Bloodlines (6 page)

Marcus was right behind them. He put his arm around Olivia's shoulders, shielding her from the reporters with his body.

“It's nothing, darling,” he said briefly as they hurried toward the door. “They're only reporters doing their job. They can't hurt you.”

Trey led them into the building, then seated them in a hallway, safely away from the prying eyes and long-distance camera lenses of the media.

“Wait here,” he said, and pushed through a pair of double doors opposite where they were sitting.

“Oh my God,” Olivia mumbled. “That was terrible. Why do they do that?”

Marcus sighed, then laid a hand in the middle of her back.

“Lean back, sweetheart. Relax. That's nothing compared to what they were like before.”

“Before? You mean, when Mother and Daddy were murdered? When I disappeared?”

He nodded.

“That was bad,” he said. “Today is nothing. They're going to poke a swab in our mouths, gather their precious DNA, and then we'll go on about our business. The rest of this mess will be their problem, not ours.”

Olivia looked at him then, taking courage from the glint in his eye.

“You're really sure…about me, I mean…aren't you?”

“Yes, darling. I'm as sure as a man can be.”

At that moment, Trey came back.

“They're ready for us,” he said, nodding at Marcus. “This way, sir.”

 

As soon as the police cars arrived, Dennis Rawlins made himself scarce. He couldn't afford to get himself arrested—not this time. This time he was on a mission from God, and he had to succeed. God had told him he would be absolved of guilt if he made an important act of contrition. And only God knew how much guilt Dennis carried with him every waking moment of the day. As for sleep, Dennis couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without reliving the horror of what he'd done. It didn't matter that he hadn't planned for the bomb he'd planted at an abortion clinic to kill seven children.

For weeks afterward he'd lived with thoughts of suicide, wanting relief from the sight of those tiny bloodied bodies every time he closed his eyes. How could he have known that a church bus would break down right in front of the clinic? He'd tried to tell himself that if God hadn't meant for the children to die, he wouldn't have let the bus break down there. But there was still enough rationality in Dennis to admit that God probably didn't bother himself with engine failures. It was Dennis who'd set the stage for the disaster, and now he was living with the consequences.

But that was all going to change. Once he'd heard about the remains of that little baby being found and gathered that the Sealys were suspected of somehow being involved, he'd known what he was supposed to
do. Enacting revenge in the baby's name would absolve him of the guilt in the other deaths.

He folded his sign in half, stuffed it under his arm and disappeared into an alley. By the time he got back to his apartment, he was on an adrenaline high. The first blow for vengeance had been struck, but he was by no means through.

 

Oddly enough, the actual retrieval of DNA was, as Olivia's grandfather had predicted, quite anticlimactic. They put a swab to the inside of her mouth, aimed a Polaroid camera at her face when she was least expecting it, and caught the wide-eyed stare of her confusion. They repeated the process for Marcus, took names, addresses and dates of birth, then thanked them for coming.

The cab Marcus had called was, at his request, waiting for him at a side door. After a quick goodbye to Olivia, with a promise to see her at home for a late lunch, he left, leaving Olivia and Trey alone.

Trey, preoccupied with getting Olivia out without more problems with the press, didn't have time to consider what being alone with her for the ensuing thirty minutes would mean.

But Olivia
was
thinking about it. In fact, she hadn't been able to think about anything else. In a way, it was ironic that the thing she feared most, which was not being the true Olivia Sealy, had been thrust to the back of her mind by Trey's presence. All she could do was sit in silence, watching with grudging admiration at the way he tore into the people at the crime lab for leaking
the news of their presence. Even when the man he was talking to vehemently denied it, Trey gave him no slack.

“I don't give a damn whether you're the one who made the call or not,” Trey said. “You're in charge, and someone on your watch doesn't know the meaning of privacy.”

Larry Flood knew Trey was right, but he didn't like him and wasn't willing to take any blame.

Flood's face was as red as his hair as he pointed a finger in Trey's face.

“Dammit, Bonney, don't take that holier-than-thou attitude with me. Any number of people from your department, as well as mine, knew they were coming,” he argued.

“That's where you're wrong, and get your finger out of my face before I shove it up your ass,” Trey snapped.

Olivia stifled a grin when the man quickly yanked his hand back and stuffed it in his pocket, but not before she saw him curl the fingers into a fist. She guessed he would love to punch Trey in the nose but obviously didn't have the nerve.

Trey was so angry he would have welcomed an excuse to punch someone. That it might have been Larry Flood would have been a bonus. He knew it was a matter of personalities, but they had never liked each other. Still, right was right, and he wasn't giving Flood an out.

“It's like this, Flood. I know it wasn't me, so unless you're accusing my lieutenant of being the snitch, then it came from in here. And other than helping the
PD with the process of elimination, Mr. Sealy and his granddaughter are not a part of our investigation. I won't have them hounded by those damn vultures outside, so consider this your only warning. You find out who did this and deal with them, or I'll assume you're it and deal with
you
accordingly.”

Flood's face was a dark, angry red. The urge to punch Bonney now and suffer the consequences later was huge, but he couldn't ignore the woman sitting in the chair down the hall. The Sealys had pull in this city, and he didn't want to lose his job because of the circus the media had made of their appearance at the crime lab.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered. “I'll make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Trey pointed down the hall toward Olivia.

“Tell
her
you're sorry—she's the one who got ambushed. Then tell her to sit tight. I'll be right back,” Trey snapped, and strode in the opposite direction and disappeared around a corner.

Larry Flood took a deep breath, pasted a smile on his face and moved toward Olivia.

“Miss Sealy…I'm Larry Flood, chief investigator here at the crime lab. Please accept my apologies for that fiasco outside. Rest assured that I'll find out who tipped off the media and deal with them accordingly.”

Olivia was still rattled, and her voice betrayed it by trembling as she answered. “Yes, well…thank you. It was certainly unexpected.” Then she glanced down the hall. “Where did Detective Bonney go?”

“Oh…sorry. He asked me to tell you he'd be right back.”

“All right,” Olivia said, and glanced away.

Flood had just been dismissed, and he knew it.

“Well then…again, I'm sorry you were upset. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my office.”

He left quickly, leaving Olivia alone. Moments later, Trey appeared at the other end of the hall.

“Hey, Livvie.”

She turned, saw him motioning for her to come, and gladly obeyed, anxious to be done with this place.

“I borrowed a car,” he said. “And we're going out a different door.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I was dreading another round with that bunch.”

Without thinking, he slid an arm across her shoulders as he led her down the hall.

“I'm really sorry about that,” he said. “I had no idea that might happen, or we would have done things differently.”

Olivia told herself that the way he was holding her was nothing more than a gesture of comfort, but she couldn't help but think how natural it felt to slip back into his arms again.

“It's all right,” she said. “It was just unsettling, that's all.”

When they got to the door, Trey paused.

“Wait a minute,” he said, and stepped outside, giving the side parking lot a careful look. Satisfied, he motioned her forward.

Olivia followed him to a red sports car that had dark-tinted windows and yellow flames painted along the fenders.

“Who did you borrow this from?” she asked.

“There's a guy I know who janitors here at the crime lab during the day so he can afford to pursue his music career at night.” Then he grinned. “I believe he refers to this car as the Love Machine.”

“Lord have mercy,” Olivia muttered. “It's hardly unremarkable. Don't you think it will be noticed, too?”

Trey grinned. “Oh, sure, it will be noticed, but the windows are dark. No one can see in. Come on, Livvie. Hop in.”

The sound of the engine was as flashy as the car's appearance. When Trey turned the key, the engine rumbled loudly, and when he pressed down on the accelerator, it actually roared.

Olivia's eyes widened, and then she laughed out loud.

Trey grinned in response, then shifted into gear and headed out of the parking lot. A couple of reporters and one news van were still parked at the end of the street, although the nutcase with the baby-killer sign was nowhere in sight. Trey and Olivia sped past without concern, and within moments, they'd left them behind.

Without the media as a topic of conversation, an uncomfortable silence returned between them. Trey was conscious of the stiff set to her shoulders, of her hands lying awkwardly in her lap. He knew that what had once been between them was gone, but he still hated the emotional distance he was feeling. He wasn't sure what to do to change it, but he knew he wasn't going to drive the thirty-something minutes it took to get her home in total silence.

“Say, Livvie, did I mention how much I like your dress?”

Olivia grinned before she thought, then looked at him and laughed.

“No,” she said.

He frowned. “Hey…yes, I did.”

“No…what you said was,
uh.
In fact, you said it twice.”

This time it was Trey who laughed.

“Okay, but you can't blame me. Both the dress and the woman in it are dangerous, and you know it.”

She managed a small smirk but didn't answer. It was, however, the icebreaker they both needed.

Trey glanced at his watch.

“I know you're meeting your grandfather at home for lunch, but I heard him say it would be a late one, right?”

“Yes.”

“So how about a little snack?”

“Oh, I don't know about—”

“Don't worry. We won't have to get out of the car,” Trey said.

She relaxed. “Okay, then, that would be nice. I was so nervous this morning that I didn't eat much breakfast.”

Trey told himself that none of this meant anything, that he was only helping an acquaintance through a tough time, but some might have called what they were doing a date.

Olivia was expecting a fast-food restaurant, and possibly an order of fries and a drink, when Trey sud
denly wheeled off the street and pulled into the drive-through of an ice-cream shop. At that point, he had her attention. Suddenly she remembered how they'd always ended their date before he took her home and felt a swift rush of emotion. She started to say something, then stopped, listening as he ordered one deluxe banana split to go.

“Nix the whipped cream, add extra nuts, and, uh…oh yeah, we need two spoons.”

A young man's voice said, “That will be three-fifty. Please pull ahead to the first window.”

Olivia's mouth was watering before the order appeared. She didn't argue as he took the huge dish of ice cream, then pulled into a parking space. She took the spoon he offered and dug straight into the scoop of ice cream topped with hot fudge before he had the car in Park.

Trey watched her, savoring her eye-rolling ecstasy as she put the first bite in her mouth.

“I knew you'd eat that first,” he said softly, then thrust his own spoon into the scoop that had been drizzled with strawberry preserves.

“Mmm…oh my God…this is sooo good,” Olivia said as she took her second big bite. “I can't remember the last time I've eaten one of these.”

The car was quiet for a bit as Trey held the narrow plastic bowl and the two of them ate, both remembering without having the guts to tell each other what they were feeling.

It was Olivia who finally tossed in her spoon.

“That was fabulous, but I can't possibly eat an
other bite.” Then she leaned back in the seat, absently licking the last bits of chocolate from the bowl of her plastic spoon as a child would lick a lollipop.

Trey was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of her tongue on that spoon, and he might have stared longer if a girl in a pickup truck hadn't wheeled into the parking space beside them, then borne down on her horn. Before he knew what was happening, she had exited her truck and was slapping her hands on the hood of the car.

“Donnie Lee! You're a lyin', sneakin' bastard. I know you got another girl in there. You get on out of there right now before I start breakin' things on your precious Love Machine.”

Olivia was staring at the ranting female in disbelief. Then she started to grin.

“Would your friend who owns this car happen to be named Donnie Lee?”

“Well, hell,” Trey muttered, handed what was left of the banana split to Olivia and bailed out of the car. To add credence to his order, he flashed his badge as he yelled, “Hey! Lady! Get your hands off the car!”

The look on the girl's face was priceless. Olivia couldn't hear what she was saying, but she could tell that she was begging forgiveness in every way she knew how. She could hear enough of what Trey was saying to know he was getting Donnie Lee off the hook. And as she watched, with a bowl of melting ice cream in her lap, she laughed as she hadn't laughed in days.