Hello, Darkness (41 page)

“Dean explained it to me.”

“I’m paraphrasing him,” Curtis admitted. After a beat, he asked if she’d seen that morning’s newspaper. “Judge Kemp is using Janey’s murder as part of his campaign platform.”

“That goes beyond tasteless.”

“Some people,” the detective snuffled with contempt.

“What’s going to happen to Brad Armstrong?” she asked.

“Will he go to prison?”

“He has to face the aggravated-sexual-assault charge, which carries a stiff sentence if he’s convicted. But Melissa Hatcher admitted that she went with him willingly and engaged in numerous acts before she called a halt. He might plead to a lesser charge in exchange for a lighter sentence, but I predict that he’ll serve time. Hopefully he’ll use that time to get himself straightened out.”

“I wonder if his wife will stay with him.” Her eyes strayed to the floral arrangement Toni Armstrong had sent.

“Remains to be seen,” Curtis said. “But if I was a gambling man, I’d say yes.” They were quiet for a moment, then he slapped his thighs and, with a sigh, stood. “I should shove off and let you rest.”

She laughed. “I’ve rested until I’m blue in the face. I can’t wait to be released.”

“Anxious to get back to work?”

“By next week I hope.”

“Your fans will be happy. So will the hospital staff. They said every flower within a hundred-mile radius is in the main lobby downstairs.”

“Dean wheeled me down there yesterday to see them. People have been exceptionally kind.”

“Speaking for myself, I’ve missed listening to you.” His entire scalp flushed a bright pink as he added, “You’re a class act, Paris.”

“Thank you. So are you, Sergeant Curtis.”

A bit awkwardly, he reached for her right hand and gave it only one swift shake before releasing it. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. I mean, now that you and Malloy…” He let the sentence trail off.

She smiled. “Yes, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Dean arrived just as she was adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

“Paris?”

“In here,” she called from the small bathroom. He moved in behind her and their eyes met in the mirror above the basin.

“How do I look?”

“Luscious.”

She frowned dubiously at her reflection. “Hair styling isn’t easy to accomplish one-handed. At least it’s my left one that’s out of commission.”

He reached for her right hand, the back of which was bruised from the IV port that had been removed only the day before. He kissed the discolored spot. “To me you look fantastic.”

“Your opinion definitely counts.” She turned to face him, but when he only pecked her lips, she looked up at him with disappointment.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained, indicating her bandaged arm and sling.

“I won’t break.”

With her right hand, she pulled his head down and gave him a real kiss, which he responded to in kind. They kissed with sexual passion, as well as with the desperation of knowing that they’d almost lost each other for the second time.

When they pulled apart, she said, “I received a get-well card from Liz Douglas. Very gracious of her under the circumstances.”

“She’s a lady. There was only one thing wrong with her. She wasn’t you.”

They kissed again, then, leaving his lips against hers, he whispered, “When we get home…”

“Um-huh?”

“Can we go straight to bed?”

“Will you do—”

“Everything. We’re gonna do everything.” He gave her a hard, quick kiss, then said, “Let’s get out of here.”

They gathered the last of her personal things and placed them in a tote bag. She put on her sunglasses. He ordered her into the hospital-mandated wheelchair and pushed her to the elevator.

As they were riding down to the ground floor, she said, “I expected Gavin to be with you.”

“He sends his regards, but he left for Houston this morning to spend the weekend with Pat. He hopes to patch things up with her. Maybe even offer an olive branch to her husband.”

“Good for him.”

“He didn’t fool me.”

“You don’t believe he’s sincere?”

“Oh, he’s sincere about setting things right with them. But he chose to go this particular weekend so we’d have time alone.” As the elevator doors slid open, he leaned down and whispered directly into her ear, “I owe him.”

Returning his grin, she said, “So do I.”

“You are going to marry me, aren’t you?”

Feigning affront, she said, “I wouldn’t consent to a honeymoon otherwise.”

“Gavin will be glad. He wants to make friends at his new school, and he told me what an advantage it would be to have a stepmom who was famous and also a total fox.”

“He thinks I’m a fox?”

“Cool, too. You’ve got his unqualified approval.”

“It’s nice to be wanted.”

Humor aside, Dean stepped around to the front of her chair and leaned down until his face was level with hers. “I want you.”

They had an audience comprised of hospital staff and visitors in the lobby. Unmindful of them, he reached for her hand again and this time pressed her palm to his lips. They exchanged a look rife with meaning and implication, then he let go of her hand and said, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Be forewarned, Paris. You’ll be running a gauntlet. There are cameras galore outside that door. Every news outlet from Dallas to Houston to El Paso has a reporter and a photographer here to cover your hospital release. You’re big news.”

“I know.”

“And that’s okay?”

“It’s okay. In fact”—she removed her sunglasses and smiled up at him—“it’s time I came out into the light.”

Grinning, he pushed the wheelchair toward the automatic doors. They slid open and camera strobes began to flash.

Paris didn’t flinch.

Acknowledgments

I really hate having to ask people for help and information. An autographed copy of the book and an acknowledgment in the back of it seem insufficient thanks for all the trouble these professionals went to on my behalf.

Public Information Specialist C, Laura Albrecht of the Austin Police Department never lost patience with me, even when I continued calling her with just “one more question.” She opened doors that would ordinarily have been closed. Thanks also to the detectives of the Centralized Investigative Bureau, who all too frequently go unrewarded and unrecognized for the difficult job they perform. They were cordial and informative even after I explained to them that there was a rotten cop in my story.

In my next life, I want to be a drive-time deejay like Bill Kinder of KSCS-FM. Unlike me, he gets to talk to his fans every weekday. They call in by the hundreds. What a kick! He made it look easy to do a dozen tasks at once. He never broke stride, not even to answer my questions. If I got the radio technology all wrong, it’s no fault of his.

A few unfortunates work with me on a daily basis. My agent, Maria Carvainis, deserves more gratitude than I’ll ever be able to express. Amie Gray’s middle name should be Britannica for her diligent fact checking and her gleaning of information on the most outlandish topics. I also wish to thank Sharon Hubler for the years that she streamlined my life. Without her I would often have been at the wrong place at the wrong time, doing the wrong thing. I wish her much happiness in her new life.

And to the dear man who lives with me: Michael, my thanks and my love, always.

Sandra Brown

1 April 2003

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Acknowledgments