Deathblow (12 page)

“That’d be fun.” Justin was nuts about animals. “So you like living with Bing?”

“A lot. Like pitifully a lot. I’m so much in love with him it’s embarrassing.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment and groaned. “Oh God. I turned into one of those women who can’t shut up about their men. Kill me now. Where is my pride?”

“Drowned in hot, steamy sex?” Wendy put in helpfully.

Sophie had stars in her eyes. “Yeah. Well, that part is great too. I’ve never been this happy.”

Wendy smiled and wondered what a relationship like that would feel like. It seemed so foreign, she had trouble believing something like that existed. Yet the proof was here, sitting on the couch next to her.

“I couldn’t be happier for you.” She meant it.

“Thanks. Do you need help with cleaning up your place?”

Ugh.
She didn’t want to think about that mess, but she supposed she had to. “I think I’m good. It’s just carrying down the broken stuff and straightening the rest. I can do that tomorrow.”

“You should get a restraining order.” Sophie was that kind of no-nonsense girl. Little intimidated her.

Wendy gripped her cup. “I don’t want to make Keith mad.”

“I don’t think you can get away from him without making him mad.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I still keep thinking that if I’m nice to him, he’ll be nice about the custody.”

“How has that worked out for you so far?”

Okay, so Sophie was the type to call an ace an ace. Or a jerk a jerk.

Wendy sighed. “Not too well.” She held the cup in both hands and let the warmth seep through her skin. She could see the faulty thinking. Yet to go fully against Keith and face his terrible anger scared her. Even now, with him behind bars, she couldn’t believe that she was safe. What was wrong with her? “I feel so stupid.”

Sophie tilted her head, nothing but love and support in her eyes. “You’re not stupid.”

Wendy didn’t want to be. She wanted to be smart about this. There was so much at stake. “I’ll stop by the police station to ask for a restraining order on my way home tomorrow. In case he gets out.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine.” This was her problem. She had to be able to handle it. She
would
handle it.

“So I met Terry from down the street,” she said to change the subject. “If you want to rent to her, she could have the house starting the first of May. Justin and I’ll spend the night, if you don’t mind, since it’s too late to start cleaning the apartment tonight. But we can head back home in the morning, fix things and have the place back to seminormal by tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

“I don’t. You should have seen the desperation on Terry’s face.”

“I’ve seen it.” Sophie sipped her tea. “I’ll call her, but only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”

She nodded. She needed to go back to her normal life. “Terry needs to be saved from a nervous breakdown. And you shouldn’t lose out on rent money. The way Bing looks at you, you better start saving for a wedding.”

Sophie grinned, her entire posture relaxing, light spreading through her. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

Love looked good on her. Gone were the post-transplant dark circles from under her eyes, that tired look that had lingered on too long after the surgery.

Sometimes love gave you a glow, sometimes it gave you bruises. Wendy bit back a groan. She was beginning to sound like a country song.

“If he makes you this happy, I’m all for it. Even if he’s a little scary. He looks like he could seriously hurt someone if he put his mind to it.”

“He’s a big teddy bear. Joe too, by the way. He looks tough, but I’ve never seen him lose his temper.” Sophie smiled. “He’s so sexy even his scar is sexy. You two look scary good together, by the way. Did you know he used to be a wide receiver?”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Local businesses have his picture on their wall. It’s freaky. I’m surprised they don’t have a statue of him in the Main Square.”

Sophie laughed. “Don’t give anybody ideas. People like him a lot around here. Bing says he did a lot for the town for the short time that he was in the limelight. Funneled in a ton of charity money, that kind of thing. He set up a fund that keeps the no-kill animal shelter going.”

That painted the kind of picture Wendy hadn’t considered before. She’d pictured Joe’s big-shot football-player years as partying with cheerleaders, not doing good and giving back, worrying about strays.

“He definitely has major hotness going on.” Sophie glanced toward the back door.

“I’m not going there. Wrong guy, wrong time.”

Sophie signed. “That’s what I said about Bing. Turns out I was wrong.”

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

They bit back their smiles as the men came inside.

After Sophie and Bing left, Joe cooked dinner. He insisted that it was his turn and made a mean spaghetti-and-meatball dish. The aroma of tomato sauce and parmesan filled the air, along with oregano and basil. He was whistling as he stood by the stove, shirtsleeves rolled up over sculpted forearms. He picked up Justin and let him stir.

He grinned at her when he caught her staring. “You look surprised.”

“I didn’t picture you cooking.” More like watching a game on TV while the woman in his life got dinner ready.

“You take me for a total jock. I feel like I should be offended.”

“No offense.”

“None taken, then. You don’t like jocks.”

“Keith was one. Played some football in college. He likes to golf now.”

“I see.”

She had no idea what he saw, but she said nothing.

He seemed preoccupied while they ate an early dinner, but kept answering Justin’s questions about dinosaurs. He knew all the names. He was a veritable paleontologist, the both of them completely engaged.

She wasn’t a fan of existing reptiles. She cared even less for their ancestors. Maybe it was a boy thing.

Then Justin finished his food and ran off to play.

“I have to go out tonight. Police business,” Joe told her. “Are you going to be okay alone?”

“Keith is in custody. We’re going home in the morning.”

He looked like he might protest, but instead, he picked up his empty plate and walked it over to the sink.

As much as she hadn’t liked the idea of Joe moving in, now that the danger was over, she could appreciate it. It
was
nice of him to take time out of his schedule. And it was definitely nice of him to watch Justin while she’d worked. And she
was
glad that he’d been with her when she’d found the bloody wig inside that package. That had freaked her out pretty badly.

“Thanks for watching over us.”

“Not a problem.” He cleaned his plate, put it into the dishwasher, then turned to leave. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

If he wasn’t back by morning, they’d be gone. She wondered when she would see him again. She’d miss him. She squashed that thought. “Stay safe.”

“You too. And lock up behind me.”

She did.

Her cell phone rang—unidentified number—as she was heading up the stairs with Justin to give him a bath.

“Hey,” a strange voice said when she picked up. “Keith used his one phone call already to call his lawyer, so he paid me to use mine to call you. He said don’t worry about anythin’. He’ll be home soon. He’ll be takin’ care of you and the kid. He says that’s a promise.”

The man on the other end put the phone down, the cold click ringing in her ear. She shoved her cell into her back pocket, picked up Justin, and held on to her baby as she carried him up the stairs.

She knew what taking care of her meant. But Justin…. Oh God, would Keith file for official shared custody to teach her a lesson? Yes, he would. He was mad at her, and he would do anything to hurt her, teach her a lesson.

Keith wouldn’t get full custody, she told herself. He wouldn’t get any kind of custody for years, hopefully. He was going to go to prison.

She was going to be free of him for a long time. And during that time, she would figure out how to be free of him forever. She would save every penny she made and hire the best lawyer. Or move far away with Justin, someplace where Keith would never find her.

She’d fought back before. It hadn’t worked, so she’d given in. She knew now that had been a mistake. Keith wasn’t going to turn reasonable. She was going to have to find new ways to fight him.

Because there was no way she’d let Keith get his hands on Justin.

Wendy was safe. Joe still hated to leave her, but he had a job, and he was going to do it. He strode into the station, looking for the captain, but Bing had Jack Sullivan, one of the detectives, in his office.

“That’s a new style for you,” Leila commented from behind the reception desk as she looked Joe over.

In her mid-forties, she was trim, with short dark hair, a no-nonsense style and attitude. Her only weakness was shoes. A person was well advised not to ask her how many pairs she had. Touchy subject. She wore a modest pair today, although the heels looked like they could be used as a weapon in a pinch.

She squinted as she scrutinized Joe’s best gangbanger wear: expensive sneakers, loose pants, black shirt.

Joe shrugged. “It’s good to switch things up now and again.”

He’d gone undercover as an up-and-coming Jersey wise guy, wearing an Italian suit when he’d first approached Ramos, then he’d changed little by little to fit in. In Ramos’s neighborhood it was better not to stick out too much on the street. Especially since Joe was supposedly hiding out in Philly. Lil’ Gomez had had a lot of fun advising him on how to blend, then mocking him when he’d been slow on the uptake.

The more he looked like one of the guys, the more they treated him as such. His skills with basketball didn’t hurt either. He’d played football, but he was fast, and he had good hand-eye coordination. Give him a ball, any ball, and he’d do well with it. Ramos had a steel hoop on his garage behind the house, and his crew spent plenty of time bouncing the ball on the driveway. They were just kids, really. Ramos was the oldest at twenty-three.

Leila shook her head as her gaze settled on Joe’s footwear. “I don’t know if I can trust a man who has fancier shoes than I do.”

Joe grinned. “You’re jealous, and you know it. Working late?” Then his gaze wandered to the bulletin board behind Leila, where something sparkly hung from a long piece of red yarn and threw a rainbow over the paperwork as the sun coming through the window caught it. “What’s that?”

“A crystal,” she said in a tone that would have gone better with
dog turd.
 

Joe raised an eyebrow.

“It’s something to do with breaking up bad energy.” She rolled her eyes. “Robin. She’s having plumbing issues. She’ll be in later.”

As Joe nodded, he noticed the lucky bamboo on the counter.

Leila followed his gaze. “Don’t ask.”

Leila was a no-nonsense woman who was likely a Marine drill sergeant in a previous life. The front desk, the break room, the files, the entire station, in fact, were organized within an inch of their lives. Which made life easier for everyone. They had more time to spend on fighting crime if they didn’t spend half their lives looking for something.

Robin Combs, the new part-time dispatcher, was a hippie in her mid-sixties, a self-professed psychic.

“She wants to paint the front door red,” Leila said. “It brings good luck in feng shui.”

“She’s not Chinese.”

Leila’s nostrils flared. “She’s one with the universe.”

Joe looked at her and made a mental note to suggest to the captain that there was always someone at the station around shift change. It’d be bad press for the PD if the two dispatchers strangled each other.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t like Leila to get upset over every last little thing. This was about more than lucky bamboo. About to walk off, Joe pulled back. “What did Robin really say?”

She huffed, but then she drew her spine straight. “She said I’ll fall in love again. That I’m going to get married.” The last words were uttered in a tone so cold it could have frozen the leaves off the lucky bamboo. “As if I didn’t love my Billy.”

Joe clamped his mouth shut. In fact, he grabbed an oatmeal cookie from the counter and shoved it in there. “Mhm. Uhm.” He made some sympathetic noises, then took the coward’s way out and slinked off for coffee.

He caught Harper coming from the interrogation room.

“Hey, the captain said you’d be coming in. I just brought in the suspect in the Brogevich case. The schizophrenic patient, Lewis Brown. He’s not saying much.”

Joe thought of Phil, stepped forward. “I’d like to give it a go.”

Harper moved aside. “No problem. He’s all we got for now. Judge’s dragging his feet on the warrant for patient records. Touchy subject, since the victim was a psychiatrist. He could have prominent people among his clients, the mayor, anybody. The captain put a call in. We’ll get a warrant, but it might take a while.”

“I can help with going through the patient records when you get them.”

“That’d be great.”

They exchanged a look of we’ll-get-this-done, then Joe stepped into the interview room, while Harper went to the observation room to watch.

The man sitting by the small table in handcuffs was in his mid-twenties, average height, skinny, wearing faded jeans and a wrinkled yellow shirt. His wild black hair stuck up in every direction. He fidgeted on the chair, clasping and unclasping his hands on the table, clearly agitated.

He started with, “They want to frame me.”

“Hi, Lewis. I’m Officer Kessler. I’m here to help you.” Joe took the seat across from the man. “Who wants to frame you?”

“The government.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t trust you. First they used my doctor to make me crazy. Now they’re using you.” Lewis dropped his hands into his lap and shrank back. “You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” He shrunk back in his chair, sweat beading above his lips.

Joe kept his posture relaxed. “I’m here to help. I promise. Where’s your doctor now?”

“Dead. They killed him. They killed him because he failed with me.”