Turn To Me (36 page)

Stepping carefully over Stacey’s body, I left the empty room, realizing it must be a bedroom in her house, and walked to the kitchen where I picked up the phone and robotically dialed 911.

I sat perched on the edge of Stacey’s sofa while I waited, unable to get her image out of my head.  Why had she knocked me out?  Who had killed her?  Why hadn’t they killed me, too?

The police were there within minutes.  I haltingly told my story while a paramedic checked the huge bump on the back of my head.  The cop took notes, asking me questions about why I’d been there, and why Stacey would hit me over the head.

“I have no idea,” I answered honestly.  Looking down, I again saw the blood on my hands.  I wanted it off.  “Please, can I wash my hands?” I asked.

“Not yet,” the cop answered.

When I looked up at him, it was to see that he was regarding me with suspicion in his eyes.  My stomach dropped.  Oh, God.  What if they thought I had killed Stacey?

“Who's in charge here?”

Both the cop and I looked up at the sound of a new voice coming from the other room.  I knew immediately that it was Blane.  I heard the other cop talking to him.

“Where's the victim?  I want to see the body.” Blane demanded, stepping into the living room.  His gaze landed on me and I had to physically dig my nails into the couch to stop from jumping up and running to him.  His stark expression relaxed infinitesimally, the fists at his side loosening. 

“Let's go, Kathleen,” he said, moving toward me.

“Not so fast,” the cop next to me said, standing and blocking Blane.

Blane's eyes narrowed.  “Why would you detain her?” he asked.  Dressed casually in jeans and long-sleeved pullover, his demeanor was no less authoritative as he addressed the cop.

“She's a witness,” the cop said, “as well as a possible suspect.  She's been present at two murders in as many days, though she maintains that she only found the victims.”

“She’s my employee,” Blane dismissed.  “She had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, really?  Why is your employee here?”  The cop crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Blane through narrowed eyes.

Blane turned to me, and I told him the same thing I’d told the police, that Stacey had called and asked me to come see her.  When I arrived, she’d hit me over the head.  Blane’s hands clenched into fists at that part, his jaw tightening into steel bands as I explained how I'd woken up, escaped from the closet and found Stacey’s body.

“Have the paramedics examined her injury?” Blane asked the cop, his voice no-nonsense. 

When the cop answered in the affirmative, Blane then asked, “And have you found the closet from which she escaped?” 

Again, the cop gave a grudging affirmative. 

“Do you have the murder weapon?” 

I could tell the answer to that one was a no by the way the cop’s lips pressed firmly together, before he gave a quick shake of his head.

“Then you have nothing to hold my employee on,” Blane said, reaching for my arm and pulling me to my feet.  “If you need to speak to her, call me.”  He handed the cop his card and walked me out the door into the night.  We didn't stop walking until we'd reached his car parked on the street.

I stood in silence, watching from afar as police drifted in and out of the house, most of them leaving as the ambulance drove away with Stacey's body. 

Blane opened the passenger seat of his car and leaned inside.  I was startled when something cold touched my hand.  Looking down, I saw that Blane had taken one of my hands in his and was gently and methodically wiping the blood off with a wet cloth.  I couldn't look away from the white cloth that was slowly turning red.  When Blane had finished one hand, he got a new cloth and started on the other.

“I'd ask if you're all right, but I already know what you'll say,” he said roughly.

I didn’t reply.

“You should probably go to the hospital,” he continued, “but I know what you’ll say to that as well.”

I swallowed.  “How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“Kade,” Blane answered.  “When he didn't hear from you, he called me.”

“Why didn't he come?” I asked, wishing for the first time ever that it had been Kade to show up instead of Blane.

“Because I said I would,” Blane said stiffly.

“Well, thanks,” I said, trying to sound grateful.  After all, I was certainly glad I wasn't still in there with the suspicious police.  Spending a day or two in jail was not on my schedule.

“What were you doing here?” he asked, getting another cloth and gently swiping at my jaw and cheek.  I looked up at him, both wishing he wasn't standing so close and wanting him to come closer.

“Working,” I answered simply.

The cloth fisted in his hand.

“Then you're fired,” he ground out.

My mouth fell open in dismay.  “What?  You can't fire me!  I was just doing my job!”

“A job you have no business doing,” he retorted, his eyes flashing in anger.  “That could have been you in there with your blood all over the floor.”

“Well, it's not,” I shot back.  “And it doesn't matter if you fire me, because I'm not stopping.  Whoever is behind this has tried to kill me three times.  It's personal.”

The anger seemed to drain out of him at my words, and he bowed his head with a sigh.  He looked down at my clothes and frowned.  Stepping back slightly, he surprised me by pulling off his shirt.  Underneath, he wore a white t-shirt.  It fit him like a second skin, stretching tightly over his chest and shoulders.

“Here,” he said, offering me his shirt.  “Take that off and put this on.”

“I can't just strip out here,” I protested.  It was dark, but a streetlight nearby still cast too much light for me to comfortable taking off my clothes.

“I'll shield you,” Blane said.  He opened his arms and pressed his hands against the car, trapping me between him and the door.  He was close enough for me to smell his cologne and feel the warmth from his body, but he was right – no one could see me.

“Close your eyes,” I demanded.  I didn't wait to see if he complied.  I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it down my arms, letting it drop to the ground.  I pulled Blane's shirt over my head and tugged it down over my skin.  The smell of Blane enveloped me and I flinched at the sharp pain that produced. 

My hair was in complete disarray, half the pins gone, so I took the rest out, letting the heavy mass fall past my shoulders.  When I was once again presentable, I looked up to see Blane's eyes on me, his jaw like granite.  Of course he hadn't closed his eyes and they burned with a familiar intensity, but something else was written on his face, an emotion I couldn't name.

“Kathleen, I-” he began.

“How's Kandi?” I asked, interrupting whatever he'd been about to say.  I couldn't withstand an explanation – something that might offer me an excuse to forget about her. 

Blane's expression shuttered.

“You're not going to listen to me, are you?” he replied flatly.

“Listen about what?” I knew I was being a stubborn pain in the ass, but I didn't care.  Call it self-defense, call it keeping my sanity, call it whatever you want, I just knew I had to keep my emotions at bay.

“Kandi is serving her purpose,” he said carefully.

I frowned at his odd choice of words.

“Kirk!  What the hell is this?”

Blane spun around, one arm behind him to keep me in place and out of sight.  I peeked over his shoulder and wanted to faint on the spot when I saw James striding across the lawn toward us.  He hadn't seen me yet, his furious gaze on Blane.

“Another witness turns up murdered?  How convenient for you.”  James stopped a foot or two from Blane, his lips curled in a sneer of contempt.

This was so not a good time for James to pick a fight with Blane.  I curled my fingers around Blane's bicep in what would no doubt be a futile attempt to hold him back if he decided to tackle James.  I could feel the coiled tension in his body.  He couldn't go after James, not here with cops around.  I knew without a doubt that James would press charges, and tomorrow it would be all over the papers.

“Get the fuck away from me, Gage,” Blane growled.

James suddenly spotted me.  In an instant, he was enraged.

“You fucking whore!” he yelled, lunging for me.

Before I could even react, Blane had grabbed James by the neck and slammed him up against the car.

“I should rip you to shreds,” Blane threatened him, his voice dripping with menace.

James was clawing at Blane's hand, trying to free himself.  Unable to do so, he swung his fist, connecting with Blane's jaw. 

The blow seemed hardly to faze Blane, though he released James, only to sink his fist into James's gut.  James doubled over, coughing and retching.  Blane stepped back.

“Give it your best shot, Gage,” Blane taunted James, and I realized he wanted James to attack him, just so he'd have an excuse to beat him up.

James exploded outward, swinging wildly at Blane who easily sidestepped him and landed a punch to James's ribs.  James stumbled, then swung again.  This time Blane landed a solid hit to James's face and I heard the crack of bone.

Bent at the waist, James took a moment to recover before he stood upright.  Blood dripped from his nose and I thought it might be broken.  He glared at Blane with hatred in his eyes.

“You know I fucked your girl there, Kirk,” he said, smirking in spite of his injuries.  “Not a bad lay.  But she could use a few more pointers on how to give a decent blow job.”

I gasped, aghast at his lies, then realized too late what he was doing.

“Blane, no!” I cried, but it was too late.  Blane attacked James with a furious energy that sent a jolt of fear through me.  I ran forward, throwing my arms around Blane's waist and tugging.

“Blane, stop!”

I pulled with all my strength, calling his name and trying to reach him through his haze of rage.  To my relief, Blane finally released James.  He was breathing heavily, sweat dampened his t-shirt and his skin was hot beneath my hands.  James stumbled, barely keeping to his feet. 

By now two cops had approached the street.  I watched warily as they came near.

“Arrest him,” James ordered, gasping for breath as he wiped the blood off his mouth with his sleeve.  “He assaulted me.”

The cops watched Blane warily, neither of them moving to do what James said.  For his part, Blane just stared daggers at James before turning towards his car, pulling me along with him.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” James blustered.  “Arrest him!”  He came after us, stopping short when Blane spun around to confront him.

“Shut up, Gage,” Blane hissed.  “Arrest me and my girl may have something she'd like to show the good officers as well.”

James went still, his gaze flying to mine.  I winked and blew him a kiss.  Jackass.

“Let's go,” Blane said, grabbing my hand.

I didn't protest when he put me in the passenger side of his car.  Despite my bravado in front of James, I felt shaken to the core.

Blane drove hard and fast and we flew through the streets of Indianapolis.  I'd never seen him drive this fast before, and I clung to my seat.  Finally, I couldn't take the silence anymore.

“Why would you do that?” I exploded.  “Why would you jeopardize your entire case because of James?”

At my words, Blane jerked the wheel and the car whipped onto a deserted side street, screeching to a halt in front of a darkened street lamp.  He threw the car into park and turned to face me.  His face was as blank as slate, only the burning in his eyes betrayed his emotions.

“James had it coming,” he said coldly, “and I'd do it again in a second.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t understand why you’d act that way, Blane.”  I'd watched him for months with other women and in all kinds of situations.  Blane was always in control.  “It’s beneath you, to beat up an ass like James.  Especially when he was lying, just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Then he succeeded.”

I combed my fingers through my hair, frustrated.    I could see Blane watching me from my peripheral vision.  I looked at the clock on the dash then cast him a quick glance.  “I need to get to work.”  It was after five already.  I had to be at work by six.  “Please take me there.”

“No.”

Startled, I looked up at him.

“Not until you listen to me,” Blane demanded.

My eyes narrowed in anger.  There he was, pushing me around again. 

“Fine,” I retorted.  “I’ll walk.” 

In a flash, I was out the door and running down the sidewalk.  I couldn’t think straight.  My head hurt like the devil and I was freezing, the icy wind biting into my skin.  I knew I was acting unreasonably, my anger at Blane feeling out of control, but I couldn’t stop it.  So I ran.

I didn’t look behind me to see if Blane was following so I wasn’t prepared to suddenly be snatched off my feet.  I shrieked in surprise.

“Let me go!” I yelled, kicking and squirming, but his arms were like bands wrapped around my torso and waist.

“Not until you listen to me!” 

He hauled me back to the car, bracing my back against the cold metal door and imprisoning my arms at my sides.  I couldn’t move, his body pressed against mine and I had to tip my head back to see his eyes. 

“What do you want me to hear, Blane?” I fumed.  “That you didn’t mean for me to see you and Kandi together?  That you’re real sorry it ended like that between us, but hey, it was fun while it lasted?  I get it, okay?  Let’s just move on.”

His expression was like marble, but he winced at my words.  If I had any sense, I’d have been afraid at the anger burning in his eyes.  His nearness was accentuated by the cold of the night, only the heat from his body warming me.

“I didn’t sleep with her.” 

His voice was low and tense. 

“Does it matter?” I retorted.  “You had your tongue down her throat.  What were you doing, Blane?  Giving her mouth-to-mouth?”

“She instigated it, Kathleen, not me,” he insisted.

“Oh.  Well, that makes it all okay then,” I said, my sarcasm thick.

“I didn’t say it was okay, or right,” Blane said calmly.  “But I thought you should know my reasons.”