brushing his lips with her tongue, inviting him to explore further. The kiss quickly deepened, her body pressed tight, urging him to take more. She moaned when her breasts crushed against his chest, her hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric of her shirt. Primal need seared through his body. He found the bottom edge of her tank top and slipped underneath to caress the silky heat of the bare skin at her waist. She shuddered and pulled away from the kiss, nipping his bottom lip.

“Wow,” she whispered, catching her breath. “Is this still part of that science experiment of yours?” Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, filled with wanting but also uncertainty.

He touched his forehead to hers and waited for his breathing to even out. “I think we’ve officially ruled out any scientific anomaly. But there’s still plenty of room for exploration.” He kissed her again, tasting the salt of the night air on her lips, satisfying his hunger better than any seafood. She opened to him, leaning into his kiss.

His world spun out of control as she clutched his shoulders and held on until he needed to come up for air to stop the world from reeling. He tucked her head under his chin and held her body against his, breathing in her honey lemon scent with each panting breath, trying to steady himself. Hot breath puffed against his chest, another small tremor running through her.

“I never planned for this,” he said.

“Do you always have a plan?”

“Usually.”

“Kiss me again.”

He cradled her face with his hands and kissed her softly, running his tongue over her lips, down her neck, kissing the soft spot at the base of her throat. She trembled at his touch, moving her hands over the muscles in his back.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she said in a breathless voice that sent even more blood pounding to his groin. “But we should probably stop. I mean, we’re, um, still kind of in public.”

His lips brushed over her ear. “There’s no one near,” he whispered, unable to think clearly.

“Still…” she said on a sigh, her eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re right.” He moved his hands away from her face. His fingers brushed over her breast and she sucked in a sharp gasp, her eyes darkening. Holding her gaze he trailed his hand the rest of the way down her belly, pushing under the edge of the tank top and back along her bare midriff. He cupped her breast with reverence, rubbing a slow thumb across the lace of her bra to tease already puckered nipples. His other hand slid down her lower back to her rear, molding her body to his, showing her his desire. She clenched her teeth and shuddered, pressing into the hand on her chest, gasping at his touch. Her tongue traced a line up his neck, biting down on his sensitive earlobe.

“Chase, please.” Her breathy whisper sent another jolt to his groin. “Let’s leave the beach. Now.” He nodded, his logical brain kicking into gear to estimate the quickest route back to his motel room. He captured her mouth for one more kiss, tamping down on his haze of need while he wondered whether to flag a taxi or one of those pedicabs.

A scream from somewhere nearby pierced the night air. He tore his mouth from hers, looking toward the source of the noise. Shouts followed, along with the sounds of feet pounding on the wooden staircase and along the boardwalk. Streams of shadows swirled above and below the pier, bodies scurrying through the darkness while the screams went on and on.

“What’s happening?” Emma pulled away, shoving her shirt down, moving toward the sound.

Chase tried to hold her back. “Where are you going?”

“Didn’t you hear that? A woman’s screaming!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to run toward danger?”

She cocked her head. “Someone needs help. Either come with me, or let me go.” Reluctantly he followed her lead, unwilling to release his grasp on her hand.

The evening’s “endless possibilities” quickly dissolved from fantasy into nightmare. Drawing closer to the shadowy pillars of the wharf, Chase saw the dark shape sprawled on the sand before Emma did. The screams subsided, but a handful of people remained near the body, phones snapping away at the scene, flashes of light punctuating the grim darkness. At his side, Emma gasped. “Oh. My. God. Is that…?”

Police sirens blared from street level, cutting off her words. Red and white lights flashed, uniformed officers swarmed onto the beach, illuminating the shadows with searchlights and stopping anyone from leaving the scene. One of the beacons caught Emma and Chase in its glare along with several other onlookers.

“All of you over there,” shouted a gruff voice over a bullhorn. “Stay where you are.”

“We wanted to see if we could help.” Emma held a hand up to shield her eyes from the brightness.

“Stay put. Someone will come to you to take statements.”

“Statements?” Emma turned to Chase in confusion. “What are they talking about?”

He shrugged, watching officers hook searchlights to the pilings, chasing away the shadows, leaving no mysteries in the dark. “Nothing good, I’m sure.”

The sandy limbs twisted at unnatural angles, the wrinkled washerwoman hands clutched by his sides. Seaweed draped casually over the pallid skin of the head and neck. Small crabs scuttled away from the sudden brightness, heading toward the dark waves. The shine of the man’s wingtips reflected dolefully with the flash of another camera.

He’d been around the ocean for almost half his life and seen his share of drowning victims. He figured Emma probably had too, given she’d grown up here on Cape Cod, on the coast of the Atlantic. He knew enough about the actual process to know it’s a hard way to die, the body fighting for air, trying to hold onto that last breath for as long as possible.

One of the police officers used a stick to pull seaweed away from the victim’s face, sending another few crabs scuttling for cover. Two of the other officers pounded stakes in the sand and ran yellow crime scene tape to cordon off the immediate area, while two others worked their way through the crowd taking names and scribbling statements into spiral notebooks. Chase knew they worked against the clock, the tide licking its way within inches of the body with every wave.

Emma shuddered violently. He put an arm around her shoulders with far different intent than moments ago. He rubbed a gentle hand up and down her arm and tore his eyes from the gruesome scene long enough to check her face, make sure she was okay. Her eyes were wide, her teeth chattering, fear painted starkly across her features. The instinct to protect flared in his chest. “Emma, are you okay?”

The last of the blood drained from her face, leaving her white as a sheet. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She swayed as she stared at the body.

“Emma, are you going to faint? Do you need to sit down?” He slid his arm from around her shoulders to her waist, holding her steady, taking one of her hands in his and squeezing, trying to get a response.

“Th-th-that’s V-V-ito,” she said slowly, each word an effort. “T-T-Tony’s c-c-cousin.”

Stunned, he took a moment to respond. “Tony? As in your Tony? What’s his cousin doing in Provincetown?”

Eyes wide as saucers, she turned to him. “I never texted Tony.”

“Texted him what? Why? What are you talking about?”

“He s-said he was going to take c-care of Vito.” She gulped a few huge breaths, like a fish out of water.

“Slow down, Em. You’ll hyperventilate.”

“I c-can’t believe he would do it.”

“What are you saying? You think Tony did this? Your Tony?” She glared at him, spots of color blooming on her cheeks, and he felt a sliver of relief knife through him.
Better angry than passing out.

“Stop c-calling him ‘my’ Tony.” Her eyes jerked back toward the body and her face blanched. She gulped at the air between words, steadying her voice. “How could he…do something like this…to family?”

Chase rubbed slowly up and down her arm, not really sure what possessed her to think Tony would be involved in a drowning death three hundred miles from New York City. They watched from among the gathering crowd of onlookers while more pictures were taken from every possible angle before EMTs finally lifted the body onto a stretcher and carried it off the beach before the tide reclaimed its victim.

“It’s my fault.” Her voice sounded small when she finally spoke again as the paramedics maneuvered the stretcher on the steep flight of wooden stairs up to the street. A silent ambulance sat waiting, lights blinking a slow staccato in time with the music drifting out of the bar. The color once again disappeared from her face.

“Emma, you’re in shock. Seeing a body washed ashore is intense, but come on. How can it be your fault? Are you even sure you know the guy?”

An officer with a notebook stood on the other side of the crime scene tape, directly in front of them. “Did I hear you say you know the victim?”

Emma nodded. “I do. I mean, I did. I mean, not really.”

The policeman narrowed his eyes, giving her appearance a quick once over, taking in the pale face and wild eyes. “Which is it?”

“I met him this morning. He said his name was Vito Lorenzo. He was catching the nine o’clock ferry to Boston.”

He scribbled the information into his book. “That’s pretty specific information for not really knowing him. I think you better go over to the station to make a full report about what you do and don’t know.” He unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt. “Hey, Jim? This is Nate. I’ve got a possible witness.”

The walkie-talkie crackled with static. “I’m pulling up with the squad car as soon as the ambulance takes off.”

The officer gave Emma an encouraging smile. “Think you can make it up the stairs to the street? One of the detectives will give you a ride to the station.”

Chase answered for her. “We can manage, thanks.”

“We only need the witness, sir. No need to interrupt your evening.”

Chase wrapped a protective arm around Emma. “If she’s going, I’m going.”

The officer shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He pressed the button on his walkie-talkie again. “Jim, I’m sending up a couple. They ID’d the vic and have some info.” He nodded toward the stairs and spoke to Chase. “The squad car should be at the top of those stairs. I need to see if there are any more witnesses.”

Chase kept one hand on her elbow and the other around her waist, guiding Emma through what remained of the crowd and up the wooden staircase.

Chapter Fifteen

Emma allowed Chase to steer her into the backseat of the waiting squad car, her mind unable to process much beyond the shocking sight washed up under the wharf. Being taken away by paramedics she didn’t recognize. Questioned by a cop she’d never seen before.

She thought she knew everyone on the police force, at least by sight. Then again, she’d been away for a few years. Things change. New faces cropped up every summer. The thought suddenly made her feel like a stranger in her own town. Bad stuff like this didn’t happen, not here. Provincetown was small and safe, where she knew everyone and neighbors looked out for each other. Totally the opposite of New York City. She’d moved to the city to embrace that anonymity, but it felt completely wrong to experience it here in P-town.

Luckily, the alienation didn’t last long. The blond detective in the driver’s seat stared at her in the rearview mirror. “Emma? Emma Maguire? Is that really you?” He turned to face her, a wide, familiar grin cracking the stony face.

“Jim Wilton? Wow, I haven’t seen you since high school! Sean didn’t tell me you’re back in town. I thought you were off solving crimes up in Boston.” She slid over along the vinyl backseat when Chase crowded in beside her, reaching for her hand as he pulled the door shut. “Chase, meet Jim Wilton. We knew each other in high school.”

Chase nodded to the policeman and cradled Emma’s hand between his own, as if staking a claim. Glad to have his solid presence next to her, she watched the two men size each other up, shaking her head in amusement at the flare of testosterone. She squeezed his fingers to reassure Chase. “Jim is friends with my brother. They played football together, back in the day.”

“Those were the days, eh? Simpler times for sure.” After a few short bursts of the siren, Jim wove the car through the pedestrians who swarmed the busy intersection. When Jim caught her eye in the rearview mirror again he was frowning. “I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was about Daniel.”

Emma felt her stomach clench, pointedly ignoring Chase’s questioning gaze. She casually waved her hand to dismiss his words, not wanting to go there. Of course a new tragedy would bring old ones bubbling to the surface, but it wasn’t anything she wanted to explain to Chase. Not now. Not tonight. “Thanks, but let’s not go there. We should probably stay focused on the reason we’re sitting in your squad car after midnight.”