At Close Range (15 page)

Then she took a deep breath, gave herself a little pep talk, and let herself out of her room, locking the door securely at her back, even though she’d left nothing of value.

These days, she was more afraid of something being left in her room. The thought—and the reminder of danger—brought a faint shiver, but she pushed it aside as she marched to Varitek’s door. She’d done what she could do for the night.

She’d checked in on the progress the task force had made, and had finally gotten in touch with Maya, who insisted she was fine. There was little more to do now than wait for Varitek’s people to finish with the fingerprints.

She might as well give herself permission to kick back for a few hours, so she took a deep breath, told herself this wasn’t a real date, and knocked on the door to Varitek’s unit.

But when the wood panel swung open and she saw his shower-slicked hair and caught the faintest hint of aftershave, her resolve crumbled against a wash of heat.

It sure as hell felt like a date.

HE WAS IN SERIOUS TROUBLE. Seth knew it as surely as he knew his own name the moment he saw her hair tumbling free across her shoulders. The soft blond waves made him itch to touch, to bury his fingers deep while he kissed her until they both ran out of air.

He cleared his throat. “The lady at the desk recommended a seafood place about a block away, right on the water.”

Cassie nodded. “Sounds good. Want to walk?”

“Let’s drive. Just in case.” He couldn’t shake the suspicion that the killer had sent them to Florida on purpose, but why? What was back in Bear Claw that he didn’t want them to see?

Or was there something in Florida he wanted them to see?

Not knowing, Seth kept his guard up as they walked to the rented SUV. Unable to stop himself, he opened the door for Cassie. She was one of the most capable women he’d ever met, yet he felt compelled to offer her a hand to help her inside.

He half expected her to throw the gesture back in his face. Instead, she took his hand, stepped close and looked up at him, and said, “Look, Varitek. I know this isn’t really a date, but I think we’ll both feel better if we get this out of the way.”

Without warning, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Surprise rocketed through him at the feel of her soft, lush lips against his, at the freshly showered, feminine scent of her rising up to surround him and cloud his brain. That was the only explanation for why he tightened his fingers on hers rather than pulling away, why he opened his mouth at the touch of her tongue rather than telling her this was a bad idea.

Or was it? Did he really need an explanation for something that felt this good?

Her flavor washed over him, into him, as their tongues met and mated. He looped their joined hands behind her back and pulled her closer, until their bodies were nearly aligned at thigh, hip and chest.

Where their first kiss had been a flameout of adrenaline and fighting madness, this was a meeting. A compromise. And the softness of it, the glory of it shimmered through him like the sunrise.

Heat rose, but it was a patient, binding heat that stayed warm when they eased apart.

Cassie’s eyelids flickered then lifted, revealing now-confused blue eyes. She held his gaze for a long moment, during which he was acutely conscious of her rapid heartbeat and the rise and fall of her chest, which mirrored his own.

“Well,” she finally said.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her again.

“Yeah. Well.”

She laughed nervously. “That didn’t really clear the air, did it?”

“Nope.” He jerked his head toward the rental. “Get in. I need to eat.”

It was either that or sling her over his shoulder and carry her to his room.

THEY PASSED the short ride to the restaurant without speaking, but Cassie was getting used to Varitek’s silences. When he had something to say, he said it. When he didn’t, he was quiet. She liked that.

Actually, she was starting to like entirely too much about him, from the way he thought on the job to the way he’d admitted treating her differently and promised to work on it.

Not to mention the way he kissed.

She pressed her lips together, savoring the full, tender feeling of them. It had probably been a mistake to kiss him, but they’d both been wound tight and part of her had thought that might dispel the tension.

Wrong. If anything, it had made things worse, because now she knew that her memory of kissing him in the lab had been a hundred percent accurate. The man could kiss.

Hoo boy, could he kiss.

Her system had barely leveled by the time they pulled into the restaurant, which boasted an old boat purporting to be a prop from The African Queen out front and a kitschy collection of Bogart memorabilia and plastic fish hung near the door. She jumped out of the SUV before he could open the door and heard his faint chuckle as she led the way into the restaurant.

The kiss might have been her idea, but letting it go further wasn’t part of the plan.

Once they’d placed their drink orders, she said, “I talked to Alissa. Turns out that two of Jasmine Gardner’s friends positively ID’d a picture of Peter Dunbar.

Apparently, he and Jasmine had sex and he snuck out on her—get this—the night before he was found dead.”

Varitek nodded. “I’ve got my people processing Jasmine’s bedroom right now. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Maybe not.

Cassie made a face that he already knew about the Jasmine-Peter connection, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Oddly enough, it didn’t tick her off nearly as much as it would have a few days ago. Maybe she was mellowing, she thought, then was struck by a much less welcome thought.

What if she was caving on her own opinions to make Varitek like her more?

Suddenly annoyed, she straightened in her chair and glared when the waiter leaned over to place her drink on the table. When he was gone, she said, “Alissa is sitting down with the girls right now to put together some sketches and a vehicle description. Apparently, Jasmine had been seeing someone else in the past week or so, someone older. She never introduced him to her friends, but one of the girls thinks she saw Jasmine get into his car the day before she was murdered.”

Varitek didn’t comment on whether or not he knew about the possible witness, because the waiter interrupted to give them the specials. Once he’d taken their orders and gone, Varitek said, “How do you figure Peter Dunbar and Jasmine Gardner fit in with the older skeleton, Marcia Pennington?”

“Marcia was practice, maybe.” Cassie sipped her drink. They’d both ordered sodas without discussing the fact that they were, if not on duty, then on guard. “But if that’s the case, where has he been for the past decade? Killers don’t just stop killing. Not usually. And then why bait us so we reopen the grave after so long? It doesn’t make rational sense.”

“Not the way you and I define rational, maybe.” Varitek shrugged. “Killers have a tendency to redefine logic to suit themselves.”

“True.” They fell silent as their appetizers were delivered, but Cassie only picked at her food, because the pall of death had gathered over the small, dimly lit table for two.

Varitek deliberately dug into his appetizer. “Your neighbors seem like good people.”

Cassie looked up, startled by the change in subject. “The McGlaughlins?”

“Didn’t catch his name. Young guy with a baby face and a pump-action shotgun.

Nearly put a big hole in me when I went to break down your door.”

Though it was yet another reminder of the case and the danger, she grinned at the image and the subject change. “That’s Dean. He’s a sweetheart. I barely spoke to him and Mary for the first couple of months I lived in the house, but once little Eden came along, I just couldn’t stay away.” When he arched an eyebrow, she shrugged and laughed. “Go figure. I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a baby person, either.” When he didn’t respond, she felt the heat of a faint blush in her cheeks and hoped he didn’t think she was fishing. She quickly said, “So, you know that I live in a two-family. How about you? Something glass and chrome, with ten foot ceilings and double doors everywhere?”

She expected him to laugh. Instead, he grew pensive. Quiet, as though she’d struck a nerve when she was only looking for a safe topic of conversation. Finally, he said,

“I have a good-sized house in a gated community outside of Denver. Stone floors, wood trim, big fireplace. That sort of thing. There’s a studio at the back with great light and ventilation.” His eyes darkened. “I keep meaning to drywall it and turn it into a gym, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

Cassie knew she shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t stop herself. “I take it the studio was your wife’s?”

“It was supposed to be.” He looked at her then, and his eyes held a weariness that tugged at her heart. He didn’t even seem to notice the arrival of their entrées as he said, “We’d been fighting again, same old, same old. I thought if we changed the scenery, if Robyn had someplace that was hers, maybe she’d settle down and be happier.”

He shifted in his chair while music drifted over from the club next door. A lone trumpet held a single note over the faint background hiss of the nearby sea.

“What did she think of that?” Cassie asked.

“About what you’re probably imagining,” he said dryly. “She loved the city, loved its pulse and its edge. Said I was trying to make her into a suburban housewife and she wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Couples fight,” Cassie said, wishing she’d never mentioned the house, never asked about the studio. “I’m sure she got over it.”

“She never had the chance. The next day, she was attacked on her way home from the showing. I was supposed to be with her. I’d promised to be with her, but I got called to a scene.” Varitek stared at his left hand, at the finger Cassie assumed had once worn a ring. “They’d planned it, of course, knowing I’d respond to the call. Hell, Trouper and I had been trying to get the Diablo brothers for nearly a year. We’d just put one of them away and were closing in on the other two. They’d made threats, of course, but I didn’t listen.”

As though suddenly remembering that he was hungry, Varitek lifted his fork and dug into his dinner with single-minded intensity, as though he was punishing the food, or maybe himself. The open window beside them let through the sound of the band next door, a melancholy collection of horns and strings with very little backbeat.

After a few minutes, Cassie decided she couldn’t stand the strained silence anymore. She cleared her throat with a swallow of soda and said, “Listen, Varitek—”

“For God’s sake,” he snapped. “What do I have to do to get you to call me Seth?”

She jerked back from his anger, but told herself it wasn’t aimed at her. It was the situation. The emotion. Something.

She stood, collected her purse and slapped a few bills on the table. “Come on, Seth.

Let’s take a walk.”

He scowled at the money. “I’m paying, damn it.”

When he reached for the bills she said, “Touch that and I’ll break your fingers.

Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, the empty threat worked. He drained his soda and stood, reminding her once again how much taller he was than she. How much stronger.

He followed her out onto the back terrace of the restaurant, then down onto the sand. When she paused near a string of colored lights to remove her shoes, he put a hand to the small of her back. “Let’s get out of the light.”

She knew he meant because they made better targets backlit by the restaurant. It was practicality, nothing more, but as the night closed around them and they walked down by the cloud-darkened water, the intimate isolation was undeniable.

They stayed side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but didn’t touch. They walked slowly, their feet sinking into the soft sand, not walking for exercise or to get anywhere in particular, but because it was easier than sitting in a lit restaurant, facing each other.

Finally, Cassie said, “I know I’ve spent plenty of time telling you what you’re doing wrong, what you need to change…but sometimes changing isn’t the right answer.

Sometimes, if you need to change that much it means that you’re not with the right person.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

Cassie tried to shrug off Seth’s quiet sentence, but something about the darkness, the rush of the nearby water and the far away throb of music overcame some of her long-held barriers.

Or if they weren’t overcome, they seemed less important, somehow.

“His name was Lee Adams. He was an instructor when I went for my M.S. in forensic chemistry and criminology. He was…” She paused, searching for the right words.

“He was older than me by maybe eight or ten years, and everyone looked up to him because he’d been on the job. He was wounded on the streets and retired to teach—at least that was his story.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and fought it, knowing she was just as much to blame as Lee had been.

He’d misled her, yes. But she’d allowed it.

“What was it, skiing accident?” Seth’s dry question came out of the darkness and hit just the right chord within her.

Incredibly she was able to laugh about it. “Worse. It was an old tennis injury.” She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see the motion. “I was completely and totally gullible. I even defended him to the other students. We started dating—” that sounded better than I fell head over heels for him, “—and moved in together after six months or so.”

“And I’m guessing you fought.” Seth paused in his walking step and turned to face her. “Look. I know you mean well, but there’s a big difference between living with someone and being married. Marriage is permanent. There’s no going back—the only option is to make it work, fights and all. And if you screw it up…” He spread his hands, a shadow of dark against light barely visible in the light from the beachside homes. “You’re done. You only get one chance.”