Cold Touch (39 page)

run—far, fast—until his lungs hurt and his feet ached and he could run no more. He’d once told his mama that it felt like he was

running to beat the devil.

Today, he was once again running to beat that devil, trying to stay ahead of some ugly, awful beast trying to grab him from

behind. The dark monster wanted to swal ow him, force him into a hideous place where kids were kidnapped and women

were drowned.

And partners were murdered.

“No,” he yel ed, slamming his hand on steering wheel. “No, damn it. Hold on, Ty. Hold on, man. I’m coming.”

He kept repeating it, saying it louder and louder, to drown out not only the scream of the monster coming at him from behind

but also the echo of those three little words Julia had said . . . the ones he’d refused to hear, absolutely would not acknowledge.

It’s too late.

Olivia stared in horror at Julia, not believing what she’d just heard the woman say into the phone.
Ty. Oh, God, no, please, not

Ty
. Not that handsome, funny young man who had such an obvious crush on her sister.

She’d just walked Brooke out after spending a couple of hours talking to her sister about her plans to end her engagement

and had come back to apologize to her boss for the personal intrusion on their workday. She’d been standing right outside the

slightly open door when she overheard the conversation. It occurred to her as soon as Julia disconnected the cal who she had

been talking to. “Oh, God, was that Gabe? Did you just tel Gabe his partner was murdered?”

Julia’s head jerked as she spied Olivia in the doorway. Her eyes teary, she nodded.

“How do you know?” Olivia asked, stalking into the office, angry, shocked and horrified, not wanting to believe it, even though the hot tears bursting from the corners of her eyes said she already did. “How could you know that?”

“Cooper cal ed here this morning, asking if I’d heard from Ty, because he hasn’t been able to reach him since last night,”

Julia explained, her voice quiet, calm, in contrast to Olivia’s rising emotions.

Understanding washed over her. “You sent Morgan.”

“Yes. He found Ty lying in a pool of blood in his house.”

Wanting to throw up, Olivia swal owed down the reaction and spun in a circle, looking around the room. “Is he stil here?

Wel , ghost, are you here, damn it?”

Julia walked around from behind the desk and grabbed her hand. Olivia pul ed away, not wanting to be comforted, not wanting to share any grief-stricken moments over a young man neither of them had known wel but both had recognized as

someone pretty special. She just wanted information. “Is he sure?”

Julia nodded once.

“You know where Ty lives?”

Lived. Oh, God. Lived
.

“Olivia, what are you . . .”

“Do you real y think I’m just going to sit here and do nothing while the man I love is on his way to find his best friend’s

murdered body?”

Julia’s mouth fel open on a gasp, though Olivia didn’t know whether the woman was more surprised by Olivia’s

determination or her use of the word
love
, which she hadn’t even thought about—it just seemed to come so natural y from

mouth.

“Wel ?” Olivia snapped.

After one more second, Julia broke her own cardinal rule and, glancing toward the love seat, said, “How far is it from here?”

She paused, nodded once, then looked at Olivia. “Okay, we might be able to get there before Gabe.” Then she turned away

and grabbed her purse off her desk. “Let’s go.”

“You . . .”

“You don’t real y think I’m letting you go there alone, do you? I’l drive.”

Olivia spun around and fol owed her, both of them brushing past Aidan McConnel , who’d returned to the office this morning

after a romantic weekend getaway with his girlfriend. In his world, none of this had happened, none of it even existed.

“Is everything al right?” he asked, frowning, as if he knew the answer to that question. Maybe he did. He hadn’t been around

for a few days, had no idea what they were working on . . . yet Aidan always had a way of knowing things. He confirmed it by

asking, “Who died?”

“No time to explain,” Julia said. “Ask Mick or Derek to fil you in on what we’ve been doing when they get back.”

Not even waiting to see if he agreed, they left the office, took the elevator down to the parking lot and got into Julia’s car.

She drove as quickly as she could, but even that didn’t seem fast enough for Olivia, who leaned forward in her seat, as if she

could mental y make the vehicle go even faster. She just kept picturing Gabe’s face this morning, when he’d woken her up with

a smile and kiss. He’d been happy, tender. Though he knew they stil had a long road to travel, he’d almost made her believe it

when he’d promised her that things would get better, that last night was the first step in a brighter future for both of them.

Now, just a few hours later . . . God, what a nightmare.

“Here’s his street,” Julia said, her voice tense, tight.

Liv saw Gabe’s car in front of a smal house in a neighborhood of new homes. The car was parked crookedly, the door not

even closed, as if he’d leapt out before the vehicle had come to a stop. She did the same thing, unfastening her seat belt and

yanking at the door handle even as Julia pul ed in. Leaping out, she ran across the lawn to the smal porch and saw the wide-

open front door.

And there she stopped. Because Gabe was sitting right in the doorway, facing out, his elbows resting on knees, his face

buried in his hands.

Those broad shoulders were slumped, his whole body was shuddering and he was trying to suck in deep, shaky breaths.

But he couldn’t quite manage it because each time he did, a strangled noise emerged from his throat.

Just as grief had its stages and its rituals, it also had its sights and it had its sounds. Olivia had experienced a lot of them.

And she knew this sound, this helpless, enraged sob that came from someplace deep within Gabe. As if he were holding in

the memories of his happy, smiling friend at the same time as he tried to swal ow down the awful reality of what had happened

to him. There just wasn’t room inside him yet for both.

Olivia slowly ascended the outside steps, mourning with him, feeling his grief, stricken at the sight of him, crushed and

heartbroken. She knew he’d come here in a panic, determined to save his friend.

She also knew, since he was sitting here, that it was too late. Far too late.

She shifted her gaze over his head and glanced through the open doorway for a brief second. That was enough. She had to

close her eyes and look away, though she knew what she’d seen would stay with her forever.

Ty Wal ace had apparently fal en right behind the door, which blocked most of his body from sight. But his arm was extended, and his hand, Ty’s limp hand, was clearly visible on the floor just a couple of feet behind his partner. Palm up, fingers

loose and open, the pose so normal but for the red streaks that dripped down from his pinkie onto the white carpet.

Olivia squeezed her eyes tighter, not to shut out the sight but to keep her tears from fal ing freely down her face. Her heart

was breaking, but she knew Gabe’s had shattered.

He had so few people in his life. He’d opened up to her a little during the night, told her a bit more about his family—losing

his mother and his grandmother. She knew he had few friends and that he counted his partner as his best one.

And now Ty had been taken from him, too.

It was cruel. Unfair. This man deserved so much better.

And God knows Ty had.

Final y, when she felt she could keep herself together, she opened her eyes and stepped closer, murmuring, “Gabe?” before

dropping a hand on his head, tenderly stroking his hair.

He didn’t look up, didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her at al . He merely kept shaking, trying to control himself, keep his

emotions in check, like men were taught they had to do.

She dropped to her knees between his legs, then reached up and gently touched the backs of his trembling hands. Stil

saying nothing, he took her fingers between his, squeezing tightly, holding on to her like he needed to hold on to something or

else go completely out of his mind.

She knew that feeling, that cold, desperate feeling. Like you were being lifted by a big, random wind, tossing about in a

storm, just needing something to ground you, keep you in place.

He could squeeze until her fingers broke; she’d take it and offer him anything else he needed.

As if he’d heard the thought, he suddenly let go of her hands, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hauled her up

against his body. Clinging tightly, he buried his face in her neck. She felt the hot moisture of his hidden tears against her skin

and tunneled her fingers into his hair, holding him close, giving him the privacy he needed while also being his foundation, his

rock in this sudden, violent storm. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look past him into that house, not wanting to see

sweet, sexy Ty like that.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So very sorry, love.”

“I was too late,” he muttered, the words muffled, coughed out. “Hours too late.”

Hours
. There was nothing he could have done. Nothing she, Julia or Morgan could have done. Someday he’d be able to

hear those words. But she doubted he’d ever ful y believe them, any more than she’d ful y believed them when he’d told her the

same thing about Jack.

“Can you tel . . . Do you think it was a robbery or something?”

“No. This was
not
a robbery,” he said.

Hearing a sound behind her, she turned her head and opened her eyes to see Julia, watching from a discreet distance. The

other woman held up her phone, making a dialing gesture, silently saying she’d cal ed 911. Olivia nodded once.

“Gabe, the police are probably on the way,” she said. “Julia cal ed nine-one-one.”

He remained silent for a second, and she felt his muscles bunch, as if he were undertaking a mighty struggle to bring himself under control. Final y, though, he loosened his tight grip on her and lifted his head. Olivia turned her face to his and saw

the paleness, the tracks of moisture on his cheeks, the red eyes.

“He was on to something,” Gabe said, shaking his head slowly, as if trying to get his own thoughts straight. “He left me a

message last night, said he was on to something big, thought he’d identified the boy.”

She sucked in a shocked gasp. “Are you saying . . .”

“Yeah. I think whatever he stumbled onto is what got him kil ed.”

She caught her lip between her teeth, biting hard to keep the tears from fal ing, knowing she had to be strong. Olivia just

hadn’t envisioned this. Her mind had gone to other places—a robbery gone bad, some domestic dispute. It hadn’t occurred to

her that Ty’s murder could be related to their case; after al , he hadn’t been nearly as involved as she or Gabe, or even Julia.

But it appeared she was wrong. He
had
been.

“You’re sure?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and said simply, “You met the guy. He didn’t have an enemy in the world. He was the nicest

cop, the most . . .” His voice broke a little, and he sniffed. Then he finished. “The most decent man I’ve ever known.”

Hearing sirens in the distance, Olivia began to think, quickly trying to sort through al the little details, al the pieces of the

puzzle. This changed things. She’d come here to comfort a lover, to help mourn a new friend. Now, though, if Gabe was right, if

this murder was connected to the case, then she might have been the one who’d brought the eyes of a monster onto that

sweet guy. She’d been the one who’d started digging al this muck up, pushing Gabe and his partner to believe her when

she’d said she recognized the forensics sketch.

Good lord, if she hadn’t ever turned on the TV set the other day, hadn’t seen that sketch, Ty Wal ace would probably stil be

alive.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, knowing she sounded horrified now, not merely aggrieved.

He noticed, stiffening, lifting a hand to her cheek. “What are you saying?”

“If I hadn’t . . .”

“Don’t even go there,” he ordered. “Ty was doing his job, a job he loved. This has absolutely nothing to do with you, do you

understand me? Nothing.”

So he didn’t blame her. That was something at least. But she knew she’d blame herself for a while, always wondering.

There was only one way she could make sure something good came out of this, one thing that would perhaps enable her to

forgive herself—and perhaps al ow Gabe to let go of some of the guilt she knew he’d be carrying, too.

They had to find the boy, Jack.
Had to
.

“Gabe,” she said, speaking careful y, “is there anything you think we should do, before the police get here?”

She didn’t put it out there. Didn’t make the offer, knowing how he’d acted last night to the very idea of her touching the

victims found in the woods. But, God, this was his friend, his partner. This man deserved justice.
And Jack has to be found
.

He didn’t catch her meaning, stil looking a little dazed. He put his hands on his knees and slowly rose to his feet, careful not

to touch the doorjamb or the open door. She had no doubt he’d gone inside to see if there was any way he could save his

friend. Then his cop instincts had kicked in. He’d come out here to grieve, doing nothing to contaminate the scene further.

He extended a hand to help her up. “I guess we oughta get our stories straight,” he muttered, sounding so tired, so sick of