The Heart Has Reasons (39 page)

Would
this freaking nightmare never end?  “I’ve already told you there was no
such incident.”

“Would
it interest you to know that the men also identified Mr. O’Malley in a
line-up?”

“It
surprises
me, since he’s not the man who kidnapped me.  I hope
you’re not planning to charge an innocent man with something he didn’t do.”

“You
told the detectives your abductor wore a black ski mask and, coincidentally,
all three men claim that the man who attacked them also wore a black ski mask.”

She
opened her eyes.  “I’d be willing to bet that every sporting-goods store
in this country sells black ski masks.  Do they even come in any other
color?”  Jarvis’ dark gaze was unblinking on hers as she waited for him to
respond.  “I’m being honest you,” she said wearily.  “The man you
have in custody is not the man who kidnapped me.  I have no idea why
those—”

She’d
been about to say
thugs
but, since according to her story she’d never
seen the men, how could she possibly know they were thugs?  Crap, she was
so tired she could barely think straight and she was going to slip up and say
the wrong thing.

That
was exactly what they were hoping for; why they’d kept her here so long; why
they kept asking the same questions repeatedly.  She’d barely slept last
night and, after the events of the day, she was exhausted.  She needed to
get out of here.  Get some sleep.

She
looked up to find Jarvis watching her.  “I’m sorry.  My head feels
like it’s going to explode.  I have no idea why those men are claiming I
was in his vehicle.  Maybe the real kidnapper is paying them to say it, in
an attempt to pin the crime on an innocent man.  I can only hope that, for
Mr. O’Malley’s sake, you soon catch the right man.  But in any case, I’ve
told you everything I can.  It’s late, and I want to leave.”

“I
realize you’re tired, but I still have a few more questions.”

“I
don’t understand why I have to repeatedly answer the same questions.”

He
raised a hand to forestall any further protest.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Santos,
but please humor us.”

“Am
I under arrest?”

“Why
would you ask that?”

“Gee,
I don’t know.  Maybe the fact that I’ve been continually interrogated
despite the fact that I’ve given my formal statement.”  When he opened his
mouth to respond, she cut him off.  “I don’t want to hear any more
excuses.  I’ve been through five days of absolute hell and I’m
exhausted.”  If she wasn’t under arrest, then screw them.  She
abruptly got to her feet.  “I’m leaving.”

“Where
will you go?” Jarvis asked, not unkindly.

That
was a very good question, considering that she had no money for a motel
room.  Well, she’d worry about that later.  Right now, she just
wanted to get out of here.  She’d sleep on a park bench if necessary.

When
she failed to answer, he must have realized her dilemma.  “Agent Sengupta
and I will drive you to a nearby hotel, and put you up there at the FBI’s
expense.”

She
was so relieved she nearly burst into tears.  “Thank you, Agent Jarvis.”

Agent
Sengupta got to her feet as well.  “On the way there, we’ll stop by the
hospital to have a rape kit performed.”

She
should have known any act of kindness would come with a price.  “I’ve
already told you I wasn’t raped.  Or coerced.”

Jarvis
raised a huge, dark hand to forestall any further complaints.  “Still,
we’re asking you to indulge us.”

She
crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.  “You can have your DNA sample,
but I’m not doing the rape kit.”

He
regarded her with a steady measuring gaze.  “I don’t understand your
refusal.  What harm could it do?”

“Since
I wasn’t raped, it’s unnecessary, and I’ve already suffered enough
indignities.”  Her voice rose slightly, a sharp edge to it.  “You all
seem to have forgotten that I’m the victim here.”

“No
ma’am, I assure you we haven’t.  We’re simply concerned that, for whatever
reason, you’re not being completely forthcoming.  Are you unwilling to
identify your abductor out of fear of retaliation?”

“If
that were the case, don’t you think I’d do everything in my power to keep him
behind bars?  Why would I lie to protect him?”

“Stranger
things have happened.”

“Not
to me.”  She forced herself to gaze, unblinking, into his dark eyes. 
“I killed Sparrow and, if given the opportunity, I would happily kill the man
who delivered me to him.”

CHAPTER
26

Larissa allowed a technician to swab her
inner cheek for the DNA sample, then drifted into a fog of exhaustion while
Jarvis and Sengupta drove her to a hotel not far from the Federal
Building.  As Jarvis checked her in at the front desk, Sengupta’s eyes were
dark and disapproving, as if she would’ve preferred to see Larissa spend the
night in less-pleasant accommodations.  Such as a jail cell.

They
took an elevator to the fourth floor.  Jarvis unlocked the door to her
room and handed her the electronic keycard.  “We’ll see you in the
morning.”

“Not
too early,” she cautioned.  “I plan to sleep late.”

“How
does ten o’clock sound?”

“Noon
sounds better.”

“Then
we’ll compromise and say eleven.”

She
heaved a weary sigh.  “Eleven will be fine.”

Closing
the door behind her, she sat the plastic trash bag of dirty clothes on the
dresser and dropped wearily onto the edge of the bed.  After the rundown
motels of the last five days, the hotel room was quite luxurious in
comparison.  She tugged off her still-damp shoes, revealing feet that
looked like albino prunes.  After propping the shoes before an air
conditioning vent, she trudged to the bathroom.

While
at the both the police station and the FBI offices, she’d studiously avoided
looking into restroom mirrors, having decided to save that surprise for
later.  Now, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she
nearly shrieked.  Ghastly bruises stood out against the pallor of her
face.  One eye was reddish-purple and swollen completely shut, while
fatigue hollowed the other.  Her sutured lower lip was huge and puffy, her
arms, legs, and torso a gruesome patchwork of mottled bruises, minor cuts and
scrapes.

Hands
shaking with fatigue, she helped herself to a tiny bottle of Southern Comfort
from the room’s courtesy bar and downed it in two swallows, wincing as it stung
her lip.  As the alcohol’s warmth flowed into her veins, her stomach
growled loudly.  She ordered a tuna sandwich and a bowl of minestrone from
room service and charged it to the room.  While awaiting the food’s
arrival, she placed a second call, this one to Brendon.

The
first words out of his mouth were, “I was starting to think you weren’t going
to call me back.”

“The
FBI just let me go.”

“I
thought you were at the police station.”

“I
was.  Because I was transported across state lines, the FBI has taken over
the investigation.”

“That’s
great.  So, where are you, now?”

“In
L.A., in a hotel room.”

“Okay,
tell me everything.”

“Brendon,
I’ve told the story a thousand times today, and then been questioned over and
over until I thought I would scream.  I simply
cannot
go over it
again tonight.”  Plus, the FBI might be listening in.  She was
probably being paranoid, but experience had proven that one should always be
cautious.  “I promise to give you all the gory details as soon as I get
back.”

“Okay,
honey.  I understand.”  To his credit, he sounded only slightly
disappointed.  “But are you
sure
you’re all right?”

“I’m
exhausted, but otherwise fine.  Brendon, I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Honey,
you know I’ll do anything for you.”

“I
need a plane ticket home, but I have zilch in my checking account.  You
know I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t
you worry about that.  I’ll take care of everything.”  There was a
long pause.  “Did you just say ‘
plane
’ ticket?”

“I’m
in a hurry to get back, and a bus would take forever.”

“Are
you
serious
?  You’re going to
fly
?”

“As
serious as a heart attack.”

“If
you chicken out at the gate, I seriously doubt they’ll refund the ticket.”

“I
won’t chicken out.”

His
voice carried the weight of doubt.  “How soon do you want to leave?”

“Around
eight or nine tomorrow morning would be great, but I definitely
have
to
be out of here before ten.”

“Let
me see what I can do, and I’ll call you back.”

She
checked her purse and found nine dollars and change.  At a discrete knock,
she opened the door.  Bearing a covered tray, the young Hispanic man
visibly recoiled at her appearance.  Then his face smoothed out into a
pleasant, neutral expression as he recovered from his momentary lapse in professional
decorum.  Hoping it was sufficient, she tipped him two dollars plus the
loose change.

As
soon as he’d departed, she wedged a chair under the doorknob and sat down to
eat.  The minestrone was good, but the tuna sandwich was bland, not nearly
as good as the one her kidnap— … that Chase O’Malley had made.

Brendon
called back to tell her she was booked on a flight out of LAX at nine o’clock
the next morning.  After they hung up, she filled the tub almost to
overflowing.  It was no wonder her hip hurt so badly.  The side of
her thigh from hip to knee was one solid bruise.  She took a long, hot
bath, hoping to soak away some of the pain, while sipping from a second tiny
bottle of alcohol, this one vodka.

Afterwards,
she blow-dried her hair, all the while trying to avoid catching her reflection
in the bathroom mirror.  Sorting through the clothes in the garbage bag,
she picked out the freshest looking pair of yoga pants, sport bra, and tee
shirt.  Wrinkles covered the tee shirt, and everything smelled less than
fresh.  She briefly considered hand washing the clothes in shampoo but,
knowing they’d still be damp in the morning, she contented herself with hanging
them to air-out.

After
calling the desk to request a wakeup call, she turned out the lights and
crawled naked between the sheets.  Exhaustion and stress relegated her to
that shadowy state between sleep and wakefulness.  She tossed and turned,
worrying about what would happen to Chase O’Malley.

Was
he still at the Federal Building, or had they transferred him to the
jail?  If she continued to maintain that they had the wrong man in
custody, would they let him go?  Surely they couldn’t continue to hold him
simply on the word of those thugs. 

Chase
O’Malley
.

Why
was she fretting over what happened to him?  He’d brought this upon
himself.  Upon both of them.  However, he’d ultimately saved her from
Sparrow, and so she’d do whatever it took to keep him from spending the rest of
his life in prison.  Not because of any feelings she had for him, because
she had none.

Chase
O’Malley
.

Crap. 
What was wrong with her?  Not only would his name not stop running through
her mind, she couldn’t stop picturing his handsome face.  She punched her
pillow and rolled onto her side, wishing she were already back in
Charleston.  Once she was safely ensconced in her own house she’d forget
all about freaking Chase O’Malley and that last night at the motel.

Would
she make it out of here in the morning, or had Jarvis and Sengupta appointed someone
to keep watch over her?  What really worried her was that the more they
questioned her, the more likely she was to say something amiss.  Something
about Jarvis, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, reminded her of
Chase.  Under different circumstances, she felt she could have liked the
man.  But he was the enemy and, unlike Agent Sengupta, he frightened
her.  He seemed much too perceptive, as if he could see into her, read her
thoughts.

Body
still humming with residual adrenaline, she slid out of bed and moved
cautiously through the darkness to check that the chair was still tightly
wedged under the doorknob.  She then raided the courtesy bar of yet
another mini bottle, slid back between the sheets, and knocked it back in two
swallows.

The
alcohol slowly flowed into her veins and, finally, the darkness of sleep
drifted over her.

CHAPTER
27

Dark and terrifying dreams of wooden
crosses and flaming blowtorches kept Larissa tossing and turning all night, and
it was a blessed relief when the phone jolted her awake.  Blinking against
the feeble light coming through the curtains, she pried one sticky eyelid
apart, and fumbled for the receiver.  “Hello?”

“Good
morning.  This is the front desk.  It’s six a.m.”