Shocking Pink (13 page)

N
ick watched the teenager walk off. He muttered an oath and pulled away from the curb, uncertain he had made the right decision. He had a feeling about Andie Bennett, a feeling he hadn’t seen the last of her, that she was heading for some sort of trouble. Bad trouble.

Too late now. He frowned, recalling the story she had told Peters and Nolan. She was too damn young to have seen what she had. Too fresh and unspoiled.

No wonder she was scared. No wonder she was obsessed with the thought that this Mrs. X was in danger.

The world was filled with a whole lot of sick, ugly shit. Most of it that didn’t make a damn bit of sense to any thinking, feeling human being, even the most cynical one. Miss Andie Bennett had just gotten a good look at some of the most confusing.

Fifteen was too young to have the rosy glow swiped off the world.

Nick turned onto Main, heading back to the station. He drew his eyebrows together, mentally taking out and examining each piece of the story she had told them. Some of the pieces just plain didn’t fit.

First, it didn’t make sense that this girl—a girl from a nice neighborhood, one with a strong sense of right and wrong and responsibility—would do the things she said she had done. Illegally enter a house? At night? Alone? He didn’t think so. Second, after almost being caught and being scared witless, she’d gone back again? And again? At night? Alone?

No way. Those were the actions of a different kind of kid. An arrogant loner. A kid with little concern for what was moral or for responsibility. One not easily shaken or scared. That kid would not have felt the need to go to the police in an effort to save someone else.

Those could also be the actions of a group of kids. Pack mentality. Several kids together tended to egg each other on, provide moral support and justification.

Andie Bennett had not been alone. At least one other person had gone into that house with her. At least one other person had peeked into those windows, night after night. To his way of thinking, she had been alone only in her fear and sense of responsibility.

Nick pulled into the station’s parking lot, parked the car and climbed out. He headed inside, still mulling over Andie Bennett’s story. He went to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

“Raphael,” Peters called, “you get our little voyeur home?”

“Yeah.” He added sugar to the coffee and carried it to his desk. “I’ve been thinking about her story.”

“Me, too,” Nolan said from his desk, phone propped between his chin and shoulder. “It got me hot. How about you, Peters?”

“Oh, yeah. Wonder who our little party animals are.”

“Maybe they like it when people watch.” Nolan wiggled his eyebrows. “We could go find out.”

Ignoring their fraternity-boy bantering, Nick took a sip of his coffee, the brew thick and bitter-tasting. The pot had been half-full since about ten that morning and had cooked to a consistency of sludge. He wished he’d added a little more sugar. “Some of the things she said don’t add up. I don’t think she was alone when she watched all those fun and games.”

“Big fucking deal.” Peters sailed a paper airplane at Nolan. It hit him square in the middle of the forehead. “Her little friends had more brains than she did, and kept it to themselves.”

“That’s just it. It took a hell of a lot of guts to come in here today. Think about it. She’s fifteen. She figured there was a pretty good chance she was going to get in trouble. She obviously went against her friends’ wishes. And she had to sit across from you two assholes and describe what she saw. A lot of guts.”

“So?” Peters made a sound of annoyance and leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got a point?”

“She must have been damn scared. Maybe there’s something there. Maybe we need to check this house out, see if it’s rented and to whom. Maybe pay the mystery couple a visit.”

“And say what?” Nolan laughed. “That we know they’re having kinky sex?
‘This is the Thistledown police,’”
he mocked,
“‘put down your whips, get that dick out of your mouth and come out with your hands bound.’
Get real, Boy Scout.”

The other two detectives nearly fell out of their chairs laughing. Nick flushed but held his ground. “Can you guys get your brains out of your crotches for just a minute? What if this woman ends up dead?”

“She won’t.” Peters stood and pulled on his jacket. Nolan followed. “Your enthusiasm is commendable, Raphael, but your instincts suck. The kid peeped in a window and got herself an education. It was traumatic. Too bad for her. Life stinks. Give it a rest.”

Nick got to his feet and stepped into the aisle between the desks, blocking the detectives’ path. “How do you know the woman won’t end up dead? How?”

Peters’s face mottled. “Twenty fucking years on the job, all right? You put in that kind of time before you start questioning my calls. Got that, rookie? Case closed.”

J
enny was waiting for him.
Nick stopped in the doorway of the trendy little bistro to take a moment simply to gaze at his wife. She sat at one of the window booths, staring out at the remnants of the day, the last of the sun spilling over her perfect face. He never got enough of gazing at her, never lost that incredulous feeling in the pit of his gut, the disbelief that she had said yes to him.

He moved his eyes over her, taking in her shiny dark hair and the way it curved softly at her neck, the way she held herself, so still and straight. Elegant, that’s what she was. That’s what the suit she was wearing, the earrings, the shoes, hell, even the restaurant, that’s what they said about her.

Everything about him shouted a kid from a working-class family, a kid from the worst part of St. Louis, more versed in the ways of the street than in the etiquette of trendy little bistros.

Why the hell had she chosen him?

He pushed the thought away, and started toward her. She didn’t look his way, her face still turned to the window. Not that the question nagged at him. Not that he was worried. She had fallen in love with him for some strange and mysterious reason. He smiled to himself. Perhaps then,
that
was the question. Why?

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She turned. And smiled. He bent and dropped a light kiss on her mouth, then slid into the booth across from her.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I was enjoying watching the people.”

He smiled. “I saw. What are you drinking?”

“Chardonnay.” She lifted the glass and held it out to him. “Would you like to try it?”

“I think I’ll stick with beer, thanks.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nasty stuff. Your loss.” She brought the glass to her mouth and sipped. “How was your day?”

“Interesting.” The waiter came, took Nick’s drink order, then left. Nick turned back to his wife. “A kid came in today. She told us this bizarre story.”

“A kid? What do you mean?”

“Teenager. Fifteen, I think.” The waiter brought the beer; Nick took a long swallow before continuing. “Anyway, she thinks there’s going to be a murder.”

“A murder?” Jenny leaned forward, eyes alight. “Here in Thistledown?”

“Involving kinky sex, no less.”

“No wonder you found it interesting. Naughty boy.” She laughed and took another sip of wine.

“You sound like Peters and Nolan.” He frowned, frustrated. “They didn’t do anything about it. They wouldn’t check out any part of the kid’s story. They were too busy making jokes about what she saw. Like a couple of randy adolescents.”

“Well, it is sort of…tacky.”

“Maybe so, but I still don’t get it, you know? Don’t they feel any sense of responsibility? What would it have cost them to check out the kid’s story.” He took another swallow of beer, disgusted. “Jesus.”

She sat back in the booth, a frown pulling at her mouth. “Why is this bothering you so much?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Probably because I disagreed with Peters’s call. There was something about the kid. It took a lot of guts to come in the way she did and tell that story. I keep thinking there might be something to it. Peters basically told me I was full of crap. He pulled rank.”

“He’s done this before, Nick. I think you ought to be careful.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Careful?”

She bristled, just a bit, at his amusement. “Well, it seems obvious. You’re young, energetic and idealistic—”

“Don’t forget gorgeous.”

He grinned, and she laughed. “That, too. He’s used-up and burned-out. Every time he looks at you, he sees not only what he once was, but what he’s become. That can’t be pleasant for him.”

Nick cocked his head, studying her. The way she thought amazed him. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

She shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Like I said, it seems obvious to me. And I have a lot of time to think.” She glanced toward the window, a shadow moving across her expression. “Too much time.”

“Jen?”

She looked back at him and the shadow was gone. He caught her hand across the table. “Thanks for worrying about me. Peters has an attitude problem, that’s all.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles and felt her small shiver in response. After a year of marriage, she still responded to even his lightest touch. “The problem is, I didn’t become a cop to sit around and do as little as possible. Or, even worse, nothing at all. I sometimes think Peters and Nolan did.”

“I hate that you have to take orders from those two bozos. You’re too good for the job, Nick. You’re too smart.”

He curled his fingers closer around hers, warmed by her confidence in him, but wanting her to understand. “Yeah, they’re burned-out and lazy. Yeah, it frustrates the hell out of me. But they know a lot about being cops, and I can learn a lot from them. I
have
learned a lot from them.”

Jenny looked at their joined hands, then back up at him, eyes bright. “You could go back to school, Nick. Either at night or full-time. Study to be a lawyer. I’ll work, I’ll put you through. It wouldn’t take that long, and afterward, you’d be—”

“A lawyer,” he finished for her, finding that her suggestion rankled—because of her parents, because they hadn’t wanted her to marry a guy with such meager prospects. Because they had nearly broken them up.

“I want to be a cop, Jen.” He tightened his fingers over hers. “I always wanted to be a cop. Since I was about four years old.”

“But why?” she persisted. “A lawyer keeps the law, too. You could prosecute. You’d be making a difference.”

“Not the way I do on the street. On the street it’s black-and-white. Good guys versus bad guys. In the courtroom, the law is all shades of gray. I can’t play the game that way.” He leaned toward her, only half teasing. “What’s the matter, embarrassed to be married to a cop?”

“Of course not.” She sucked in a quick breath. “It’s just that you’re never home. And when you are home, you’re on call. I never know when you’re going to be beeped, in the middle of the night, during dinner, while we’re making love.”

“It’s part of the job, hon. It’ll get better. Remember, I’m the rookie, I get the shit detail.” He smiled winningly, trying to coax her out of her funk. “Besides, your dad was a doctor, nobody gets more night calls than one of those guys.”

“You do,” she said with a trace of bitterness he had never heard before. “And when he got called, my mother didn’t have to worry about the patient pulling a knife or a gun on him.”

“Better that than a malpractice suit.”

“That’s not funny. This is the way I feel.” Her eyes filled with tears; her lips trembled. “I’m afraid. Every time you go out, I worry you won’t come back.”

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry.” He gathered her other hand in his and leaned forward so he could bring both to his mouth. “This is a little town. Being a cop here isn’t like being one in St. Louis or Chicago. Yeah, it’s dangerous, more dangerous than being a pediatrician, anyway—” he smiled “—but I’m careful. And the hours will get better. I’m damn lucky to have made detective already. I feel like I have to prove myself, put in the long hours, try harder. Do you understand?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “But understanding doesn’t help when I’m alone in bed or sitting in a restaurant waiting an hour for my husband to show up.” Her voice thickened with tears. “You said family was the most important thing to you, Nick. A home and wife and kids. That’s what you said.”

He had said that. And he’d meant it. Nick wanted children. A big, loving family. And a house with a white picket fence and a big, shady backyard. A place where his kids could play, a place where they would always feel safe and loved.

He wanted for them what he hadn’t had.

He’d had the streets for his backyard and a mother who had worked herself to exhaustion at two jobs, trying to hold the family together after his father died.

“Nothing is more important to me than you, Jen. You and our marriage, our home. The family we make together.”

“That’s not the way it feels, Nick.” She searched his gaze. “I miss you. I’m lonely.”

“It won’t be forever,” he said again. “I promise, sweetheart.”

The waiter came then and took their orders. While they waited for their food, they chatted about other things; one of Nick’s brothers who lived in Thistledown and the Italian restaurant he was trying to secure financing to open; her mother and father’s cruise; their house hunting.

Just as the waiter arrived with their food, Nick’s beeper sounded. Jenny’s face fell. “It’s headquarters, isn’t it?”

He checked, then nodded. “It might be nothing, though. I’ll call in.”

It proved to be something: a missing kid. The parents were at the station, hysterical with worry. He returned to the table, chest tight with regret, but anxious to get downtown. “I’m sorry, Jen, I’ve got to go.”

She glanced away, her expression so lost and lonely it hurt to look at her. “I know.”

“Jen, I am. I wish—”

“Just go,” she whispered, smiling tremulously. “It’s your job, I understand. I’ll have the waiter box your meal, and I’ll heat it up for you later.”

“Thanks, babe.” He bent and kissed her. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”