Chapter 13

 

New York, 1976

 

On this brisk March morning Andrea Nelson’s sleek black Porsche fought for road space with the battered yellow cabs. The cabs were like an army of beetles out to devour a single fly and her Porsche was that quick and clever fly. Normally, she enjoyed this daily confrontation as she headed out of Gramercy Park into the downtown business district. This morning, however, the race to each streetlight was just another aggravation to increase the irritation that plagued her.

Thomas Devlin. She hadn’t been able to put him out of her thoughts since Michael O’Neill’s party. Each detail of the young man was on a captured film playing over and over in her mind. Three nights she had woken in a rush of desire from dreaming of the lust they shared, hot, violent, his paleness molded into her darkness like cream spilling into coffee. Only, it hadn’t happened as yet.

Andrea kept making excuses to soothe her pride. Maybe he didn’t get her messages? Didn’t have a private office?

She hit her palm against the steering wheel. Why didn’t she just forget the creep? She couldn’t. The challenge of tearing down that unapproachable barrier the young lawyer presented beset her ever since he turned down her proposition.

She remembered how the warmth of his eyes offered what the coolness in his voice declined. There were plenty of men who gladly pursued Andrea, but that wasn’t what she needed. Andy girl had to do the pursuing and the dominating for the victory to be enjoyed.

With ample time off due her, Andrea had decided to make plans for a long weekend. A phone conversation the previous evening with her closest friend, Shelia Connors Beechen, had basically confirmed them. “Your love nest won’t be invaded,” Shelia promised. “Andy, are you finally going to replace that brother of mine with a solid relationship? Does little me know him?”

Andrea had noted the time on her wristwatch. It worried her as she realized it was before 7:00pm and already Shelia’s words were slurred. Shelia was drinking too much. Andrea had been tempted to chastise her, but only said, “Not hardly. Shell, he’s young, fresh faced, and eager to please. I’ll make certain you don’t meet him.”

She’d joined in Shelia’s schoolgirl giggles fully aware the other woman wouldn’t be laughing if she guessed whom Andrea’s sights were set on. The scene at O’Neill’s when Shelia had so blatantly come between them hadn’t been lost on Andrea. Thomas Devlin had given her the right signals when first introduced, and it was only after Shelia’s arrival at the party that he seemed to withdraw. Shelia had been indulging Andrea with tales about her extramarital affair with this darling little college boy, for several years. So, while Shelia had never put a name to her boy-toy, Andrea now figured she knew who he was.

Attempting to change the focus of her thoughts, Andrea contemplated the unpleasant task facing her as she pulled into her reserved parking space. As a children’s advocate for the County, she faced the paperwork required to close her end of a neglect case.

In her office by 8:30am and before 9:00am she was on her second cup of coffee. The file lay open on her desk. The black and white police photos didn’t do ample justice to the condition of the girl’s body. Andrea had viewed the actual eleven-year-old victim. She trembled as her finger traced the contours of Hailey’s paper face. If it hadn’t been for the afro and slight thickening of the lips, the child’s race would have been questionable.

Andrea’s file went back three years. Hailey was eight the first time she ran away from her mother’s roach infested apartment. The little girl could still cry then and…laugh. Yes, laugh. Andrea remembered the shiny clean face as Hailey’s foster parents’ fat old poodle licked Hailey’s cheeks and the child hugged its neck and laughed out loud. The memory of the sound came back to Andrea and she felt a burning anger. God damn! The family court judge who continued to return custody to that stinking alcoholic mother should have been made to view Hailey’s body.

The case belonged to Homicide now. Mommy’s latest boyfriend had battered, raped and killed Hailey while she lay passed out in the next room. Damn that son of a bitch! Andrea hit the desk. Screw the whole lousy system! If only her department had more power over court decisions, she might have been able to save her.

Put her out of your mind, girl. You can’t dwell on this! She made a final notation and closed the file.

Since Andrea primarily worked with the new plague of drug-addicted teenagers, underage boys and girls coerced into thievery or prostitution to maintain their habit, her contacts with them took place in court, jails, hospitals, and on the streets. This office time required to write up reports and to update files did a job on her restless nature. Grimacing as she finished off the bitter coffee, Andrea slammed another folder shut and glared at the remaining pile. It seemed to be growing not shrinking.

She placed a call. This was the third attempt this morning and she received the same answer: ‘Mr. Devlin is not available.’

As the morning dragged on she was becoming more and more agitated. Her plans for the weekend weren’t working out. At a little before eleven she spotted Hal Dexter ambling down the hallway and an idea came to her.

Pulling open the half-glass door of her office, Andrea called out, “Hal! Give me a moment.”

Hal Dexter was Andrea’s friend. They’d met when Hal was a boy and she was seventeen, at the time the six years separating their ages made Andrea feel like an older sister towards him. Maturity had sculptured the skinny male body with haphazard parts into a presentable masculine image but Andrea remained unaffected by the changes.

Since they both took special care not to advertise their relationship at work, his dark face registered curiosity as she ushered him into the office and shut the door.

“Sit,” Andrea ordered. “I need a favor.”

“Sure.” Hal lowered himself into the desk chair she indicated with an impatient wave of her hand.

“I want you to make a call for me. I want you to say you’re my father. Remember how you use to do that for me when we were kids?”

“What?”

Andrea perched on the edge of her desk and lifted the receiver. Toying with it she said, “Pretend it’s summer vacation. I’m a clerk in my Daddy’s office and you’re my little lackey again.”

Hal Dexter eyed her suspiciously. “Why Andrea? You don’t need to play that crap anymore—summer school’s long gone. You’re not into some kind of trouble are you?”

She let her voice fall into the whiny tone she used as a girl to get her way. “Play nice, pretty boy, get me out of this jam and I’ll get you tickets to the next Yankee game.”

“Jam?”

Andrea tossed her long hair so it slapped at her cheeks. There was an angry lift in her tone. “I’ve been trying to reach someone for three days. The assholes at his office keep giving me excuses. He is either out or in conference—you know, the usual bull. I’d call and say I was Dad’s secretary, but by now that bitch on the switchboard would recognize my voice.”

“Can’t you call this guy at home?”

“Spare me!” Andrea used one finger to tap her forehead. “Don’t you think that marvelous idea came to me? Trouble is there are a zillion Devlins in the directory and I have no idea where he lives. Hell, his phone could be unlisted.” She grabbed his hand and pressed the receiver firmly in his palm. “I’ll dial. You just say what I tell you. When he comes on the line, you make a fast exit.”

“I don’t like this. What’s so important you have to reach this guy?”

“Please. You owe me.” Andrea pouted. “You got this nice cushy county job instead of pounding a city beat and I ask one little favor and you hassle me.”

“What do I say?”

“Just tell them you’re Judge Alvin Nelson and you want to speak to Mr. Thomas Devlin. If he’s not in find out when you can call back and reach him—you know the drill.” Her fingers punched in the now memorized number.

Dexter only repeated the first instructions into the phone then chuckled and handed Andrea the receiver. “She’s getting him.” She could see he had difficulty suppressing his laughter as he lunged to his feet and headed for the door.

“Always the wiseass,” she threw at his back. Then a voice came over the phone line.

“Thomas Devlin here.”

“Tom, it’s Andrea Nelson.”

“Yes, sir, your honor.” Devlin drew the words out as if to inform her someone was hovering near him and listening.

“I had an idea,” Andrea said. “The Jersey shore is beautiful this time of year and my friends have a place in Ocean City. It’s a nice drive down—”

“Of course.” Devlin interrupted. “But it would be more convenient if I were to meet you there.”

“Meet me? You don’t know where the place is.”

“You were going to tell me?” There was a hint of amusement in Devlin’s tone but he was obviously still hindered by another’s presence. “Say this evening.” He sounded as if he were making a business appointment.

“The Hide Away.” Andrea grabbed for a place, and the restaurant’s name seemed to fit the mood, though there wasn’t a reason in the world to be discreet. “It’s in Summers Point. We can have dinner and you can follow me onto the island.”

“Fine. About seven thirty.” The phone connection closed.

“I don’t believe the bastard!” Andrea sputtered aloud as she glared at the phone. Hung up on me! Just like that! Who the hell did Mr. Thomas Devlin think he was! Some piss ass attorney.

She was tempted to forget the whole thing. She dropped heavily into her desk chair. For a while she scanned several files but her mind wasn’t on work. She began making excuses for Devlin’s abruptness. It wasn’t his fault—not really. He was probably at the switchboard. Some big shot or other could have been listening? She put him in a difficult position calling him at the office.

Andrea did another once-over of her cases. She chucked the files into a drawer and locked it. It was almost noon. If she skipped lunch, made the hospital run, she could be on the road by three. That would give her time to stop in Ocean City, shower and dress before she met Tom.

It didn’t take long for Andrea to recover. Before long she was trembling as in her mind she sought the depth of those strange light-gray eyes. She fantasized that she was touching the black wave that settled on his forehead. Tom was smaller than the men Andrea usually found attractive. Still, she guessed his height at close to six feet and the cut of the tuxedo hadn’t detracted from the lithe shape of the body beneath. Damn! If she continued to fantasize…

She giggled, suddenly feeling like a teenager. Tom Devlin didn’t know the trouble he’d bought himself. Andrea Nelson wanted him and she was going to have him.