Chapter 23

Liza Jane had been nervous about going to the ball with Jesse. She had been afraid they wouldn't have anything to talk about during the car ride over; she thought she might feel uncomfortable, or even bored, because he wasn't her type, but she realized before they even got to the country club that it was going to be a great night.

Jesse showed up with a cool wrist corsage of white lilies that had been organically grown in a hothouse in Annapolis. He looked great in his tux, and he complimented her right away on the funky teal gown she'd bought at the thrift shop. He said it made her look like an exotic blond Gypsy. She was still smiling when she walked into the ballroom on his arm.

She heard her father's voice the minute she walked through the archway of fake bubbles. The ball's theme this year—there was always a theme—was Under the Sea.

"Liza Jane."

"My dad," she murmured to Jesse. "FBI, so watch out."

Jesse chuckled. "I know. We've talked, remember? I'll try to keep my nose clean, though."

"You look gorgeous, daughter," her father said, taking her by her hand and twirling her around the way he used to when she was a baby.

"Thanks, Dad." She twirled out of his reach to stand beside her date. "This is Jesse Connor."

"We've met, right?" Adam pumped his hand. "Ashview police officer." His eyebrows knitted. "Hey, aren't you too old for my daughter?"

"We went to high school together, sir. I was two years ahead of her, but actually, I'm only a year older." He let go of her father's hand, adding sheepishly, "I skipped a grade in elementary school. I am an Ashview cop, but only while I go to school. I'm hoping to work for the state police." He looked her father right in the eye. "Or maybe the FBI."

Her father made a face, exaggerating how impressed he was. "Decent guy. Much better than the one with the pony-tail longer than yours. Why would he want to go out with a hippie like you?"

"Dad." She rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing as hippies anymore. Haven't been for, like... forty years."

"She's a hippie, isn't she, Jesse?" He swept his hand toward her. "She dresses like a hippie. Drives a VW bug like a hippie."

"I think I should stay out of this conversation, if you don't mind, sir. So far, the date is going pretty well. I don't want to screw things up."

Her father busted out laughing, reaching for an appetizer on a tray a waiter offered. "Smart move, Jesse."

"Diet Sprite," M.K. said, walking over to them, handing the drink to Liza Jane's father. "And white wine for me. It's been a heck of a bad week." She lifted her glass in a toast and turned to Liza Jane. "Nice to see you again."

Right behind her came Liza Jane's grandfather. "And there's my favorite granddaughter. I'm so glad you came." He wrapped her in a big bear hug, not in the least bit worried that he might ruin her thirteen-dollar gown. "Your father said your date backed out and he was afraid you wouldn't show up."

Liza Jane felt her cheeks get warm. Thank God she'd told Jesse about Cam. "Thanks, Gramps." She hugged him back. "Can you promise me this will be the only time you totally embarrass me tonight?"

He kissed her cheek and backed up. "Afraid not."

"Jesse Connor, this is my grandfather, Dr. Paul Thomas. He's responsible for this extravagant affair and the forty thousand dollars that will be raised tonight for the hospital."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

Her grandfather shook Jesse's hand. Liza Jane guessed he'd already had several drinks by the way he held Jesse's hand too long, pumped it a little too enthusiastically.

"Well, I hope you young people enjoy yourselves. There are sushi appetizers here somewhere." He opened his arms wide. Slightly overweight and entirely gray, he always reminded Liza Jane of a big teddy bear. He had always been so nice to her. Not just generous on birthdays and Christmas, but fun. And kind. Her dad had never said why he had never gotten along with his dad, why he had actually acted for years like he hated him, but Liza Jane had always suspected it was her dad who was the problem, not her grandfather.

"There will be dancing, too," Liza Jane's grandfather went on as he stepped back. "If you'll excuse me now, I have a big, fat donation check to track down."

Liza Jane looked up at Jesse. "Sorry about that. He can be a little overwhelming."

"No problem." He stepped forward, offering his hand to M.K. Shaughnessy. "Good evening, Special Agent Shaughnessy. We've met before, although you probably don't remember me. Officer Jesse Connor. I'm with the Ashview police. Unfortunately, I responded to the calls when Peter Wright and Tiffany Faulk were killed."

Her father's date passed her wineglass to her left hand and shook Jesse's. "I do remember you. Nice to see you under better circumstances."

"Your gown is pretty," Liza Jane said, surprised how nice her father's partner looked. She'd never been wearing makeup any of the times she'd seen her before. The well-fitted navy gown with a high neck and cutaway sleeves was actually pretty sexy on her. She had seriously nice shoulders, very muscular. "You get your hair done differently or something?"

M.K. laughed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I've been trying to let it grow out a little. You think it looks okay?" She lowered her voice, leaning forward so that they were talking woman to woman. "I lightened it and I used this stuff to make it curlier. Fluffier. Too much?"

Liza Jane shook her head. "Nope. It really does look great. I don't know if I even would have recognized you; you look so different than you do in your FBI clothes."

M.K. eyed Liza Jane's father.

"You know what I mean," Liza Jane said, not meaning to insult her or anything. "You just look different."

"You do, too, without that pink bandana around your head."

Liza laughed, then touched the teal headband that had been a fabric-with-beads belt that she'd tied around her head, letting the ends fall down her back. "Thanks. I feel funny. Like I'm wearing my mom's clothes or something."

"Not like you could wear any of my clothes these days." Liza Jane's mother walked up to them, offering her hand to Jesse. "Hi, I'm Sophie. That's my daughter, your date."

"Now this is the hippie," Liza Jane told Jesse.

"Jesse Connor. Nice to meet you." He shook her hand.

"Mom's not married to Dad anymore," Liza Jane explained. "She's married to Mark. You'll meet him later." She cut her eyes at her mother. "Mark did come, didn't he?"

Her mother smiled. "He most certainly did."

Liza Jane nodded, glad to hear it. She didn't care what Mark's emotional issues were, she just wanted him to be the husband her mother deserved. "As you can see, she's about to pop," Liza Jane told Jesse, indicating her mother's huge belly, barely covered by the tight, crazy-colored blouse over her ankle-length, sleek black skirt and cute flat ballerina slippers. "I have a stepsister, too. Savannah. She's home. Babysitter."

"She was pretty put out when she found out her big sister wasn't coming over," Sophie said. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Jesse." She nodded cordially. "Have a nice evening, and just remember when you walk my daughter to her dorm that her father does have a license to carry a concealed weapon."

"Mom," Liza Jane groaned.

Jesse laughed. "Actually, I'm licensed to carry one as well, ma'am, but I have no intentions of dueling with anyone. Not even for Liza Jane."

"I'm going to the bar to make sure my husband is not there. Can I get anyone anything?" her mother asked. "Liza Jane, how about you guys?"

"What can I have?" Liza Jane asked.

"Anything you like."

"A glass of champagne, then."

"Anything that is not alcoholic, that is," her mother corrected.

"Damn." Liza Jane snapped her fingers.

"We're fine. I'll get her a soda later," Jesse said. "Nice to meet you."

"Well, I think that's about everyone here who can possibly embarrass me," Liza Jane said as her mother walked away. "Dad, M.K., if you'll excuse us, I think we're going to track down the sushi guy before it's all gone."

* * *

"I like her," M.K. told Adam, taking a drink of her wine as she watched Liza Jane in her crazy, funky blue gown walk away with her date.

"Yeah, I kind of like her, too." Adam sipped his soda.

"I'm not saying that because she's your daughter," M.K. said. The room was beginning to fill with people, and she backed against a wall decorated with big blue paper waves to get out of the stream of traffic. "She's smart and she's funny. She's got your wry sense of humor."

"My wry sense of humor, is it?" Adam stepped closer, leaning over to look into her eyes. It was definitely an intimate gesture; she just wasn't sure what to make of it.

A waiter with a tray of dirty dishes walked behind Adam and M.K. She finished off the last swallow of wine and put her glass and his on the tray as it went by. "Yeah," she said, tucking her hands behind her and leaning against the wall. "Your wry sense of humor and your good looks."

She was feeling a little light-headed. She'd barely eaten in two days for fear the gown she'd bought on sale at a department store at the Annapolis Mall would be too tight across her stomach or rump. She guessed she should have had a little something to eat before she had the wine, though.

Adam leaned forward, lowering his head to brush his lips across her cheek. "God, you smell good." He looked down into her eyes. "I mean, golly, gee willikers, you smell good."

She lifted her lashes enhanced by Maybelline. "You know, you can't keep doing this to me," she whispered, surprised she actually had the guts to tell him what she was feeling. Shaughnessys weren't big on expressing feelings; in her house, not feeling at all was preferred.

"What's that?"

"You know." She looked up, trying not to lose herself in those blue eyes of his. "Making me feel one minute like there's something between us, the next minute as if there isn't. As if you hate my guts."

"I don't hate your guts." He paused. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly, resting his hand on her waist, gazing out at the crowd of well-dressed men and women.

Music drifted from the far side of the enormous room. It was a waltz. Classy. It made M.K. feel like she was waltzing through life tonight.

"I keep telling myself I should back off. I'm not the kind of guy you need to get involved with."

"Don't you think I should be the one to decide that?"

He didn't look at her. "Probably. It's just that there's this thing eating at me."

"We'll get this killer, Adam."

"It's not that I mean it is." He looked at her, then away. "But it's something else. I almost think that if you know... you won't feel the same way about me." He waited and when she didn't say anything, he looked at her. "That's when you're supposed to say that you don't care what I've done. What I am. You're hot for me, anyway."

She smiled, touched. It was possible this was the most intimate conversation she'd ever had with someone. It made her feel good. Alive. Adam made her feel alive. "I guess it depends on what you've done. What you are. You aren't a homicidal maniac, are you?"

Again, he glanced away, that boyish grin she loved on his face. "You're funny."

"Am I? No one ever told me that before."

"Well, I'm telling you now." He leaned over and kissed her mouth. "Now listen, I need to walk around. Schmooze. I see my dad's friend Dr. Fisher over there and I should say hello. You remember him? I introduced you at the football game."

"I remember. He seemed nice."

"His wife's ill," Adam explained. "Cancer. It's bad. My dad says she's in unbearable pain now and Dr. Fisher's beside himself. Doesn't know what to do." He ran his hand down her rib cage, over her hips before stepping away. "You going to be okay for a few minutes?"

"I'm a big girl, Adam. Go. I think I'll get another glass of wine, maybe even champagne. You are going to be able to drive me home, right?"

"Strictly diet soda tonight." He gestured. "Sort of for a friend. Long story."

"Go." She waved him away. "I think I'll get that drink and find Liza Jane. Maybe she's got something new for me on the investigation."

"No plying her with champagne," Adam warned, walking away. "Remember, she's only nineteen and I do have that license my wife mentioned."

"Got myself my own concealed weapon." She winked. Again, totally out of character for her. "See you later."

M.K. watched Adam walk away, feeling warm from her freshly manicured toenails to the top of her curly head. She knew tomorrow that she'd come up with a hundred good reasons why she shouldn't get involved with him, but tonight she was just going to enjoy his company and enjoy the flirtation between them. Shoot, she might even sleep with him.

M.K. moved away from the wall and wound her way through the crowd of men in tuxes and women in lovely ball gowns. She was surprised how many people she knew there, people she'd run into during their investigation at the college, even people she worked with. Captain Crackhow nodded to her as she walked by. She noticed he had a double of what appeared to be scotch on the rocks in his hand. She also saw another agent from the Baltimore field office, the orthododontist she'd just had a root canal with, and Dr. Valerie Wood, dressed in a sexy black calf-length gown. She avoided all three of them, making a beeline for one of the bars decorated to look like a ship.

"Hello there, little lady," someone said from behind as M.K. got into line at the bar.

She turned around to see Chief Seipp dressed in a cheap, too-tight tux. She smiled but only enough to be polite. There was something about him that she didn't like. "Chief. Nice to see you."

"Please." He held up a chubby hand. "It's Buck. Social event here, no need for titles and what not."

She nodded. "Then no need to call me Special Agent Shaughnessy."

"Right." He chuckled, pointing his finger, pulling his thumb back and then pushing it down, as if shooting her.

M.K. despised that gesture and found it inappropriate coming from a law-enforcement officer.

"Everyone in Ashview's here tonight," Chief Seipp said as they moved closer to the bar. "Big fund-raiser. They always have the best food. Got my ticket free. Being an employee of the city, and all. They say it goes for two hundred a head."

She didn't even bother to smile this time. "Do they?"

"May I help you?" the bartender, dressed as a sailor, asked.

M.K. turned around, thankful for the reprieve. "Chardonnay, please."

"The good stuff, Tommy," a voice said from behind her. "Not the cheap house wine."

M.K. turned to see Sophie beside her, big belly to the bar. It was so crowded she hadn't even noticed her. M.K. laughed. "Thanks."

"You bet."

Sophie accepted her glass of tonic water with a twist of lime and M.K. picked up her wine. The two women walked away together.

"Phew. It's warm in here." Sophie fanned her face with a blue cocktail napkin.

"You feeling okay?"

Sophie was a striking woman, even almost nine months pregnant and pushing forty-five.

"I just get a little overheated in places like this." She sipped her drink.

"You need to get out of here?" M.K. asked, genuinely concerned.

"Actually, there's a balcony that overlooks the golf course." Sophie pointed to large French doors beneath a canopy of twinkling lights.

M.K. nodded. "We can step out there for a minute, then."

"You won't be too cold?"

M.K. looked at one bare shoulder as they weaved their way through the crowd and around the dance floor, where couples were beginning to dance. "Nah. It might feel good. It's pretty warm in here. Besides, I'm trying to duck Chief Seipp."

Sophie chuckled, leading the way. "Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you alone, anyway." At the far wall, she opened the glass-paned French doors.

The two women stepped out into the chilly, dark night and M.K. closed the door behind them. Two dim lamps left the balcony mostly in shadow.

"You wanted to talk to me?" M.K. wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

"Mark says I should keep my mouth shut." Sophie set her glass on the rail and, leaning against it, gazed out into the darkness. "But I can see there's something between you and Adam and I'm concerned. For you and him."

M.K. didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything.

Sophie glanced at her. "Which is good. Don't take me wrong. Adam's been going out with bimbos, running away from a real relationship for too long." She shrugged. "Guess that's my fault. You know, hurting him the way I did when I divorced him and ended up with Mark."

M.K. still didn't know what to say so she just listened.

"That whole thing is complicated. Way too complicated to explain now, but anyway." Sophie turned around, leaning against the rail, cradling her big belly the way pregnant women always did. "Has Adam said anything to you about what next month is?"

M.K. shook her head. "Next month?"

"Maybe about an anniversary or something?" She laughed but obviously it wasn't a subject that was actually funny.

"He hasn't said anything."

"No, I didn't think he would. He and Mark, they're so much alike in so many ways." She shook her head. "I swear, sometimes I think I exchanged one man for a photocopy. Wouldn't you love to investigate the psychology of that one?"

"Sophie, look," M.K. said, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you telling me things from Adam's past. It's not terribly fair to him."

"No, no, this is something you need to know." Sophie lifted her hand from her belly. "Or at least be aware of. I'll give the gist of it, and then if you feel like you want to know more, you can ask Adam."

"Sophie, I—"

"Has he been acting strangely? Not sleeping? Saying he'll take care of something and then not getting to it?"

"No." Then M.K. thought about how tired he seemed some days, about the autopsy reports and tapes she was still waiting for. "Well, maybe a little."

"Talking nonsense about not deserving you? Being afraid you won't love him anymore if you knew who he really was?"

M.K. looked away. She knew she shouldn't listen to this. It was wrong of Sophie to tell her any of Adam's secrets. Wrong for her to stand here and listen. But Sophie had used the word love, and all of a sudden it was buzzing around in her head. She'd never been in love with anyone before. Not really. But when she thought about Adam, the word came to mind. Scared her silly. Did Sophie think Adam was in love with her?

M.K. turned to lean against the balcony and stare out at the dark golf course. "I'm listening."

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here, handsome," Adam heard a female with a sexy voice say. He glanced over his shoulder to see Valerie Wood in a very revealing black gown, her lovely blond hair piled up on her head with little wisps of hair curling beguilingly around her face.

He grinned. "I'd say the same about you, but that would be silly, wouldn't it? The place is packed with doctors."

She leaned past him, brushing her breast against his elbow. "Glenfiddich, neat." She looked at Adam, and then his glass.

"Diet Sprite," he told the young male bartender in the silly sailor hat.

"Comin' up."

Valerie leaned against the bar with her elbows. In the high heels, she was taller than he was. "Hard drinker, are you, Special Agent Thomas?"

He shrugged, tucking two dollar bills into the jar hand-labeled by one of the for-hire bartenders: Tips appreciated. College fund. "Been drinking more than I should. Drinking alone too much. Time to cut back."

"You don't have to drink alone, you know." Her voice was husky. It was a pretty blatant invitation.

Adam smiled, taking her drink and his from the bartender and leading Valerie away. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be alone with her as he didn't want other people overhearing what they said. There were several FBI agents here, including the boss. He didn't want it getting around somehow that he'd been flirting with the county coroner, even if every man in the office did have a thing for her.

"I enjoyed dinner the other night," Valerie said, taking her glass from him. "Cheers." She touched her glass to his and sipped the straight Scotch.

"Me, too."

She halted, oblivious to the crowd; people walked around them. "I should probably give up, shouldn't I?" She was smiling.

He sipped his soda, wondering where M.K. had gone. He'd lost sight of her as she approached the bar almost an hour ago. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." She glanced over the rim of her glass, her smile playful. "I've practically invited you to my bed, Agent Thomas, but you're not biting."

He looked down. "I told you—"

"I know. Your partner. I guess what I was saying was that I didn't care." She swirled her glass and the ice cubes clinked together. "I'm not looking for a relationship, Adam." She seemed to almost scoff at the idea. "Just a roll in the hay. Maybe a dinner once in a while before the roll." Adam sipped his soda. "I'm flattered, but—"

"Please, spare me. She's a lucky woman." Valerie walked away. "Have a good evening, Special Agent Thomas."

"You, too." He raised his glass and then turned away, searching the crowd for M.K. He still didn't see her. He hadn't seen Sophie or Liza Jane in a while, either. As he scanned the crowd, he spotted Mark standing alone against a wall, empty-handed.

Good for you, Adam thought as he walked toward him.

* * *

Liza Jane finished the last of the champagne and left the glass on a tray on a stand near the entrance to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. She'd left Jesse talking to some FBI agents her grandfather had introduced her to. Apparently one of them was married to a doctor or something. She slipped away to sneak a glass of champagne because Jesse had made it obvious he'd have no part of drinking, not even a drop, and he didn't want her drinking, either. It wasn't like Liza Jane wanted to get drunk or anything. She had a paper due in English Lit Monday morning, so she'd have to work on it all day tomorrow if she was going to get it done. She just liked champagne.

Glancing over her shoulder to see if Jesse was looking for her, she went down the hallway. She knew the bathrooms were down this way somewhere. Her parents had never belonged to this club but her grandfather was like a founding member or something.

Liza Jane spotted one of the bartenders, a guy she knew from English Lit class. He was standing in an open doorway, grabbing a smoke. "Hey, Del."

He whipped around, looking like he was afraid he'd gotten caught taking a break, then relaxed when he recognized her. "Hey, how's my favorite reporter?"

"I'll be fine once I find the bathroom."

He laughed, blowing smoke out the door. "Keep going. You're headed the right way."

She walked backwards down the hall in the direction he pointed, facing him. "Nice hat."

He tipped the sailor hat. "Pays for the education. Buys the beer."

"I hear you." She waggled her finger. "But you better give up those cancer sticks or you won't live long enough to reap the benefits of either."

He just waved her off and she laughed, turning around to continue down the hall. She spotted a door and just as she was about to turn the corner and push her way in, it opened, startling her. Professor Connelly, her biology teacher, was coming out.

"Oops," Liza Jane said, coming to a halt. "Now wouldn't that have been embarrassing, walking into the men's room?"

The professor glanced past her, then back. "What a pleasant surprise, Liza." He looked her up and down the way guys did in the student center. "You're looking quite fresh and lovely tonight."

"Thanks." He wasn't his usual proper self. He'd been drinking. She could smell the gin on his breath. She knew the smell of gin because it was what Mark drank. "My grandfather is kind of in charge of this thing." She hooked her thumb in the direction of the ballroom. "So I come every year. It makes him happy."

"Well, I must say." He rested one hand on the wall next to her head, sort of trapping her. "You clean up awfully nicely."

Liza Jane could have sworn he was staring at her boobs. Not like there was a lot there to stare at. "Well, thanks." She gave him a quick smile, grabbed the skirt of her dress, and ducked under his arm. "'Scuse me, Professor. Ladies' room." She pushed into the next door, relieved it was the right one.

"Freaky," she murmured under her breath as she hurried for one of the stalls.

* * *

I stand against the wall, hoping I am inconspicuous, cool glass in my hand. The music is playing, handsome gentlemen, lovely ladies dance. The crowd is beginning to thin. The fund-raiser has been a success, I presume. Money has been donated to the hospital and graciously accepted. Those who wish to drink too much and make fools of themselves in public, have.

I have enjoyed myself this evening. Enjoyed being a part of the world, of accepted society, if only for a short time. But my pleasure has been short-lived. I saw Dr. Fisher earlier, talking with this person and that, and as I watched him I began to wonder what he was speaking of. And who.

At first, I told myself it was irrational, but now, I wonder if it is not. He admitted to speaking to his wife about me. What if he has told others? Mentioned me, if only in passing?

I shift my gaze to the bar. Students were hired this evening to serve as waiters and additional bartenders. There was one who was very attractive. One who I thought found me attractive.

Dr. Fisher has warned me that I can control my desires. My needs. I do not have to go out and fulfill every fantasy.

As if by magic... or destiny, said young man looks at me at that very moment. He has a cocky smile beneath the sailor hat and rather attractive buttocks in the too-tight white pants he has been forced to wear as part of the silly costume. He reminds me of a young man I had a fling with years ago; it turned out badly. Billy broke my heart, leaving me for a mutual friend, Kyle.

I watch as this Billy incarnate picks up a tray of empty glasses and moves toward me. He stops in front of me and I catch my breath. He is so beautiful.

He does not look at me. No one else would even know he spoke to me.

"Would you like me to take that for you?" His voice is sexy. Breathy.

"I'm not quite finished," I manage to say.

"I could use one myself, but we can't drink while we're clocked in," he says, picking up dirty glasses from a table beside me. "I was thinking about going out for a drink after. Would you care to join me?"

He is a bold young man, and smart, too. He understands my need for secrecy, my newfound Billy. I again find myself gazing at his hard buttocks.

Imagining...

It has been too long since I've had sex. Dr. Fisher would never come out and say so but I think that might be precisely what the doctor would order, if he had the balls.

"It would be more than an hour before I could meet you," I hear myself say.

"No problem. I've got to clean up here first." He dares a quick, cocky smile.

The best part about Billy is not his personality, it is his anatomy. His huge—

"Say, one-thirty or so?" The waiter in the sailor hat named a bar on the edge of town away from the college bars. It is a place that has a reputation for attracting the gay population.

I lift my cool glass to my warm forehead and nod.