Shocking Pink (32 page)

“No,” she said, then louder, almost shouting, “No, I won’t allow it.”

“But why?” Andie got to her feet. “I’m not the enemy,” she said, repeating her words from earlier. “Neither is Robert. If you would just tell us what you’re afraid of, we could help you.”

“I have to know everything, Martha,” Robert said. “To defend you, there can’t be any secrets between us. You have to be one hundred percent honest with me. If you’re not, we could lose.”

Martha paled. “That’s right,” he said, “we could lose. Believe me, the prosecution will unearth something, be it a witness or testimony and I’ll be left floundering. The jury will know. They’ll see it. They’ll lose confidence in me. And then, we’re dead.”

He crossed to her. “I have to be prepared. And my job is to defend you, to the best of my abilities, no matter what. If you were to tell me you killed him in cold blood, I would still defend you to the best of my abilities.”

“But I didn’t!” she cried. “I told you what happened! I told you the truth. Edward was trying to kill me! He was going to do it. I shot him. I had to.” She dissolved into tears. “He was going to kill me.”

Robert and Andie exchanged glances. He took another step toward Martha. “If you’ve told me everything, then what are you so afraid of? If you’ve been completely honest, what are you trying to protect Patti from?”

Martha raised her eyes to Robert’s. The despair in them took Andie’s breath.

“Ask yourself this, Martha,” he said softly. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?”

T
wo days later, Martha showed up unexpectedly at Andie’s office just before lunch. “Martha,” Andie said warmly, relieved to see her. Since the meeting the other morning, she had been unable to stop thinking about the woman. She had worried about how alone she must feel, how desperate. She worried that she might act on those feelings, do something crazy.

“Hello, Dr. Bennett,” Martha murmured, twisting her purse strap around her index finger, obviously nervous. “I was hoping… I thought we…” Her voice trailed off.

“Of course we can. This is the perfect time.” Andie caught the woman’s hands. “I’m glad you’re here. Come into my office.” Andie turned to her receptionist. “Missy, no calls, no interruptions.”

The receptionist nodded, her gaze following Martha. “You got it.”

Once in the office, they took their seats. Martha clasped her hands in her lap and averted her eyes. Moments ticked past.

“What is it, Martha?” Andie asked softly. “What’s bothering you?”

She looked up, then away. “I was afraid you wouldn’t agree to see me, with the way I’ve been acting.”

“I would always see you, Martha. And you’re entitled to the way you’ve been acting. You’re going through a great deal.”

Silence fell between them again. Andie decided to take a chance. “This is about Patti, isn’t it?”

Martha looked up, her expression anguished. “Yes, it—”

Her intercom buzzed; Martha Pierpont bit back whatever she had been about to say. Andie frowned. Her receptionist knew “no calls, no interruptions” meant just that. And she understood why—moments just like this one.

“I’m sorry, Martha, this must be an emergency. Excuse me.” She picked up the phone and buzzed her receptionist back. “Missy? What is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Bennett.” The woman sounded rattled. “But Raven’s here. She
insisted
I interrupt you.”

“I’ll be right out.” Andie excused herself again and hurried out to the receptionist area, closing the door behind her. Raven sat on the edge of Missy’s desk, chatting, though the receptionist looked anything but happy. “Raven, what’s wrong?”

“Hey, Andie. We have a lunch date. Remember? You, me, rabbit food.”

“A lunch date,” Andie repeated. “Didn’t Missy tell you I was with a patient?”

“Yeah, but we had plans.”

Andie didn’t hide her annoyance. “I’ll have to take a rain check.”

Raven stood. “But I need to talk to you about Julie. It’s important.”

“So’s this. I’m sorry, but you and Julie are going to have to wait.”

Hot color flooded her friend’s cheeks. “So what you’re saying is, this patient’s more important than me? Than us?”

Andie stiffened, angry. She glanced at Missy and saw that her eyes were huge with disbelief. “Yes,” Andie said. “This is more important than a lunch date with you and yet another discussion about our mutual friend’s problems. Now, excuse me.”

She turned to go; Raven caught her arm, her grip almost painful. “You’re blowing me off. Again. I don’t like it.”

“Sorry about that. I’m doing my job, it comes first.” She extricated herself from Raven’s grasp. “I’ll call you later.”

Without a backward glance, she returned to her office and Martha Pierpont. “I’m so sorry,” she said, taking her seat, trying to pretend that her lifelong best friend hadn’t just shocked her with her insensitivity and selfishness. “Please go on.”

Martha looked at Andie’s closed office door, then back at Andie. “I’ve gotten you in trouble with your friend.” She collected her purse and started to stand. “Maybe I should go.”

“Please,” Andie said, holding out a hand, “don’t worry about that. You came here today for a reason, don’t leave until we’ve discussed things.”

Martha hesitated; Andie cursed Raven’s interruption. “Tell me about Patti,” she urged. “That’s why you came. Tell me, Martha.”

For the briefest of moments, the woman looked as if she was going to refuse, as if she was going to draw into herself once more. Then she began to speak, softly, haltingly. “It started a few months back, maybe six, though I didn’t know about it at first. Edward…he—”

Martha’s throat closed over the words and she tried to clear it. “Patti didn’t tell me. She…wanted to try to hide it from me.” Martha lifted her eyes to Andie’s, the expression in them that of a woman who had lost everything, even hope. “The way I always tried to hide everything from her. The way I always tried to…to pretend everything was fine.”

Andie nodded encouragingly, a fist of tension settling in the pit of her gut. She had a pretty darned good idea where this was heading. “Go on.”

Martha reached for a tissue and immediately began shredding it. “Edward, he…apparently, he came home…unexpectedly one afternoon. After Patti was home from school. I was gone somewhere…I don’t even know where. He was angry. Spoiling for a fight. So, he started in on Patti.”

Martha sucked in a broken breath. “She tried to ignore him. She put on her headphones. She went to her room. But he…he followed her.”

Andie let Martha find the words, even as she fought to keep her own anguish from showing. “She begged him to leave her alone. She begged him to…to go away. But he…he…”

Her voice dwindled to nothing. Andie prodded her gently. “What did he do, Martha?”

She shook her head, throat working, eyes bright with tears.

“Did he call her names?”

“Yes.”

“Did he strike her?”

“Yes.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Martha, did he rape her?”

For long moments, Martha gazed blankly at her, as if she hadn’t heard the question or couldn’t face the answer. So, Andie asked her again. “Did he rape her?”

“Yes,” she whispered, bringing her hands to her face, dissolving into tears. “Yes. He…raped my baby. My precious, precious girl.”

Emotion choked Andie, and she struggled to find some semblance of objectivity. She hadn’t created this situation, it wasn’t her fault. She felt somehow responsible, though. She felt as if she should have been able to do
something,
anything to help Martha and her daughter.

But she hadn’t been able to. She and Martha had been working together for a year, and in all that time, she hadn’t done a thing.

“He started coming home in the afternoons, when he knew I’d be gone. I don’t even know how…how many times—” Her words ended on a wail of despair. Andie went to her and held her while she cried, wishing she could do more. Wishing she could have changed the course of events. After a while, when her tears had abated slightly, Andie asked her how she had found out.

“I came home,” she whispered. “I caught him.”

“When was that, Martha?”

“I don’t know, a month or so ago. Maybe two.”

“What did you do?”

Martha grew still. She drew herself up, meeting Andie’s eyes clearly. “I told him I’d kill him if he ever touched her again. I meant it, Dr. Bennett. I’d never let him touch her again.”

“Oh, Martha.” Andie caught the woman’s hands and squeezed them. “Is that why you don’t want Patti to testify? Are you afraid the jury will—”

“No!” She shook her head. “I don’t care about that. About the jury or what they might think. I have to protect her, don’t you see? I haven’t up until now. I—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared it. “You were right, Dr. Bennett, all along. Patti knew about me and Edward. She always knew. She’s suffered enough, I won’t make her go through that.”

“Listen to me, testifying will be good for Patti. I believe that. She needs to do something. Let her help instead of making her stand back and watch, helpless to do a thing. The way she has her whole life.”

“But if she testifies, everyone will know what he did. They’ll know, they’ll point and whisper. She’ll never be able to go anywhere without people knowing. She’ll never be the same, she’ll—”

“Martha,” Andie interrupted as gently but firmly as she could, “it doesn’t matter if other people know,
she
knows. She can’t go back. To deny this happened to her will only damage her more.”

“But…her life, it’ll change forever.”

“Edward’s already done that. It’s what happens now, how we help her cope with his abuse that will change her life.”

After that, there had been nothing left to say. With Martha’s permission, Andie had called Robert and repeated what Martha had told her. Then he had spoken with Martha and set up a time for them to meet the following day. This would change their defense, he had been certain. He wouldn’t know just how much until he had heard the entire narrative from Martha and Patti, then taken some time to analyze the situation.

Martha’s story, her pain, had haunted Andie for the rest of the day. She had thought of it during other patients’ sessions and found herself feeling responsible and defeated.

She had dragged herself through the afternoon and evening, packed with back-to-back patients, exhausted and spirit-weary. Her patients seemed to pick up on her despair and had reacted accordingly, becoming more frightened or angry or confused than they usually were.

By the time she had seen the last one at eight and arrived home, all Andie wanted was the cleansing oblivion of sleep. She tossed the stack of mail on the entryway table, even though she saw a letter from her mother. Past hunger hours ago, she made her way through the dark house, not even bothering with lights.

When she reached her bedroom, she flipped the switch. Light flooded the room. Her gaze went to the bed; a scream flew to her lips. Someone had left a gift for her, a kind of obscene calling card.

Not just someone, she realized with horror. Mr. X.

Across her white bedspread lay a noose and a black silk scarf.

A
ndie called Nick from her cell phone. He came right away. She met him in the driveway, never in her life being so grateful to see someone. “Thanks for coming, Nick. When I saw… I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing.” He caught her cold hands and rubbed them between his warm ones. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” A hysterical laugh bubbled to her lips. “No, scratch that. I’m not all right. Why is he doing this, Nick? Why is he terrorizing me this way?”

“I don’t know. But I’m here now, and everything’s going to be okay.” He squeezed her hands, then released them. “You wait out here, and I’ll go—”

“No! I’m coming with you.” She sucked in a deep breath, not wanting him out of her sight.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “But stay right with me.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t worry. We’re talking glue here.”

They made their way slowly through the house. Nick checked every closet and cubbyhole, he checked behind and under furniture and to see if each window was locked. He found that the one in the laundry room was not. It was open a crack and the screen was loose, as if it had been pried open from the outside.

Andie looked at it, then Nick, frowning. “That’s not right. I’m sure it was locked, just like all the others.”

Nick only nodded, then went to work. He moved his gaze slowly over the window, sill and screen. Andie had the sense that he saw everything and missed nothing. From there, he shifted his gaze to the floor below the window, and beyond to the overflowing basket of dirty laundry, a bra and a pair of her lacy panties right on top.

Her cheeks burned, and she bent and snatched up the garments and stuffed them into her trouser pockets. “I’m a little behind on my laundry,” she muttered.

A smile touched his mouth. “No problem at all. Nice undies, by the way.”

He squatted and carefully studied the wall and floor, eyebrows drawn together as if pondering a question he wasn’t yet ready to voice. “Does this door lead outside?” he asked, indicating the one at the opposite end of the room.

“Yes. That’s the walkway to the garage.”

“I want to check for footprints.”

There were none. The bushes under the windows looked undisturbed, the siding unmarred. “It doesn’t mean this wasn’t his point of entry, it hasn’t rained in a while so the ground’s hard and dry. But still, I thought there’d be something.”

“Like what?”

He only shook his head. “Where’s your bedroom?”

She led him down the hall to her room. They stopped in the doorway. The overhead light blazed.

He touched her arm. “Wait here.”

This time she did as he asked without a murmur. He checked her closet and bathroom, checked the windows and under the bed. “Just vacuum in here?” he asked, returning to the doorway.

“My cleaning service came this morning.”

He nodded. “Whoever he is, he’s not a big man.”

“How do you know that?”

He pointed to the plush carpeting at their feet. “See the indentations? Footprints.” He squatted; she followed. “There are yours.” He touched a print. “See, same size, same shoe style. There’s mine.” He indicated the marks. “Size twelves. I’ve got big feet.”

“Then those are…” Her words trailed off.

“That’s right, those belong to your mysterious friend.”

She gazed at the prints, her throat constricting. She swallowed hard, past fear. In a way, looking at the prints was like looking at the person who was terrorizing her. And Nick was right, the person’s foot was considerably larger than hers, but smaller than his. They’d worn a heelless shoe, like an athletic shoe.

“You’re amazing,” she said.

He met her eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “Thanks, but any first-year rookie would have noted that.”

Andie doubted that, though she knew nothing about police work.

“Let’s go take a peek at your little surprise package.”

“I’ll stay right here, if you don’t mind,” she said, averting her gaze. She couldn’t look at the bed, at the noose and scarf. Not without imagining the noose around her neck, not without feeling the burn of the rope, not without picturing herself blindfolded and dangling from it.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. “You look pale.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m okay. Just do what you have to do and get rid of it.”

“A couple minutes. Hold on.”

True to his word, a handful of minutes later, he told her the coast was clear. He had examined the area and bagged the evidence.

“I’ll take this downtown, give it to the lab guys and see what they can come up with. But don’t hold your breath for any big revelations.”

They walked down the hall, toward the front door. The closer they got, the more she realized she didn’t want him to go.

“Would you like a cup of coffee…a drink, or something? I have beer,” she offered, remembering his niece, Sam, asking if he would like one.

“Yeah?” He looked at her. “Why not? I’m off duty.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll get it.”

He did, and moments later she returned with a beer for him and a glass of wine for herself. She handed him the beer, then took a seat on the other end of the couch.

She peeked at him, then glanced away, her cheeks warming. She liked the looks of him on her couch, in her house. He filled the place with a different kind of energy, male and electric. Looking around now, the teal walls seemed too sweet, the chintz couch fussy, the flowered window treatments downright saccharine.

She peeked at him again; this time he caught her. And she felt like a high-schooler who’d been caught admiring the P.E. teacher’s buns.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She looked away, then back. “I’m not used to having men on my couch.” His eyebrows shot up, and she brought a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“So, I shouldn’t ask where you’re used to having your men?”

Her face burned. “No, definitely not.”

“I like the way you look when you’re embarrassed.”

“About two shades brighter than a boiled lobster?”

“At least.” He took a swallow of his beer, then rolled the can between his palms. “You want to hear what I think about this whole thing?” When she nodded, he went on. “What you’ve got is a small man, lithe and fastidious.”

At her incredulous look, he smiled. “Hear me out. He made it through your laundry-room window, not a large window, I might add, without disturbing the basket of laundry or knocking over the plant on the ledge beside it. He left no tracks, no clumps or specks of dirt. No dirty handprints on the white woodwork, no shoe scuffs on the wall, inside or out.

“I didn’t dust for prints for two reasons. One, it would have been futile. Whoever he was, he took the time to wipe everything in sight. I could see myself in the brass fittings, they were so shiny.”

“The other reason?” she asked.

Again, one corner of his mouth lifted. “Even if we managed to get a clean print, it wouldn’t have helped. We wouldn’t have found a match. This isn’t a career guy, I’d bet my life on it.”

Andie struggled to breathe. “So, am I in…danger?”

He met her gaze evenly, his devoid of all traces of humor. “I don’t know. But, if I had to guess, I’d say no. I’d say somebody’s getting perverted pleasure out of terrorizing you. Somebody’s feeding on your fear and enjoying watching you sweat. But I don’t like to guess.”

Perverted pleasure.
She swallowed hard.
Mr. X. Leah Robertson.

David Sadler.

She squeezed her eyes shut a moment as fear rampaged through her. She fought to get a grip on it. She couldn’t speculate that way, not about a patient. She had no proof that David was anything but a confused man who needed her help. And even if she did, what could she do? Refuse to treat him and that was about it.

“By any chance, tonight did you call Raven or Julie?”

Andie brought a hand to her mouth. “No. I didn’t even…do you think he might—”

“Have left them a little surprise package, too? He might have, though I doubt it.”

“He’s singled me out.”

“Yes.” Nick cleared his throat. “Would you like me to get a uniform to give them a call or stop by—”

“No. I’ll do it.”

“Why don’t you try them now.”

Andie nodded, stood and went to the phone. She tried Raven first, then Julie. Neither friend was home so she left both a detailed message outlining what had happened, that Nick was with her and that she was okay. She asked both to call her if they’d had any problems.

She returned to the couch; she looked at Nick. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to…you don’t have to leave just yet, do you? I mean, Mara’s not—”

“She’s with her mother.”

She looked down, realizing she clutched her wineglass in her hands, that she hadn’t even taken a sip. She set it carefully on the coffee table. “What should I do?”

“Play it safe,” he said quietly. “Make certain every window and door is locked. You could think about having a security system installed. Or getting a watchdog.”

He took another swallow of beer, draining it, giving her time, she suspected, to adjust to what he was telling her. He moved his gaze over the room. “I like your house.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s a little too girlie for my taste, though.”

She smiled, grateful for his attempt to divert her. “That’s what happens when you’re a girl.”

“I’d heard that.” He set his beer can on the table. “I should go.”

“Don’t. Please.” He looked at her in question, and she clasped her hands together, not believing what she was saying. “I’d like you to stay. With me.”

He reached across and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Beautiful, smart, sweet Andie.”

She flushed, pleased. “Do you really think that?”

His lips curved up. “I always thought that.”

She covered his hand and leaned toward him, aching for the feel of his mouth against hers, despite all she knew to be safe and smart. She lifted her face to his. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you still think I was smart?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’d think I was lucky.”

He brought his mouth down on hers.

She didn’t know what she had expected from his kiss, but not this…explosion of arousal, this heat. She curled her fingers into his cotton pullover, but whether to hold him to her or anchor herself to this world she wasn’t sure. She only knew that kissing had never been like this before, the simple connection of one mouth to another, had never left her gasping.

This was heaven. It was shattering. Cataclysmic. It stole her breath and her good sense.

He groaned and shifted his weight, easing her against the couch’s deep pillows, tangling his fingers in her hair. “It’s been so…long,” he muttered, dragging his mouth from hers, finding her ear, the curve of her neck, the sensitive skin where the front of her blouse parted.

“Too long,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, and again, until she was light-headed and weak with arousal. He drew away from her, breathing heavily. “Is it the fear?” he asked. “Or is it me?”

She gazed into his dark eyes, realizing she didn’t know. Not really, not completely. The fear, the desire, both were firsts for her.

He must have read the truth of that in her expression, because he let out a long breath and sat up. “Shit.” One corner of his mouth lifted in the lopsided smile she realized she was beginning to love. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Me and my big mouth.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She held out a hand. “It doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does. To me.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. He rested his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to sleep with me to get me to stay.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He brushed his thumb across her lower lip; she felt the caress all the way to her toes, almost like a jolt to her system. She shuddered and reached for him. He caught her hands, brought them to his mouth, then set her away from him.

“I’ll stay, Andie, but I won’t sleep with you. When we make love, I want to know it’s
me
you want. Not a cop. Not a bodyguard or a diversion from fear.”

He was right; she knew it with her head. She should be grateful for his cool head and gentlemanly ways. She wasn’t. She was disappointed. She ached with unspent passion.

She made a sound of frustration. “I suppose you think I should thank you?”

“But you won’t?”

“Hell, no. I’m too pissed off.”

Laughing, he kissed her again, hard. “I’m glad to hear that. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take the couch.”