Darkness Calls (16 page)

D
iana stared at the cell phone in anger. Ryder was not picking up and she wondered where he had gone after…No, it would be better if she admitted that she was more concerned about
who
he had gone with and not where.

“He's not answering?” David asked, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned on his car.

“No.” She dialed the number again. It rang and rang and the answering machine came on. She left Ryder a message, dialed the number for his office at The Lair and left a similar message. As she clipped the phone back onto the waistband of her sweats, she looked up at her partner. “Ready to hit the next club?”

“Are you sure that's what you want to do?”

“What do you propose I do? Chase after him?” she retorted hotly, stung by the fact that maybe Ryder had found her so lacking, he'd sought someone else out immediately after their…She couldn't even put a name to it. Tryst? Affair? Lovemaking?

“You can choose to avoid it or you can deal, Di.”

She hated his ability to stay cool when she wanted to rage. “I'll deal tomorrow. Let's get going to the next club.” She looked at her partner with a defiant tilt to her head, daring him to push her so she could vent some of her anger. Transference, she recognized as a psychologist, but, in some perverse way, satisfying.

David raised his hands as if in surrender, sensing she was spoiling for a fight. “Handle it when you can. For now, one car or two?”

Her own standard-issue nondescript sedan was parked around the corner. She needed to head home for sleep eventually. “Two. After this, I think we should check in with the others and call it a night.”

David didn't argue with her. He looked tired and had been at it as long as she, without, of course, the interlude of incredibly mind-blowing sex.

She walked to her car while David got into his. She needed the time to think and to cool down. The drive to the next club, however short, would help her to get things in perspective.

 

The headache had settled in with a vengeance that not even her third cup of café latte had cured. Diana leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, trying to take a few minutes to relax in the hopes of quelling the pain. The minutes passed, but the dull ache in her head remained, nagging and insistent.

It was the result of too little sleep and a restless night plagued by dreams of Ryder. Erotic dreams that had woken her and left her shaking with need. She rubbed at her temples, trying to massage the pain away. When that proved useless, she reached for her coffee and finished the last few dregs.

She was about to head for another cup when there was a knock at her door. “Come in.”

Maggie made a face as she took in Diana's condition. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Is that your expert medical opinion—”

Wagging a finger at Diana, she said, “Don't give me lip. How many hours of sleep have you had?”

“More than most of the squad, so don't lecture me, Mama Maggie. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You wanted info on Melissa Danvers, right?” Maggie eased into the chair in front of Diana's desk and crossed her long, elegant legs.

Diana remembered but had assumed Maggie's silence meant there wasn't anything worthwhile to report. “What gives?” she asked, trying to appear cool although she was anxious to hear what Maggie had to say.

Maggie shrugged. “Melissa
is
the daughter of my old professor. Her father and grandfather, and just about every other Danvers before her, were doctors. Like her dad, she specializes in hematology and is just finishing up that specialization.”

Maggie was holding something back. She wouldn't meet Diana's gaze and her hands fluttered nervously in the air as she spoke.

“Now give me the dirt you think I don't want to know.”

Maggie lifted her head and squarely faced Diana. “She lives with—”

“Ryder Latimer. Old news. He told me so himself.”

Maggie's green eyes widened in surprise. “Didn't take you for the type.”

Diana leaned forward in her chair and braced her elbows on her desk. “Type? What do you mean by that?”

“Someone willing to be part of a messy threesome—you, Ryder and Melissa.”

“Ryder says she's an old family friend.” The response sounded lame even to Diana's ears, and Maggie laughed harshly.

“None of my sources could confirm it, but she is living with him. In this day and age—”

It suddenly occurred to her that she'd seen nothing womanly in Ryder's bedroom. No makeup or perfumes on the dresser. For that matter, no second chest of drawers or pictures of him and Melissa as a couple. “They're not an item, strange as it might seem.”

Maggie shook her head and her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “And you know this because—”

“I saw his bedroom and—”

“His bedroom? Tell me you didn't, Di! You slept with a suspect?” Maggie nearly screeched as she rose out of her chair and paced the small confines of Diana's office. She whirled and faced Diana after a few steps. “Do you realize how much trouble you could get into? How this could impact your career?”

Diana appreciated her friend's concern, but it was misplaced. “We ruled him out as a suspect after the last murder. There was nothing stopping us—”

“Except common sense. What were you thinking?”

Diana shook her head. “I wasn't. I was feeling. I was needy like I never have been before, Maggie.”

Maggie ran a hand through her long auburn hair, took a deep breath and held it before finally saying, “Neediness makes you weak. Ever since your dad—”

“My dad has nothing to do with this.” Diana did not like where this conversation was going.

Maggie reached out and laid her hand over Diana's as it rested on the desk. “It has everything to do with him. You're afraid of loving anyone else because you're afraid he'll leave you, just like your dad did.”

Diana shook her head. “That's not it.”

“Isn't it? Isn't it part of the reason you chose someone so unacceptable—because it gives you an immediate excuse to back out if it gets serious? To run away—”

“I'm not running away from anything, especially Ryder.”

Maggie's gaze narrowed. “This is me you're talking to, Di. We've known each other for six years. We've nursed each other through a lot of things, so—”

“Now you're an expert on what makes me tick?”

“We've talked about how there's a part of you that's felt lost since your dad passed away. It's what drove you before and now—”

“It has nothing to do with
now,
” Diana repeated, and pulled her hand away from Maggie's. “Ryder is attractive and intriguing.”

“And wrong, isn't he? David says there's something not right about Latimer. He's afraid of what's going on with you two,” Maggie confided, clearly uneasy about discussing David's concerns.

“I know David doesn't like him, which begs the question of just when the two of you discussed it. Is there something I should know?” she asked, trying to shift the conversation to a different subject.

Maggie shrugged and again crossed her legs. She tried to adopt a relaxed pose, but it was obvious she was nervous.

“Well, Maggie? Are you and David—”

“Involved?” Maggie finished, one eyebrow raised to emphasize the point. She shrugged and replied, “We've had lunch a couple of times. Just lunch.”

Just lunch was the problem, Diana realized. Her friend wanted more from Diana's too-logical, too-responsible partner. But Maggie knew that right now David didn't have the time to spare for a relationship. “He's been busy with this case. I'm sure when it's over—”

“It'll be something else.” Maggie sighed with disgust and pointed an almost accusatory finger at Diana. “You know there's a reason you law enforcement types have such high divorce rates.”

Diana laughed at her normally unflappable friend's pique. Mimicking her, she pointed a finger back and said, “The key word in that is
divorce,
which begs the question of how we get married in the first place.”

They both laughed at that, and Maggie seemed to relax a little. “Okay, so could you maybe hint to your partner that dinner might be nice. When he's free, of course.”

Diana nodded and rose. “You know I appreciate your concern, even if it's misplaced.”

Maggie stood and gave Diana a hug. “Watch your back,
amiga.
And do me a favor,” Maggie said as she walked to the door.

“Talk to David and—”

“Nope. Watch your heart even more closely.”

 

The headache that had been with her since that morning grew in intensity as she, Peter Daly and David lingered in the squad room, discussing their plan of action for the next day. They were in agreement about how to run the surveillance: someone had to talk to Ryder.

“Do you want me to go see him?” David asked, sensing her unease.

Diana shook her head. “No. I've been the main contact. It's up to me to talk to him.”

“I could go with you for moral support.”

Diana shot him an annoyed look as Peter glanced from one to the other. “Is there something I should know about? Ryder giving you problems?”

“Nothing I can't deal with.” Diana glared at her partner as if daring David to contradict her in front of the other cop.

David, it seemed, knew better than to incur her wrath. He held up his hands. “You going to see him tonight?”

“I think that would be best.” They needed the info right away if their guess about when the killer would strike was right. She couldn't rest if she didn't have an answer from Ryder about the missing bouncer and any possible criminal activity at the club. And, of course, about Melissa. She needed Ryder's confirmation there was nothing going on that would keep them from sharing a bed for more than just an hour so she might get some sleep in between bouts of…Heat raced to her cheeks. She murmured a hasty goodbye to her two colleagues and headed to her office to make the call.

 

Ryder had instructed her to phone as soon as she arrived at The Lair and within minutes he was at the door of the club. As soon as he had closed it behind them, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

She backed away. “Ryder, this is a business call.”

He let out a harsh laugh and motioned for her to head into his office. The club was pitch black, and she struggled to find her way in the dim light. As a concession, she allowed Ryder to place his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the opposite wall. She walked with one hand outstretched to avoid bumping into anything and wondered how Ryder could make his way.

Of course, he probably had been doing this for years and was familiar with the layout. At the far wall, he reached past her and opened the door leading to the inner workings of the club. Light spilled in from the hall, and she walked to his office.

Ryder followed behind her, a grim set to his features, and, once in his office, he headed straight to his desk and offered her the guest chair. The large expanse of fine mahogany established a physical distance between them to match the one created by her earlier rebuke. “Special Agent in Charge Reyes, what can I help you with tonight?”

She deserved the deep freeze, but she wasn't about to let him dissuade her from the business at hand. Explaining about the two employees, she waited for Ryder to provide additional information.

“My bartender will do anything, anywhere, with anyone. Greg takes pride in it and doesn't like to be interrupted. The fact that you can't reach him doesn't surprise me. He'll be here tomorrow.” Ryder rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and adopted a slouch as he looked at her over steepled fingers.

“You sure about that?” She needed answers to all of the questions rattling around in her head.

“Greg rarely doesn't show, and when he can't make it, he calls so I can get another bartender. So far, he hasn't called.”

“Your bouncer—Doug Baker. He's had problems in the past. Rumor has it he may be dealing again—”

“Rumor's wrong. Doug promised me—”

“Rumor has it you regularly meet people down in the alley. You have fancy digs that need money for upkeep. I wonder if the meetings have anything to do with that.” If it was possible, his face grew even stonier. His eyes glittered with a hardness she hadn't thought possible.

“You can ask this after—”

“Maybe last night was a way to throw me. I know you didn't kill those girls, but maybe you need to keep me from learning what's going on in the alley.”

“If you believe that I feel sorry for you,” he replied icily.