Intimate Caresses (The Love and Danger Series) (7 page)

Nina’s fingers were flying over the keyboard once again today, but that didn’t mean she was actually being productive.  She was so flustered, so distracted by memories of the previous
night, she couldn’t seem to figure out how to focus. 

She never had problems focusing! 
The opposite in fact.   Steven had gotten angry with her several times because he couldn’t pull her away from their work.  He’d complained that her focus was too consuming and wanted her to live a little more.

Well, that wasn’t the case with Brock. 

Of course, Brock was a completely different lover than Steven.  Whereas her ex-husband was all into the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am approach, Brock took his time.  Maybe too much time!  Goodness, the things he would do to her.  The things she did…. She shook her head, trying to get her eyes back on the screen in front of her.  She couldn’t think about all the things she’d done with Brock last night.  That was in the past. 

Earlier that day, she ha
d walked down to the basement of the police station and spoken to Joe, the head medical examiner.  He’d taken a q-tip like thing and rubbed it around the inside of her mouth, then said they were all done. 

Hannah had then taken her out
side and the two of them had conversed for several minutes about…stuff.  Nina smiled at how Hannah, with her brown curls and her incredible smile had instantly made Nina comfortable.  The woman was a dynamo!  By the time they’d gone their separate ways, Hannah had already convinced Nina to meet her after work for a drink.  And Nina had grasped onto the invitation immediately.  Not just because she instantly liked Hannah, but also because it was an excellent excuse to not be home tonight when Brock came looking for her.  And she knew he would.  He hadn’t said anything about tonight, but she suspected that he already had plans to ambush her again tonight.

She actually smiled as she anticipated foiling his plans.  Yes, this was a battle of wills and she was going to win this war! 

Her e-mail pinged, letting her know she had a new message.  With resignation, she opened the message from the strange e-mail address.  Wary, worried about a virus, she read through the message.

When she finally understood the gist of the message, she almost screamed with her fury.  “How dare he
?!” she said out loud, gripping the handles of her chair so she wouldn’t start throwing things.  “How dare he even try something like that?!  Or even ask me for help!  That man can just rot for all I care!”

One of her co-workers stuck her head into Nina’s office.  “Are you okay?”

Nina looked up and tried to clear her expression, but she was just too furious.  “Just a message from my ex-husband.”

The woman immediately understood.  “I’m with
ya, honey.  My ex just bailed on his kids again this weekend.”

Nina relaxed, realizing that at least her problems with her ex-husband didn’t include any children.  Just
residual trust issues as a result of his cheating, stealing, black hearted personality.  “That’s worse than what I’ve got going on.” 

The woman continued back to her desk and Nina was left re-reading the message.  “Steven, you little weasel!” 

Apparently, the reviews on the computer game they’d built together, the very same game that he secretly went out and copyrighted behind her back, claiming as his own work, had bugs.  Who would have thought it!  Well, she’d told him about those bugs!  She’d explained to him in very minute detail how he needed to fix that part of his code before they went live with the game.  He’d argued that the bugs weren’t in an essential part of the game and people wouldn’t even notice them.

She switched over from her e-mail to a new screen and did a search.  Sure enough, reviews
of “his” game were horrible.  The critics had found every one of those glitches and were bailing on the game, trashing it online. 

She sat back in her chair and smiled, feeling
vindicated in a small way.  She and Steven had worked on that game for months, collaborating, brainstorming and working on it at different times.  In the end, she’d suspected they were really close to a great game.  There were several tweaks she’d suggested, some additional twists and turns that could add more marketing appeal.  But Steven had been too eager to get it out to market.  He’d argued that they didn’t need those tweaks in the initial version.  She’d pulled back and urged him to slow down, that the game wasn’t marketable yet.

Well, she’d just been proven right!  If he’d listened to her
about the bugs and taken her suggestions, they would be selling millions of copies of this game.  But he’d had to be too eager.  Too quick to the draw.  Just like a lot of things, she’d thought, thinking of their sex life.

Ugh!  That only brought Brock back to her mind and she clicked out of the e-mail, ignoring it because it didn’t have anything to do with her.  Steven was in the past and she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.  Men couldn’t be trusted. 

Brock was male, therefore, she couldn’t trust him.  Never would she ever entrust her heart to another man. 

“These don’t make any sense,” Colt
said out loud as he sifted once again through the printed e-mail messages from Joan, the administrative assistant. 

“What’s wrong with them?” Brock asked, lowering his own sheaf of printed e-mails.  There were stacks of
them, mostly technical conversations that he barely understood but instinctively knew weren’t part of the investigation. 

Colt slid several across the conference room table.  It was just the two of them at the moment since Sam and Walker got pulled away on
another case.  “Take a look at the language in these messages.”

Co
lt eyes skimmed along the text, the spot above his eyebrows pinching the more he read.  “You’re right.  This doesn’t make any sense.  What do you make of the messages?” he asked. 

Brock leaned back again, ignoring the noises from outside the conference room where the other detectives and officers were working their own cases.  “I think it’s some so
rt of code.  The odd messages are only in the texts to and from the assistant and the victim,” he conjectured out loud.  “Some of the words don’t even make a coherent sentence.  It’s like the two of them were trying to pick the most random words to string together.”

Colt sat forward, taking several of the other e-mail messages.  He compared them to the personal e-mail from the wife, and then from some of the other co-workers.  “It’s only in the messages from the assistant and victim.  They aren’t in these,” he said and shoved the papers towards Brock. 

They looked at each other and instantly knew that they were onto something.  “Time to interview the assistant again?” Colt suggested with a victorious grin.

Joe shuffled into the room, out of breath and looking flustered. 

“You got something new for us?” Colt asked, looking up at the man who could stand to lose fifty or sixty pounds.  He looked like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. 

Joe mopped his brow with a
handkerchief then stuffed it into his back pocket.  “Nah.  Just the interesting lipstick colors I’d noted in the file.”

Colt and Brock both looked at each other, then almost fell over in their chairs while sitting up, both of them leaning over the autopsy report.  “What lipsticks?” they both asked.

Joe turned the page, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he searched in the text for the lipstick descriptions.  When he didn’t see anything, he cringed. “Uh oh.  I have a new stenographer and he must have missed that part.”  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, messing up the few strands he had left. 

He leaned against the table as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “I’m sorry fellas,” he said
with a sigh.  “There were two colors of lipstick on the victim but I wasn’t able to get DNA samples from them.  One was a coral color and the other was a glossy pink.”  He groaned as he pushed away from the table.  “He’d also had sex with two people before he died and both times were very recent although one was several hours before death and the other was more recent.”

“How could you tell?”

“By the residual texture,” he said as if that were the most obvious thing.

Colt and Brock both lo
oked at each other.  “I like women, but even I’m not so callous as to have sex with two different women in the same night,” Colt said disdainfully.

Brock crossed his arms over his chest. 
“Looks like our victim wasn’t such a nice guy.”

“I think we should head over and talk with the ladies in his life again, don’t you?” Colt asked.

Brock nodded, not happy about the situation.

“And that doesn’t include Nina,” Colt asserted.  “I think we can safely rule her out of the suspect pool.”

Brock breathed a sigh of relief.  He knew that Nina hadn’t committed the murder, but he hadn’t wanted to influence Colt.  So he was grateful that his partner had come to the same conclusion.

“Thank goodness,” Colt muttered.  “After this morning, I thought you were losing your edge.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as they both grabbed their jackets and pulled them on as they were walking out of the police station. 

Colt shrugged.  “You seemed determined to think of her as a murderer but even an idiot could see that she hadn’t had anything to do with this mess.”

“Yeah, but the rumors over at her office…” he started to say.

Colt was already shaking his head.  “The rumors were pure jealousy and you’d know it if you hadn’t been so completely blown away by her the first time you laid eyes on her.”

Brock smiled and nodded his head.  “Okay, yeah.  I’ll give you that one.”

Colt snorted as he pulled open the door to Brock’s SUV.  “Hell yeah you’ll give me that one.  And as soon as you stop acting like an ass whenever she’s around, you’ll know that she’s the one.”

Brock had just started the engine but he paused to look at Colt.  “I’m not serious about Nina.  She’s just a good time.”

Colt rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “Keep telling yourself that.”

Brock wasn’t sure what to say so he put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.  Before Brock turned left, Colt put one more thought out there.  “She’s not Laura, man.  Don’t paint her with the same brush.”

Brock didn’t acknowledge that comment in any way, but the words were going over and over in his mind several times.  He wasn’t sure what he could say to that.  Colt was right. 
His ex-girlfriend, Laura, had really messed him up by cheating with another guy.  Brock had been looking at women through the lens of a man who had been betrayed.  But maybe he should take those glasses off and view Nina more clearly.  She definitely was different although he couldn’t exactly define why.  He just knew in his gut that she wasn’t like Laura.  He couldn’t picture her doing the same thing as his ex-wife. 

He pulled up outside of the
victim’s house and the two men sat there for a long moment.  “What do you think we’re going to find?”

Colt shrugged his huge shoulders.  “Who
knows?  They always let something slip that will lead us in the right direction, don’t they?”

Brock nodded sagely.  “Crime of passion or do you think she planned this?”

Colt considered it for a moment.  “I’m guessing whoever put the medicine in his coffee cup was premeditated.  If the wife did the shooting, then I guess I could see how it was a crime of passion, but the fact that she brought it to the office shows intent and planning.  Those imply premeditation as well.  Either way you look at it, it isn’t good.”

They both knew where this case was going.  “Okay.  Let’s hit it.”

They walked to the front door and rang the doorbell.  The door was answered by a sad looking girl of about nineteen or twenty, pretty and blond.  Both Colt and Brock looked at each other when they saw her. 

“Certainly plays to a type, doesn’t he?” Brock mentioned,
both of them noting the blond hair as well as the pink lip gloss. 

“Can I help you?” the young woman asked.

Brock and Colt both pulled out their badges.  “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your employer, if you don’t mind,” Colt said.

The woman looked nervous, but stepped back to allow both of them to enter.

She led them into the living room.  “Ms. Silverberg isn’t here,” she whispered as she took a seat on the formal looking living room chair. 

Brock and Colt both nodded.  “That’s fine.  We have questions for you as well.”

She gripped her hands together and her fear was almost tangible.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

Brock got right down to it.  “What’s your name?”

“Desiree,” she explained.  “I’m actually from Iowa, just here as a nanny and going to college over at George Mason University.”

“What are you studying?” he asked, trying to put her at ease. 

“Economics,” she replied, her back straightening as if she were proud of herself.  “I was going to just study math, but found that economic theory was much more interesting.”

“And you work as a nanny for the
Silverbergs?”

Desiree finally looked up, obviously a subject she felt more comfortable discussing. 
“Yes.  They have two kids.  They’re really great too.”

Colt was writing things down as she spoke while Brock continued to watch her.  “How long have you worked for them?”

“Almost a year.  The last nanny they had just up and left.  Ms. Silverberg was really irritated with her.”

“Was Mr. Silverberg?”

Desiree shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her fingers as they tangled together.  “I don’t know.  Ms. Silverberg is more in charge of the kids.  He’s not here very often.”

“
And she is?”

Desiree hesitated,
then shrugged again.  “I guess that’s why they need me,” she said.

“What kind of hours do you work?” he asked.  There were several more questions and Brock got a pretty good idea that she was basically in charge of the household while the parents worked long hours.  He understood she went to school
during the day and was here for the kids when they got home from school but she didn’t have much of a social life outside of that.

Colt asked about the daily schedule, how well the kids got along, their school studies, ages, her hobbies and about her own classes, then went in for the important question.  

“So how long have you been having an affair with Mr. Silverberg?” he finally asked. 

The look on her face after that bombshell confirmed their suspicions immediately. 

“I’m not…” she stammered, then looked at the two very large police officers and swallowed loudly.  “I don’t…” 

“
You haven’t committed a crime Desiree.  At least not yet.  Don’t add obstruction of justice to the list of issues you are currently dealing with.  One of which is Ms. Silverberg’s wrath, am I right?”

Desiree’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head but she remained silent, still trying to figure out how to respond. 

“Your lip gloss was found on Mr. Silverberg’s neck.  So I don’t think it’s such a stretch to guess that you had sex with him before he went back to work.  How far off am I?” Brock asked. 

They could see her mind trying to find a good answer to that question, but in the end, she sighed and bowed her head.  “Please don’t tell Ms. Silverberg.  I think that’s why the previous nanny left.”

“Because she was having an affair with Mr. Silverberg?”

Desiree shook her head.  “
No.  Because he wanted to but she wouldn’t.”  The young woman looked up through her lashes, a blush forming on her pale cheeks because she knew she’d been caught in a dangerous situation. 

Brock rubbed his face.  “Add sexual harassment to the picture,” he grumbled. 

“Prince among men,” Colt came back.

“So how long have you been having sex with the deceased?” Brock asked again.

The woman cringed, closing her arms around her stomach as if she needed to protect herself from the harsh reality of what had occurred to her lover.  “Can’t you call him Jared?” she asked.  “He was a person.  He was a really nice guy.”  She hesitated, not looking either of them in the eye.  “And I loved him.  He was going to marry me,” she said softly with a whimsical smile even while the tears slipped off of her lashes onto her cheek. 

Brock didn’t say a word about the second
mystery woman Jared Silverberg had had sex with prior to his death, thinking to give this woman her dreams at least.  “Do you have family you could go back to?” Brock asked, thinking that it wouldn’t be a good idea to live in the same house as a possible murderer. 

Desiree was startled by that question.  “I can’t leave here.  The kids need someone to watch them.  And I’m in the middle of classes.”

Brock and Colt looked at each other again, sending a silent signal.  “It might be a good idea if you slept somewhere else for the next few nights.  And Ms. Silverberg can take care of her own kids for a few days.”

Desiree hesitated,
then nodded her head.  Brock didn’t know if she understood, but she was accepting, which was good enough for now. 

“What time do you expect Ms. Silverberg home?” Colt asked as they all stood up.

In answer, the front door opened and a wave of perfume preceded the wife.  “I’m here now,” she said and walked into the living room.  “Where are the children?” she asked, her eyes boring into Desiree’s.

Desiree stood up, wringing her hands nervously.  “They are doing their homework.  I’ll just go check on them now.”
  Without another word, the young woman scampered off.  If she’d been a dog, her tail would have been between her legs. 

There was silence while the younger woman walked out of the living room.  “Any news on who killed my husband?” she
asked, her tone harsh and commanding. 

Brock and Colt turned
to looked down at her.  She was a fairly attractive woman, but there was a hardness to her eyes – a cynicism.  “Do you have time to answer a few more questions?”