Body of Lies (18 page)

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Authors: Deirdre Savoy

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Body of Lies
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“January twenty-fifth, exactly one month after Christmas.”
“What did she look like?”
“Like every other kid these days: thirteen going on thirty-five. Too much hair, too much boobs, too much makeup.”
Just the way Thorpe liked them. “A Catholic school girl?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“We like a guy named Walter Thorpe for the killer. Seems to be his type. A kill on January twenty-fifth would fit his pattern, but there wasn't one that month.”
Darryl took a long pull from his bottle. “Then this kid might be luckier than she knows. Last I heard, she was mad at her mother for taking the computer away.”
That seemed a reasonable reaction for a thirteen-year-old, if his Stevie was anyone to go by. “Assuming for a moment that your guy and my guy are the same guy, what can we do? Without getting into too much detail, we believe he's probably going under the screen name Hercules or some variant. So far we've found fourteen guys.” Zach had rested the file containing the profiles on his lap. He picked it up and handed it to Darryl. “We're running down the profiles. So far, nothing yet.”
Darryl opened the file and scanned the profiles. “I don't think I've seen any of these guys yet. We can add a page with a girl more to this guy's taste and see if he bites.”
“I appreciate it.” Zach stood. “I'll let you get back to your family.”
“No problem.” Darryl stood and shook his hand. “I'll let you know if he pops up on the radar. “What do you want me to do with him if we hook him?”
Zach winked. “Make him fall in love.”
 
 
She'd expected him to show up and he didn't disappoint. He came to her house a little after nine. She'd already changed into her nightgown and bathrobe and enjoyed a catnap on the sofa that was thankfully dream-free. She opened the door to him and the first words that sprang into her mind tumbled out of her mouth. “You look like hell.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “And to think I thought I missed that bluntness of yours.”
She ushered him inside the door and closed it behind him. “Have you eaten?”
His answer took a moment to come, as if he had to consider it. “Actually no.”
“Unfortunately, I haven't cooked in days, but I can offer you a sandwich.”
“I'll take it.”
She led the way back toward the open space that housed both the kitchen and the dining area. She paused briefly at the table. “Have a seat, I'll have it ready in a minute.” She continued on to the refrigerator, taking out the fixings for his meal, and brought the items to the counter. Zach was still standing pretty much where she'd left him, looking around the space in that way he had that seemed to drink in his surroundings while giving away nothing of what he felt about them. Was he seeing the room the way it had been thirteen years ago, how it was now, or was one superimposed on the other?
Then his gaze focused on her. “It seems you have done some redecorating.”
She shrugged. At one time the cabinets had been a dark wood, the stove and refrigerator had been two avocado relics from the seventies, and the only dishwasher in the place had been her. Now the cabinets were a lighter wood and the appliances were white, which gave the room an airier feel. “Those pesky people from Sears kept coming around. They made me an offer I couldn't refuse.”
He smiled. “Looks good.”
“Thanks.” That's all the conversation she could muster at the moment. She supposed he'd fill her in on his progress, which she wanted to hear once she was seated with a glass of merlot in her hand. She also knew he'd try to convince her to stay somewhere other than her own home tonight. She'd rather hear that under the same conditions, as well.
Luckily, she'd finished the sandwich. She brought it and a bottle of beer to the table. “I hope you don't mind roast beef.”
He slid into the seat that had traditionally been his as she set the food down in front of him. “Thank you.”
She went back to the counter to claim the wine she'd poured for herself. By the time she got back to her seat he'd already devoured half the sandwich. She remembered Zach as a more deliberate eater. He really must have been busy if he hadn't taken the time for a meal. “Did you find out anything new?”
Zach put down the sandwich and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Our latest tip on where to find Thorpe turned out to be a bust.”
“Why is it so hard to find him?”
“For one thing, we've got every crazy and his mother calling in tips, and each has to be checked out. Besides, Thorpe was a loner. He's got one ex–cell mate and one living relative, both of whom claim not to have seen him. He doesn't have a bank account or a credit card that we know of that we could have used to track him. If it weren't for his gift to you, we couldn't even be sure he was still in the area.”
“Glad to know it served some purpose other than scaring my office half to death.”
“I met with one of the detectives that works with online crime. They've already started working on the Yourplace site. It seems some other girl was approached by a similar type of guy.”
“You don't think it's the same man?”
“Probably not. When you think about the number of wackos and perverts out there, especially in New York, it would be too much of a coincidence. But a lot of these guys operate in the same way. This guy was probably just looking for some supposedly consensual underage sex, which is bad enough. Not all of them are as sick as Thorpe.”
He took a last swig of his beer and set the bottle on the table. His gaze settled on her, assessing her with the same intensity with which he'd surveyed the room. What did he see when he looked at her like that? Not really wanting to know, she stood and picked up the empty bottle. “I'll get you another.”
Before she could move, he grasped her arm to prevent her from going. “What's going on with you, Alex?”
“What do you mean?”
He gazed up at her, a sardonic expression on his face. “For one thing, why are you being so nice to me?”
She sighed. He was too observant not to have noticed a change in her. He'd probably noticed this afternoon. But how could she explain to him what she felt? That Roberta was right, she did have lingering feelings for him and not all of them were bad. Most of them were quite good, which was the scary part. Mostly, it took too much out of her to still be angry with him.
She felt him take the bottle from her fingers. “Tell me.”
She took a step backward to slide back into her chair, dislodging his hold on her. “I realized I was punishing you for things that weren't really your fault. I thought it was time to let you off the hook. You've been very good to me. You've kept me in the loop, and I know you're the one who got McKay off my back. You've even taken my ideas seriously, which I know is hard for a cop to do.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She shook her head. “It's odd, but at one time you were the only person with whom I could be myself. But I don't know how to act around you anymore. I think that's part of the reason why I was angry with you, too. Being angry provided me with a definitive role, the injured party. But we hurt each other, didn't we?”
He didn't answer that, which didn't surprise her since she hadn't really expected him to. He looked away from her for a moment, seeming to be debating with himself what to say next. When he looked at her again, he gestured toward her attire. “I take it you haven't packed anything yet.”
“No.”
“You know you can't stay here, Alex.”
She did. She didn't want to stay, either. She'd found sleep only because she was exhausted, but since waking every creak and groan of the old house had put her on edge. She'd answered the door when Zach arrived before he'd had to knock. She'd heard him when he pulled up. Unfortunately, she had nowhere else to go. She'd given up her apartment in the city when her marriage dissolved. She couldn't bring risk to anyone else she knew by staying with them. In truth, she'd planned on staying at a hotel for a few days, but she feared she'd be as alone there as she was at home, which was part of the reason she'd put off doing anything about finding a place to stay.
More than she feared anything this killer might do, she didn't want to feel so isolated any longer. At least in her home, things were familiar. Even if the memories haunted her, they were hers.
Obviously he took her silence as protest. “This man is dangerous, Alex. If he's set his sights on you, there's no telling to what lengths he'll go to in order to get to you.”
She heard the concern in his voice and wondered if it was the cop in him that engendered it or the man who had once meant a great deal to her. “I know,” she said, even though she believed his message was sent not to threaten her but to prove how clever he was. What else would he do to prove his cleverness? “But don't waste your time trying to scare me. I'm already scared.”
“Then maybe I can persuade you to get ready to leave. It's getting late.”
True, it was. She needed to stop stalling. “Do you suppose I can just show up at the Sheraton or should I call for a reservation?”
He shook his head as if he couldn't believe she'd made that comment. “Alex, you're staying with me.”
Her eyebrows lifted. As laissez-faire as Zach was known to be, he also possessed an authoritarian streak that had often annoyed her. “I am? How convenient for you.”
He grinned in a way that said he hadn't missed her implication. “Don't worry. I don't have any ulterior motives in mind. Besides, we'll have a sixteen-year-old chaperone. My niece is staying with me.”
Even if that were true, it didn't change the inappropriateness of her staying with him. “Won't your superiors have something to say about that?”
“Why should they care? You're not a suspect. Although Thorpe contacted you, it's not a crime to send flowers, so you're not a victim. The car outside is a courtesy and, if you're right, a vain attempt at hoping to spot Thorpe. I don't see a problem.”
She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, wishing she had some other argument to present.
“Don't try to outstubborn me on this, Alex. I promise you, you'll lose. Besides, you'll be doing me a favor.”
“How's that?”
“It's my turn to host the family dinner tomorrow night. My sister's husband was killed a year ago. Ever since then things have been strained and I don't know what to do about that. On top of that, my brother and his wife seem to be having problems.”
“Her name is Barbara, right? I thought they practically came out of the womb married.”
“They did.”
“What do you need me for? As a cook or to organize a family shrink-a-thon?”
“Neither, but I would appreciate a little advice.”
She scanned his face. His expression was somber, concerned. She thought she understood him now. In every family, but especially in those that were abusive or formed by trauma, familial roles tended to be strictly prescribed. From what he'd told her, his older brother and sister had become mama and papa. His younger brother the baby to be protected. He, on the other hand, was viewed as more of the black sheep, the outsider—or in his own terms, the family fuck-up who couldn't get with the program.
She'd known thirteen years ago that being cast in that position had hurt and alienated him. But now that wound must go deeper, especially considering that the outside world didn't view him the same way. He had the respect of his colleagues and peers but none from the people who mattered most to him.
He wanted now what he'd always wanted—to be the hero for a change, not the villain. He wanted to be the one with the answers, and if she could do that for him, she would.
“All right, Stone,” she said. “You win. This time. I won't be long.” She rose and headed up to her room to pack.
 
 
After Alex left, Zach went to back to the table, cleared his place, and rinsed his dish in the sink. That done, he leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms.
Alex had surprised him tonight, both in her easy acquiescence to leaving her home and her change in attitude toward him. He'd seen a glimpse of it this afternoon, but not full-blown like tonight. If anyone asked him, he'd prefer it if she were still mad at him. At least then if she changed her mind about him, he'd deserve it. This way, he hadn't earned the redemption he'd sought; she'd simply let him off the hook.
But could she really do that? Set aside her emotions simply because she chose to? Maybe, if all that stood between them was the way things ended. But he remembered that day, a beautiful spring afternoon. They'd been out patrolling the area around Fordham Road and the Grand Concourse. It had rained the previous two weekends, but this day the population was out in droves: young mothers out in the stores, pushing strollers and trailing a line of older kids. Gray-haired
abuelitas
sitting on the stoop or in folding chairs drinking coquito talking about their grandkids. Young punks in wife beaters and jeans prowling for chicks; clutches of young girls gathered together, giggling, pretending not to notice the boys. And all the noise: the bell of the
coco helado
or icey man, raised voices and shouting, Latin music vying with hip-hop, blaring from storefronts and car windows.

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