The Heart Has Reasons (44 page)

Harris
shifted his gaze to Jarvis.  Recognizing his cue, Jarvis asked, “Did you
know O’Malley has a girlfriend?”

Larissa’s
heartbeat accelerated slightly.

From
all the coffee she’d drunk.

The
question brought to mind the night of the storm, when Chase had held her hand
as they lay in bed.  In the flickering candlelight, she’d asked if he had
a girlfriend, and he’d admitted he did.  Realizing Harris and Jarvis were
waiting for her answer, she asked, “How could I possibly know anything about
Mr. O’Malley’s personal life?”

Jarvis
pulled a glossy magazine page from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and
unfolded it, smoothing it out on the glass tabletop.  “O’Malley’s
girlfriend is a model.  According to my wife, she’s fairly famous, so
maybe you’ve heard of her.  She goes by just one name.  Cheyenne.”

Chase
was dating
Cheyenne
?

No. 
Freaking.  Way.

She’d
nearly finished the giant cup of coffee, and the caffeine was coursing through
her like an electric current.  Jarvis and Harris had hardly touched
theirs, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d brought her the jumbo-sized
cup in a deliberate attempt to throw her equanimity into disarray.

If
so, they’d succeeded.

When
she made no response, Jarvis said, “So, do you know who Cheyenne is?”

In
a very small voice, she said, “Yes.”

Jarvis
slid the magazine page across the glass expanse of the table and, not
breathing, Larissa took it.

Oh
my freaking god.
 
Chase
was dating Cheyenne
.

She
knew the page wasn’t a fake because, a few weeks before her kidnapping, she’d
actually seen it in a magazine.  At the time, having never met Chase,
she’d paid little attention to him, focusing instead on the drop-dead-sexy
dress Cheyenne wore.  In the photo, Cheyenne — nearly as tall as Chase,
impossibly thin, and displaying cleavage capable of causing a fifteen-car pile-up
— was smiling directly into the camera lens, her arm about Chase’s waist. 
Chase was dressed in black slacks and sport coat, and his muscular arm
encircled Cheyenne’s narrow shoulders as he gazed at her.

Shock
and dismay zinged through her as she suddenly realized why he’d exhibited such
unbelievable self-control, why she’d had to beg
him to have sex with
her.  His girlfriend was a freaking supermodel, so what would he have
wanted with
her
?

Oh,
crap, she was going to throw up.

Glancing
up, she found Jarvis watching her intently. 
You freaking bastard,
she
thought viciously
. 
Sliding the glossy page back across the table,
she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.  Forcing
all emotion from her voice, she said, “They make a very attractive couple,
although I’m not sure why you showed this to me.”

“I
felt you should know O’Malley has a girlfriend.”

She
struggled to arrange her features into a puzzled frown.  “And his personal
life would interest me because…?”  When Jarvis made no response, she asked
the question that, at that moment, was first and foremost in her own mind,
hoping he’d have an answer.  “Has it not occurred to you to wonder why a
man who dates supermodels would kidnap me?”

Jarvis
nodded.  “It has, actually.  At the height of her career, Cheyenne
was making nearly half a million a year.  Of course, we have no idea how
much Sparrow paid him, but it’s my guess that when O’Malley found he couldn’t
afford the kind of engagement ring Cheyenne would expect, he decided to take
drastic measures.”

A
wash of cold shocked through her.  Chase was getting
married?
 
He had drugged, kidnapped, and driven her clear across the country so he could
buy his girlfriend a freaking
engagement ring
?  Feeling as though
someone had punched her in the solar plexus, she braced her forearms on the
table for balance as vertigo took hold.  She couldn’t breathe.  Her
face felt flushed and her heart was racing.

And
she’d stupidly imagined there’d been chemistry between them.  What a
freaking moron she was. 
The son-of-a-bitch was getting married.
 
For one brief moment, she was tempted to confess everything.  If Chase
wanted to get married, let him do it in a freaking prison cell.

Then
sanity reasserted itself, and she realized why Jarvis had shown her the photo. 
To provoke exactly this type of emotional response.

Chase
was her kidnapper —
not
her boyfriend — so why was she getting so
upset?  It must be all the caffeine cranking through her.  He’d
freely admitted to having a girlfriend.  What difference did it make if
the woman was a supermodel?  Moreover, despite the fact that they’d shared
a bed, he’d never attempted to force himself on her.  Or even to seduce
her.

She
had seduced
him
.

She
looked up to find Jarvis watching her.  “Yes?” he prompted.

“Yes,
what?”

“You
looked as though you had something to say.”

“No.”

“Are
you sure?”

Suppressing
the impulse to shout obscenities, she took a deep breath and said with
manufactured calm, “Of course I’m sure.”

Over
the next two hours, Jarvis once again tried to wear her down with his
relentless questions, and Harris reiterated the dynamics of being a hostage,
until she was ready to scream.

And
all the while, the photograph constantly obtruded itself into her
consciousness.

Finally,
as the two men got to their feet, Jarvis asked, “What would you like for
breakfast tomorrow?”

“You’re
joking, right?  Please tell me you’re not coming back.”

“Ms.
Santos, you wound me.”

“It’s
nothing personal, Agent Jarvis.  But I’m tired of rehashing the same
subjects
ad nauseam
.”

“I
understand,” he said sympathetically.  “So, what would you like? 
More breakfast sandwiches?  Pastries?”

If
she wasn’t home, he couldn’t very well come by.  “I won’t be here. 
I’m going back to work.”

His
eyebrows rose.  “In that case, we’ll meet after you get home.  What
would you like for dinner?”

She
rolled her eyes, exasperated.  “Instead of breakfast, why don’t we do
lunch?”

The
corner of his mouth twitched.  “So, you’re not going to work?”

“No.”

“How
about fish?”

“Fish
will be fine,” she answered wearily.

As
soon as they were gone, she took a large swig of whiskey directly from the
bottle, and spent the remainder of the day in a state of abstraction.

Chase
had a supermodel girlfriend.

He
was getting married.

For
all she cared, the freaking bastard could rot in hell.

CHAPTER
30

The following day after showering,
Larissa used a pair of tiny cuticle scissors to snip the two sutures in her
still faintly swollen lip.  With tweezers, she grasped the tiny knots and
tugged them free, wincing as the threads slid through the sensitive
tissue.  The scar didn’t look as bad as she’d feared and, in time, would
fade until hardly noticeable.

She
opened her back door to Jarvis and Harris at precisely twelve o’clock
noon.  Nervousness at the prospect of yet another interrogation at least
had the effect of submerging her depression somewhat.  She’d bolstered her
nerves with a shot of whiskey, but this time had put the bottle away out of
Jarvis’ sight, and she was careful to keep her distance from him.

Discarding
the bread from her sandwich, she picked desultorily at the fried fish and
coleslaw, while Jarvis and Harris tried to pull her into their small
talk.  When they’d finished, she propped her elbows on the table and
watched as the two men cleared the table, not caring that she was being a
deplorable hostess.

Once
they were reseated, she asked, “Agent Jarvis, was Sparrow acting out his rage
against me?  Is it my fault those women are dead?”

He
appeared surprised by the question.  “Is that what you think?”

She
nodded and blinked back the tears scalding the backs of her eyes.  “It
didn’t escape my notice that the woman they identified bears a striking
resemblance to me.”

“I
wasn’t going to say anything until we knew for sure, but it appears Sparrow
began his killing spree years before he met you.  Once we entered the
details from the murders in California into the VICAP database, we immediately
spotted similarities to unsolved murders in two other states.  Beginning
approximately eight years ago and spanning the next three years, someone
butchered four young women in Trenton, New Jersey.  Coincidentally,
Sparrow was living in Trenton at the time.

“He
then moved to Cincinnati, Ohio where, over the following three years, five more
women were butchered in a similar manner.  All nine of the victims were
brunettes and fit your general physical description.  The Bureau is now
involved in the investigations in both cities.

“Two
years ago, he moved to Charleston where you, as his next intended victim,
fortunately cut short his stay.  With the three that we know of in
California, that brings the total of presumed victims to an even dozen.”

Remembering
the playroom, Larissa shivered as a sudden chill gripped her, and wrapped her
arms around herself.

“Since
nine of those murders occurred
before
you shot Sparrow in your
apartment, you may rest assured that
nothing
you did led to anyone’s
death.  Sparrow was a serial killer, and you may be the only one of his
intended victims to have survived him.”

“Then
the only guilt I bear is that I failed to kill him two years ago.”

Before
Jarvis could respond, Harris cut in.  “Ms. Santos, I mentioned that you
might suffer post-traumatic stress disorder, and a significant symptom of PTSD
is survivor’s guilt.  Sparrow was averaging one murder every eight
months.  Taking into account the fact that serial killers usually
accelerate over time, how many women could he have conceivably killed in his
lifetime?”

She
shrugged.  “I’ve no idea.”

“Another
twelve?  Twice that number?”

“Maybe.”

“Then,
rather than dwelling on those who died, focus instead on all the lives you
saved by killing Sparrow.”

All
the lives Chase saved
,
she silently corrected, although Harris’ reasoning did make her feel marginally
better.

Without
missing a beat, Doctor Harris once again began discussing the dynamics of being
a captive, while she concentrated on keeping her composure.  Agent Jarvis
then took over the discussion, making her repeatedly go over the most minute
details of her trip across the country.  “Are you afraid of O’Malley?”

She
darted an irritated look at him.  “Why would I be?  I don’t even know
the man.”

“Allow
me to rephrase the question.  Are you afraid of the man who abducted you? 
Are you’re refusing to identify him out of fear of retaliation?”

“Arrest
the man who kidnapped me and I’ll gladly identify him and sit in a courtroom to
testify against him.”

“But
you’ve gone out of your way to emphasize that he treated you well.”

“I
said that because it’s true.  But the simple fact of the matter is that he
delivered me to a man who intended to torture me to death.”

“In
that case, why are you continuing to protect him?”

“
I’m
not protecting him!
” she shouted.  Clenching her fists, she clamped
her teeth over her lower lip to keep from screaming profanities.

Jarvis
raised his brows and regarded her thoughtfully.  “Why are you getting so
upset?”

Crap. 
She
was
getting upset.  The two agents were deliberately trying to
wear her down so she’d make a mistake and say the wrong thing.  If she
didn’t keep herself under tight control, they’d succeed.  “I’m getting
upset because, no matter how many times I answer your questions, you’re not
listening.”  Getting shakily to her feet, she said, “If you gentlemen will
excuse me?” putting a sarcastic emphasis on the word gentlemen.

Locking
the bathroom door behind her, she dropped wearily onto the toilet seat. 
She had to calm down and not let them rattle her.  Inhaling, she counted
slowly to six.  She could hear Jarvis and Harris talking in the kitchen,
their voices too soft to make out what they were saying.  She exhaled,
counting slowly to seven.

Was
she really the moron they evidently believed her to be?  Another long,
slow inhale.  Should she just give in and identify Chase?  After all,
he
had
kidnapped her.  A long, slow exhale.

But
he’d done those things only because Sparrow had conned him.  And then — at
great risk to himself — he’d returned and, finding that Sparrow was planning to
kill her, had killed him instead.  Another inhale.  Despite
everything, Chase was a decent guy.