Fly With Fire (10 page)

He glanced at the door again
and against his will thought about Ms. Whitman, Mo, in the bath. He felt an
involuntary throb of desire and tried to tamp down the sensation, but he
couldn’t help thinking of going into the bathroom and what? Offer to wash her
back? He chuckled. Yeah. Fat chance, Zack. Good one. Still, he thought of her,
and applied a thick layer of bubbles to the tub in his thoughts, like cops back
in the day might drape a jacket over a nude victim. It was the decent thing to
do. Of course, they don’t do that these days. Might disturb evidence.

She was so beautiful in her
odd way. Part oriental maybe? The hair, the eyes. God, those eyes, intelligent
and vulnerable. But they’d lost the humor he’d seen in them the first night.
Her skin. Now pale instead of creamy. That little pink mouth, full lipped, so
ripe looking like a freshly blossomed flower, or juicy fresh fruit. Now it had
a strained tightness to it. He caught himself as his mind began to wander
further. He felt so badly for her. He knew what it was for a friend to die
tragically. Got to stay professional. He sighed again and as he let out his
breathe heard a shriek from the bathroom.

Gun in hand he was through
the bathroom door. He aimed it in one direction and then the other. Mo sat on
the edge of the luxurious tub with the bathrobe bunched against her, her feet
in the water. She seemed to be bracing herself with one hand on the edge of the
tub. “Are you alright?” he asked as he cleared toilet stall.

She breathed out, a
shuddering breath, “I…I stood up, I got dizzy, I just caught myself.” He went
to holster his gun then realized the holster was on the night table in his
room. He laid the gun on the sink. He approached her. She had not moved except
to put her hand on the gilt faucet as if to support herself to rise. Frozen in
this position, her head swirled. She was nauseous and feeling the beginning of
a headache. “I fell asleep. I dreamed I was in a wooden box clawing to get out.
The harder I tried to get out the worse it was. The panic! Then it turned into
Ling in the box and I was so relieved. Relieved it was her instead of me. I was
happy! I was happy it was Ling and not me. What kind of a person am I?” She
pressed the bathrobe to her face and sobbed.

He gently pulled the robe
from her, taking care not to look at her. He wrapped it around her shoulders.
”The kind of person who’s suffered a horrible  loss. Who feels guilty that
it might have been a mistake. Of course you’re not happy it was Ling. I think
you should see a doctor. This is a traumatic thing for anyone to deal with.” He
urged her out of the bathroom with his hands supporting her. “Do you have a
doctor that travels with the company?”

“No.” She let herself be
bundled into the bedroom. He got the robe on her with great discretion. He
pulled the covers down on the bed and fluffed the pillows. “I hate to ask you,
but, could you find out if they’re through with Linc. If I could just see Linc.
I’d feel so much better.” He helped her into the bed and went to grab a towel
with which he sponged water out of her braid.

“I’ll find out what I can.
Ms. Whitman…”

“Mo.” She let herself be
gently covered.

“Mo. I’ll see what I can find
out. This investigation is very new. Everyone is suspect until they’ve been
cleared. You have to understand this takes time.”

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t
your usual job, you must think I’m hysterical.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” He set the
towel aside and looked at her. She looked so tiny in the enormous bed. “Try to
sleep. You need rest.” But her eyes were closed. He stepped quietly from the
bedroom craving to bundle her close.

Mo stuck out her tongue while
the doctor guided a tongue depressor into her mouth. She looked at Zack. It’s
not like she had complained of being sick. She felt so much better now after
the nap. Linc was still with the cops, but the latest news was that while still
a “person of interest” he hadn’t been charged with anything. He was holding up
well. His cousin had come in from Cleveland and was at the police station. The
police still preferred the members of the company not talk to each other until
everyone’s whereabouts at the time of Ling’s murder was verified. She had
talked to the people who had been cleared and to Roddy who had called from his
wife’s bedside to alert her that Mr. Whitney’s personal physician would be
calling on her. Zack must have called Roddy.

The doctor gave her several samples
of Zanax and told her to get as much rest as possible. He handed her the card
for a local therapist. “Will you bill me? What about my insurance?” Mo asked as
he snapped a little used doctor’s bag shut. How did I rate a house call? She
wondered.

“Mr. Whitney will take care
of everything. You just take care of yourself. Anymore problems, just give my
office a call.”

“Is everyone else getting
this treatment?” she asked as the elevator doors shut. She threw the samples on
the coffee table. No way was she taking those.

“No one else is quite in your
situation,” Zack answered handing her a cup of tea he had made with the little
coffee pot.

“You mean no one else is
losing their grip?” Mo asked curtly, not looking at Zack, but at the tea.

“No one else had their
friend’s body found in their room.” Zack was not offended. He was long used to
the varied reactions of people who had suffered a tragic loss.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure like
any other businessman he has to think about potential lawsuits.” Mo felt
immediately ashamed of her tone. She was just snipping at the nearest person
and she knew it. She looked at him. “I sound like a bitch, don’t I?”

“You sound like you’ve been
through something horrible.” Zack sat down on a chair across from the sofa she
was curled on. He sipped his tea.

“You’re an odd man, Detective
Burnham. I can’t help but wonder how you got here.” She tried to force a smile.

“My partner was shot. Killed.
Instead of paid leave I opted for the offer from the mayor’s office while IA,
internal affairs, investigates. Why they offered it to me I don’t know. Then,
oddly enough, perhaps due to my oddity, I wound up here.”

“I didn’t mean to say you’re
strange or something. It’s just weird that I have this strange cop, a cop who’s
a stranger, staying in my room. I should have said it’s odd you’re here. I’m
sorry about your partner.” Mo realized they had each suffered a loss. She had
just been thinking about her own grief. “Were you good friends with your
partner?”

“We were best friends. Though
Ray was a couple years older. Altar boys together, St. Gabe’s, Gabriel’s, down
on the south side. Best man at each other’s weddings. Went through the ranks
together. He made detective a couple years before me, he was so smart. Good
cop. Great man. He stayed in the neighborhood, still lived there I mean.
Involved with the community. When I got married my wife was from Glencoe. North
of the city. Well, it’s not exactly what we call ‘backa the Yards’. That’s the
south side. She wanted to live uptown. So.” Zack shrugged his shoulders. “But
Ray stayed in the neighborhood.”

“And you’re?” Well, no ring.
Mo glanced at his large left hand holding the teacup.

“Divorced.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Mo squirmed a
little uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes by sipping her tea.

“It was for the best. Hey,
the rain’s cleared up.” He nodded toward the huge windows. She had slept the
afternoon away and now it was past seven. A shimmer of sun lined the dark
clouds receding into the western sky. She wasn’t a big believer in heaven, but
just now she couldn’t help but imagine Ling with wings flying above the clouds.
She smiled at the thought. She looked at Zack and saw him concentrating on her.
His green gaze was penetrating and compassionate, as if he knew what she was
thinking. She lowered her eyes at the same time he looked away.

“I’ll get dressed now, I’ve
been in this bathrobe almost all afternoon and evening,” she said with a
nervous laugh. She made for the bedroom then stopped and turned. “What about
you, you don’t have any clothes here, do you?

“I’ll be alright. I thought
I’d go get something tomorrow. Vince Smith will have someone stay with you.”

“But you’ve been here since
yesterday. I’m sure I’d be alright if you wanted to go tonight.” She knew she
really wouldn’t be but she felt guilty, about to put on the clean clothes he
had retrieved for her. “I’m sure you would like to get out of here for a while.
I wish I could myself. I’d love to get out of this room for a bit. Get some
fresh air. Maybe take a walk. But with the press and all…”

Zack started to protest then
looked out the window. Mo’s heart sank a little realizing he might take her up
on the offer. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

They zoomed toward the city
in his Mitsubishi. He’d had Janet Ben-Ghury, one of Vince Smith’s team, pull
his car around to a service entrance, managing to slip out unseen by the press.
They rode with the windows down, the smell of rain still in the air. The air
was clean and cool after the storms had moved out. It was well after rush hour but
there was still heavy traffic. The last light was fading, the last scattering
of dark clouds pushed west but some fog lingered in wisps high in the sky blown
in swirls by the breeze. It felt wonderful to be out of the hotel. When they
hit Lake Shore Drive, Mo was riveted by the view of the sparkling curved line
of Chicago. It stretched as far as she could see. The tops of the tallest
buildings were partially hidden in the moving clouds. City lights were blinking
on high up over the lowest clouds. They’d be revealed one moment then shrouded
the next. The vast expanse of lake was already dark but the well lit shore had
sprung to life with walkers, bikers, and bladers, many with their dogs, not
about to let some wet pavement stop their routines.

“There’s a lot of people
out,” she peered past him to the busy lakefront.

“We have an appreciation for
nice weather. Now fall’s coming. Not that we let cold weather get in the way of
much. Usually, you see a lot of sailboats out there. Some ships. I run on the
lake a lot.” Zack felt a little nervous trying to make conversation. “Have you
ever been here before?”

I was here a couple years
ago. With the show. I never got into the city. We didn’t have a…well, respite.”
Zack didn’t know what to say and she said nothing more but held her hand a
little out the window to feel the air rushing against it like a child might.
She looked at the city leaning her head against the edge of the window. They
passed a marina full of sailboats rocking in the wind. Zack looked sidelong at her
profile and saw little wisps of hair come loose from her thick, black braid. “I
always thought of Chicago as grimy, grim, both I guess. It’s really quite
beautiful.”

“It’s got its grimy, grim
parts. Believe me. But it is beautiful.” Zack slowed at the big curve where the
Drake Hotel loomed over the drive.

“You’re biased, of course,
Detective.” Mo lurched forward and pointed at Navy Pier. The huge Ferris wheel
spun as the lights running on the frame of it blinked against the dark sky. She
wouldn’t mind a stroll in the fresh feeling after storm air. She sighed. “How
do you get there? I mean if you wanted to walk?” Mo was suddenly treated to a
bit of police driving as Zack suddenly cut into the next lane and made a
squealing right turn. A horn blew as Zack weaved and turned feeling a little
foolish, knowing he was showing off. There they were at Navy Pier as darkness
veiled the city. The city twinkled now.

They strolled along the pier
which had light foot traffic. She looked out over the lake and at the boats
loading tourists. “We can walk inside if you want to get out of the wind.
There’s souvenir shops and stuff.” Zack held a hand out toward the building.
“There’s a cool glass window exhibit. You know, antique ones.”

“No, I’d rather be outside if
that’s okay. It is windy, just like they say!” She smoothed her hair which blew
right out of place again. “Montreal can be windy too but the wind around here
never stops.”

“Yeah, but Montreal gets even
colder than here.” Zack had an impulse to put an arm around her. It wasn’t a
date. He let it go. “You know Chicago’s just as well known for the wind of its
politicians. That sure never stops. I could start a hot air balloon business on
the roof of city hall.” She gave him a slight smile at that.

“Why is this called ‘Navy
Pier’? Was it a Navy base?” Mo turned and looked at the glittering skyline.

“It was built for shipping
and warehousing. Big port for shipping on the Great Lakes. It was used for Navy
training in World War II but it was called Navy Pier before that to honor World
War 1 veterans.  Now it’s a big tourist trap. But it’s nice to walk here
sometimes. I think it’s the city’s biggest attraction. Or one of them, anyway.
Sometimes I come and watch a movie at the IMAX if there’s something that looks
good. When I’ve got some free time.” Zack met her eyes as her gaze turned
toward him. He looked away with the sensation that she realized his attraction.
He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“I guess your times not
always your own in your job.” She looked hard at him. He was shy. Despite his
brisk air of confidence, he was shy. At least he seemed so as he avoided her
direct gaze and pointed to the Ferris wheel.