Friday, March 17, 7:30 P.M.
The bleeding had nearly stopped on its own and it didn’t throb as badly as it had when the wound was fresh. Still, it needed to be stitched or it would rip open again. Jon would be here soon. He’d stitch her up and Ciccotelli’s torture could commence.
Jon’s empty driveway was visible through binoculars from a block away. As was the low-slung Camaro creeping down the road, a block in the other direction.
Aidan Reagan’s car. It took a full moment for the shock to sink in. Jon Carter had reported her. They suspect. Impossible. The shoes had been such a clever ploy. They were supposed to suspect Robin Archer, but he remained at home even after a morning visit by police. Now they suspect me. But how?
And importantly, what next? The wound needed to be attended to. Ciccotelli would have to do it. I hope her father is still alive, because only a gun to his head will force her to do the job properly. Once the stitches were in place, Ciccotelli and her father would have to die. Quickly and far less painfully than planned. I have to get away. Far away.
Friday, March 17, 8:15 P.M.
“She must have seen us.” Aidan threw his coat on his desk in disgust.
“We waited for forty-five minutes,” Murphy told Spinnelli. “She never showed up.”
Spinnelli sighed. “We know how Miller got shot. We got a call right after you left for her apartment. Joanna Carmichael’s boyfriend was found dead in his apartment. The boyfriend was lying on his own gun, which had been fired once. And we found photos on their PC. Apparently Carmichael had been taking pictures of Tess all over town.”
Another dead person. Damn. “Tess said Carmichael had been following her.”
“Well, she’d done a damn fine job of stalking. We found pictures of Marge Hooper and Sylvia Arness and half a dozen other people that Tess met that day. Carmichael told Abe and Mia that she’d suspected someone may have been in her files, but she’d gotten ‘distracted’ by a story. So it looks like Miller’s walking around with a bullet hole.”
“Carmichael got too close to Miller,” Murphy murmured. “What was the story?”
“She hasn’t said. Mia says Carmichael kept muttering ‘above the fold.’”
“So her boyfriend pays for her obsession with Tess and an exclusive with his life.” Aidan sighed. “Did you find anything at Swanson’s old apartment?”
“It was rented two months ago by a young couple,” Spinnelli said. “So Miller’s not there now. But before that, it was rented by Deering, Inc.”
So close. But still, no help. “Have we run a search on Deering’s holdings?”
“Lori’s doing it now. We should have something in an hour or so. I had Denise Masterson picked up again. She asked to call her lawyer and guess who he was?”
“Destin Lawe,” Murphy said and Spinnelli nodded.
“She was very unhappy to learn that he’s dead. He’d told her he was a lawyer.”
“Which was why she called him as soon as we let her go yesterday,” Murphy said.
“We also got three more calls reporting sightings of Danny Morris’s father. All fake.”
“She knows we’ll follow every lead. Damn the bitch,” Murphy hissed.
Aidan was ready to scream. “None of this helps us find Tess.”
“We’ve got an APB out for Miller,” Spinnelli said patiently. “Aidan, we’re dead in the water until Lori’s done with that records search. Use this time to recharge.” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s an order. Once you get that printout of real-estate holdings, you’ll be off like a rocket. I want you focused when you do.”
Aidan made himself leave the bullpen, running into Rick on his way to the elevator.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Rick said. “I have something.” When Aidan looked blank, Rick frowned. “The CD that the Poston kid smashed. I have something.”
New energy surged to give him the lift he’d been needing. “Let’s go look.”
Friday, March 17, 8:15 P.M.
Tess nearly laughed. It was a damn ludicrous request. “You want me to do what?”
Amy didn’t smile. “Here’s a sterilized needle and some thread.” She bared her forearm, revealing ripped skin. “Stitch it up.” She held her gun in her left hand, the barrel pressed to Michael’s temple. “Don’t make me flinch. My left hand’s not so steady.”
Tess sobered instantly. “All right. Just don’t hurt him.”
“She’ll kill me anyway. Don’t help her.” He grunted when Amy kicked his stomach.
“Shut up, old man.”
“It’s all right, Dad,” Tess murmured, then met Amy’s eyes. “I can’t help you with my hands tied.” After an hour of contortion, she’d managed to retrieve her father’s whittling knife from his holster pocket. With her hands tied behind her back, the only place she could reach to hide the knife was inside the back waistband of her jeans. At the moment it was sheathed and totally useless. But when Amy freed her hands . . .
Amy took her own knife, a large butcher variety, and cut the ropes that bound her hands. “One false move and your father won’t need to worry about his heart anymore.”
“This will hurt,” Tess warned. “I don’t have anything to deaden the pain.”
Amy smirked, her eyes sweeping the shelves of the little room in which they were being held. “I do, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you use it on me.”
Battling the nausea that went with the tiny little room, Tess noticed all the plants and bottles lining the shelves. Most were mushrooms and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Hallucinogens. You used these on my patients.”
Amy held out her arm. “Shut up and stitch.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m getting nauseous in here. I’m afraid I’ll botch the job.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Amy said dryly. “Get started.”
Tess threaded the needle. “Did you use these drugs on my patients?”
Amy made an impatient sound. “Yes, I did.”
Tess made a neat stitch and Amy hissed in pain. “Did you put them in my soup?”
“Of course. It seemed like the perfect time to separate you from Phil.”
Tess made a few more stitches. “Did you sleep with him? With Phillip?”
Amy’s smile was nasty. “Of course. And took pictures of the grand event. They were enough to convince Phil to walk away from you. I couldn’t let you get married.”
“Why not?”
“Because then you’d be happy. I couldn’t have planned Green or the con with the chain any better if I’d tried. But I could run with the aftermath.”
“I thought I was losing my mind,” Tess murmured, thinking of the weeks she’d been too weak to go into work and wondering if her mind was rejecting her career.
Amy chuckled good-naturedly. “I know. By the way, I really did mean that you looked like a dime-store hooker on Sunday.”
Tess tightened her jaw. “I know. Eleanor was right about you. She never liked you.”
Amy’s arm tightened beneath Tess’s hands. “Bitch. She paid, too.”
Tess looked up. “What?”
“She was always doing things for you. Giving things to you.”
Tess remembered their shock at Eleanor’s sudden death. “You killed Eleanor and made it look like a stroke.”
“I did.” Her lips thinned. “The skin on her neck was so wrinkled the ME never even saw the little mark the needle left behind.”
“But they didn’t find any drugs.”
“The beauty of air, Tess.”
Dully, Tess dropped her eyes back to the stitches. “You injected her with air.”
“The old man was supposed to throw you out on your ass.”
“But that didn’t happen,” Tess murmured, so many things clearer now.
“You landed on your feet,” Amy said bitterly. “Like you always do.” She shook her head hard. “Did,” she corrected. “Your charmed life will end tonight.”
Tess was coming to the end of her stitches and her feet were still tied. “What are you going to do to us?”
“Shoot you. It’s like a big circle. I started out with you because I killed my father. And now I’ll finish by killing yours.”
Tess bobbled a stitch, making Amy swear. Michael looked up, his eyes mere slits. “You killed your own father? Why?”
Amy’s face hardened. “He was getting married. I didn’t want him to. She had five children and they were all going to overrun my house. Take my things.” Her chuckle was ugly. “Hell of it was, I ended up with your five children, so it wasn’t any better.”
“You framed Leon,” Tess murmured, taking her time over the last few stitches.
“It was easy to do.” Her face darkened. “Framing you should have been so easy.”
“Why wasn’t it?” Tess asked.
“I was afraid the cops would miss the important clues so I left too many.”
“You did too good a job,” Tess murmured, playing the game.
“I did,” Amy replied, pleased. “Now framing your old man was a piece of cake.”
Tess gritted her teeth. Amy had set that up, too. “You had me fooled.”
“The great psychiatrist. No better than anyone else. You see what you want to see.” Amy flexed her fingers. “You did a good job. For that the old man will go quickly.”
Tess knew it was now or never. She whipped her father’s knife from her waistband and while Amy was inspecting her stitches, Tess struck, slicing deep into Amy’s uninjured arm. Letting out a piercing howl, Amy swung the gun upward and Tess treated her to the same move she’d used on Clayborn. Amy screamed, blood gushing from her nose and Tess threw herself into Amy’s body, knocking her against one of the walls. Pots on the shelves above teetered and Amy was momentarily stunned.
Tess grabbed Amy’s gun with one hand and sawed at the ropes around her ankles with the other. She stood, the gun in her hand while Amy sneered. “You won’t do it.”
Tess knew Amy was at least partly right. This woman had been her closest friend. And it had been entirely one-sided the entire time. Still, Tess couldn’t see herself pulling the trigger, taking Amy’s life. The woman she’d loved like a sister was mentally ill. She’d spared Harold Green. Did she owe Amy any less? “I don’t want to kill you, Amy. But I will if I have to. Stand up and don’t touch my father or I swear I will kill you.”
Amy stood up. “Such a little bitty room, Tess. I don’t think you’ve got enough air.”
Tess gritted her teeth. “I seem to be doing very well, despite my fear.” And to her surprise that was true. “Now move. Away from my father.” Amy moved a few feet closer to the door, her eyes watchful. Tess knew Amy was just waiting for her to blink. “That’s far enough. Dad, I can’t take my eyes off her to untie you.”
“It’s all right, Tess.” He was so weak. “Just get help.”
“Move, Amy. We’re going to make a phone call and this time I get to talk for myself.”
Friday, March 17, 8:20 P.M.
Aidan, Murphy, and Spinnelli stared at the photos Rick had spread across the table. “The missing slivers of the CD translate to missing bands across the width of the picture,” Rick explained.
“You found pictures?” Aidan asked. “I was expecting an audio file.”
“Oh.” Rick shook his head to clear it. “I’ve been looking at this too long. I did find an audio file, but just pieces. Like a cell phone conversation that keeps going in and out. But there’s enough to nail Poston for sure. While I was looking for the audio segments, I found some picture files, buried deep. She must have tried to wipe this disc clean with a government wipe. That only erases the data if you wipe it seven times and even then, data’s been known to stick around. See if the pictures mean anything.”
The picture was of a wall, with pictures. Pen-and-ink pictures of a beach. He’d seen this wall before. His heart leaped into his throat. “This is Tess’s living room.”
Murphy grabbed one of the pictures. “You’re kidding.”
Aidan looked up. “She did the same thing with Tess that she did with Swanson. These were taken from outside Tess’s apartment. That’s where she plays.”
Murphy nodded excitedly. “From the building across the street. But that building’s got forty apartments on the street side. Can you project the apartment from the angle?”
“Maybe,” Rick said. “The resolution’s poor, but I can guess.”
Spinnelli knocked on the table to get their attention. “We need to know which specific apartment to get a warrant. You can’t just guess.”
Aidan picked up the phone. “Lori, do you have that real-estate list for Deering yet?”
Two minutes later Lori brought the printouts and Aidan ran his finger down the list. “She owns twenty apartments. But only one across from Tess. Let’s go.”
Friday, March 17, 8:45 P.M.
“Stop now,” Tess said and Amy stopped, a mocking smile on her face.
“And if I don’t?”
Tess fired a shot, letting the bullet fly close to Amy’s head. “Then I’ll shoot you.”
Amy’s face turned a mottled red. “You bitch. You’ve always had it all.”
“And now I’ll have you in jail. Which is where you tried to send me.”
“And I would have if it hadn’t been for those damn cops.”
“You sound like the villains in Scooby-Doo,” Tess said and Amy’s scowl deepened. “So much for classic films.” She looked around, but to her dismay saw no phone.
“No phone,” Amy said smugly. “Just the Internet. Now what?”
“Come with me. We’re knocking on some doors. I’m sure somebody in this building has a phone.” She waved Amy in front of her, motioning her toward the door. “Go.”
Instead Amy charged. Tess flew backward, flat against the glass patio door and Amy wrested the gun away. Bleeding and bruised, Amy stood, pointing the gun at Tess’s heart. “Now you move. Out on the terrace. Full circle with your dad, full circle with you. This all started when your patient jumped. Now the headlines will have you jumping as well. Open the door.”
“No.” Tess knew the moment she was on the terrace that she was dead.
Amy unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting in the cold night air. She grabbed Tess’s hair in one hand, with the other pressed the gun to her temple. “I said go. Now.” She dragged Tess to the balcony and pushed her so that she leaned over the edge. Tess cried out when the butt of the gun came down against the small of her back. Instinctively she moved to get away from the pain, throwing off her center of gravity and Amy pushed.
Sending Tess over the edge.
“Police!” Aidan stepped aside to let the SWAT team break down the door and Aidan’s heart dropped to his feet. On the balcony Amy stood. Alone. Barely visible were two hands, hanging on to the ledge for dear life. Tess. Aidan ran forward only to have Amy Miller turn, her eyes wild and insane.
“Everybody leaves or I’ll shoot her hands,” she threatened calmly. “And she’ll fall, twelve stories. If she doesn’t die, she’ll wish she had and so will you.”
Murphy was behind him. “On three, Aidan,” he said softly. “One, two,—”
Three. Both he and Murphy shot simultaneously, the force of their combined fire to her torso sending Amy over the edge. Not waiting to check where she landed, Aidan ran, and he and Murphy dragged Tess back to safety. She was white-faced and panting, in too much shock to say a word.
Aidan swung her into his arms and carried her back into the living room.
“She’s on the pavement,” Murphy said from the balcony. “She’s dead.”
“Full circle,” Tess murmured. “Like Cynthia.”
Aidan thought he’d never put Tess down as long as he lived. Seeing her two small hands clutching the edge of the balcony had driven more than twenty years from his life.
Tess struggled to her feet. “My father. Call 911. He needs oxygen.”
So did she, Aidan thought, but supported her as she ran to a back room where Michael Ciccotelli lay, still bound and pale. He looked up and closed his eyes in relief. “You’re alive. I heard the gunshots.”
Tess dropped to her knees and searched for the knife to cut his bonds. Tears were pouring from her eyes and Aidan didn’t think she was even aware of them. Her hands were shaking, making the knife a danger. “She’s dead, Dad. Amy’s dead.”
“Tess.” Aidan crouched down, took the knife from her hands. “Sit and breathe.” Quickly he cut Michael’s bonds and helped the older man straighten his limbs. “You’re both going to a hospital and you will not argue. Agreed?”
Michael looked at Tess. “I’ll go if you do.”
She nodded, her hand over her mouth. “Okay.”
“Tess? Dad?” Vito skidded to a stop in the open doorway. “Oh, my God, Tess.” He dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her in his arms. “Spinnelli called me and I got here when you were still hanging off the balcony. I thought you’d fall.” His arms tightened and he rocked her hard.
Michael’s eyes grew wide. “You were hanging from the balcony? Dear God.”
“I thought I’d have a heart attack,” Vito said fervently. “Mom and I stood there. We couldn’t breathe. And then Amy went over the side and Reagan pulled you back over.” He looked up unsteadily, meet Aidan’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Aidan managed a nod. “It’s okay. I’m not sure I’ll ever breathe again, either.” He blew out a breath and drew in another experimentally. “I guess I can.”
Tess gently pulled from Vito’s arms and turned into Aidan’s. She put her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see anyone as I was when you looked over that balcony.” She touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”
Aidan buried his face in the curve of her neck and shuddered. It was over. Finally over. “You’re welcome. Let’s get you checked out, then let’s go home.”
She tilted his head up, smiled into his eyes. “I’m not cooking tonight, Detective.”
His laugh was strangled. “It’s okay. I got no spit to swallow anything you’d make. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
Saturday, March 18, 8:30 A.M.
Tess gingerly stepped from the elevator at Aidan’s floor, her heart racing. She stood for a moment and drew a deep breath.
“Still hate elevators, Tess?”
She looked up to find Marc Spinnelli studying her with a kind smile, a coffee cup in one hand. “Yeah, but I think I might hate heights just a little more now.”
He grinned. “I’d say you’d have a right to that phobia, Doctor.” He slid his arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Sore, but fine.” She’d woken in Aidan’s bed an hour before. He’d been gone already, a note on his pillow. “Sleep in,” he’d ordered, but this morning she needed answers. She needed him. “Is Aidan here?”
He nodded, understanding. “In the conference room. I’ll walk you.”
Five pairs of eyes looked up when she came in. Jack, Rick, Patrick, and Murphy. And Aidan. He stood up, a frown bending his brow. “I told you to sleep.”
“I couldn’t.” She held out the morning Bulletin. “Did you see this?”
Aidan sighed. “Yeah, we did. Sit down, Tess.”
She took the chair he offered and spread the paper out, once again staring at the bold black type. The headline read DEFENSE ATTORNEY A KILLER. Under the bold print were two stories. The first was the bigger one, byline Cyrus Bremin. It detailed Amy’s role in the killing spree of the last week, culminating with Phillip Parks and Keith Brandon. Their pictures stared up from the page and Tess could only feel sadness. Her own picture was included, next to a grainy photo of her hanging from the balcony. That picture left her stomach raw and turbulent. She’d dreamed about it the night before, her fingers slowly slipping from the balcony as horns blared from the traffic below. But she hadn’t been asleep. It was just her memory playing that one horrific moment again and again. But she was alive. Thirteen others were not.
The second story was smaller, but just as shocking. Amy had been working for several powerful families in Chicago, earning blood money as she helped them put any employees who’d displeased them in prison. Invariably those employees were killed, sending an effective message to anyone considering a betrayal. Apparently among these employees, Amy Miller was associated with certain doom. Somehow Joanna Carmichael had uncovered this. And it had cost her boyfriend his life.
“She finally got her byline,” Tess murmured. “Carmichael, that is.”
“At a price,” Aidan returned quietly. “Are you all right?”
Yes, she started to answer, then stared at the front page. “No. I’m not.”
“How’s your father, Tess?” Murphy asked.
“Stable.” She managed a ghost of a smile. “Crotchety. He wants to go home.” Her smile faded. “He wants me to go with him.”
Something flashed in Aidan’s eyes, but he just smiled. “We’ll talk about that when everything’s settled down. Have you eaten?”
“Your mother made me.” Tess had woken to the smell of eggs and bacon and the easy smile of Becca Reagan, which seemed to take the edge off the worst of situations. Tess had spent the evening before in the hospital where she was examined and released quickly. Her father had been admitted, of course. Vito and her mother still sat by his side. But her father had insisted she go home. Get some sleep. Home was Aidan’s house.
“What did you find out last night?”
“That everything in Carmichael’s article is true. And more.”
“She set up innocent men,” Patrick said harshly. “A few I prosecuted. If the police got too close to one of the family’s crimes, the family brought her in. She’d set up a scapegoat, arrange for the evidence to be found. And ‘defend’ the poor bastard so that he never had a chance at justice.” He clenched his jaw, contempt in his eyes. “And I never suspected a thing. Neither did Kristen. Before we worried about appeals because of you. Now we’re dealing with possible reversals of every case she defended.”
“Ironic,” Tess murmured.
“Nicole Rivera’s brother was one of those innocent men,” Aidan said. “She chose the boy because she believed Rivera was the best choice to imitate you. She set Miguel Rivera up for murder, then extorted his sister.”
“The boy is free?” Tess asked.
Aidan nodded. “Last night.”
“But his sister is dead,” Murphy said flatly. “He has no one.”
“Because Amy killed her.” Tess closed her eyes. “And all those other people. And I still don’t know why, other than that she hated me.” The silence around the table was uncomfortable and awkward. Tess looked at their faces. “Tell me. Now.”
“It was Jim Swanson, Tess,” Aidan said gently. “She was obsessed with him.”
“But he wanted me.” She frowned. “He left three months ago for Africa. Is that what triggered all of this?” Aidan’s eyes flickered and Tess knew. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“I’m sorry, Tess. Swanson never showed up at the clinic in Chad. We found his things in Amy’s closet, a knife with dried blood of his type. She must have killed him in a rage. Then blamed you.”
“She’s hated me, all these years.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “Hell of a shrink I turned out to be. A killer at my front door and I never knew.”
“Her mother was schizophrenic, Tess,” Murphy said. “Your mom can tell you more, but it looks like Amy’s been on the edge for years. Just smart enough to hide it from everyone. Including you.”
“It’s just been recently that her sanity started to slip beyond her grasp.” Aidan squeezed her hand. “She couldn’t hide it anymore.”
“My mother knew?” Tess fought to swallow. “She knew?”
“She knew Amy’s mother was sick, Tess. She had no idea Amy was, too.”
Stiffly Tess nodded. “It doesn’t matter. She poisoned me, you know. In my soup.”
From across the table Jack grimaced. “The mushrooms? Julia thought as much.”
“And she slept with Phillip.”
“We figured that,” Murphy said.
Tess nodded again, rolling the mental tape of the night before in her mind. “And she killed her father.” But to her surprise, no one looked shocked. “You knew this, too?”
“Vito suspected. Apparently a neighborhood boy was charged.”
“Leon Vanneti.” Tess frowned. “He was innocent, like Vito said. But it’s just my word. There’s still no proof.” Her eyes widened. “She said Leon raped her. They didn’t do DNA then, but if they still have evidence maybe they can clear him now.”
“I’ll make the calls this morning,” Spinnelli promised. “At least we can set one thing right.”
Tess sighed. “She killed Eleanor, too.”
This raised a few eyebrows. “Really?” Murphy asked. “How did she do that?”
“She injected her with air. Because Eleanor had been kind to me.”
Spinnelli cleared his throat. “We do have some good news for you, Tess. Rick?”
“We found Bacon’s original files in the apartment last night,” Rick said. “Along with the one CD labeled with your name. Lynne Pope was able to identify it as the label she saw the day Bacon tried to sell it to her. So at least all the copies are accounted for.”
Relief nearly made her head swim. “I didn’t want to be so worried, but I was.”
Spinnelli patted her shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to be.”
“Do you know why Amy wanted Bacon’s files so badly?”
“I’ve had a policewoman viewing the footage since we got the CDs from Bacon’s storage locker. She saw Amy taking bottles from your medicine cabinet.”
“The bottles she planted in Cynthia’s apartment.”
Aidan shrugged. “It seems like a small thing for her to worry about, but I suppose she was worried Bacon would blackmail her since he was blackmailing you.”
“That about wraps it up,” Spinnelli said, “unless you have any other questions.”
Tess looked at the newspaper again, her eyes skittering from the photo of herself dangling from the balcony. “I would like to know how Carmichael discovered all this.”
Aidan held out his hand. “Let’s pay her a visit, then I’ll take you to see your father.”
Aidan buckled her seat belt. She sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, her face pale with the frail, vulnerable look of a traumatized child. He didn’t speak until they were well away from the police station. “You should be home in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep, Aidan.”
He knew that. She’d lain beside him during the night, her body stiff and frozen, tears seeping from her eyes until he’d finally given them both what they needed. She’d responded with a ferocity that still left his skin tingling from head to toe. God help him, he wanted to feel that same way again. Right now. Instead, he kept his voice gentle. “You could have taken one of the sleeping pills Jon prescribed.”
“After yesterday I think I’ve had enough tranquilizers for my lifetime.” Her smile was strained. “But thank you. I’ll be all right, Aidan. It will just take some time.”
“I’ve got time, Tess.”
Her serious eyes were like a punch to his overactive system. “Good.”
“I have one other piece of good news. Do you remember that friend of Danny Morris’s father?”
“The one you hurt your hand trying to arrest?”
“Yeah. I stopped by his apartment on my way into work this morning. Guess who was sleeping it off on the couch?”
Her eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “You arrested the father.”
“He was trying to get away, but he was too disoriented to do anything but stagger. He’ll be charged with murder.”
Her nod was sober. “Good.” Then she looked away, and he thought he understood how she felt when he’d closed himself to her.
“Tess, talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.” He pulled the car into an empty parking lot and hooked a finger under her chin. Her throat worked as she fought to control the tears, but still they rolled down her face. “Please talk to me.”
“I would have killed her, Aidan. She was like my sister and I would have killed her.”
He narrowed his eyes. “She deserved to die, Tess. She killed so many.”
“She was sick.” She swallowed hard. “And I never helped her.”
He sighed. After everything, he was a cop. And she was a doctor. “You know what I realized yesterday afternoon, standing in her apartment? That one of the things I’d been afraid of was that you would worm your way into my mind, take away my privacy. Then I realized that you don’t do that with the people you care about the most. It left you vulnerable with Amy, with Phillip. But it puts you on equal footing with me.”
She blinked at him. “So I’m inept with my loved ones . . . which is good.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Essentially, yes.”
Her lips curved. “That’s so sweet.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful. Tess, the night before last, I asked you what you wanted. You said it was what you’d always wanted. Somebody to love you.”
She lifted her chin. “And you said it didn’t scare you away.”
“It didn’t. It doesn’t. You never asked me what I wanted that night.”
She bit her lower lip. “So? What do you want, Aidan?”
He hesitated, self-conscious. “I always wanted a woman like my mom.”
She smiled. “Somebody to cook for you?”
“There is that. But more of what she’s been to my dad all these years. He’d come home, tired and worn and upset over something that had happened on his shift. And she’d be there. She’d always . . . just be there. And she loves him for who he is.”
“I can see that. She’s a good person, Aidan.”
“So are you, Tess.” He took her hand, pressed it against his lips. “I think I was afraid that you would do more than just be there. That you’d analyze and judge and maybe tell me I was crazy, because sometimes that’s how I feel.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Her mouth quirked up. “Apparently, I’m inept.”
“Only in that. In everything else, you’re quite the expert. Let’s talk to Carmichael.”
Saturday, March 18, 9:45 A.M.
Carmichael was standing on the curb outside her apartment, a suitcase in her hand. She was pale, dark circles shadowing her eyes. She didn’t look happy to see them.
“Miss Carmichael?” Tess said. “I was so sorry to hear about your friend.”
Joanna eyed her head to toe, speculative, yet detached. “I should say the same.”
But she didn’t, Tess realized. “I’d like to speak with you.”
She looked down the street. “I’m going to the airport. I have only a few minutes.”
Tess nodded. “That should be enough. I want to know how you discovered Amy Miller had been working for organized crime families.”
A mirthless smile bent Joanna’s mouth. “It really wasn’t that difficult. I was looking for dirt. I found it. Your friend Jon’s story was little, but your friend Amy’s . . . Real big. I knew she hung with the doctors that met at the Blue Lemon every second Sunday and I wondered why all those doctors and one lone lawyer. That’s when I found she’d gone to med school in Kentucky while you were in med school here in Chicago.”
“We couldn’t get into the same school,” Tess told Aidan. “She dropped out because she couldn’t stand the cadaver dissections. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“She didn’t drop out, Dr. Ciccotelli. She was expelled, or she would have been if she hadn’t managed to get some incriminating photos with one of her professors.”
Tess blinked. “She was nothing if not predictable.”
“I tracked down one of her old roommates through the dean’s secretary at the med school. Apparently she hadn’t liked Miller and had no hesitation in pointing me in the right direction. I caught up with Kelsey Chin, who is now a doctor in Lexington. She told me about the expulsion and the pictures. She said that Miller had tried to enlist her help in taking the photos, then went to their other roommate when she said no.”
“So how did you find out about the organized crime?” Aidan asked impatiently.
“I wondered at the ethics of someone who could do such a thing. Plus, she lost a lot of cases, yet still she had the money for clothes and cruises.”
“Actually, I paid for the cruise,” Tess said.
Joanna’s smile was bitter. “Then I guess I just lucked out, because that made me check her client list. From there it was just connecting the dots.” A cab stopped at the curb. “And now I’ve got to go. I’m flying home to bury Keith.”
“And then?” Tess asked.
“I’ll be back.” Her bitter smile twisted. “I got a promotion. Big raise. I’ve learned to be careful what I wish for.” She got into the cab without a backward glance.
The cab disappeared around the corner. “I don’t know if I feel sorry for her, Aidan.”
He put her back in his car. “She’s got to live with what she’s done. She pulled the tiger’s tail and her boyfriend paid the ultimate price.” He climbed in beside her and squeezed her hand. “There was nothing you could have done, Tess.”
Tess drew a shaky breath. “I know. And maybe that’s the hardest part to face.”
“Look . . . I know this cop who has a bachelor’s degree in psychology and whose couch is available for a moderate fee.”
Tess laughed and it felt good. “Moderate?”
“Oh, all right. I’ll give you my advice on the barter system.”
“What barter did you have in mind?”
He pulled away from the curb. “If you have to ask, you’re not as smart as I thought.”
“I did say I wasn’t a mind reader, Detective.”
He grinned. “So you did. I guess I’ll just have to spell it out for you later. For now, I’ll take you to your father. He’ll be waiting for you.”