Shadow Tag (The Ray Schiller Series - Book 2) (22 page)

Silently, he stepped into the room. Beneath the thin sheet, Ray could make out her body curled in on itself in a fetal position, so unlike her normal sprawl. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw her face, her expression troubled even in sleep. Her freshly washed hair, still damp, lay spread out on a pillow like a dark halo. A soft mewling sound escaped Gail’s lips. Her body twisted as tortured dreams creased her brow. There could be no doubt her state of mind was compromising her rest.

Decision made, Ray carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, breathing in her enticing scent. The sheet slipped down her bare arms as she shifted positions without waking. He touched her cheek. “Gail.” His hand cupped her bare shoulder. “Gail, wake up.”

Her eyes sprang open. Bolting upright, she clutched the sheet to her chest, gasping at the sight of his silhouette on the edge of her bed.

“It’s me,” he said. “Ray.”

“What are you doing here?” She grabbed his arm. “Ray, why aren’t you at the hospital? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” The sheets fell away from her naked body as she started to scramble from the bed, frantically trying to get to her feet.

Ray blocked her way. “Gail, relax. She’s fine,” he said. “Krista’s all right.” Both hands on her shoulders, he restrained her. “The doctor says the swelling is going down. Krista’s going to be fine.”

“Oh, God.” Gail’s shoulders shook as tears spilled from her eyes. “Dear God, thank you.”

He ducked down for a closer look at her face. “Are you all right now?”

She began laughing, the same giddy expression of relief he’d experienced. “She’s really all right?”

“She’s better than all right; she’s terrific.” Ray wrapped her in his arms.

Suddenly angry, Gail shoved him away. “Why didn’t you call? You promised me.” She struggled to get past him, hurrying to get out of bed. “I’ve got to go. I have to see her.”

He held her back. “In the morning.”

“Get out of my way, Ray. I’m going now.”

“Doctor’s orders,” he told her. “I know I promised to call, but Dr. Meier insisted it would be better if you waited until morning to see her. I’m sorry.” He ran his hand down the length of her arm. “Krista needs her rest, and so do you. When I left, she was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful, Gail.”

“You saw her?”

He nodded, smiling. “Only for a minute. Let me tell you about it.”

Gail shifted closer, her anger forgotten. “Tell me everything.”

He shared every word, described every impression, conveyed every nuance as she listened with rapt attention. He could see her trying to imagine it, see it, feel it, as though she’d been in the room with the two of them.

When he finished, they fell together in a celebratory embrace. Without deliberation, it became more—the two of them locked in each other’s arms.

Desire and need brightened Gail’s dark eyes. He leaned closer, their lips blending, softly, tenderly. A cautious exploration, so familiar, but so long denied. He caressed her cheek, letting his fingers trace a path along her jawline, then down her graceful neck.

As his hand traveled to the curve of her shoulder, Gail tilted her head, tenderly trapping it beneath her cheek. “Ray, wait. I—”

He silenced her with a kiss, running his fingers through her hair and across her cheek, his breath warm against her skin.

His touch seemed to take her breath away. “I have to… Ray…”

He kissed her throat. “Shhh.” He felt at peace—truly home. His world suddenly made sense again. Ray’s anger and resentment evaporated in the heat of passion. The anguish slipped from his grasp, replaced by new hope for their future. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed a tear from her cheek. As he held Gail in his arms, he sensed something he couldn’t immediately identify. Reluctance? He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “It’s all right, Gail. You and I… We’re going to be okay.”

Slowly, he drew the sheet aside, engulfed by desire. In the months they’d been apart, he’d yearned to touch her, to hold her, to immerse himself in the sight, sound and feel of her.

“Ray, I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

The sincerity of her words enveloped him, but as he pulled her closer, Gail pressed her hand against his chest. “No, don’t. I…”

“Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t have to worry about Krista. I swear she’s fine.”

“Ray, I...”

He felt her body tremble. “What’s the matter?”

Throat constricting, her voice came out strained. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Gail, whatever it is, just say it.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “There’s something you need to know.” Unable, or unwilling to meet his eyes, Gail turned her face away. “I’m pregnant. The baby is Mark’s. Ray, I’m so sorry.”

The room filled with an ear-shattering silence.

For what seemed like an eternity, neither he nor Gail moved, or spoke, or breathed.

Within the span of those moments, a mix of emotions battered Ray, their sharp edges reopening his wounds.

“How could you let that happen?” The words made their way through clenched teeth. “With all the—”

“Mark said he had a vasectomy years ago; that’s what he told me.”

Ray slid from the bed. A minute passed in silence as he stood in the darkness, bewildered, then walked to the bedroom door.

Eyes shimmering in the pale light, Gail turned to him. “Ray?” In the space of that one syllable, the sound of hope and despair clashed.

He stopped in the doorway, the backlighting of the hallway concealing the tears welling in his eyes. His throat tightened. “I almost wish I’d shot the bastard deliberately. Goodbye, Gail.”

As he left, the sound of her sobs followed him down the hall.

27

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Waverly hadn’t questioned Ray’s quick return to work.

“The goddamn lab really screwed up big time,” Ray ranted for the third time.

Waverly downed the last of his coffee. “Let it go already. Be grateful your kid’s doing well and making a good recovery. At least the mistake’s been straightened out and we have a fix on the make of the murder weapon now.”

“Some lab tech’s stupid assumption cost us a lot of valuable time. If the job had been done right in the first place, we’d have closed the case by now.”

“Another assumption,” Waverly said, glancing at Ray from under his eyebrows. “Just sayin’…”

“Screw you.”

Waverly dropped into his chair. “Look, you’re tired. You’ve been through a hell of lot these past few days. Maybe you should go back to Widmer for a while and be with your wife and kids.”

“Don’t patronize me, damn it.”

Waverly held his palms outward. “I was just thinking it might be a little soon for you to have come back.”

“Let it be, Dick. Just drop it.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.” Waverly moved on. “You know, until we find the murder weapon, we’re just spinning our wheels.”

“We’ve been doing nothing but chasing shadows from the start.” Ray sat there repeatedly clicking a pen against his thigh. “About the attitude, Dick… Sorry. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Phyllis has me on another low-salt, low-carb, no-taste diet. The sun’s not exactly shining outta my butt today either.” Waverly drummed his fingers against the desktop. “Listen, I tried calling to tell you yesterday, but you didn’t pick up. Johnson recanted his confession.”

“Recanted? He’s already been cleared. Why’d he bother?”

“The guy’s half-snockered most of the time. Brain’s pickled. Something came out of it, though, and I promise you, you’re gonna like this.”

“Why? What line of bull is Johnson trying to sell us now?”

“It’s no line this time; a couple cops verified it. It seems Jillian Wirth visited her stepdaddy in lockup while you were away. Imagine Johnson’s surprise when she started carving him up with that sharp tongue of hers over
his
killing her beloved boss.”

“What the hell?”

“Uh-huh. Go figure. Anyway, before the ballistics test cleared Johnson, she ripped him a new one. Turns out her tirade got him thinking that if she’s got
him
pegged as Davis’s killer, then she must not have done it either. Apparently it dawned on him that, if that’s
the case, he took the blame for nothing. What a hoot, hey?” Waverly grinned. “Naturally, the first thing he does is drown his problems. Then he comes here and tells me he wants to set the record straight. I tell him there’s no need; he’s already off the hook for the killing, but he keeps running his mouth, ya know? I couldn’t get rid of the guy. I decided it was easier to just let him talk himself out. And, man, did he ever.

“Johnson admitted letting Wirth into the building that night. He says he watched the lights on the elevator as she went up to the eighteenth floor.” Waverly ran a finger over his mustache. “He told me she came back down, crying, a few minutes later.”

“Okay, so? He basically confirmed what Wirth told us.”

“But he didn’t quit there, buddy. Johnson said she took off in a hurry, but not so fast he didn’t see the blood on her blouse—a pretty fair amount, according to him.”

“Holy… Keep going.”

“Told you you’d like it. Anyway, she rushed out of ACC without a word. Not unusual, of course; they never spoke to one another—her rules. Johnson said Davis never caught him drinking a second time. That conversation he said they had was the real deal, but it was from the first and only incident. Anyway, when Johnson saw the blood on Wirth’s blouse that night, he figured Davis must’ve roughed her up or something. He got all indignant and decided to give Davis a piece of his mind—consequences be damned, ya know?”

“Too bad he didn’t show her that kind of concern years ago,” Ray said. “Anything else?”

“Loads,” Waverly said. “Before Wirth was even out the door, Johnson said he left the lobby to bolster himself with a few hits of whiskey—no big surprise there. When he finally got his nerve up and went to the eighteenth floor, he found Davis’s body in the boardroom. The rest is like we thought: Johnson figured Wirth killed him and tried to cover for her by making it look like a suicide.”

Ray eased back in his chair. “So Johnson went back downstairs, got his uncle’s gun from wherever he’d left it, and staged the rest.”

“Right,” Waverly said, “except the gun wasn’t at ACC like he told us; it was at his apartment.”

“Hold it. He left the building?”

“Got it straight from the horse’s mouth, buddy. Gaines and Chalmers were used to his going MIA, so even if they noticed he was away from the front desk, they wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

“That lying bastard. How long was he gone?”

“Says it was fifteen minutes—maybe twenty,” Waverly said. “That’s reasonable considering his place isn’t far away. But, it gets even better, Ray. By the time Johnson got to his apartment, he must’ve sobered up some. He says he realized his uncle’s .38 was as clean as a whistle, so he put a pillow over the muzzle and fired off a shot right there.” Waverly laughed. “Remember that couch of his—the one that sat way off kilter?”

“What about it?”

“It was there because Johnson moved it over to hide the bullet hole.”

“The two empty chambers in his revolver…” Ray muttered. “It finally makes sense. That was driving me nuts.”

“Yup. He fired off one round in his apartment before it dawned on him that he’d have to fire the gun while it was in Davis’s hand to leave gunshot residue behind.”

“And that’s where the ashtray stand came in,” Ray said. “Have you been to his apartment to check out his story?”

“Damn right I have. The hole’s in the wall, right where he said,” Waverly told him. “The bullet, too. Ballistics verified a match,” Waverly added. “And just for the record, I pushed the couch back where it belongs. That off-center shit drives me crazy.”

Ray rubbed his temples. “Back up a minute. I’m confused about Wirth. If she’s our shooter, why would she confront Johnson about killing Davis?”

“Near as I can tell, she may have seen it as killing two birds with one stone. The way she feels about him, she wouldn’t think twice about burying him even deeper if it might help throw us off her tail.”

“That could be a stretch,” Ray said, “but it beats what I was thinking in Widmer.”

“Which is what?”

“I considered that Johnson might’ve killed Davis with a 9mm, then purposely confused the issue by planting his uncle’s revolver on him. He’d have known the ballistics test would help get him off the hook.”

Waverly arched his eyebrows. “Nah. Johnson? I don’t see him coming up with a red herring like that.”

“Red herring. That’s weird. The other day I was wondering where that term came from.”

“I could care less,” Waverly told him.

“Couldn’t,” Ray said in response to a pet peeve. “‘Could care less’ implies you care some. ‘Couldn’t care less’ says you don’t care at all…assuming that’s what you meant.”

Captain Roth stopped beside them, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s good to see both of you working so hard. Maybe the two of you should get your butts in gear and do something right for a change.”