Daddy's Home (17 page)

An image of herself lying in bed next to Brendan crossed her mind, and the tough cop needed to look away, blushing furiously. What did a woman say to that? She was at a loss for words, for Brendan was absolutely right. If she went to bed with him tonight, Jack’s ghost would be right there with them. Damn it! How had Brendan so skillfully figured her out, sunk into her skin and bones, reached into her soul?

The truly frightening thing was, not even Jack had made her feel so alive and so like a woman. This man had a charisma, an energy that shouted at her to take a chance for a change. Working over dead, decaying bodies was a cinch, but a man with a heart and soul—and she had a pretty good idea he also had a pretty good package between his legs—scared the living shit out of her. Yes, she was gonna have to get out of this and fast, because if she didn’t, this was going to lead somewhere. The wine made her giggle out loud at the thought. Because who really gave a shit if it did lead somewhere? What was she so damn scared of? The answer to that was what she and Brendan would eventually have to talk about. But for now, all she wanted to do was drink wine, eat gourmet food, and look at that delicious face.

“What is so funny?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

They finished the wine and dinner, the rest of the conversation light, warm, easy. Way too comfortable. A long walk on the beach brought them around to the topic of their children once again.

“Are you chilly?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

“Maybe a bit.”

He draped his coat over her shoulders and then brought his arm around, squeezing her close.
Wow, did that ever feel good.

“So, Chloe really likes Maddie, and the two of them are pretty funny together. Have you ever watched them play Barbie? Very entertaining.”
Chatter, chatter, chatter. Keep talking, girl.
The night is getting old like you, and he’ll have to take you home soon.

But was that what she truly wanted?

“Hmmm, yes. And did you know that the girls love to watch Peter Pan?”

She looked at him, not sure what that meant.

“Yes, they do, and I’ve watched it with them a few times. And I have a favorite line in that movie.”

“Really?” Okay, he had to be drunk.

“I love when Peter says to Wendy, ‘Boy, girls talk too much.’ And she says, ‘Oh, they do?’ Peter says, ‘Yes they do.’ I have to agree with Peter on this occasion. The difference is that if Peter were a smart boy, he would’ve kissed Wendy to shut her up. Now, I like to think I’m a smart man, or at least have some sense, so right now I’m going to kiss you. And it’s not just to shut you up, but it’s also because I want to. Would that be okay with you?”

Holly nodded and said, “Then why don’t you shut the hell up and kiss me?”

Brendan did just that. He leaned in and kissed her squarely on the lips. At first it was a sweet, tender kiss. Slow, nice, simple. But as the waves crashed onto the shoreline beside them, the kiss grew heated, intense. Lips separated and passion filled them. Brendan pulled her into him tightly. Delicious warmth came over her as a chill of excitement joined it, every nerve ending awake and alive. Her stomach twisted into wonderful nervous energy as she felt something hard against her thigh. She knew exactly what that was. She pulled away, and stared into his eyes. A flood of passion and energy passed between them, neither one of them looking away, but taking in everything about each other. It was the ocean that broke the intensity as a large wave crashed on the shore, spraying them with freezing water.

“Oh,” Holly exclaimed and jumped back, then began to laugh.

“I’ll say,” Brendan replied. He took her by the hand and they ran for the car, where he quickly flipped on the heater.

Madonna’s voice from the radio sang about dying another day. Changing to a jazz station, Brendan drove away as Sade whispered thoughts of perfect love. Ah, so much better.

Brendan came to a stoplight and they both giggled like teenagers when they looked at each other, neither of them with any idea of what to do or say. It was better than being a teenager. Kids were afraid because they didn’t know what to do. As adults, Holly knew they both had a very good idea about what to do. The nervousness between them came from pure lust. Or maybe . . . God, she hated to think it but couldn’t help it, maybe something even deeper than lust was causing the wetness between her legs.

The front light was on when they pulled up to the house. Still giggling, Holly managed to unlock the door. The sight before them when they walked through the door touched both their hearts. Meg was asleep on the couch with both her sister and Chloe curled up on either side of her. Holly’s chest almost hurt as she sucked in her breath. It was at that moment that she knew. Crazy as it sounded, crazy as it felt, this man, these girls, all of it was meant to be a part of her life with Chloe.

She took a blanket from the hall closet and covered the girls while Brendan mixed them a nightcap. She popped back to her room and saw that her computer was blinking with new e-mail, and the answering machine on her private phone line showed several messages. Screw it. She was having none of it tonight. Tonight was her night with Brendan, and if she wanted to be a normal woman with normal needs instead of a cop for one night, then by God, so be it. Nope, let someone else deal with it tonight.

She walked out of her room wearing a pair of new yoga pants and a J. Crew sweatshirt, ignoring the blinking lights, and headed back to the family room. Brendan was seated in a chair across from the girls, watching them sleep, and Holly wondered if he also felt the connection. That this night could be the beginning of something big for all of them. She hated thoughts like that, but this one filled her mind, and no matter how impractical she told herself the idea was, she couldn’t shake it. So for now, with the intoxicating mixture of alcohol and Brendan, she was gonna make this last as long as possible.

Taking him by the hand, she escorted him into what she fondly referred to as her library. It was actually little more than a few rows of books stacked in an antique book case, a chaise lounge to read and relax upon and a small TV set inside an armoire for those nights when she and Chloe agreed to not disagree about what to watch.

“So what do you want to do?”

He shrugged and grinned. They sat down together on the lounge and made out like the kids they were acting like, learning all the lines and curves and scents of each other’s bodies, reveling in their joy with each other. With the children in the next room, they stopped shy of being too indecent and cuddled in each other’s arms. Holly pulled a crocheted blanket up around them. Before long Brendan’s rhythmic breathing fell into sync with Holly’s, and they were fast asleep.

Some time shortly after three in the morning the jarring ring of a telephone woke Holly. At first she grumbled and ignored it, thinking she might be dreaming, or that it was a neighbor’s phone ringing. Fat chance.

“Holly, Holly.” Brendan’s soothing voice woke her, although it sounded alarmed at the ringing.

“It’s okay, probably the station. I’m sorry.” She left the den and answered the phone on the kitchen table. “Jennings,” she muttered.

“Holly, we’ve tried to reach you for a couple of hours, but got nothing.” It was Maureen. “We tried your pager and cell. I know how you hate to have us call the house because of Chloe, but we had no choice.”

“Uh-huh.” The one night she wanted to run away from it all, turn it off, let someone else run the show . . . She knew they were about to call her in. It had better be something big.

“What is it?”

“He’s struck again.”

Holly was now wide-awake. “No.”

“Not only that, but we’ve got a survivor.”

“Dear God! Can she ID the perp?”

“Nope. She’s in a coma. It’s pretty bad, Holly. He was especially angry this time around. They must’ve fought him off as best they could, because he didn’t even have time to get them out of the house.”

“Hopefully, he left us some trace. Address?”

Maureen gave it to her.

“State Street? State? What was the number again?”

“735 State.”

The number rang a bell, but Holly wasn’t sure why. “Do you have the names of the vics?”

“Lynne and Kristy Greene. The mom was Lynne. She’s DOA. Kristy has been flown to Children’s. A friend of the mom’s came by to surprise her late last night, I think hoping for a rendezvous. He said that he had some tickets for a concert for her. He found them. He’s real shaken.”

Holly almost dropped the phone. She was speechless.

“Holly? Holly? Is something wrong?”

“I’ll be right there.” Yes, something was very wrong.

Holly knew Lynne and Kristy Greene.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Holly changed from the sweatpants into a pair of jeans, leaving the sweatshirt on. There was no time to even consider something more appropriate; her crew needed her, and quickly. Brendan was brewing a cup of coffee for her as she went into the kitchen. The girls were still asleep on the couch, but Meg was starting to stir.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. Can you . . . ?”

He held up the palm of his hand. “No need to even ask. If you’re not home when the girls get up in the morning, I’ll take ‘em to The Hash House for a bit of breaky and then we’ll go from there. Don’t worry about it. I only have to make a quick run into the shop in the morning to check on the animals. Meg can look out for the girls. If you need to come home and crash, I’m sure we can entertain ourselves. Go do your job.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding back tears that had wanted to fall as soon as she’d heard who had been killed. But now was not the time for tears. She had to put on the poker face that covered the hurt and go to work. “You are a godsend, Brendan O’Neil.”

“I beg to differ. You are the one who’s been sent to me. Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll see you?”

“Some time tomorrow. Although I guess that today is tomorrow. You know what I mean.”

He nodded. They kissed again, each now familiar to the other, as though they’d been together for a very long time. Then she was out the door and headed to the crime scene.

She pulled up to the swirling red and blue lights, yellow tape, and the crowd of neighbors who’d been abruptly awakened by the noise. Holly felt the tension rising in her, dreading the sight ahead, and her head started pounding. This was going to get messier with each body if they didn’t wrap this up, and soon. Serial killers were not the norm in San Diego. Temperate weather, sandy beaches, and friendly attitudes were the identifying characteristics of America’s finest city. She knew by the time she made it back to work on Monday after what was to have been a relaxing weekend, that the mayor, chief of police, and whoever else had a political career invested in this city would have left a voice mail for her.

She sighed deeply before stepping out of the Jeep. Passing through the gate, she flashed her badge to the requisite rookie at the front entry. He nodded, and she slipped through the door, grateful to have avoided any reporters. At least the media hadn’t made it here. Yet. It would not be long.

Quaint, clean, sparse except for the various pieces of Native American art—from the wall paintings to the many sculptures. Her friend had never given up her love for the American Indian and all it represented to her. A twinge of guilt swirled in her gut. Lynne had talked incessantly about making a pilgrimage to the Inca and Mayan temples. Holly wondered if she ever had. She hoped so.

Holly turned the corner into the dining room where she heard voices. The splatter of blood smeared across a terracotta wall took her breath away. Terrible and violent things had happened in this house, and the smell of that violence mixed with the chemicals agents used for testing evidence brought bile to her throat. A case took on a different look when you knew the victim. It all now blurred into a gray area, but Holly needed it to be black and white; she needed to get back her focus. She took ten seconds to breathe as her yogi had taught her, and settled herself down.

“Hey, Holly. We tried Chad, but he’s gone missing too. Any ideas?” Maureen said coming up behind her.

Holly shook her head, but she was quite sure of where her partner was and why he hadn’t answered the phone. Damn him. He was busy getting laid and ignoring his phone, when all she wanted was a night of company. Just one night of soothing comfort. Well, maybe more, but she wasn’t as irresponsible as Chad. Fine, the truth was, they’d had to track her down, too. Well, it didn’t matter. She was still going to ream his ass when she saw him.

“Body is over there. No one’s moved her. Robb is taking photos now. You want a look?”

She was unable to speak, so she just nodded, trying to brace herself for what she was about to see. But there was no preparing for seeing what was left of her long-time friend. The brutalized remains of Lynne Greene lay unceremoniously—savagely—in a bloody heap on the floor. Holly cried out, “Oh my God!”

“Told you it was bad,” Maureen said. “He must be one pissed off dude. Figure he tied her up to the metal banister of the staircase. There’s the ligature marks.” She pointed to Lynne’s wrists and ankles. “Then he raped her every which way. Untied her when she was too weak to care, raped her again, then slammed her head there against the brick fireplace.” Maureen pointed to the fireplace, feet away from Lynne. “Next, he stabbed her repeatedly, then slit her throat. But I can’t tell what’s post mortem or not. I suppose Dr. Lareby will fill us in on that.”

“What is wrong with this fuck?” She said the words loud enough that a group of officers turned and looked. Every fiber in her stung with pain at what lay before her. Totally incomprehensible—totally.

Holly wanted to scream.

She tried to gather herself.

Maureen put an arm around her. “You okay, kid? I’ve never seen or heard you act like this before during an investigation.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a little shaky, that’s all. It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I’m tired. I didn’t expect to be woken up to have to deal with something like this.”

Maureen nodded, but Holly knew by the look in her colleague’s eyes that she wasn’t buying it, and who could blame her? Holly was known for her calm exterior, her cool, austere mode of operating, not one to be easily shaken. She had to get it together and work this case. If she let Maureen know that she’d been friends with Lynne and Kristy, it wouldn’t be long before she was pulled from the case, and that was the last thing she wanted.