Thursday, March 16, 9:35 A.M.
Jack met Aidan and Murphy at Bacon’s apartment. “Rick says we need to keep looking for his video stash, that he’s got to have one here somewhere.”
“We will. But first let’s figure out what the hell happened here.” Aidan walked back to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. “Shot, cut, poisoned, and drowned. How?”
“We know the drowning was last,” Murphy said. “The poisoning was before the cutting or the knife strokes wouldn’t have been so neat. That leaves the shooting.”
Aidan considered the scenario. “I think the shooting happened first.”
“Why?” Murphy asked.
“Remember when we found his clothes yesterday?”
“Right here.” Murphy pointed to his feet. “Shirt, tie, pants, boxers, and socks. His suit coat was in the living room.”
“His coat smelled like mothballs and cigarette smoke.”
“Like his mother’s house.”
“But not cat piss. I hadn’t thought of that. I can’t imagine a suit being stored in that house without picking up some of the cat odor. His Wires-N-Widgets shirts sure did.”
“We found boxes of clothes in the living room yesterday,” Jack said. “Heavy mothball odor. Didn’t smell anything like cat pee.”
“He’s got a storage unit,” Murphy said, nodding. “But why the shooting first?”
“Because his suit also smelled like sweat, but his shirt smelled like a combination of cigarette smoke and fabric softener.”
Murphy’s brows went up. “It was a clean shirt.”
“Man’s got a nose,” Jack chuckled. “I, on the other hand, have an eye. Look there.”
Aidan followed the line of Jack’s pointing finger, over to the far bathroom wall. “A hole.” They hadn’t seen it the day before, sidetracked with the planted evidence.
Jack pushed past them and inspected the small hole. “Could have been a bullet. If it was, somebody’s dug it out. Nothing there now but crumbled drywall.” He turned back and looked at Murphy. “Step into the hall.” Murphy did and Jack stood in the doorway, his back to the door hinges. “I’m Bacon and you’ve got the gun,” he said to Murphy and traced an imaginary trajectory in the air. “Based on the height of that hole in the wall and Bacon’s height and where it hit him on the shoulder, you were standing close to where you are now. And you’re shorter than Bacon. By about two to four inches. Bacon was five ten. You’re five six, five eight, tops.”
Aidan smiled grimly. “So we have an antisocial voyeur with a Napoleon complex. Okay, you come up behind Bacon. You shoot him in the arm? Why?”
“To force him into the tub or to force him to inhale the poison?” Murphy said.
“Or both.” Aidan. “You’re shot in the right shoulder, Jack. What do you do?”
Jack clapped his left hand over his right shoulder. “Ouch,” he deadpanned.
Aidan chuckled. “And now you have a bloody left hand.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll get the Luminol.”
Thirty minutes later, Jack turned off the lights, revealing the glow of shoe prints on the floor and a fully formed handprint on the wall between the toilet and the sink.
Aidan hovered his shoe above the footprint on the floor. “I’m a thirteen. This is a size nine, maybe?”
“About,” Jack said. “They look like dress shoes. So our guy is about five eight with a size nine foot. It’s a start. I’m curious about the handprint.” The bathroom had a wallpaper border with blue flowers. Above the border was painted drywall, below, solid blue wallpaper. The handprint was on the lower half. “If I’m Bacon and I’m staggering, my bloody hand’s going to hit higher, above the border. So let’s see why it doesn’t.”
Jack ran a metal file under the flowered border and gently tugged at the solid wallpaper until it came loose as a sheet. “It’s not glued down,” Murphy said.
Jack looked over his shoulder. “The corners are worn. Somebody’s done this a lot.”
Aidan’s pulse kicked up a notch. “His stash of videos.” Tess would be saved all kinds of embarrassment. “Hurry, Jack.”
“You want it done fast or you want it done right?”
“I want it done both,” Aidan retorted.
“He sounds like Spinnelli,” Jack threw back and Murphy laughed.
“He does at that. Hurry, Jack.”
Jack stuck his finger through a hole in the wall. “Turn on the light, Aidan.” Jack pulled away a drywall panel, two by three feet, exposing wooden joists.
“Well?” Aidan asked when Jack shone his flashlight around.
Jack turned around, shaking his head. “It’s empty.”
Aidan dropped his chin, disappointment palpable. “I don’t want to have to tell her this.” Once again he wished he could bring Bacon to life so he could kill him himself.
Jack sighed. “She’s a big girl. She can handle more than you give her credit for.”
Aidan straightened his shoulders, remembering the truth of that statement. Tess was a strong woman. He only hoped he was as strong. “You’re right.” His mouth tipped up sadly. “She said if the videos got out she’d make a calendar and do a tour.”
Jack ran his tongue around his teeth. “I ain’t touchin’ that with a ten-foot pole, Reagan. I value my marriage and,” he looked pointedly at Aidan’s fists, “my face.”
Murphy coughed. “Let’s finish this. Kid Sherlock,” he added dryly.
“Okay. I’m Bacon.” Aidan focused. “I come home from peddling to Lynne Pope—and I’m waiting for Tess to pay me a hundred grand. I’m surprised by a visitor.” He looked at Murphy, understanding dawning. “The killer came for Bacon’s video stash.”
“And he came prepared. Left all that tidy evidence stuck up in the ceiling where we’d be sure to look for cameras. What’re in those videos that our boy’s afraid of?”
“We need to find out. So you say, ‘Take me to your videos’ and I say ‘Go to hell.’”
“I shoot at you to make you show me. Graze your arm. ‘Show me,’ I say.”
Jack tapped the wall. “Your hands are bloody when you do.”
Murphy pointed to the tub. “‘Now get in the tub,’ I say because I still have my gun.”
“I do, and you make me inhale the poison.”
“We found cigarette stubs in the tub.” Jack said. “I’ll get them analyzed ASAP.”
Aidan nodded. “I can’t move, so you cut me, turn on the water, watch me bleed.”
“But it takes too long or I’m just a cruel bastard,” Murphy finished. “So I hold your head under until you’re dead and leave your body for the stupid cops to find.”
Aidan stared at the tub. “Then you clean the wall, replace the shirt and plant the evidence to throw the stupid cops off the trail. Leaving you free to plan your next murder.” He turned to Murphy grimly. “The company you keep.”
Thursday, March 16, 11:00 A.M.
“Wow.” Murphy whistled as he walked through the door of Tess’s office. “Clayborn sure did a number on this place.”
“I know,” Aidan said grimly. “Last night he nearly did a number on Tess.”
Murphy’s lips twitched. “I would like to have seen him when she was done with him.”
Denise, the receptionist, came out of Harrison’s office carrying a box of trash. She did a double-take when she saw them, her eyes flickering. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Tess,” Aidan said, studying her. Denise had been surprised to see them. Surprised and a little afraid. And Aidan wondered why.
“She’s been in her office all morning.” With her head she motioned to the door that stood slightly ajar. “Go on in.”
Aidan pushed at the door, revealing Tess standing in the middle of the room, a clipboard in her hand and her hair held up in a ponytail that made her look young and sexy at the same time. She turned, momentary alarm giving way to pleasure.
“Aidan! And Murphy, too,” she added when Murphy pretended to pout.
“You’ve made some progress,” Aidan noticed.
“We cleared out the broken furniture at least.” She held out her arm from which a little camera dangled. “I’m taking notes for my insurance claim.”
“Are you here alone?” Aidan asked, frowning.
“Denise is in Harrison’s office. Vito’s downstairs with the guys who hauled away the big stuff. Jon came by.” She smiled. “Robin sent soup.”
Aidan smiled back. “No soup for you.”
She laughed softly, her cheeks going a little pinker and he knew she was remembering the night before, when he’d said the same thing while lying on top of her, her thighs hugging his hips, her breasts brushing his face every time he turned his head. He shifted his weight, trying to adjust the sudden pressure against his fly.
She cleared her throat. “Amy brought a plant. She has a green thumb, but I’ll probably kill the damn thing.” She bit her lip. “So what’s happened?”
“Bacon didn’t kill himself, Tess,” Aidan answered. “He was murdered.”
Her breath eased out slowly. “I see. Then . . . we’re not done, are we?”
“No. I want you to be careful. On your guard. Never alone, you understand?”
“I thought it was too good to be true. So did you. I’ll tell Amy and Jon and Robin to be back on alert.”
Aidan wanted to kiss the scared frown from her mouth. “And you’ll tell Vito.”
“Tell me what?” Vito asked, coming up behind them.
“That the saga continues. Camera-boy was murdered. My friends are still at risk.”
Vito scowled. “Terrific. So what the hell are you guys doing about this?”
“Investigating,” Aidan said calmly. “When are you leaving?”
Vito’s grin was really just a baring of teeth. “Not soon enough for you, Ace.”
Tess rolled her eyes. “Vito. Aidan, my parents want to meet you tonight. Can I use your kitchen? I’m cooking.”
He wanted to touch her so bad he could taste it, but Vito’s glare kept his hands in his pockets. “You still have the key?”
“Yeah. Will Dolly eat me?”
“Probably not. If she growls at you, go get Rachel. She gets home from school at three. I’ll meet you back at my house at seven, okay?”
“Make it eight.” Her eyes shadowed. “Harrison’s viewing is at seven.”
“I’ll go with you. Now we need to go.” He threw a look at Vito. “Investigate.”
Walking toward the elevator, Murphy gave him an amused side glance. “Parents?”
“Just donate my life insurance to a worthy charity, okay, Murphy?”
Murphy laughed. “Okay, Ace.”
Thursday, March 16, 11:00 A.M.
Andrew Poston was the son of a local circuit court judge and was therefore already out on secured bond while the other boys who’d raped Marie Koutrell, the ones from poorer families, still languished in the county jail. He’d given a very curt “not guilty” to the judge at his arraignment and was heard muttering that if he caught the person who’d turned him in, he’d rip them apart with his bare hands.
Poston had very big hands, so his threat certainly was not an idle one. His lawyer had advised him to keep his mouth shut and Poston responded with a few creative places his lawyer might shove his advice. All in all, the kid had a certain style. He might be a formidable force in a few years, as long as he could keep his ass out of jail. Which might be a difficult proposition. The victim had named him specifically. That alone wouldn’t be so bad—there were a half dozen guys who’d swear it was consensual. But another witness had independently, anonymously corroborated that identification, saying he was in the victim’s house, drunk, wild, and making unwanted sexual advances toward the victim.
That anonymous witness had to go or Andrew Poston could very realistically find himself with a felony record. One little night of fun with a slut who’d asked for it could ruin a young man’s life. So the witness had to go.
Of course that the witness was also the fastest way to Aidan Reagan was pure luck. Kismet. Really good karma. Because Aidan Reagan had to go. He was too close to Ciccotelli. For the first time since her fiancé left her, she was . . . having sex.
It had to stop. Reagan had to go. Killing a cop was dangerous and would not go unnoticed or unpunished. Scaring him away was a more palatable solution.
He was home now, Andrew and his father, the judge. Pulling into the driveway in a Lexus SUV. Mrs. Poston met them at the door, a worried expression on her face and a padded envelope in her hand.
It had been delivered that very morning, addressed to Andrew. Of course if his mother had opened it, the impact would have been spoiled. She would have reported the contents. Or maybe not. At any rate Andrew had the envelope in his hands and based on the feed coming from the microphone inside the envelope’s padding, he was opening it, finding the CD with the Post-it note attached. “Play me,” it said. There was a long pause. The recording was poor, unclear, but it would tell him everything he wanted to know. A violent, rather creative curse exploded from Andrews’s lips. He’d found it. Excellent. There was more scuffling, then the boy spoke.
“Hey. It’s me,” he said, his voice muffled. “I know who turned me in . . . Rachel Reagan. Little bitch, spying on us.” He listened, then laughed. “You’re right there. She would have been a hell of lot better than Marie. Do me a favor, okay? Show her my appreciation for her phone call to the cops. Make sure she knows that we know it was her and if she doesn’t back down, she’ll be sorry. And do it today. Thanks, buddy. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to keep low key for a few days till all this blows over.”
A blast of painfully loud hard rock music followed, signaling the end of his conversation. The cacophony ceased with the flick of a switch inside the car. The wheels were in motion, figurative and literal. A touch to the gas pedal sent the car rolling down the Postons’ street toward the main road. It was time to get back to work. And time to tune into the local news to see if Marge Hooper had been discovered yet.
Ciccotelli would truly be distraught by the news. Excellent. She’d lost a friend in Hughes, an acquaintance in Hooper. Soon she’d lose Reagan, her lover.
There would be no way he’d stay with her when he learned his sister’s safety was at risk. Once young Rachel was properly warned by Poston’s friends, Detective Reagan would get a message threatening far worse harm to his sister because of the company he kept. Being a smart man, he’d choose the right path.
The next strike would be far more remote. A perfect stranger who just happened to be unlucky enough to come into casual contact with Tess Ciccotelli. It would drive her crazy. She’d feel so guilty. She’d be afraid to leave her apartment. Afraid to say “boo” to another living soul. A delightful thought.
Of course the coup de grâce would be closer to home. Family. The choices had become wider with the arrival of her brother and parents from Philly. It was an unexpected development. One of those dual-edged swords. On one hand, her family issues had been resolved, so she was no longer alone in a big city. This was bad. On the other hand, it made for delicious irony. Just when her family is reunited, they bite the dust. So which one? Her brother or her parents? Which would hurt her the most?
But first . . . One stranger coming up.
Thursday, March 16, 12:15 P.M.
“This isn’t right,” Tess murmured, standing outside Dr. Fenwick’s licensing board office, Vito at her side. “They know I haven’t done anything wrong, but they insist on this suspension. It makes me look even guiltier.”
“We should have brought Amy,” Vito said. “She could have cut through all this shit.”
“You’re right. I just didn’t think they’d be so unfair.” Next time Tess wouldn’t attempt to talk to Fenwick without a lawyer. It seemed that was the only thing the man understood. “Let’s go. Dad should be awake and ready for lunch.” She passed the elevator on her way to the stairs.
“Dr. Ciccotelli?”
She stiffened at the voice behind her, her hand on the doorknob.
“Reporters,” Vito growled softly. “Go, now.”
“Wait.” It was a young woman, professionally dressed. “Are you Dr. Ciccotelli?”
“I am,” Tess replied. “Who are you?”
The woman held a thick sheaf of papers, her face blank. “You’re served, ma’am.”
Stunned, Tess accepted the papers, then skimmed the top page. “I’m being sued.”
Vito grabbed the paper. “By who?” Quickly he read the page. “Your patients are suing because you turned the records over to the police.” He looked up, frowning. “You were subpoenaed. You didn’t have a choice.”
She took the papers back and laughed hollowly. “Pain and suffering. Five million dollars. This won’t stand, but it will still cost me to make it go away.”
“How did they know you gave up the records?”
Tess shook her head. “I don’t know. It wasn’t on the news. Hell. What next?”
And if on cue, her cell phone rang, a local number she didn’t recognize. Tempted not to answer, she wondered if it could be her mother calling from the hotel and answered anyway. “Ciccotelli.”
“Tess? It’s Rachel.” The girl sounded strange. Detached. “I . . . I need your help. It’s an emergency.”
Tess listened to her stammered request, then took the stairs at a run. “Hurry, Vito.”
Thursday, March 16, 1:30 P.M.
Aidan looked up when the brown bag dropped on his desk. Spinnelli stood looking down, his expression wry. “Congratulations.”
Aidan opened the bag, sniffed. “Baklava. I’m touched, Marc,” he said dryly.
“I’m told it’s your favorite bribe.” His smile was brief, then he sobered. “Your feeling about Bacon was right. And you were also right that my comment earlier was uncalled for. You’ve shown considerable restraint and focus under the circumstances.”
Aidan’s cheeks warmed. Then he shrugged. “You were partly right anyway. Part of it is my personal interest in this case.” He pointed to a stack of papers. “I haven’t touched the Danny Morris case in two days. His father could be in Mexico by now.”
“He’s not. He’s hiding somewhere. He’ll come out soon enough.”
“You sound sure about that.”
Spinnelli sat on the corner of his desk. “I am. Danny’s father didn’t give a shit about him. He was a possession, a thing to be controlled. He won’t believe anyone else will give a shit, either. But you do and when he comes out of his sewer, you’ll be waiting. On your way home tonight, check his haunts. You keep showing up and his friends will get nervous. Somebody will talk.”
“Thanks. That helps.” He’d been feeling guilty for neglecting that precious child’s case.
Spinnelli crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you have, Aidan?”
“When we found Bacon’s hidey-hole empty at his apartment, we called Rick. Rick said a lot of times these guys have backup copies. Murphy’s at Bacon’s storage unit now. We figured both of us didn’t need to be there to search. I came back to start working the connection of David Bacon and Nicole Rivera to our guy.”
“Good work,” Spinnelli said. “Finding the storage unit.”
“It wasn’t rocket science. Once we got the warrant for his mother’s house, we found the receipts for the storage unit in her kitchen drawer.” Aidan sniffed at his sleeve and winced. “I’m never going to get this suit clean.”
Spinnelli chuckled. “I didn’t want to say anything but you might want to go home and change before you pick up Tess tonight.” His gaze sharpened. “So what connections have you made?”
Aidan looked at his stacks of paper in disgust. “None yet. Rivera was an actress and a waitress. Bacon was an ex-con selling widgets for a living. I’ve checked their phone records and bank statements and nothing crosses. The only thing they had in common was that they needed money, but Rivera had to leave her old apartment for one in a lousy part of town because she didn’t have enough money to pay the rent. If she was getting cash from our boy on the side, she wasn’t using it for her bills. I’m meeting Rivera’s old roommate later. I’m hoping to get some information out of her.”
“Keep me up to date.”
When Spinnelli was gone, Abe came over, papers in his hand. “I’m finishing the paperwork on Clayborn.” He grinned. “Tess did a number on him, Aidan. He looked like he’d gone a round with the champ.”
Aidan shook his head. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”
“That feeling I can understand. Look, Mia and I worked Clayborn for hours last night. He finally admitted why he didn’t want his records shared.” Abe rolled his eyes. “He’d applied to the police academy and didn’t want his psychiatric history to jeopardize his chances.”
Aidan cringed. “Surely the personality profile would have weeded him out.”
“One can only hope. The other thing we tried to figure out was how he knew Tess was with you at Mom and Dad’s house. Clayborn finally said he’d been called on the phone. Somebody told him to look at your house. Even gave him the address. He wouldn’t say who, but I pulled his cell and home LUDs. There’s one number that’s a disposable cell and I had a thought. Do you have any of Tess’s LUDs?”
Aidan riffled though his stack of papers until he found her office LUDs. “She only got one call on her home phone—that first night with Cynthia Adams. The other two came on her office phones.” He glared up at Abe. “She wouldn’t let us tap her office line. Patient confidentiality.”
“Your boy knows that,” Abe said. “Exploits her ethics.”
Aidan compared Clayborn’s LUDs to Tess’s, his pulse hiking up. “One match. This is the call she got about Seward. Nicole Rivera made that call.” He looked up at Abe. “We never found any cell phones in Rivera’s apartment.”
“Her killer took them.”
“Along with the coat and wig. This is the same disposable cell phone number. Sonofabitch. He told Clayborn where she was.”
“We hadn’t released Clayborn’s name to the press, Aidan. It was on the scanner, though. We had an APB out.”
Aidan gritted his teeth. “Then he knows she’s with me. He dangled bloody meat in front of Clayborn. Son of a fucking bitch. He always gets somebody else to do his dirty work.” He dropped his eyes back to the LUDs of Tess’s office phone. And frowned. “I didn’t notice this before. I was so busy looking at calls in, I didn’t look at calls out.”
Abe stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. “You mean that call to 911?”
“Yeah. Tess got the call about Seward at three fifteen. She said she ran out and told Denise to call 911.”
“Denise is the receptionist?”
“Yeah.” His frown deepening, Aidan found Tess’s cell phone LUDs. “She called me at three twenty-two, seven minutes later.”
Abe straightened. “But Denise didn’t call 911 until ten minutes after Tess hung up.”
Aidan looked up over his shoulder. “Tess said she didn’t know why the cops took so long to get to Seward’s. She hadn’t planned to intervene, but Seward had a gun to his wife’s head. She expected the cops to get there before she did.”
“And they would have if Denise had called as soon as she was supposed to. Why didn’t she call right away?”
Aidan considered the receptionist in his mind. She had access to all of Tess’s files, to her patients. Not only their histories, but their addresses, phone numbers. She’d been there when the courier had delivered the CD, so she knew about Bacon’s unauthorized films. She hadn’t been able to meet his eyes earlier in the day when he and Murphy had dropped by to tell Tess about Bacon’s murder.
Aidan spread the papers in the stack across his desk, scanning them. “Denise Masterson. I checked her already. She doesn’t have a record.” He quickly scanned the only information he had on Masterson. “She’s worked for them for five years now. Before that she was in college. No major debts. She drives a ten-year-old car and shares an apartment with a roommate. That’s all I know.” He puffed out his cheeks. “I’ve got to leave here in an hour to meet with Nicole Rivera’s old roommate. Afterward I’ll swing by and talk to Denise’s.”
“You could ask Tess.”
“Ask Tess what?”
Tess watched both men spin around, surprise on their faces. From behind, they looked nearly identical, broad backs in white shirts and black trousers. Identical dark heads, identical shoulder holsters. But Tess thought she’d be able to detect Aidan in a roomful of identical men. She’d run her hands over that back the night before. Now she’d have to give him some very bad news.
Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Sit down. Both of you.”
“Tess—”
She held up her hand. “Please.” Aidan sat in the chair, Abe on the desk. Both wore identical wary expressions. “It’s Rachel.” Both jumped to their feet, color draining from their faces. With a silent sigh, she looked up at them. “She’s not injured badly.”
“Where is she?” Aidan’s voice was lethal. “Tess, don’t play games with us.”
“Do I look like I’m playing a damn game?” she asked sharply. “Sit your asses down. This is why she didn’t call you two to start with.” Slowly they sat again. “She’s waiting in the hall with Vito. She called Kristen and her other sister-in-law, but got voice mail. She didn’t want you or your parents to see her the way she is, and I gave her my number last night when I was helping her with her homework. She wanted me to meet her at your house and help her clean up before you saw her.”
Aidan swallowed hard, still pale. “You didn’t, did you? We’ll need . . . evidence.”
“I took her to the ER, not,” she said when they tensed, “because it was that bad. She needed a few stitches, that’s all. I called a cop who took a report and took some pictures. Then I brought her straight here.” She crouched next to Aidan’s chair and took his hand. “Somebody beat her up, tore her clothes. It looks a whole lot worse than it is. They didn’t assault her in any other way. Do you understand me?”
Stiffly he nodded. “Who?”
“Two boys from her school. Now she’s been through hell this afternoon. Do not make it worse. Wipe that look off your face.” She looked up at Abe. “You, too. You both look like you’re going to kill. She’s afraid you’ll lose your cool and get in trouble and lose your jobs.”
Abe drew a breath and forced his face to relax. “Go get her.”
Realizing she was making it worse, Tess hurried back to where Rachel waited with Vito, Tess’s new coat around her shoulders, the collar pulled up around her ears. “They’re as prepared as they’re gonna be, kid,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
“They’re going to be so mad,” Rachel whispered, her lips trembling.
“Of course they are. They have a right to be mad, but they’re good men. They won’t do anything stupid.” She took Rachel’s arm and led her into the bullpen where both stood, waiting. One look at her face had their fists clenched.
Rachel tried to smile. “It’s really not as bad as it looks.” And thanks to a little ice and some basic first aid, she didn’t look nearly as bad as she had.
Aidan forced a tight smile. “I don’t know, squirt. You look pretty bad.” He rolled his chair away from his desk. “Sit down.” She did, gingerly. “Talk to us.”
“I got caught up in a rush in one of the stairwells at school. Looking back, I think they planned it, because all of a sudden the bell rang and the crowd scattered. They grabbed me from behind and covered my eyes. I fought, but they were a lot bigger.”
Both Aidan and Abe grew even paler and Rachel shuddered. “I thought they would do to me what they did to Marie, but they didn’t. They stuffed a rag in my mouth and hit me. Ripped my shirt and smashed my face against a brick wall. Then told me to count to fifty before getting up. I didn’t go to the office because they would have called Mom and Dad and I didn’t want them to worry. So I slipped out the emergency exit and started walking.”
Aidan wiped his palms on his pants legs. “Didn’t the alarm go off?”
“It’s rigged. Kids use it for skipping all the time.”
“Did they say anything, Rachel?” Abe asked.
She shrugged. “That I should have kept my mouth shut. Called me names.”
Abe gently lifted her chin. “Do you think you could identify them?”
“Yeah.” Rachel nodded grimly. “I do, because later I saw them. When you catch them, I’ll do the lineup.”
“She gave the names to the cop who took the report,” Tess said. “The boys are being picked up by squad cars as we speak.”
Aidan’s smile was unsteady. “That’s my girl.” He touched his finger to the edge of the bandage over her eyebrow. “How many stitches, kid?”
“Only three.”
“Hell, you got more than that ice-skating last year. That was, what, nine?”
“Eleven.” She blew out a relieved breath. “You’re calmer than I thought you’d be.”
Aidan’s smile dimmed. “I’m a damned good actor, squirt.”
“Why didn’t you call us, honey?” Abe asked.
She looked at Abe, then back at Aidan. “Because it looked a whole lot worse. I didn’t want to make Mom and Dad upset so I started walking to your house.” She looked away. “I know it was stupid to walk by myself, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”
“It’s okay,” Aidan said. “Happens to the best of us. When did you see them?”
“I looked back and saw them following me and that’s when I got really scared.” Her smile was grim. “I think they thought I was going to talk and they freaked. They chased me but I ran fast. I got to your house and released the hound.” The last was said in a cultured affectation that was meant to make them smile, but it fell flat in the gravity of the situation. “Dolly scared the shit out them,” she finished. “It was very cool.”
Aidan’s smile was feral. “Did she get either of them?”
“No.” Rachel’s lips curved and a smile rose to her eyes. “But one of them had to go home and change his pants. Dolly was amazing. I tried calling Kristen and Ruth, but got their voice mail. Tess gave me her number for homework questions last night, so I called her. She’s a doctor. I figured she’d know what to do.”
“How did you get her stitched up without a parent?” Abe asked. “She’s a minor.”
Tess glanced down at Rachel. “I stitched her up myself. Before Tuesday I had privileges at County, so I have a badge and nobody asked any questions. And I did a rotation in the ER there during my internship, so I know where things are kept. The hospital isn’t responsible. Only me.” She gave Rachel a wink. “But if your folks decide to sue me, they’ll have to stand in line.”
Aidan frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Three of my patients are suing me personally for pain and suffering for having their records released to you.” Her lips quirked humorlessly. “If I had money before, Aidan, I got none now.” She brushed her hand over Rachel’s head. “Show them the rest, sweetie. They’re going to see it sooner or later.”
With a sigh, Rachel folded down her collar. Her thick black hair, which had hung halfway down her back was now a jagged mess, barely reaching her nape. “It actually feels kind of good,” she said lightly. “I must have lost five pounds of hair.”
Stricken, Aidan touched the tip of her shorn hair. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“Stop it,” Rachel said brusquely, taking Aidan’s hands in hers. “It’s hair, Aidan. Just hair. Besides, I already have an appointment to fix it.”
Tess nodded. “One of Robin’s waiters moonlights as a hairdresser. He’ll make you mahvelous, dahling. A good cut, some highlights . . .”
Rachel patted Aidan’s hands. “I’ll come out of this better than I went in.”
“Sounds like you took care of things pretty well, Tess,” Abe commented. “Just one more thing. Which cop did you call to take her statement?” Tess looked across the bullpen to the empty desk next to Abe’s with a lifted brow and Abe sighed. “I should have known something was up when she took a long lunch. Where is Mia now?”
“She got another call just as we were leaving the ER. That wasn’t more than twenty minutes ago. I asked her not to call you until I had a chance to talk to you. She said for you to call her when you’re ready.”
“Then I guess I’ve got someplace to be.” Abe brushed his thumb against Rachel’s bruised face. “Next time, call us. We’re big boys, kid. We know how not to erupt.”
“Okay.” Now that it was over, Rachel’s blue eyes filled. “I’m sorry.” Abe crouched in front of her chair and pulled her into his arms, smoothing his hands up and down her back. “Oh, Abe, I was so scared.”
“I know. But you were so brave. Don’t be quite so brave again though, okay?”
With a shudder she nodded and Abe gave her back a final pat before standing up and pulling Tess to his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he said and let her go with an unsteady grin. “When things settle down, I want you to teach her whatever you did to Clayborn last night. Very, very cool, Tess.”
“I will. Now go. Mia’s waiting for you.”
Aidan sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms over his chest. “So what am I going to do with you, squirt? I’ve got some calls to make.”
“We can take her home,” Tess said. “Vito and me.”
Aidan saw Vito standing over against the wall, as if for the first time realizing he was there. “Thank you. I—” His phone rang and Tess admired the long lean lines of his body as he reached to answer it. “Reagan . . . Yes.” His eyes darted to hers and his face went even paler than before. “Get Spinnelli,” he mouthed. Tess ran but by the time she returned with Spinnelli, Aidan had hung up the phone and was quickly dialing again, demanding the call be traced.
Spinnelli’s eyes were glued to Rachel. “My God. What happened?”
Tess was watching Aidan’s face, dread rising to choke her. He was visibly shaken but he said nothing, wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Aidan? Who was that? What did they say?” She tugged on his arm. “Aidan? Look at me, dammit.”
Slowly he did, holding her gaze as seconds ticked and the muscle in his taut jaw twitched. Then his eyes flicked to Rachel and stayed there.
And Tess knew. Covering her mouth, she lurched back. “No.” She thought about the way she’d found Rachel, bruised and bleeding and scared. It was bad enough when she thought it had been retribution for Rachel’s anonymous tip. She swallowed back the bile that burned her throat. “Be judged by the company you keep?” she whispered.
Aidan nodded.
“Holy hell,” Spinnelli muttered. He pulled Murphy’s chair around their desks. “Sit down, Tess, before you faint. And who are you?”
“Vito Ciccotelli.” Behind her Vito’s voice was rough, his hands tight on her shoulders as he pushed her into the chair. “Philadelphia PD. I’m her brother.”
Spinnelli pinched his lips together hard. “I’ll call your dad to pick you up, Rachel.”
“No.” Rachel shook her head. “‘Be judged by the company you keep’? What does that mean?”
“It means that you were hurt because you know me,” Tess said woodenly. “You’re not the first.”
She shook her head again. “Those boys were friends of those asshole jocks that raped Marie. That had nothing to do with you.”
Tess turned her head to look into the girl’s blue eyes. “And how do you think they found out it was you, Rachel?”
Rachel opened her mouth, closed it again as Tess’s meaning sank in. “All those people . . . They died just because they knew you?” she asked, wide-eyed. Horrified. “Your doctor friend, too?”
Tess nodded, her mind spinning, her body numb. “And my doorman friend.”
Spinnelli hesitated. “Tess.”
Her eyes flew up to meet his. He shook his head sadly and Tess felt her heart stumble and stop. Her lips didn’t want to form the word. “Who?”
“Do you know a Marge Hooper?”
She blinked slowly, unable, unwilling to comprehend. “She owns the wineshop.”
“I’m so sorry, Tess. Mia called right before you came to get me. She’s at the scene now, Abe’s on his way.”
The room started to spin and she closed her eyes, focusing on the strength of Vito’s hands on her shoulders. “How?”
Spinnelli cleared his throat. “I don’t think—”
She opened her eyes and stared fiercely into Spinnelli’s face. “Goddammit to hell,” she hissed. “You tell me, Marc.”
He flicked a glance at Rachel who still sat, stunned. “Not here. Not now. Rachel, I’m going to call your father to come get you.”
Aidan stood up, his face once again unreadable. “I’ll take her home, Marc,” he said grimly. “I have to go out anyway. Come on, Rachel.”
Rachel stood up unsteadily, Aidan’s hand supporting her arm. She started to shrug out of Tess’s coat, but Tess shook her head. “Keep the coat,” she said and looked up at Aidan’s flat eyes. “I owed your brother one anyway.”
He said nothing, just nodded once and walked away.
Numb, Tess didn’t move. He was gone. Without a word. But what could he have said? Bye, Tess, thanks for a night of mind blowing sex but you nearly got my sister killed? He’d be justified. She couldn’t even blame him for going. Just by being seen with her, he’d risked his family, his sister. Everyone else who’d been targeted was dead. Rachel could have been, too. Nothing else mattered except that girl’s safety.
Not even your heart, Tess? Not even that.
“That sonofabitch,” Vito muttered. “I’d like to . . .”
“Vito, stop. What else could he do? We’ll just score another one for the bad guy,” she murmured. “He’s made all my patients fear me. Now the people I care about are afraid of me, too.”
Vito crouched beside her, taking her cold hand in his warm ones. “Come home with me, Tess. Where you belong.”
“I can’t. Not until this is over. I’m not going to run and hide.” She looked up at Spinnelli. “Tell me about Marge.”
“Her throat was slit sometime between midnight and four this morning.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them, unable to look at the picture her mind conjured. “She has two children, Marc. They’re both away at college.”
Spinnelli’s face was kind. “We’ll find them and tell them. Tess, about Aidan. He didn’t mean to be abrupt. He had a shock and so have you.”
She stood up on shaky legs. “Vito, I’m ready to go now. Take me back to Aidan’s.”
Vito’s tight jaw dropped. “After that? After he treated you like that?”
She nodded. “I think I should get my things,” she said and he relaxed a fraction. “My clothes and Bella. If the hotel won’t let me keep Bella there, then maybe Amy can watch her until I can get back into my place.”
“Tess, don’t do anything hasty,” Spinnelli said. “Please.”
Ignoring his plea, she squared her shoulders and looked up at him. “Marc, somebody watching me knew that Rachel was involved in the report of that rape to the police. This has gone beyond trashing my professional reputation or whatever other motives you think this sick bastard may have had. Somebody wants to hurt me and they don’t care who else has to pay in the process.” She sighed. “And I can’t think of anybody that hates me that much.”