You Can't Hide (23 page)

Murphy leaned over to pick up something bright from the floor. Her scarf. But the scarf fluttered back to the floor when Murphy let it go. “It’s…” He grimaced. “You don’t want that one anymore, Tess.”

Her voice was wooden. “Do you need me here? Or can I go?”

Aidan didn’t think she could stand on her own feet, much less get herself home. “We’l see you home. But first we’l need your statement.” He didn’t really, not at this moment anyway. He just wanted her to stay where she was until some of the color returned to her face. Amazing him, she pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s get it done so I can go home and clean up.” She plucked at her jacket, fouled from Gwen Seward’s blood and Malcolm Seward’s sweat. Swallowing hard, she swayed. “I think I have her blood in my hair.” She looked down at her stocking-clad toes. “And on my feet. Oh, God.” She shuddered, her hand coming to cover her mouth before she jerked it back, staring at her bloody palm. “Oh, God.” Her eyes flew up, focused on his white shirt, now streaked with red where she’d held on for dear life. “I got it on you. I’m sorry.”

Aidan’s throat tightened, remembering her hands clutching him as if he were her lifeline.

“It’s all right. I’ve had worse.” He moved forward to push her back to the floor before she fell over, but one of the EMTs got to her first.

“Let’s check you out before you go anywhere.”

“I’m fine,” she protested weakly.

“Uh-huh,” the EMT responded noncommittally and proceeded to do his job. She let him check her pulse, her blood pressure, even flick a light in her eyes. But she drew back when the EMT put his fingers on her throat.

“It’s an old scar,” she said flatly. “Give me a form to absolve you of responsibility if you want, but I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

Two people no longer had heads. It should have been three. But like a damn cat with too many lives, Ciccotelli still lived. She still breathed. It simply was not fair. But perhaps for the best.
When she dies, I want to be there in person.
To savor every moment. Every nuance.

86

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

And there was yet another sour cast to the day. Detective Reagan had told Seward that they had evidence that Ciccotelli’s voice had been imitated. Reagan was lying. There was absolutely no question that Reagan had lied through his teeth. The match to Ciccotelli’s voice was impeccable, confirmed by one of the best sound studios in Germany. Nicole was good enough to fool Ciccotelli’s own mother.

Perhaps it had been a miscalculation to leave the voice mail for Cynthia Adams, but without it the police would have taken days longer to compare the fingerprints on the box to Ciccotel i’s. If they’d ever made it that far.

No, the real miscalculation was that Ciccotelli still had so many cops willing to believe her. Obviously the hatred within the police department did not run as deeply or broadly as the police had claimed. That Detective Reagan had become one of her defenders was… disappointing.
I
expected more of him.

But judging from the way he’d fought for her freedom, he didn’t hate her.
Au contraire.
Judging from the way he’d held her while Seward killed himself, he cared more than he’d probably admitted to himself.

It was disgusting. What was it about that woman that had men falling at her feet? Men who should know better than to be fooled by a pretty face and a twitching ass. Most men were weak.
I am not.

Two courses of action were indicated. The first, the elimination of pretty Nicole. If the police suspected Ciccotelli’s voice had been imitated, it was only a matter of time before they found Nicole. Luckily she was expendable. Luckily she was of use no longer because the plan now had to change. Ciccotelli would not be going to prison. Not in the traditional sense at least. Not a concrete structure with high walls and iron bars.

It was a bitter disappointment. The setup had been so careful y planned. So much time had gone into each and every step with the express goal of seeing Ciccotelli behind bars. Alone and isolated. No career and no friends. And ultimately, no life. But there were other kinds of prisons. Other ways of inducing isolation. Fear. Agony. Ciccotelli’s prison would have them all.

Because she deserved every one.

Tuesday, March 14, 4:45 P.M.

They hadn’t asked Seward’s secret, Tess thought numbly, watching Murphy and Reagan direct the activity inside the apartment. A half dozen guys from CSU had come, led by Jack Unger. The ME’s office had come with gurneys and body bags. And, except for the EMT, everyone had left her merciful y alone. Not one person had demanded to know what Malcolm Seward had insisted she’d told. Not yet anyway. But they would. They’d have to. And she’d tell them. It didn’t seem to make much difference now. Malcolm was dead. Gwen was dead. They’d had no children together. There was no one left for the truth to hurt. Tess sat outside in the hall on the floor, one uniformed officer standing by the elevator, another positioned at the stairwell to keep unauthorized people from the scene. And, she supposed, to prevent her from leaving before she’d told the police what they wanted to know. Like that was going to happen. After hearing Seward pul ing the trigger on himself, a surge of pure adrenaline had fueled her motions. Now, she wasn’t sure if she could move if… She swallowed hard as the rest of that time-worn adage flitted through her mind.
If someone held a
gun to my head.

Her hands and feet were now clean, her bloody knee-high stockings removed by an EMT

with gentle hands and an encouraging smile. Her feet were bare. The EMT had given her a pair of those footie socks with ribbed soles. Right now she didn’t have the energy to lean over and slip them on her feet.

One of her shoes was unusable, covered in both Malcolm and Gwen Seward’s blood and brains. The other she’d kicked into the hall and it now sat on the floor by her hip. It wasn’t like

87

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

she’d wear them again anyway. When she got home, every stitch of clothing she wore would go in the garbage. When she got home, she’d shower under a scalding stream of water, scrubbing her hair and skin until every last drop of hot water was gone. But even that wouldn’t make her feel clean. When she got home, she just might finish off the bottle of wine Reagan had offered to her last night until the events of the last hour blurred into unconsciousness. But it wouldn’t help. Because when she woke up, she’d still be in this nightmare. Malcolm and Gwen would still be dead. As would Cynthia and Avery.

Because of me.
Logically she knew it was not true, but just as logically, she knew what was true wouldn’t really matter when the city read their newspapers tomorrow. When she’d try to sleep tonight. What was true was that these people had trusted her to help them. What was true was that four innocent people were dead.
Because of me.
The ME techs were now rol ing the bodies past where she sat. One large bag, one small. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. It was an image she didn’t want added to the others, but one she knew would linger for a long, long time regardless of what she wished. Regardless of how she commanded her brain to forget.

“Tess?”

She opened her eyes to the sight of Aidan Reagan towering over her. His gaze was watchful, as if he was afraid she would break. She pressed her cold fingertips to her colder cheeks. “You want my statement now.”

“If you think you can.”

“I can.” She struggled to stand, then stared when he crouched down and slipped the socks on her feet as if she were a child. Then he twisted, scooting back until he leaned against the wall to sit beside her. Heat radiated from his warm body and she shivered, trying very hard not to remember how it had felt in his arms. How tightly he’d held her. How good it had felt. How safe. How his heart had thundered hard under her ear. He’d been afraid, too. Yet he’d done his job, with confidence and calm assurance. She owed him her life. The thought of a different end made her shiver once again.

“You’re cold,“ he said flatly. “Good God, woman, did you run al the way from your office without a coat?” He shrugged out of his overcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders before she could utter a protest. “Don’t fight me, Tess,” he warned when she tried to give the coat back.

“You look like a five-year-old could take you out right now.”

“It’l get bloody,” she murmured and he took her hand between his and began briskly rubbing to get her blood circulating again.

“It’s all right. God, your hands are like ice. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She leaned back against the wall, suddenly so weary. “You were busy.” All the activity around her seemed to meld into a dul buzz she recognized as exhaustion. “Did I say thank you?”

He took her other hand, warming it. “Yeah,” he said, gently now. “You did. Tell me about the call.” “I was with a patient.” Who had it been again?
Mrs. Lister. That’s right.
“Denise answered the phone. The woman would only talk to me. She sounded bored this time.”

“Did it sound like the same woman?”

“No. She didn’t sound young or old this time. Just bored. She said that Malcolm Seward and his wife were arguing.” He’d finished rubbing her hands and now held her right hand loosely. She could pul it away if she chose, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “She said Malcolm had just knocked his wife to the floor.”

“When was this?”

“A few minutes before I called you, maybe. I told Denise to call 911 as I was running out the door.” She frowned. “They took so long to get here. I thought they’d be here long before me.” She looked up to find his eyes fixed on her face.
Cop’s eyes,
she thought. Careful y expressionless. “I didn’t plan to be a hero, Detective. But there was no one else to help. He’d kicked down the door and I knew how violent he could be when he got angry. I knew how afraid he was that someday

88

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

he’d use his strength on his wife. He had her by the throat…” Her voice broke and he squeezed her hand.

“Take your time, Tess.”

She straightened her shoulders, forced herself to finish. “He was ranting that I’d called his wife and told his secret. She’d threatened to leave him and nobody left him, he said. Then he shot her.” A shudder ripped through her and she tightened her grip on his hand. “Then just tossed her aside. I tried to run. But he was too fast. Then he…” Her breath hitched and stubbornly she control ed it. “He put the gun to my head. Right about then the cops showed up.”

“Why were you treating him?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh. “Anger management was what he claimed at first. He’d gotten fined for breaking some player’s nose in a fight during one of the games.”

“I remember that.”

“Apparently so did the team management. They insisted he go get counseling.”

“So he came to you.”

“No, he went to the team doctor, for show. Then he came to me, for help.” She met his eyes.

“He was gay, Detective. He’d hidden it for years, denied it to everyone, including himself. But his personal needs were becoming too hard to control. He had a wife, a career. He was terrified he’d lose it all if anyone found out. And being Malcolm Seward, he couldn’t just take up with anyone. He’d be recognized. Exploited. So he did nothing. And became angrier every day.”

His eyes had flickered once in surprise, but were flat again. “Was he being blackmailed?”

“I don’t think so, but I doubt he’d ever admit that to me. Frankly, we weren’t getting anywhere in therapy. He kept insisting he could deny himself. He’d been able to… satisfy his wife often enough that she didn’t suspect, but that was changing. She wanted to have a child and Malcolm didn’t. She was accusing him of having an affair.”

“Ironic,” Reagan said quietly.

“Yes. He was getting angrier, lashing out at strangers.” She sighed sadly. “Lashing out at Gwen. It was eating him up. He loved Gwen, he really did. He didn’t want to hurt her or shame her. They’d been high school sweethearts. She was old-fashioned. She wouldn’t have approved of his homosexuality.” She swallowed. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He squeezed her hand again, but made no move to comfort her with empty phrases and she appreciated that. “How did Seward find you?”

“Through the Yellow Pages. Malcolm didn’t trust any of his friends enough to ask for a referral. He didn’t want them to know it was any more than anger management, which most of his teammates could understand. He certainly didn’t want Gwen to find out.” Tess closed her eyes. The numbness was wearing off and her brain was clicking back into gear, remembering the lunch conversation with Harrison. Three hours ago she’d thought someone could have found her patients through the hospital’s psychiatric unit. Now, she had to face the truth. “The only way somebody could have found out about all three is if they were watching the door to my office twenty-four/seven or they somehow broke into my records.” The very thought made her physically il , even to consider. All of her patient files… compromised. She gritted her teeth and forced the nausea back. “Based on al the events, I’m inclined to believe the second one.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Where do you keep your records?”

“In a vault, along with Harrison’s. Dr. Harrison Ernst. He’s my-”

“Your partner. So who has access to the vault during office hours and after?”

“Just myself, Harrison, and Denise-our receptionist.”

He released her hand and pul ed his notepad from his pocket. Tess stretched her fingers, feeling bereft. “Is this vault like a safe?”

“No, it’s like a big walk-in closet.”

“Do you keep electronic notes?”

Tess regarded him warily. “Sometimes. Not with every patient.” There was probably one patient, five years ago whose files weren’t kept electronically so technically she wasn’t lying.

89

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

He shot her a hard look. “I’m not after peeking in your files, Doctor. Patrick will do that with his subpoena. Where do you keep these electronic files?”