Arouse Suspicion (13 page)

He followed Danni to the reception area and gave Cathy a nod as Danni said good-bye to her. Once outside, Nick climbed into the passenger seat of Danni's truck.

He couldn't banish his fear for Danni's safety. His conscience reminded him of those he'd been unable to protect. Fractured memories flared in his mind's eye, like a camera flashing pictures. He remembered the bloody bodies of his fellow Rangers sprawled around the helicopter's wreckage. It'd been a miracle he hadn't been killed.

He could almost smell the past—the sharp tang of rage and anguish—as he'd realized he was alone on foreign soil and his duty was to carry out his mission. It was part of The Ranger Creed:
"Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor."

He'd lived by the creed for eight years. It had given him something to believe in, and he had done so, body and soul. Even now, he could recite the entire Ranger Creed. Even now, a part of him continued to believe in it. Even now, he believed he had dishonored it four years ago.

"Never shall I fail my comrades."

"Nick."

The silky voice and light touch on his arm snapped him out of his grim musings. He focused on Danni's oval face only inches from his. Her eyebrows were drawn in concern. "What?"

"What's wrong?" she asked, not shifting back to sit on her side of the bench seat.

He looked away to escape the worry in her deep blue eyes, so different from the detachment usually found there. He hadn't confided in anyone about those days spent alone in the jungle after his fellow Rangers' deaths—not the shrink he'd been ordered to visit after he was rescued and not Paddy. He wasn't about to spill his guts to Danni, yet it was her death he feared, the possibility he'd fail her, too.

He cupped Danni's cheek in his palm and brushed his thumb across her peach-velvet skin. Her eyes widened at the contact.

"I don't want to lose you, too, Danni," he said, his throat tight.

"Nothing's going to happen to me." She clasped his hand resting against her cheek and smiled. "Because if it does, it's
your
ass Dad's going to come back to kick."

Nick laughed, startling himself. He turned his head and kissed the center of her palm. "Let's go to the center."

Danni studied him a moment longer, and her gaze felt like a lover's caress. Nick's breath caught, and his gut clenched with something akin to lust but tempered with affection and respect. Before his control gave in to the impulse to kiss her breathless, Nick looked away, and Danni scooted over to her side of the bench seat.

As she drove to the center, Nick concentrated on the drab city scenery of concrete and gray buildings to forget the sucker punch to his heart. Even if he wanted to pursue a relationship with Danni, his timing sucked. He needed a clear mind to unravel the mystery surrounding Paddy's and Matt Arbor's deaths. And keep Danni alive.

"None of the kids will be around the center this early," she said.

"It's not them I want to talk to. It's the volunteers who might know where Gary or Angela live."

"It's a long shot." Danni sighed. "But I don't have a better idea."

She parked in the center's lot beside a silver Audi. "What kind of cop can afford an Audi?" she asked.

"It's Paul Gilsen's," Nick replied.

Danni wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

They walked across the asphalt to the door.

"You don't like him," Nick said.

She shrugged. "I thought he was a show-off when we were kids."

Nick laughed. "People change, Danni. Look at me."

Danni took him literally and surveyed him from head to toe. "Yes, they do."

Her enigmatic comment baffled him, but before he could ask what she meant, they entered the center. Nick led her to the office where a gray-haired woman sat at a dented and scratched metal desk.

She glanced up, and her wrinkled face lit with a smile. "Nicky."

"Hello, Marge," Nick said. "How's my favorite secretary?"

She shook a finger at him with mock severity. "It's administrative assistant nowadays, not secretary."

Danni smirked, and Nick spied the amusement in her eyes. Less than three days ago, Nick had received the same admonishment from her about Cathy's job designation.

Nick cleared his throat self-consciously. "Marge Hilyer, I'd like you to meet Danni." He intentionally omitted Danni's last name, uncertain if she wanted the center volunteers to know she was Paddy's daughter. "Danni, this is Marge, the center's administrative assistant." He enunciated her title carefully.

"It's nice to meet you," Danni said, shaking the older woman's hand. "Have you been working here long?"

"I used to be an executive secretary before I retired six years ago. A week after retiring, I was bored out of my skull." Marge's hazel eyes twinkled. "I found this place and volunteered my time and expertise and haven't regretted it for a moment."

"The place would fall apart without her," Nick said.

Pink blossomed on Marge's cheeks. "Nicky exaggerates terribly, but that's one of his finer qualities." She eyed Danni like she was examining a melon at the market. "Are you married?"

"No," Danni replied warily.

The older woman beamed. "Isn't that a coincidence? Neither is Nick."

He rolled his eyes. "Marge, I don't think—"

She ignored him and leaned conspiratorially toward Danni. "Did you know he's a famous writer? And he used to be an Army Ranger? I don't know about you, but I've always been turned on by a man in uniform."

Nick couldn't believe he was listening to a seventy-something woman talking about her sexual turn-ons.

Danni leaned close to Marge and peered at Nick with a devilish spark in her eyes. "Maybe if we ask him nice, he'll model it for us."

Nick raised his hands in a warding-off gesture. "Enough already."

Marge and Danni shared laughter, and Nick couldn't help but grin in spite of his embarrassment.

"Maybe we can talk about why we're here sometime this century," Nick said with a lift of his eyebrows.

"No need to be so grouchy," Marge said. She winked at Danni, then gave Nick her attention. "What is it you wanted, Nicky?"

"We're trying to track down a couple of kids named Gary and Angela." Nick described them.

Marge thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Sorry, they don't ring a bell. But then, I'm usually gone by the time most of them show up in the evenings." She pursed her lips. "Maybe Paul knows them. If they've used the computers, he'll have their names and addresses."

"Thanks, Marge. I saw his car in the parking lot."

"He's in the computer room. He dropped off donuts when he came in an hour ago." She motioned to a box of Krispy Kremes behind her. "Help yourself."

After only oatmeal for breakfast, Nick didn't waste time opening the box and plucking out an original glazed donut. Danni opted for a cherry-filled one.

They left Marge's office and went down two doors to the computer lab. Paul was at a station, and he glanced up, startled to see them, then smiled a greeting. Dressed in khaki Dockers and a blue button-down shirt, Paul stood and joined them.

"Nick," Paul said, extending his hand. "What's going on?" Nick motioned to his sticky hand, and Paul laughed, dropping his arm to his side. "You must've stopped at the office first."

"We did. Thanks." Nick popped the last piece of the donut in his mouth.

Paul's curious gaze moved to Danni. "It's nice to see you again, Danni."

"Mr. Gilsen," Danni said with a tiny incline of her head.

"You used to call me Paul."

"We were kids then."

Nick frowned at Danni's hostility. Even if she thought Paul was a jerk as a kid, it was strange that she harbored such a strong dislike for him over the years.

"Yes, we were. Stupid kids who didn't know any better." Paul stared at Danni, as if his words imparted a deeper meaning—one Nick wasn't privy to.

Danni hugged her torso in an uncharacteristic self-protective gesture. "Maybe."

Nick didn't understand the undercurrents running between them, although he guessed it involved something that happened years ago. Despite his curiosity, he didn't press for an explanation. He would ask Danni later.

"We're trying to locate a boy and girl who hang out at the center," Nick said to Paul. "We were hoping they used the computers here." He described Gary and Angela. "Do you know them?"

"I have a couple of Garys that use the computers, but neither matches your description," Paul answered. "And no Angela. Sorry."

Nick shrugged, hiding his disappointment. "It was a long shot. We'll just have to come by this evening and see if they're here."

"Why are you looking for them?"

"We just want to talk to them about Matt Arbor."

"The boy who killed himself?"

"That's right. Gary used to be a friend of his."

Paul shook his head. "Sad thing. I knew Matt. He was a good kid. He used to do reports for school on the computers here."

"Do you think he killed himself?" Nick asked bluntly.

"He didn't strike me as the type, but then it's hard to say. Remember Davey?"

The name brought a remembered image of a round-faced boy with acne and glasses into focus. He'd been the same age as him and Paul. "Yeah."

"Nobody thought he'd kill himself either," Paul said, shaking his head sympathetically. "Who knows what demons Matt was fighting?"

Nick slid his hands into his jacket pockets. "I suppose."

Paul glanced at his Rolex. "I have to get back. Good luck with your investigation."

"Thanks."

Paul ushered them out of the room and made sure the door was locked, then walked with them out to their respective vehicles. He lifted his hand in farewell as he sped out of the parking lot.

"He still drives like a kid," Danni muttered.

"What is it with you and him?" Nick demanded. "Every time you two are in the same room, the temperature falls about twenty degrees."

"He's an asshole."

Danni stuck the key in the ignition, and Nick grabbed her hand before she could turn it. "He's a successful businessman."

"A leopard can't change its spots."

"Cut with the clichés and tell me what's going on."

Danni let out a huff of air and sank back into her seat, crossing her arms. She stared out the windshield, but her eyes were unfocused. "One night after Dad had ordered me to stay away from the center, I snuck over here. Paul was in the gym playing basketball." Her lips twisted into a self-mocking scowl. "I was young and an idiot, and Paul was older and I thought smarter. He was also cute."

Nick blinked at the obviously juvenile description, surprised Danni had used it.

"He had a car, and I was stupid enough to go with him. Alone."

Nick's heart skipped a beat. Had Paul...

"He drove over to the park, and we started necking. Before I knew it, he wanted more." She scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, as if trying to remove a bad taste. "He didn't get it, but I ended up with some bruises and a lesson learned the hard way. I called Sam, and he came and got me." She paused and swept a hand across her eyes. "I never told Dad."

"Why?"

Impatience flared in her face as she locked gazes with him. "Because
I
would've been the one in trouble, not Paul. Dad had ordered me to stay away from the center, and I disobeyed him."

"You were almost raped," Nick nearly shouted in his frustration.

Danni cringed, then glared at him. "Why don't you yell a little louder? I don't think the people three blocks over heard you."

Nick snapped his mouth shut. When he spoke again, he kept his tone lower but no less intense. "Dammit, Danni. Paul Gilsen was the one at fault, not you. Paddy wouldn't have blamed you."

Danni clenched her jaw. "You only saw my father through rose-colored glasses, Nick. He wasn't perfect." Bitterness bled into her voice. "Believe me, I know."

Nick opened his mouth to argue but abruptly closed it. He chose to stare out the side window as Danni started the truck. Was Danni right? Had he put Paddy on so high a pedestal that he could do no wrong?

Sometimes he wondered if he and Danni had known two separate people named Paddy Hawkins. It seemed the only thing those two Paddys had in common was that neither one would've killed himself.

Chapter Twelve

With no leads they could follow, Danni decided to take a drive around the run-down neighborhood surrounding the center. At one time, she'd known the area intimately: corners where drugs traded hands like hamburgers in a fast-food restaurant, alleys where hustlers—male and female—plied their damaged goods, and buildings where gangs dealt both tributes and retributions. Then there were the decent folks who couldn't afford to move but refused to give in to the hopelessness surrounding their homes.

"Where are we going?" Nick asked.

Accustomed to working alone, she replied curtly, "I used to patrol this area. Maybe I'll recognize someone."

Nick nodded. He seemed to sense her brooding mood and didn't press for details. Or try to draw her into a conversation.

Besides, they had nothing to talk about. They'd tacitly agreed to disagree about her father. They wouldn't be able to question Gary until the evening, and that was providing he was at the center. So for now, the case was at a standstill.

She cruised up and down garbage-strewn streets bordered by crumbling buildings and broken sidewalks overgrown with weeds. Knots of belligerent kids, dressed in gang colors, glared at them as they drove past. The teenagers should've been in school, but the dropout rate in this area was the highest in the city. A truant officer would be taking his life in his hands by coming into this neighborhood to enforce public school policy.

"I could've been one of those kids."

Nick's voice was so low Danni wondered if he knew he'd spoken aloud.

"Don't you have a college degree?" Danni asked, her gaze darting between Nick's profile and the street.

"I went to college under the ROTC program." He shrugged. "After graduation, I owed the army four years. I stayed in eight."

"When did you start writing?"

"I've kept a journal for years."

His sheepish smile seemed incongruous with his tough-guy background, both as a teenager on the streets and as a Ranger in the army. It gave him a boyish vulnerability that made Danni uncomfortable because it reminded her too much of her adolescent crush on him.

"When I got out of the army, I couldn't get anything besides night security. While I was on the job, I started reading the Longstreet books. One night I decided to try to write one. Two months later, I sent it in, and they bought it." He shrugged, almost apologetically. "That was the start of my illustrious writing career."

There was a self-deprecating note in his voice, like he was embarrassed, and Danni shot him a questioning look. "Do you enjoy writing them?"

"I used to." He bounced his fisted hand on his knee. "The novel Paddy was helping me with was my chance at writing something more."

Although Danni didn't know a thing about writing and publishing, she did understand the difference between a novel and an action-adventure series book. "What do you mean
was
your chance?"

"I don't think I can do it without your dad's insights. What he didn't know about being a cop wasn't worth knowing."

For a split second, Danni considered offering her expertise. But then Nick could have asked for her help, and hadn't. Obviously he didn't think her insights were anywhere near as valuable as her father's. "Why don't you ask some other officer? How about Sam Richmond?" she suggested, ignoring the dull ache of disappointment, of not being good enough again. "He's retired and would probably get a kick out of helping you."

"It wouldn't hurt to ask." Nick suddenly turned toward her. "What about you? You used to be a cop."

Startled, she wondered if she was that transparent. But even if she'd like to help, she couldn't live up to her father in Nick's eyes. "That's right. I
used to be
a cop."

"What happened?"

Danni put on her blinker and made a right at a corner surrounded by condemned buildings with boarded-up windows and deteriorating bricks. "My partner was killed. It was my fault." She managed to say it without her throat closing or her eyes tearing.

"I don't believe it."

Irritation rose hot and acrid. "You can find his grave at the Hillside Cemetery."

"That wasn't what I meant." Nick's voice was soft and far more understanding than she deserved. "If you really believed it was your fault, you wouldn't be carrying a gun and a PI card."

Everyone, including the review board, had told her the same thing. So maybe she wasn't at fault, but she
had
lost her nerve—the assurance needed to act when someone's life was on the line. Therefore, she'd resigned so there'd be no more Scotts dying because of her.

But here she was again, facing the same dilemma, with Nick's life on the line.

Her chest constricted, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. She didn't want this—the responsibility of an- other person's life. She'd already proven she couldn't handle it. What other proof did anyone need other than her partner's grave?

"Are you trying to strangle the steering wheel?" Nick asked gently.

Startled, Danni suddenly noticed the painful cramping in her fingers and her white knuckles. She consciously loosened her grip, flinching slightly when nerves tingled back to life. "Just being a careful driver."

She read the skepticism in his arched brow but ignored it.

She spotted a black man wearing layers of ragged clothing and pushing a cart filled with aluminum cans across a deserted lot. Stinging memories invoked by Southpaw's appearance caught her off guard. She swung over to the curb and parked with a short squeal of brakes.

Nick, his hands pressed against the dashboard, asked, "What're you doing?"

"Visiting an old friend."

He followed her line of sight to the raggedly dressed man who halted his cart on the sidewalk ten feet away. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah." She hopped out of the truck and closed the door behind her.

Curious, Nick cracked his window to eavesdrop. "How's it going, Southpaw?" Danni asked the homeless man.

"Ain't goin' nowhere," Southpaw replied. "Ain't been the same without you or your daddy round to roust me."

"Yeah, I know." Danni stared over the man's shoulder. "Nothing's the same anymore."

The melancholy in her voice sent a wave of sympathy through Nick. Why couldn't she talk to him like she spoke to this near stranger? But maybe it would've been better if Nick were a stranger instead of a constant reminder of where she'd ranked in her father's life.

Southpaw picked up a Coke can, examined it, and placed it back in his cart before capturing another one. "The Babe wouldn't quit the team."

Danni's shoulders stiffened, and she stepped closer to him, although Nick figured he had to be pretty rank wearing all those layers of clothing in the warm weather. Why would some crazy guy's ramblings interest her?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Your daddy weren't no quitter. Bottom of the ninth, no outs, bases loaded. Ain't no way he'd sacrifice."

"Then what happened?"

"New team come in." He picked up another can, hefted it in his left hand like it was a baseball. "Wild pitch." Southpaw wound up his arm and let the can fly. It clattered onto the sidewalk some twenty feet away.

Puzzled, Nick wondered what in the hell they were talking about. In a way, it reminded him of the coded messages he'd used on covert assignments, but this wasn't Bosnia or Iraq or one of a dozen other political hotbeds. And the old man sure as hell wasn't an operative.

"What new team?" Danni's words were mild, but from the expression on her face, she was struggling to contain her impatience.

"Other team been around longer. Ain't gonna let go of the pennant." Abruptly, Southpaw wrapped his gnarled hands around the cart's handle. "Gotta go. I'm late for batting practice."

Danni grabbed the cart. "Wait." She dug into her pocket and pulled out some dollar bills, then thrust them at the man. "Here. Buy yourself a Coke and a hot dog at the concession stand."

Southpaw grinned, revealing stained teeth and a gap in the bottom row where he'd lost two. "Maybe I'll get me some peanuts instead."

She patted his shoulder. "You get whatever you want, Southpaw."

"You always was a good girl, Danni." For a moment, the homeless man seemed lucid. Then, mumbling to himself, Southpaw lumbered down the street, stopping to pick up the can he'd thrown and continuing toward some place known only in his mind.

Danni shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and stood gazing after the man for a minute or two before returning to the truck cab. She settled in her seat without glancing at Nick.

"Who is he?" he asked quietly.

She kept her attention focused down the block, on the solitary figure. "Everyone calls him Southpaw. I saw him just about every time we patrolled this area. I used to give him some money now and again. Felt sorry for him."

"What was with the can throwing?"

Danni's attention turned inward, toward some memory Nick wasn't allowed access. "He used to be a pitcher for a minor league baseball team. Never made the big time, except in his mind."

"Drugs?"

She shook her head. "A bat alongside the head."

Nick inhaled sharply, and his gaze followed the pathetic man pushing his cart filled with imagined baseballs. "Where does he live?"

"Corner of Fifth and Dupont, in a cardboard box. He thinks he's at training camp." Danni took a deep breath. "We should get back to the house and let Gus out."

Nick sat back as Danni pulled into traffic, his mind on the strange conversation. "What were you talking about?"

Danni shoved her hair back from her brow. "He sees and hears everything on the street, but his mind processes it in baseball terminology. I think he knows something about Dad, but I couldn't figure out what he was trying to tell me."

"He seemed almost normal at the end."

"It comes and goes, but usually he lives in this ballpark in his head." Danni sighed. "The sad thing is, he had enough talent to make it to the big leagues. Dad took me to a game once. Southpaw was the starting pitcher. I was about seven or eight years old." She smiled self-consciously. "I wore my baseball glove, hoping I'd catch a ball."

Nick grinned, picturing young Danni in curly pigtails, a baseball cap, and her glove, waiting impatiently for a ball to come her way. "Did you catch one?"

"No. Dad bought me ice cream after the game to make up for it."

"So you do have some good memories of your father."

"I guess." She flexed her shoulders. "I wish I knew what Southpaw was trying to tell me."

"Maybe we should look him up tomorrow and see if you can get anything else from him," Nick suggested.

"We can try." Danni didn't sound very confident.

A black-and-white patrol car rounded a corner ahead of them. It slowed as Danni approached it, and Nick recognized Karen Crandle, Paddy's former partner, in the driver's seat. The two vehicles stopped, and Danni rolled down her window.

"What're you two doing here?" Karen asked, her bent arm resting on the open window. Her new partner, a man nearing fifty, leaned over to look at them.

"I used to patrol around here. I thought I might see someone I recognized," Danni replied.

Karen made a head motion behind her. "Someone like Southpaw?"

"Yeah."

"What did he have to say?"

"Something about wild pitches and a new team," Danni replied vaguely. "You know how he is."

"Scrambled eggs for brains," Karen's partner commented with a disgusted scowl on his fleshy face.

Danni tensed, and Nick, too, felt a measure of annoyance toward the cop. He laid his hand on Danni's arm, hoping she'd let the insensitive comment go. Her muscles relaxed, and Nick gave her forearm a squeeze.

"Has there been any word on the street about the shooting last night?" Danni asked.

"Lots of it, but nothing that'll help track down the shooter," Karen said. "You'd think everyone was deaf and blind in this neighborhood."

"That's the way it is here," Nick said.

"That's right. You're from the neighborhood. Do you still know people here?"

"No. Most of them are either dead, in prison, or got the hell out like I did."

Karen shaded her eyes against the midday sun. "I'll let you know if we hear something."

"Thanks. We appreciate it."

Karen lifted a hand in farewell and drove on.

Danni continued down the street, a faint scowl marring her face.

"Something wrong?" Nick asked.

"No," came the succinct reply.

Knowing Danni was again hiding something from him, he said casually, "Nice of Karen to keep us in the loop."

"Yeah. Nice."

"You don't like her?"

"Obviously not as well as you."

Nick recoiled at her caustic tone. "Are you jealous that I know your father's partner better than you do?"

Her glance slanted across him. "Should I be?"

Aggravation took the place of bewilderment. "Spit it out, Danni. I can't read your mind."

Fury flared in Danni's eyes. "Are you sleeping with her?"

Danni's question caught him unaware. His mouth opened, but he wasn't sure how to respond to the unexpected accusation.

"Look, I don't care, and it wouldn't be any of my business, except that if you are, you sure as hell had no right crawling into my bed the other night," Danni said, her voice as tight as her fingers squeezing the steering wheel.

Danni's insinuation that he slipped into her bed and seduced her brought his own temper to its boiling point. "You're right. If I was sleeping with her, it's none of your damned business. Besides, I wasn't the one looking for sex that night. As I recall, you were the one doing the asking."

Danni's jaw muscle jumped. Good! He'd managed to piss her off as much as she'd pissed him off. What the hell kind of man did she think he was? The kind who couldn't keep it tucked in when he was in the company of a beautiful woman? There was no doubt that both were beautiful. So why had he chosen the infuriating Danni to break his months-long celibacy?

Maybe I'm just a masochist,
he thought, because it
was
Danni he wanted, not Karen or any other woman.