An Imperfect Process (17 page)

"Sounds like an easy name to find in the phone book if he's still around." Rob held out his hand. "Thanks for your help. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so is it okay if later I come by with more questions?"

"Sure. Too many black men sittin' in jail who don't deserve it. If Daniel Monroe is one of 'em, more power to you." Mr. Sam's handshake was Marine tough.

Rob gave him a business card in case he had any other thoughts, then left. So maybe the murder had taken place under conditions more like night than dusk. It was a start.

Now he had more names to trace. Maybe, after enough slogging, he would come up with something that might save Daniel Monroe.

* * *

Like most lawyers, Val was capable of laser-like concentration when she worked, so she managed to keep thoughts of Rob at bay all morning. That ended when she completed her brief. Kendra had picked up a salad for her, and by the time Val had poured on the dressing, her hormones were rioting. If Rob was in the room, she would plaster herself to him like suntan lotion.

She hadn't felt so crazed since adolescence. Pent-up demand after long celibacy, but knowing that didn't reduce her yearning.

She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes until her afternoon meeting, and she couldn't think of a single good reason to call Rob. If she were sixteen, she might have done it and been content to giggle into the phone, but she was a grown woman, for heaven's sake.

The best way to keep from calling Rob was to call someone else, and she owed one to Rachel. Doctors were harder to track down than lawyers, but it was worth a try.

She got lucky, and Rachel called back within two minutes of being paged. After they traded hellos, Val said, "Thanks for suggesting I look into the Big Sister/Little Sister program. I met a real sweetheart—well, not a sweetheart maybe, but Lyssie is a totally cool little girl—and the paperwork is now in process. Did you know how many forms have to be filled out? Practically every address I've ever lived at, interviews, references—even a police check! Not that I blame them for being careful."

"You sound as excited as Kate did when she announced that she was pregnant. Are you still having doubts about your parenting instincts?"

"One thing at a time. The match isn't official yet." Val took a quick bite of salad. "The caseworker said that since I've lived in Baltimore most of my life, the paperwork should be processed fairly quickly. I hope so—I'm really eager to get started, though heaven knows where I'll find the time. By the way, I need references from four people who have known me for at least ten years. Will you give me one? I figure
Dr. Hamilton
will look good on the list, but I warn you, there's a long form to fill out."

"I'm a doctor—long forms are my life," Rachel said dryly. "I'd be happy to do it, but maybe you would be better off with my father.
Judge
Hamilton is even more impressive than
Doctor
."

Val shuddered. "Having watched me grow up, I'm afraid what your dad might say. Do you think he's forgotten the time I built a fort out of his law books, including the ones he had carefully laid out for research?"

"He hasn't, but nowadays, he likes to think that was an early sign of legal talent on your part." Rachel's voice changed. "So how are you doing with the handsome landlord? Do his waters still run deep?"

Val almost choked on her salad. A good thing Rachel wasn't here to see her blush. "Very deep. We're having dinner together on Saturday."

"Splendid! Will it be your first date??"

Val sighed. "Not exactly. Further details classified under the Privacy Act."

"That was fast," Rachel said with a chuckle. "He must be something pretty special to get you interested in dating again."

Val wished she could discuss Rob's tortured history with Rachel—her friend was wonderfully insightful about what made people tick. But Rob's confidences were not to be shared. "He is. One of a kind and really, really nice." She thought of something she could mention. "This morning, I found an origami crane that he'd made and left for me to find. I almost swooned on the spot."

"A romantic! Val, if you decide you don't want him, I want an introduction."

"Not your type. You don't like beards." Val glanced at the clock. "Have to run. I'll mail the reference form tonight. Thanks for agreeing to vouch for me, and even more, thanks for suggesting I get a little sister. Kids in the program have to lack access to at least one parent, and poor Lyssie has lost both. She deserves special attention."

"Thank me after you know her better, and she's thrown a teenage hissy fit," Rachel said. "And when you and Lyssie are better acquainted and in the mood, let's all do something together. A trip out on the boat, maybe."

"It's a deal, Doc." Val hung up the phone and reached for the handle of the wheeled luggage carrier that held three file boxes she must transfer to her replacement on this case. Someday soon, she promised herself, she would have a life where she wasn't always eating and running.

But for now... she sighed and grabbed the last cherry tomato before heading out the door.

Chapter 12

Despite thinking of Rob whenever she slowed down enough to take a deep breath, Val managed to keep her hormones at bay until Thursday. There was no point in wanting to see him when she didn't have the time to do so.

Yet despite her impeccable logic, she still wanted to see him, dammit, which is why she decided to stop by the church after leaving Crouse, Resnick on Thursday afternoon. It wasn't far out of her way, and if Rob's pickup truck was there, she could stop and ask a question about her rapidly approaching move. Just a couple of minutes of friendly conversation to appease her hunger to see him. Then she would go home and eat before meeting with Mia Kolski, the legally harassed single mother.

She had half-convinced herself that he would be away, but his truck was in the lot. When she pulled in beside it, she felt unexpectedly shy about going inside. Two years on the wagon had made her rusty on the rituals of the mating dance.

Or had she always felt this craven neediness? If so, no wonder she had sworn off men.

Reminding herself that she was changing her life and this time was supposed to be different, she took a slow breath and climbed out of the car. A quick look around the church showed that the final finishing work was complete, but there was no Rob. She would have to be obvious. No, think of it as direct. Direct was good. Yet she still felt like an anxious teenager when she climbed the stairs to the apartment.

She rang the bell. Nothing. The truck in the lot didn't mean he was home.

The door opened as she was turning to leave. Rob loomed over her, casual in his jeans and a T-shirt that showed off his splendidly developed muscles. He lit up like a candle when he saw who was on his doorstep.

Val swallowed, feeling even more like a skittish teenager. Ridiculously so, given that they'd already been to bed together. "Uh, hi. Sorry to interrupt you, but I stopped by to see how the office is coming and thought I'd say hi."

"I'm glad you did. Come on in. Would you like a soda or something?"

He stepped back so she could enter the apartment. Clean, spare, and white-walled, it made her think of a monk's cell. Not that she had ever seen a real one. "I have to be home to see a client at seven o'clock, but a glass of ice water would be nice."

"Iced tea?"

"That would be even nicer."

He moved into the small kitchen and pulled a jug from the refrigerator. "Drinking iced tea is one of the few signs of my years in the South."

"You've moved around a fair amount. Does Baltimore feel like home, or was it just a place for you to go to ground?"

"Some of both." He poured tea into two ice-filled tumblers and handed her one. "Plus, it was about as far as I could get from California and still be in the U.S."

She leaned against the edge of the table, which was as casual as she could get when wearing one of her power suits. The kitchen matched the living room's austerity. The only color was a set of whimsical ceramic canisters in radioactive shades of fuchsia, magenta, and orange. "Lively canisters."

"You mean they stand out like a sore thumb. They were a gift from the family that moved into the first house I renovated. The wife made them herself. She likes bright colors more than I do, but she's a good potter. If you'd like sugar for your tea, it's in the orange one."

Val didn't want sugar, but she liked the canisters. "They're fun. You need more color in your life."

"You're right." He ran a slow gaze over her. "Your hair adds a nice bit of brightness to the apartment."

She didn't quite blush. "Any progress with your investigation?"

"Not really. I'll write a report for you, but this is a slow process of talking to people who may lead me to other people who might be able to fill in the missing pieces of a very old puzzle. Investigation takes lots of time and patience."

Even though Rob had the patience, they didn't have much time. "It must be hard to work on a case this cold when most people can't remember what they ate for dinner last week."

"True, but there are a few pluses. Relationships and alliances that were compelling at the time of the murder might have changed. Someone who knew something then but wouldn't talk out of fear or loyalty might be willing to tell the truth now if I can find the right people and ask the right questions."

She paused in mid-swig, arrested. "That's an interesting thought. In fact, it could be our best hope. If the real killer was involved with drugs, he was part of a world where alliances can shift in an eyeblink. Finding the right threads could lead into a network of guys who were hanging together then. Criminals often boast about their crimes, That's why prison snitches are useful even though they're unreliable."

"All true, but folks like that have a high mortality rate. I've already had a couple of lines of inquiry literally hit dead ends." He grimaced. "I would really, really like to talk to Darrell Long and Joe Cady, the eyewitnesses, but as you know, Long is dead and so far I've had no luck finding Cady. I have leads to a couple of people who knew them. If we know more, maybe they can be discredited as witnesses."

"That would help, though when a death sentence is this close to being carried out, it takes something really, really major to get official attention." Such as incontrovertible evidence of who the real murderer was—and even that was no guarantee of saving Daniel. The legal system had its procedures and was not easily swayed from its accustomed progression.

The thought triggered the recognition of why she had been feeling jumpy about Rob all week—matters had progressed too quickly, from businesslike to spending the night together with no intervening steps. It had felt right to offer Rob the most primal form of comfort when he revealed his haunted past—it still did—but now she didn't know whether it was the beginning of a relationship or a one-time event brought on by unusual circumstances. Which is why they were chatting like two people who barely knew each other.

"You're frowning," Rob said. "Does that mean you've thought of something helpful? Or detrimental?"

"Actually, I wasn't thinking of the case," she said slowly. "I've been feeling uncertain about you all week—I'm not sure whether or not we have a relationship or a... a one-night stand."

Instead of blanching at her frankness, he said, "I don't do one-night stands. Do you?"

It was a fair question since she had raised the subject. "Never deliberately, but sometimes... things happen. A promising spark dies rather than growing into a flame." Her mouth twisted. "I told you I've had my share of problems with men. Usually because of wishful thinking on my part. You and I skipped the usual dating stages and went straight to bed, which made me wonder if... if there's more here than sex, or if I'm thinking wishfully again."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Should we pretend the sex didn't happen and just date for a while so we get to know each other better?"

She blinked. How many men would suggest a moratorium on sex in favor of getting acquainted? A gold star for Rob. Still, when she thought of the mind-blowing night they had spent together...."I don't want sex to be declared off limits, but the real reason I came here today was because I wanted some reassurance that Sunday night was a beginning, not an... an aberration."