Obsession (3 page)

“That’s not fair, Alex. Of course I’m glad you’re okay.”

He concentrated on his chips, ashamed of his childish behavior and the need to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough. They both had.

Othello stood and sniffed under the table.

“He’s missed you,” she said.

“Have
you
missed me?”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she put her pop can down and turned away. “You can take my bedr—um, the master bedroom. The mattress is more comfortable in there. I’ll take the guest room.”

Alex braced his hands on the walker and stood. He followed her through the short hall to the two bedrooms in the back, the thump-shuffle of his slow gait echoing off the walls. Once again she’d made him feel ashamed. Embarrassed he’d asked if she’d missed him. Humiliated she hadn’t answered.

She stepped into their—
her
—room and headed for the closet.

For the past five years, their wedding picture had sat on the nightstand. Now a popular paperback and a glass of water sat there.

He shuffled to the bed and lowered himself onto it. Hearing the bedsprings squeak, Othello raced in and took a flying leap onto the mattress where he rolled to his side.

Alex laughed and rubbed the dog’s tummy. Othello opened one eye, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Tess walked across the hall into the bathroom and Alex stood. Leaving the stupid walker behind, he followed Tess using a combination of hobbling and hopping. It was only a dozen or so steps but when he grabbed hold of the bathroom doorframe, sweat was beading on his upper lip and he felt both hot and cold. Blood rushed from his head and he swayed.

Damn.
Fainting is not an option, Juran
.

Everything went dark and his hands lost their grip on the doorframe.

“Alex!”

He tumbled, his knee screaming in pain and his body hitting something hard.

When he opened his eyes, his head was cradled in Tess’s lap and her fingers were running through his hair. The scene would have been cozy if he wasn’t lying half under the pedestal sink.

“You passed out.”

“I don’t pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “You just wanted to check the floor to see if I’d mopped lately, right?”

“Right.” He traced her jaw with his finger.

She looked at him with the shadows of six months of separation between them. “Alex…”

“Not now, Tessie.”

His hand cupped the back of her head. She came willingly, easily, her breath fanning his face, her heat warming him.

“Tess, I—”

A wet nose shoved its way between them. Othello whined and licked Alex’s face.

Chapter Five

“You should have died, Juran.”

Alex moaned and tried to roll over, but pain shot from his knee straight to his brain.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

Alex’s eyes flew open. He’d been home from the hospital for four days but it still took a moment to realize the white walls weren’t hospital walls and the window looked out over his backyard instead of a parking garage. He pushed the covers aside, dislodging Othello. The dog whined and jumped off the bed with a huff. He shook his head, clutched his knee and swung his legs off the bed to sit on the edge. He ran a hand down his beard-stubbled face and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

What had that dream been about? And why was this the third night in a row he’d had it? Othello nudged his elbow with his cold wet nose and Alex patted him absently, thinking of Tess fast asleep in the next room and how much he hated that each night they’d awkwardly say goodnight and then part. They were strangers living together. Saying the right things, avoiding any unpleasantness.

He hated it.

Now that he was back, he missed even more the way it used to be. The laughter and the fun. The closeness.

He leaned forward to grab his walker, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. It took a few moments to position it.

“Damn glad no one’s here to see this,” he said to the dog.

Eventually, he reached the living room and stopped in front of the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Moonlight reflected off the falling snow, making the room glow. Tess had put up a Christmas tree and he looked for the ornaments they’d purchased together. Before they were even married they’d had a tradition of buying an ornament in each city they visited. Sort of a holiday scrapbook that hung on the tree. He’d always loved decorating the tree with her. They would laugh and remember their vacations together.

This year Tess had decorated with glass balls found in any discount store. Just another reminder that their memories meant so little to her. He turned back to the window only to encounter Tess’s reflection in the glass.

Face scrubbed, her hair brushed and falling almost to her waist, wearing flannel pajamas that were two sizes too big, she looked sixteen. Too young to have been married and divorced. Too young for the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if he looked older to her. Had the divorce aged him as well?

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked her reflection.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He touched the needles of the tree. “Where are our ornaments?”

“In the basement.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts too much to look at them.”

Adopting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he said, “So, get rid of them.”

“I can’t.”

“You got rid of me. What’s a box of ornaments?”

She sighed, pulled her hands up into her sleeves and stepped closer to the tree. “Getting rid of the ornaments would have hurt more than putting them on the tree.”

“So you want the memories, just not the person attached to them.”

She spun away. Instead of mere inches separating them, a couch, a dog, five years of marriage and six months of separation lay between them.

“I need to go to bed. You need to sleep too. Tomorrow’s your first physical therapy session and I need to get up early to start baking. Barbara’s been handling my business for the time being, but she can’t do it forever.”

“Tess?”

A heartbeat of time passed. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He’d never said that before. Never apologized for all the pain he’d caused. Too little, too late, he knew. Two simple words couldn’t even begin to heal a marriage full of broken promises.

She nodded and disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. Alex grabbed the walker and scooted closer to the window. Pushing the vision of Tess in her oversized pajamas out of his mind, he thought back to the night he’d been shot. It was all he’d been doing since he awoke to the realization he couldn’t remember a damn thing. And it was easier than thinking of his failed marriage.

The lieutenant and the chief had been patient but he knew they needed his memories before they could move on with the investigation.

There were images. Small things. Like the John Deere cap. Jason’s lifeless eyes. But everything in between was a solid wall of darkness. Nothing.

Damn his malfunctioning brain. He
had
to remember who killed Jason. Because what if the killer knew where Tess lived?

He stared at the back lawn, at the newly fallen snow that created a pristine landscape, and breathed deep the scent of pine.

A shadow by the maple moved. Othello padded to the window. The hackles on the back of his neck stood up and he growled.

The full moon and the snow illuminated a figure darting from the tree. Alex’s heart kick-started as the shape swung toward the house and accelerated at a dead run.

“Tess!” Alex spun around. Blinding pain shot up his leg and his knee gave out. He grabbed the small table beside him but it toppled and the Tiffany lamp that sat on top bounced off him and hit the wall.

Othello began barking. Tess came running in.

“Get down, damn it.” Alex motioned for her to drop to the floor.

She skidded to a halt right in front of the window.

Chapter Six

Alex jerked Tess down on top of him and covered her mouth with his hand as he rolled. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.

Beneath his chest he could feel the fast beat of Tess’s heart and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. He put his mouth close to her ear. “Call 911. Tell them there’s an intruder on the back lawn.”

She nodded, scooted out from under him and crawled toward the phone on the other side of the couch.

Alex combat-crawled to the window, dragging his bad leg behind him. He peeked over the edge, but didn’t see anything.

When Tess crawled back, he whispered, “Get my gun. It’s in the drawer beside the bed.”

Othello looked out the window, barked once more, then lay down. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Son of a bitch
.

While he didn’t like having an intruder in his backyard, he didn’t want the guy to get away either, and those sirens would sure as hell scare anyone away.

Had it been the killer? Coincidence told him yes. He and Tess had chosen this neighborhood for its low crime rate. Burglars didn’t lurk around every corner.

“So, you saw a shadow.” Patrolman Reynolds swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing and Tess knew his nervousness had a lot to do with the angry, injured guy on the couch.

“No. I saw
movement
in the shadows,” Alex said.

“Right. You saw movement in the shadows.” Reynolds scribbled in his notebook.

The doorbell rang and Tess let in a few more uniforms and a Sergeant Wilkins.

“Juran.” Wilkins nodded to Alex and peered over Reynolds’s shoulder to read his notes. “Heard you had some excitement.”

“Some idiot running through my backyard,” Alex said.

“Mmm hmm.” Wilkins’s gaze met Alex’s and turned to Reynolds, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Find anything outside?”

“No, sir. Nothing.”

Alex stood but had to grab the back of the couch for support. His jaw clenched when the officers watched him.

“And did you see anything, Mrs. Juran?” Wilkins asked.

“No. I was in the other room.”

“I see.” Wilkins’s eyebrows went up and he turned to Reynolds. “You got enough for the report?”

“That’s it?” Alex asked. “That’s all you’re going to do?”

“What else do you want us to do, Juran? Reynolds looked outside, looked all around the house. The snow’s already covered any footprints. Reynolds’ll write up the report, we’ll file it. I’ll put out a couple extra patrols through the night. But my guess is the guy’s long gone.”

Wilkins turned to Reynolds and the two other officers who watched the interaction in silence. “Let’s go, calls are backing up.”

They walked out and Reynolds cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, write that report up as soon as I get to the office. In the meantime—”

“Yeah, I know. In the meantime if I see anything else I’ll give you a call,” Alex said, his tone bitter.

Reynolds looked away. “Yeah, okay. Well then, uh, see ya around.” He beat a hasty retreat, shutting the door behind him.

Alex slumped into the couch, spearing his hand through his hair and looking at the Christmas tree. “They didn’t believe me.”

“Sure they believed you. They just didn’t have anything to go on. The snow—”

Alex snorted and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “Someone was out there.”

“I know.”

“He ran toward the house and all I could think…” He closed his eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper. “All I could think was that I had to protect you.”

“Do you think it was the killer?”

“Look at me.” He waved his hand at his injured leg. “I’m a damn cripple who can’t even protect you.”

“Wilkins said—”

“Fuck Wilkins. He didn’t believe a word I said. You saw the looks I got, Tess. They think I’ve gone off the deep end.”

“Alex, they’re just doing their job.”

“Yeah, I know. Filing a report.”

“And patrolling the area. What would you have done in their shoes?”

His lips thinned and he looked away. This wasn’t about Wilkins not doing his job.

This was about Alex unable to do his.

Before the separation, she’d wanted a husband with a normal job and normal hours, whose only danger was rush-hour traffic. Tonight just proved that Alex could never be that man. Being a cop was in his blood.

“It’s okay to feel frustrated, Alex.”

“Go to bed,” he said wearily. “You need to work in the morning.”

Of course. He’d never admit a weakness. “Are you going to bed?” she asked, trying to hide her hurt and anger. Why she thought he’d start communicating now, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like they had a recent history of being open with each other.

“Does it matter?”

No, it didn’t matter, because six months ago they stopped sleeping together, stopped living together for this very reason. His job consumed him. The funny thing was, he never saw it. Never understood how lonely she’d been or how hurt when she’d asked him to take time for her.

Hours later she was still awake, listening to the creak of the bedsprings in the next room as Alex shifted.

She climbed out of bed and threw her robe on. Maybe if she turned the heat up and checked the windows and doors she could get some sleep. On the way to the thermostat she peeked into Alex’s room. In the dim light, she could see him lying on his back with Othello next to him, the dog’s big head on the pillow. His tail thumped against the bed.

“What do you need, Tess?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

She pushed away the hurt his harsh words caused. “Can I borrow the dog? He usually sleeps with me and since…since everything that’s happened tonight, I just need a warm body next to me.”

Othello rolled to his side and grunted.

“I don’t think he’s moving,” Alex said.

No, it didn’t look like it.

Alex flipped the covers back. “Get in.”

“Alex.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t jump your bones.”

She took a backward step into the hall. “I’ll just turn up the heat.”

“It’s not the heat that bothers you. You’re scared.”

She was scared and lonely but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it. Besides, what would happen if she climbed into bed with him? Maybe he’d never return to police work. Maybe his career wasn’t an issue anymore. But they had other issues. Things that stood between them they’d never spoken of, let alone tried to resolve. And things they had spoken of and couldn’t resolve.

“Thanks, but I’ll just turn up the heat.”

“That’s right,” he said sarcastically. “You didn’t want me whole, why would you want me now?”

Tess sighed and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t do this, Alex.”

Silence. She couldn’t see through the darkness well enough to determine what he was thinking. And maybe because of the darkness she felt freer. “Wanting you was never the issue.” Sex had never been the issue between them. If only it had been.

“You married me knowing I was a cop. Seems kind of crazy that you would divorce me for the same reason.”

Yes, it did. But back then she had thought their love was enough. And it had been until everything fell apart.

“There were other things. Other issues.”

“Yeah.”

That was all he said, just “yeah”. And that said it all. Again, they couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t put words to the ocean of grief they shared, yet didn’t share.

“I’ll just turn up the heat.” She pulled the door closed behind her.

***

The next morning, Tess’s chest was tight, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. She’d tossed and turned the rest of the night. Should she have climbed in bed with him? Lord knew she missed him so much it hurt, but what would have happened? In the light of the morning, all their problems would still have been there and nothing would have been resolved. Just an itch scratched.

Dressed and ready to face the day, she let Othello out the back door and poured a glass of orange juice. She sipped her juice and studied the backyard, looking for any signs of last night’s intruder. A good two inches of snow had fallen since then, wiping out any clues.

Had the person in the backyard been the same one who had shot Alex and killed his contact?

Tess let Othello in and had to lean into the door to push it closed against the frigid wind.

She pulled eggs and butter out of the refrigerator to begin the first batch of cakes, then headed to the front door to get the morning paper. She braced herself for the burst of cold air and opened the door, grabbed the paper and stepped back inside almost simultaneously.

With her hand stilled on the doorknob, the paper dropped from her lifeless fingers. Obscenities had been spray-painted on her front door.

Pig.

Die.

Prick.

At first she thought it had been written in blood, but realized it was red paint that had dripped, making it look like blood.

***

He slipped into the shadows and studied the Juran house from across the street. Hatred sparked a fire through him, spreading its poison, eating away at rational thought. That always happened when he thought of Supercop Alex Juran.

When Juran had been shot, he’d held his breath and waited to see if he would pull through.

The funniest thing about that week was that he’d been there, mingling with the bigwigs of the department, and they hadn’t even known it. They were arrogant to the core and he’d stood beneath their turned-up noses and laughed at them.

Now
that
was irony. A roomful of cops and it never occurred to them he had the balls to strut in their presence and thumb his nose at them. Pricks.

A chuckle escaped before he could stop it. Quickly he glanced around to see if anyone heard. The street was empty. Only an idiot would be out in near freezing temperatures.

He wasn’t an idiot by any stretch of the imagination. An idiot couldn’t get at a cop lying in ICU. An idiot wouldn’t dare talk to a cop while he lay in that room all hooked up to monitors and IVs.

Oh, yeah, he’d heard those monitors raise a fuss when he spoke to the high-and-mighty Juran. He’d heard and he’d known Supercop was scared. He’d thought about pulling the plug on a few of those machines, but he hadn’t and now he was glad.

He’d been surprised as hell when he heard Juran couldn’t remember who the shooter was. That’s when his brilliant plan popped into his mind. After that, he’d started praying for dear old Alex’s recovery because he had something better in mind for Officer Juran. Something much better.

A patrol unit cruised into Juran’s driveway. Taking his time, the police officer opened his door, got out and arranged his gun belt.

Supercop Juran, leaning heavily on his walker like an old man, let the cop in and closed the door, but not before checking out the street.

Still under your nose, Juran. Still watching you and yours.

He was a little bummed Juran had moved in with his wife, disappointed in Tess too, for allowing that prick back into her life. But he’d deal with it. He’d adapt. His ability to adapt and to think on his feet was what made him so good at this game. Just like last night. He’d forgotten all about the dog. Soon as he heard the barking, he’d changed plans. Didn’t matter though. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to accomplish, and this morning he’d remembered the dog and had done his business with the front door while the dog did his business out back.

He grinned. The ironies kept piling up, one after the other after the other.