Authors: Leslie Parrish
rol ing through her at the brush of this man’s fingertips on her. Even through her
blouse, she could feel the warmth of his hand and wondered what that hand
might feel like traveling over other parts of her body.
You’re making too much of it
, she told herself. It was so easy to pretend
they were here on a date, she’d let herself think it was a real one. Let herself
imagine he had the right to touch her, and she had the right to seek his touch.
“Wel , Gabe, how did you two meet?” Tess asked, sounding a wee bit
impatient.
Olivia and Gabe exchanged a quick look. They’d gone over this in the car
on the way over, agreeing to say as little as possible. “We met through our
jobs,” Olivia said.
Her cousin-in-law tilted her chin up even farther, her nose flaring, like she
smel ed something bad. Tess hated that Olivia worked with eXtreme
Investigations, without even knowing exactly what Olivia did for them. She had
made comments that made it sound like Olivia was a prostitute for al the
damage her “career” did to her cousin’s reputation.
That was ridiculous. Few people outside the family even knew she worked
for Julia. Because Olivia’s ability was so unpleasant, she was asked to use it
only in the direst circumstances, so it wasn’t like they advertised her services
as a death reenactor.
The groom-to-be, who never strayed too far from his good buddy Richard,
even if his fiancée was in the room, joined them. Snapping his fingers, as if
he’d just realized something, Drew said, “Say, didn’t I just see you on the news
yesterday? Something about a fire?”
Olivia held her breath. Gabe, though, replied easily, “Yep, I’m afraid I’m not
much of a TV guy.” He laughed softly. “The press office usual y handles that
kind of thing.”
Tsk
ing, her cousin’s wife said, “I hope no one was hurt?” Knowing Tess, she
was saying what was expected and wasn’t interested. She confirmed it by
immediately moving on. “It’s a shame that you two can’t stay longer; we
wanted to show you pictures of our Paris trip.”
Olivia checked her watch. Eleven thirty. “Oh, thanks for the reminder. I’m
sorry, but we real y have to go,” she said, murmuring a firm goodbye to her
cousin, his wife, and Drew. Then she looked around for her sister, who sat
alone by the window, gazing outside. Her lovely profile was emphasized by the
soft sunshine coming in through the pale yel ow sheers, and again Olivia
couldn’t help thinking Drew wasn’t nearly good enough for her.
Walking over, she said, “Sorry to leave you alone in the lion’s den. But it
can’t be helped.”
Brooke rose, taking one of her hands. “Oh, Livvie, I’m just glad you came.”
She cast a quick glance toward Gabe. “I can’t believe you kept him a secret.
He’s so handsome.”
“Not exactly handsome, but he is supersexy,” Olivia said before she could
think better of it.
Brooke chuckled, but even as she did, her face pinkened. Not for the first
time Olivia had to wonder about her sister’s relationship with her fiancé,
because there were moments when her twenty-four-year-old sibling acted like
she’d never been touched by a man. Certainly Drew wasn’t demonstrative
toward her; she’d never even seen him hold Brooke’s hand.
But there was no time to talk about it now. There might not ever be a good
time. What was she supposed to do, ask her sister if she was a virgin, then
beg her to go out and get laid, at least once, before she stuck herself with
Drew? Not very maid-of-honor-ish advice.
Gabe was saying his goodbyes to her parents, and Olivia joined them.
“Thank you again, Sunni,” she said, extending her hand to the other woman.
One of those strange protocol moments—thanking the girlfriend while the wife
was standing right there, flinty-eyed.
God, with a family like this, was it any wonder Olivia had never had a
relationship lasting longer than six months, and Brooke was marrying a man
old enough to be her father?
Sunni extended her arms and gave her one of those fake air-hugs and a
kiss that landed about an eighth of an inch away from Olivia’s cheek. “Thank
you so much for comin’, sweet pea. I’m sorry y’al can’t stay. You be sure to
bring your friend back any ol’ time.”
Nails on chalkboard—that voice. She noticed Sunni’s accent had gotten
decidedly more Southern over the years, and she suspected the woman
affected it in order to fit in here. Though they’d never talked about her
background, she doubted her father’s girlfriend had been raised in rich
surroundings.
Neither had her mother, of course. Yet the two women couldn’t be more
different. Mom was pretty, smal , feisty and tough. Sunni was a walking bottle
of syrup with a blond cap.
“Your daddy sure misses you. Don’t be a stranger,” Sunni added.
“I won’t,” she said, smiling politely. She kept that smile on her face for
several minutes as they finished their goodbyes, went to the car, and started
down the driveway. It felt stiff by the time they reached the two men standing by
Richard’s limo, both of whom quickly straightened and stomped out their
cigarettes when they came into view. Since the big vehicle was blocking the
drive—probably to stop any big bad terrorists or Democrats who wanted to
get at Richard—the driver leapt behind the wheel to move it.
“Sorry ’bout that,” the man said.
“It’s okay,” replied Gabe.
Glancing past him out the window, Olivia saw the bodyguard tug at his tight
col ar. Leaning over Gabe, she asked, “Has somebody brought you two down
some cold water?”
“We’re okay, ma’am. Got a cooler in the car,” the man said with a broad
smile. “It’d be crazy not to in this heat. I think the mercury in the thermometer’s
turnin’ to lava today.”
It sure seemed that way. The idea of another few weeks of August misery
was enough to make her miss Tucson. At least Arizona didn’t have the
humidity.
But if you’d stayed in Tucson, you wouldn’t have even heard of Julia,
wouldn’t have started working with eXtreme Investigations, wouldn’t be
getting answers about Jack.
And you wouldn’t have met Gabe Cooper.
No, she couldn’t regret being right here where she was.
That thought made a smile—a real, genuine one this time—curve her lips.
But as they pul ed out of the long driveway onto the main road, it faded
completely away, not only because there was no need to keep it up once they
were out of sight but also because, considering where they were going and
what she was about to do, she had absolutely nothing to smile about.
Last night, when Gabe had told Olivia she could examine the remains, he
hadn’t been entirely honest with her. He’d never actual y lied, but he also
hadn’t come right out and told her there was a string attached to his offer. A
big string. Then again, it was a pretty big offer.
She could examine the bones, touch them, do whatever she had to. But she
was not going to be alone when she did it. He would be in that examination
room with her the whole time.
It wasn’t only because of legal issues: If her kidnapping was connected to
this murder that made her a witness. He couldn’t let her do anything that might
taint the evidence. But just as important, there was also the issue of how she
was going to deal with whatever happened. Even somebody who made no
claims to having any unique abilities could get a little freaked out over
handling human remains. Seeing a pile of charred bones that you thought
belonged to a murdered kid who’d once saved your life just set up the
experience to be that much worse.
He’d seen her last night, mental y reliving that awful night, like something out
of a horror movie she’d never been able to escape. Even a distance of twelve
years hadn’t been enough to keep her whole body from shaking, to prevent
her voice from cracking, to stop tears from fil ing her eyes. Today could be a
lot worse. So, no, she wasn’t going in there alone. Period.
Did he real y think she was gonna psychical y connect with this dead boy?
Wel , as much as he had found himself liking her the longer he was with her,
no, he wasn’t ready to concede she had some kind of otherworldly powers.
But he was open-minded enough to give her a shot. After al , if Sue-Ann
Bowles’s theory had any basis in truth, there could be another victim out there.
And a little boy at risk was worth opening up his mind as far as it would go.
He hadn’t told her about that—the possibility that her attacker’s accomplice
was stil out there, doing what he did best. No point until they knew more.
So, he was staying. Those were the terms; she could take them or leave
them. Which was exactly what he’d told her when they arrived at the coroner’s
office. They hadn’t even gotten out of the car, and he was waiting for her to
make up her mind about whether she’d obey his rules.
She stared at him, her big green eyes narrowing. “You’re serious?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her throat quivered as she swal owed. “You can’t.”
He crossed his arms. “Yes, I can. And I wil . Otherwise, I’l drive you home
right now.”
“Detective—Gabe—listen to me. What I do, it’s very . . . unpleasant.”
No kidding
.
“And it’s a little scary.”
“I’m a big boy. I think I can take it.”
“I didn’t mean you’d be frightened
of
me; more likely you’l be afraid
for
me.”
He could only answer bluntly. “I’m already afraid for you, Livvie.”
Her lips widened a tiny bit, just for a second, into a sort-of smile, as if she
liked hearing him cal her by the nickname he’d heard her family use. He liked
it, too. It was less formal, less cool and wel -bred than Olivia. Yes, she was
elegant, beautiful, but she had such strength in her. He’d seen it. He
appreciated it. To him, that strength belonged to Livvie.
Then the smile faded. “Nobody ever stays with me. I’ve always done this
alone.”
Which told him those coworkers of hers were cowards. “The clock’s ticking.
”
She stil didn’t move for a good minute. He didn’t sense they were involved
in any kind of battle of wil s here; she wasn’t pul ing some kid stunt, trying to
wear him down until he changed his mind. This was more like somebody
trying to find the strength to do something she didn’t want to do. The fact that
she had to try this hard to convince herself told him how serious she was
about him not coming. Which only made him more determined to be there. If it
was so awful nobody else could see it, it was awful enough that she shouldn’t
have to do it al by herself.
Do it. Do what? You don’t even know that she’s going to do anything!
Funny how he kept forgetting he didn’t quite believe her. Only not funny. Not
at al .
“Al right,” she final y said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I agree.
”
He reached for the doorknob.
“But I have one condition, too. Whatever you see, whatever I say or do, you
cannot interfere. Don’t try to talk to me, don’t touch me, don’t do anything to
stop what’s happening.”
He hesitated, not liking that any more than she’d liked his terms. “What if
you . . .”
“Absolutely no interference, Detective. Whatever happens, it wil be over in
two minutes and ten seconds, and I can take it. Agreed?”
He thought about it, cursed under his breath, then hedged, not exactly
promising. “Okay.”
Getting out of the car, they headed into the building in silence. Gabe got her
through security, then led her to the back, where they kept unclaimed remains.
Nobody would be claiming this boy’s until somebody could identify him.
Then, al too soon for his peace of mind, they were in a smal examination
room. A technician had wheeled in a steel table and placed it directly beneath
a strong, overhead light. A sterile white sheet was draped across the top, not
settling into a body shape like it usual y would. Not when there was no body,
just those sad bones.
He donned a pair of sterile gloves, then handed her a pair. She eyed them,
looked at him, but didn’t protest. Remaining silent, she tugged them on and
then approached the table. He saw the way she trembled, though her spine
was stiff and her chin upraised, determination visibly wafting off her.
“Remember your promise,” she said, not even glancing over.
“I’l remember.” The answer was a technicality. He hadn’t actual y said, “I
promise,” and couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t step in if he thought she was in
danger. Only a fool promised something without al the facts. It was like a man
“promising” not to get mad before his wife told him her secret—that she was
messin’ around. Gabe didn’t make those kinds of promises.