Shades of Desire (8 page)

“What?” DeMarco chuckled, but the sound suddenly seemed strained. The man’s amusement false. “I’m working a tough case right now. I could use a break.”

Carrie turned back and looked at DeMarco. They all did, taking his words seriously. Probably far more seriously than he’d intended.

They knew what a tough case he was working. The murder of one child and the disappearance of his sibling. The ones involving kids were always the hardest, particularly when said kids’ mother had just become a prime suspect.

Carrie’s features reflected sympathy for only the barest instant. Then she snorted and looked at Jase.

It happened like clockwork. She was going to use Jase to distract DeMarco. And Jase would play right along.

“Who she is doesn’t really matter,” Carrie stated. “The question should be if she knows old Tyler here is a one-night wonder?”

DeMarco laughed out loud, and even Mac couldn’t help smiling. Jase grinned, but it wasn’t his standard trust-me-to-make-it-good-for-you smile. It was a feral come-a-little-closer-and-see-what-happens smile he’d never directed at Carrie before, despite the way she liked to razz him. It raised Mac’s radar. Could it be…?

“Jealous, Agent Ward?” Jase raked his gaze up and down Carrie’s body.

Collectively, the men in the room—including Jase, Mac suspected—held their breath. To Mac’s shock, Carrie turned away without drawing first blood—without even replying. Whoa.

Not knowing when to quit, Jase drawled, “What’s the matter, Ward—?”

Mac’s cell phone rang, drowning out Jase’s words. He took it out of his pocket. “McKenzie.”

“This is Natalie Jones.”

Immediately Mac glanced at Jase. “What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?”

Jase’s eyes widened, and he stepped next to Mac.

When she remained silent, he prompted, “Did you remember something about Lindsay? Or about the man who attacked you?”

“No. I mean, yes, but…your number. It’s not local. You’re in the bay area?”

“I’m based in San Francisco, but my job takes me all over the state.”

He heard the deep breath she took, as if she was bracing herself. He straightened. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I— Nothing.”

This time there was no mistaking it. She was upset, although she was clearly struggling to stay composed.

“Natalie, talk to me. Why are you calling?”

“I talked to a friend of mine yesterday and I might have some information for you, but I need to talk to you about it in person. Can you drive to Plainville tomorrow?”

His first instinct was to ask why she couldn’t tell him on the phone. He stifled it. He sensed right away she wouldn’t tell him until they were face-to-face. And while it was true he didn’t want to upset her, the fact was he wanted to see her again. Tomorrow seemed too far away as it was. “I’m only a few hours’ drive away. I can drive up today and be there—”

“No,” she interjected. “It’s already late and I’m not sure the information I have is really relevant. I need to think about things. Look some…things over. But you’re so far away. I—I can just speak to Officer Munoz—”

“If you have something you feel is relevant to my case, you’ll talk to me.” He said it firmly, indicating he’d be there whether she wanted him to or not.

“Then I’ll come to you. I—I mean—” Her voice got a little squeaky, as if she’d just told him a dirty joke. It made all kinds of interesting images pop into his head. “I’ll meet you at the local police station.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to argue with her, but he didn’t. The lady was recently blind and lived alone. Clearly, she was independent. Could take care of herself and get around. So why did he feel so uncomfortable with the idea of her “coming to him”? Why did he feel protective of her? “How’s your neck?” he asked abruptly.

The sudden change in topic seemed to surprise her. “Uh…fine. I guess.”

“Your voice sounds better. If your throat is still sore, I’ve heard tea with lemon works. Or you can try a salt water rinse.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Thanks.”

Jase, DeMarco, Carrie…hell, even Simon was looking at him funny. He scowled and turned away. “How about I arrange for a car to pick you up?”

“No, thank you,” she said, her voice downright chilly. “I’ve arranged for a ride.”

Okay, so she had her shit together. He hadn’t meant to imply otherwise. The lady had a chip on her shoulder, all right, and she wasn’t about to let anyone lighten even part of the load. It made him wonder whether she let anyone close enough to help. To share her fears with. Somehow he doubted it. “Can you make it to the station by noon?” That would give him time to talk to a few witnesses before they met.

“Yes, but… It’ll be you both? You and Agent Tyler?”

Her need for clarification—clearly a request more than anything else—made him frown. Was she hoping to see Jase again? For personal reasons? “Does it matter?”

“I just…I’d like to speak to you both, if possible.”

Jealousy spread through him, slow and insidious. Grimly he tamped it down and tried not to glare at Jase. Deliberately, he said, “I’ll see you at noon, Natalie.”

CHAPTER TEN

A
RTHUR
C
LEMMONS
stuffed
the last of his things in his duffel bag before turning to see his wife, Allison, walk into the bedroom. He admired her graceful movements and neat, pretty appearance. Even with her belly just beginning to swell with the precious life of their third child, he still saw in her the sweet college girl that had sat beside him in his Anatomy 101 class twenty years ago.

He’d almost finished medical school when he’d gotten his calling to serve God. As such, he’d already completed the rigorous courses designed to desensitize students to the sight of blood and human tissue. He’d never been overly queasy or one to faint during the dissection of a human cadaver. Still, every time he saw Allison’s rounded belly, he couldn’t help imagining her blood covering his hands as he lifted the baby out of her womb. It made him nauseous to even think about it—

“Evan’s still dragging, but Eric’s all set to go and waiting downstairs. Can you believe it?”

He took a shallow breath and smiled while shaking his head. “He’s way too excited about this retreat. Makes me wonder if he’s got a crush on one of the girls. There’s a new one. Pretty but shy.”

“Shy’s good. It’s what you liked about me, remember?” she teased. Then her expression grew stern. “Not like that Lauren Winthrop girl.”

Lauren—

Clemmons stiffened but hopefully disguised that fact by picking up the duffel and hauling it onto his shoulder. Again, there was a gruesome flash of blood. A heartbeat of indecision about what to do. For himself. For God. “Who?”

“You know. Lauren. The girl the reverend was counseling before she took off and disappeared. She was in your youth group for a while. Pushy. Always said what was on her mind. Eric really admired that about her.” She slipped her arms around Clemmons’s waist from behind and laid her cheek against his back, her swollen belly resting against him, as well. “I was glad she moved on, but I wonder what happened to her? She seemed to be getting along so well at the church… .”

“We knew she had a family somewhere. Maybe she went back to them. That would be wonderful.”

“Only assuming her family was a good one. Which reminds me. I don’t think I ever told you, but I saw something on the news. Something about a girl from Sacramento being murdered. They showed a picture of her. She had long blond hair instead of a black pixie cut, and she didn’t wear all that makeup Lauren did, but for a second I thought it was her.”

“Who’s this?” Clemmons asked, feigning distraction. He glanced at his watch.

Sighing, she backed away and slapped his shoulder. “Lauren, silly. The girl we were talking about.”

“Hmm?” He looked up. Shook his head. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m just keeping track of time. I want to make sure we get to the bus to greet all the participants. That’s horrible about the girl who was murdered, but like you said, she was a blonde. I’m sure wherever she is, Lauren is fine.” Only she wasn’t. Clemmons knew that. But it was too late to change, and revealing what he’d seen would only result in further disaster.

“I pray you’re right. I wouldn’t want her as a daughter-in-law, but I wouldn’t want any parent to suffer the murder of one of their children. If anything ever happened to one of the boys or to—” She put a protective hand against her belly and Clemmons quickly covered it with his own.

“Now, don’t go getting all frazzled, little lady. The boys are going to be with me all week, enjoying nature and getting closer to God. They’re blessed, just as we are.”

“You’re right. You’re right. I know you’re right.” She hugged him tight, then leaned back and smiled. “The kids—and I don’t mean just ours—are so lucky to have you. It’s a shame your brother didn’t have you as an example when he was growing up. Things would have fared so much better for him with you to guide him. Have you heard from him lately?”

Clemmons leaned down and gave her a peck on her adorable nose. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers, praying for her strength and goodness to infuse him. To infuse both him and the younger brother he hadn’t even known about until last year. He and Alex had finally been reunited, and his brother had proven how devoted he was to family and church. It didn’t erase his sins, but to Clemmons it showed he was on the right path. “Not for a few days. But he’s doing good. Definitely staying close to God.”

“Wonderful.”

He turned toward the bedroom door, freezing when she spoke again.

“I’ll keep an ear out for him while you’re gone.”

Panic pulsed inside him, swift and all-encompassing. “No,” he snapped, turning toward her and dropping the duffel on the floor. He grabbed her by the arms and shook her slightly. “I’ve told you before. You stay away from him when I’m not here.”

“I know, but it’s been almost a year,” she said with wide eyes. “Don’t you think—”

“You will obey me in this, Allison. My brother has found God, but a year of faith doesn’t erase a lifetime of violence. I don’t want you anywhere near him while I’m gone. If he comes by, don’t answer the door. If he calls, don’t pick up. If you don’t promise me this, then I won’t be going on this retreat. There are things that—”

“Hush now,” she said, laying her palm on his chest. “Lord, your heart is beating so fast. You really are worried about me, aren’t you? I didn’t mean I’d seek him out, just that I’d keep an eye out. But I promise to do as you say. You’re the man of the house. My man.”

He kissed her, reassured by her promise. Allison never broke promises. She was a kind, God-fearing woman.

“Thank you.” He caressed her hair, then cupped her cheek. “You mean everything to me, Allison. You. The boys.” He dropped his hand to curve it around her belly. “This girl.”

“You’ve always cared for us. Provided for us. I know it. God knows it. And so does the Reverend. That’s why he chose you to take over as the church’s state leader.” She clapped her hands. “I still can’t believe it—finally, all your hard work and sacrifice is going to be recognized.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I can’t believe it, either. I appreciate his faith in me, but sometimes Reverend Morrison seems to forget he’ll be moving on soon. I’ve asked him to let me preach to the congregation, but he’s dragging his feet. It’s as if he wants the seat his father-in-law will be vacating, but to keep his old one, as well.”

“It’s hard to let go of children,” Allison teased. “And the congregation has been his for so long, it’s very much like a child to him. Now he has Matthew. And as soon as he and Shannon take over as the church’s national leaders, the Reverend will find himself too busy to micromanage things here.”

She turned to put away a couple of shirts he’d decided not to bring with him and left on the bed.

“He’s always been too busy,” Clemmons muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. You’re right. You’re always right.”

She smiled at the way he echoed her earlier words.

“Dad!” A voice called up from downstairs. “Are we going?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like Evan’s ready now, as well. Better get this show on the road.” Again, he turned. Again, Allison stopped him.

“Wait! You’ve forgotten two things.”

“What’s that?”

“First, this.” She leaned up and gave him a long, tender kiss. Then, pulling away, she picked something up off the bed and handed to him. “And this.”

It was his favorite ten-gallon hat. The one she’d given him for their twentieth anniversary. Cream with a gold cross embroidered on the front.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M
ELISSA
WAS
LATE
.

They’d agreed to meet at eleven thirty in the morning, and it was already quarter of. What was keeping her? And why wasn’t she answering her cell phone?

With an annoyed sigh, Natalie fiddled with her clothes, tugging at her collar and smoothing out her skirt with sweaty palms. After talking to Mac on the phone yesterday, she’d once again returned to her photographs, doing everything she could to make the images visible to her. She’d made them black-and-white, darkened the edges in Photoshop and zoomed in on them under her magnified screen. It hadn’t mattered. The only thing she’d seen were blobs of black and gray, with the hint of an occasional figure peeking through the mess. For the third night in a row, she’d gone to bed frustrated, Agent McKenzie’s words echoing in her head.

I’m through coddling needy women.

Her Google searches about him hadn’t come up with anything about his personal life, so she wasn’t sure what woman he’d been referring to. Probably a girlfriend. Even a wife. The very thought of those possibilities made her feel worse about her attraction to him. She imagined any woman worthy enough for the tough, charismatic detective would be strong and sexy. Capable of being independent, even if she actually wasn’t. Everything she no longer was.

Still, in an ironic twist, the same Google searches had fed her attraction, giving her insight into the man whose shadowed form had been enough to have her pulse pounding. He was clearly a talented and well-respected law enforcement officer. The Department of Justice’s website described its elite SIG unit as “the best of the best” in law enforcement, with its agents having training and experience similar to that of many FBI agents. Agent McKenzie led the unit, and according to his bio, he’d been a decorated homicide detective for fifteen years prior to that.

He sacrificed so much of his life to help others. That spoke volumes about his character and made her twice as anxious to help him if she could.

Even after she’d given up trying to find clues in the farmers’ market photos, getting to sleep had taken longer than usual. She’d spent an hour trying to remember details from that day, but they were pathetically few and hardly anything worth breaking into her house for. She’d finally been too exhausted to think of anything else, so she’d gone to sleep, but not before choosing her outfit for today—about five different times.

When she’d first started losing her vision, she’d paid a personal shopper, not just to buy her clothes, but to organize them by color. Even so, she had an electronic color detector and used it before leaving the house—just in case. She kept her wardrobe simple, with fewer options, but with multiples of the same things. Even at home, she always changed after eating. Always. She couldn’t bear the thought of food stains down her shirt. Outwardly, at least, she would remain the same, even if inwardly she never would be.

One person who disagreed with her was Bonnie, the adaptive specialist who worked with her once a week on increasing her living skills. She’d been the one to recommend the personal shopper and household reorganization, she’d arranged for a tutor to begin teaching Natalie Braille, and she constantly counseled Natalie that she was the same person she’d always been. “Sure, your life has changed, but believe it or not, you can still jump out of planes, Natalie. Plenty of blind people have done tandem parachuting. You can start with that. Eventually.”

Eventually. There was the rub. Bonnie’s confidence that Natalie could live a fulfilling life was conditional in many ways on keeping her caged in. For now. To Bonnie, the world was a traumatic place for someone still adapting to a disability. It was far better to isolate oneself for months—even years—until you felt confident in every aspect of your home life before venturing outside it.

She hadn’t told Bonnie what her plans were for today, not wanting the other woman to try and talk her out of them. No, despite her prior fears, she’d actually been looking forward to venturing outside the corners of her home and yard. To walking, chin held high, past a bunch of cops. To coming face-to-face with Agent McKenzie, proving to him she was more than the bitchy, defensive woman he’d met days before. She was competent. Independent. Strong.

Standing on the curb waiting for Melissa, she no longer felt that way. And as unfair as it might turn out to be, her friend’s failure to show today seemed to be yet another betrayal.

She lived in a quaint neighborhood but one that bisected a main street with a lot of car and foot traffic. People consistently detoured past her house in order to reach the small bakery down the block. She’d once enjoyed how peaceful it was in the mornings, but how alive it became later in the evening. Since she’d traveled so much, she’d barely known her neighbors. It didn’t surprise her that none of them bothered to talk to her now. Still, every time she heard voices nearing, she tensed. Part of it was the same old self-consciousness, anticipation of how they would react at seeing her cane, but the other part of it was unease. It was hard to feel safe knowing someone, anyone, could come at you before you sensed them.

Which was silly, of course. It was broad daylight, and no one except one man wanted to hurt her. And it wasn’t as if he’d attack her in full view of the world.

With a sigh, she checked her watch, confirmed it was five minutes to noon and, even though she had her cell phone in her pocket, made the slow walk inside. It was unseasonably warm weather, so she downed a glass of iced tea—as much to waste time as to hydrate her body, she knew—then forced herself to call Agent McKenzie. He answered his phone right away, his voice edged with impatience.

“McKenzie.”

Fool that she was, her pulse immediately spiked as she recalled his touch. His scent. The compassion in his voice when he’d asked her about her throat and suggested she drink some tea with lemon. He’d seemed so…sweet.

Idiot. Even blind she could tell Liam McKenzie was about as sweet as he was harmless to her. And he was more dangerous than any other man she’d met. She’d never before felt the pure sexual pull that she did toward him. She’d never been more afraid of it.

His partner was so much less threatening to her peace of mind. She hadn’t noticed a thing about
his
smell. Despite everything, she almost smiled at how the man on the phone might interpret that isolated thought.

She cleared her throat and said calmly, “Um, hi. This is Natalie Jones.”

“Yes?” His tone didn’t soften. If anything, it got rougher. Deeper.

“My ride’s running a bit late. I’m not sure when I’ll get there, but it should be within the next hour. I’m sorry but… Well, I don’t want to keep you. We can reschedule?” She threw out the offer at the last second, waiting with half dread, half anticipation for his agreement, knowing it would be ridiculous to schedule another appointment since he’d driven all the way up from San Francisco.

Instead, he blew out a breath. “I’m here already. I’ll wait around.” His words softened at the last moment, as if he was deliberately trying to rein in his surliness. Be kinder with her again. Gentler.

Maybe he had sweetness in him, after all. The thought loosened the anxiety that had constricted her chest since Melissa had failed to show up. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother, Ms. Jones. I appreciate you coming in. Besides, a tardy witness is just another part of the job.”

Well, that certainly put her in her place, she thought. Which was exactly where she needed to stay. “I’ll see you soon.”

As she hung up and walked back outside, she imagined how the conversation—how her
entire
acquaintance with Agent McKenzie—might have been different if she still had her vision. Her response to him had rattled her and had caused her protective wall to slam in place before she’d even realized it.

If attraction had made her act differently, perhaps Agent McKenzie’s—Mac, as Jase had called him—occasional lapse into rudeness had been caused by defensiveness, as well. But defensiveness against what? Her own rudeness? An answering attraction? Both?

Just as he had seconds earlier, she blew out a breath, but she couldn’t dispel the image that had formed in her mind. The image of her fighting with a man, then kissing him.

To her right, she heard a door slam, close enough that it must be one of her neighbors. She waited for footsteps that never came. Instead, silence hailed down on her. She heard nothing but the occasional sound of cars driving by, and what she imagined was the subtle inhale and exhale of someone breathing.

Shallow and controlled. Deliberate, with a slight rush at the end. As if the person, like a lover trying not to orgasm too soon, held himself back even as he wanted to rush forward and—what?

Her skin tingled the way it did when she knew someone was watching her.

Why did she assume it was a man?

She frowned at the continued silence. Was someone playing her? Anger ignited. She wasn’t helpless. Despite the blindness, she’d sworn never to be helpless. She refused.

“Who’s there?” she asked sharply. Déjà vu. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d asked when she’d heard a sound coming from her home office?

A soft rustle of fabric confirmed someone was indeed there. Squinting, she tried to focus, but like always, she saw only the melding of darkness and slightly lighter darkness. She stepped toward the sound, knowing the closer she got the greater chance there was to see details.

She stumbled slightly when a sudden sense of self-preservation made her pause.

People always commented how closing your eyes made everything pitch-black, but it didn’t. Not really. Even as a child she’d noticed the gradations of light and color behind her lids. It hadn’t stopped her from being afraid of the dark, but it had given her some solace when she’d been trapped in it.

Humans could be far more dangerous in the day than bogeymen and vampires at night.

Fear pressed into her, stealing her breath.

She no longer heard voices or the sound of cars coming from the main road.

Where the hell was everyone?

Her heart pumped blood and adrenaline through her veins so fast it reminded her of the day she’d driven that race car. Everything had been a blur then, too—an exciting, high-speed blur, but one that had made her feel alive, not scared.

Her anger and bravado left as if they’d never existed. “Hello?” she whispered, more pleading than questioning. Nothing. No one.

She was clearly imagining things because of the assault. With her hand protectively clutching her throat, she once more made her way back inside. She’d call a cab. Get another drink. Calm herself down before hitting the road.

It took a good thirty minutes before the cab honked from outside.

About time. Grabbing her cane again, she made her way to the curb.

She heard a car door opening and closing. She practically felt the driver’s gaze on her and her cane, which had become as heavy as a thirty-pound ball manacled to her wrists. He spoke to her from several feet away, his voice slightly muffled by his footsteps and the cab’s idling engine.

“Sorry it took so long, ma’am.”

She paused. His voice seemed familiar… .

A cat screeched from close by. Too close. She jerked and dropped her cane. “No,” she gasped.

She remained frozen, arms extended in the reflexive gesture newborns made when startled. Embarrassment clung to her like sap oozing from a tree. Her heaving breaths echoed in her ears. Slowly, she bent her knees, not stopping until she squatted with her palms on the ground. She circled her palms in front of her the way she’d been taught. “Damn it, where are you?”

Her hands hit something solid and she patted it. Smooth, rounded end. Knotted strips of leather. Laces. She jerked back. A shoe.

“I’ve got it.”

As she straightened, the cab driver cupped a gentle hand under her elbow and helped her up. “Thank you,” she said when he placed her cane in her fingers.

“Easy now.” He guided her into the cab. A hand, large and callused, covered hers before he shut her door, then got in himself. “Where to?”

“The police department, please.” She took a deep breath, almost choking on the cab’s musty smell. Leaning forward, she reached out, curious if the cab had the Plexiglas divider that had gotten obsolete in recent years. It didn’t. But she heard the sound of the cab’s radio crackling, the dispatcher occasionally giving instructions to his drivers.

The car jerked forward, and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. In her mind, she drove, counting stop signs and naming streets.

“I didn’t know you were blind the other night. I’m sorry, Natalie. I’m sorry the cab company left you waiting for so long. I told the driver that was rude after I saw him pull up.”

The man’s odd question made her brow furrow. What was he talking about? Did he mean he’d told the dispatcher it had been rude to keep her waiting? “I’m not sure—”

“I was sorry about Lindsay, too, but I have to protect God’s kingdom. She’s there now.”

Once again, his words made no sense. Her mind struggled to comprehend them. When she finally did, the terror was staggering. Fragments of memories hailed down on her like bullets. Sixteen years old. Lindsay murdered. Her body dumped and found. Her broken cross pendant found inside Natalie’s home.

Her mind spun. His voice had sounded familiar. Now she knew why. He was the same man who’d tried to kill her.

“What are you—?” she choked out.

Automatically, her hands reached out to stabilize herself. To her right, she felt the door. Tendrils of disbelief quickly gave way to fear.

She had to get away. Only, she was in a moving car, with nowhere to go.

Think, Natalie. Think. What are you going to do?
That was her voice.

You. It’s because of you I can’t see. Someday you’ll know. Someday you’ll get what you deserve.
That was her mother’s.

She took several quiet, shallow breaths.

They hadn’t traveled far. Given the short amount of time that had passed since she’d climbed in the cab, as well as the number of turns he’d made, she knew he was still navigating his way out of the downtown area and toward the freeway. It felt as if he was driving the posted thirty miles per hour, but he’d soon be moving much faster.