Deadly Dreams (42 page)

“My offer’s still open.” Jerry followed them out into the kitchen. “Just give me a call if you want to stay, Risa.”

“Thanks, Jerry. But I’ll find something.”

She waited until they were in the car before looking at him. “What happened? One minute you’re making obnoxious cracks about me starting a new career as a porn star and the next you’re radiating impatience to get out of there. Who was on the phone?”

But as he backed out of the drive, Nate was momentarily distracted by her earlier words. “Wait a minute. You knew Muller was involved with porn videos?”

“You think I’d let my mother stay with someone I hadn’t completely checked out? I had some of my colleagues run a complete background on him before agreeing to let her stay there.”

“Because a director of porn videos is so trustworthy.” It was going to take a bit of time to wrap his mind around the logic of that one. He headed the car back in the direction of the station house.

“Sometime I’d be intrigued to hear how you happened to know the Peavy award was given for porn flicks”—he winced a little at that—“but, yeah. Other than his interesting choice of occupations, Muller checks out okay. And Hannah is comfortable with him. She’s met him before, when he came to visit his mother. Of course she’d be appalled if she knew what he did for a living, but her friend never did, I’m guessing. There’s no reason to tell her.”

He could feel her regard as he drove. “Was the call about the case or something personal? If you had plans for this evening, you should have taken me to my car. I could have gone to the hospital and to Jerry’s alone.”

Grim humor filled him. He knew what she was asking. Wondered why the hell she’d even think it. He’d already made it pretty clear earlier today that she was the only woman who held any personal interest for him. It occurred to him then that she wasn’t exactly trusting when it came to men. With what he knew of her ex, it wasn’t hard to see why.

“The call was from Morales. There’s still been no sighting of Juicy but maybe he’s been occupied elsewhere. He just got a call from Vice. Someone dropped Sam Crowley off a tenstory building last night.”

“Got some more details after I called you.” Eduardo Morales looked like he’d already been home before returning to work. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt rather than the suit and tie he normally wore. Nate and Risa were seated in his office. He faced them, hips propped against his desk. “Apparently Vice had contacted Crowley about setting up a sting. The plan was to wait until Emmons called him next time about meeting to exchange the books. Crowley convinced them that if he reached out sooner than their regularly scheduled meets, Emmons would suspect something. So they were resigned to wait another week or more for their first chance at getting their hands on his financials.”

“They didn’t have someone on Crowley at all times?”

Morales’s face was grim as he answered Nate’s question. “They were planning to get that set up in the next few days. He hadn’t actually done anything for them yet, so they figured they had time. But somehow Emmons must have been tipped off that Crowley was going to flip on him.”

“Chances are it was Crowley himself.” He rolled his shoulders to loosen some of the knots that seemed to have taken up residence there. “Crowley seemed to trust Juicy more than he did cops when we talked to him. Might have decided to curry some favor by alerting him about what was coming. The way he’d figure it, that would get him a free walk from us for cooperating and insulates him from retribution from Emmons, too. Maybe they’d figure out a way to double-cross the PPD, feed them false info. Crowley would have liked that idea.”

“And he seemed much more scared of Emmons than he was of the police,” Risa added.

“With good reason, as it turns out.” Nate filled Morales in on their lack of success finding the man earlier that day. “I think it’s time to put a citywide BOLO out on him. He’s got a lot of answers to give.”

“And departments will be standing in line to ask the questions.” But Morales nodded. “I’ll see to it. In the meantime, Vice wants a copy of your interview with him.”

“He didn’t learn of the upcoming sting from us.”

“I know that. So we’ll give them the copy and they’ll realize it, too.” Morales looked at his watch. “Now get out of here so I can send out the alert and get back before the kids’ bedtime. Renee is never too happy when she has to wrestle all three of them down for the night.”

They exited his office. Risa knew she wasn’t going to be able to remain upright for much longer, but as long as they were here, she tugged at Nate’s sleeve. “Let’s do a quick run on that fatal car accident involving Baltes.”

He didn’t argue, and soon he was ensconced behind his computer with Risa leaning close to look at the screen. “A fiery accident,” she murmured, reading from the article he found. “Seems like a lot of that going around in this case.”

“Maybe not coincidental. Too many people involved in this investigation are ending up the same way.”

“But why Baltes? Did he see something, overhear something when he was a kid? If so, why wait until he was”—she stopped a moment to check the screen again—“twenty-six before getting rid of him?”

Nate couldn’t answer. After he exhausted the online archived articles on Baltes’s death, he ran a quick DMV check. The results had him sitting back in his chair, a grim sense of purpose filling him. “One more question for Emmons.”

The DMV report listed Sam Baltes as owner of the car that crashed and burned three years ago. But it also listed the transfers of ownership.

And it just so happened that one Javon Emmons had previously owned Baltes’s car.

Risa turned to him. She swayed slightly, balanced herself with one hand to his desk. “Maybe we could . . .”

“Wait until tomorrow for anything more on this? Great idea.” He shut down the computer and pushed his chair back. She was exhausted. Risa pushed herself so hard that it was easy to forget for periods of time what she’d been through the night before.

“I was going to say we could request a copy of the accident report. Maybe talk to the responding officer.”

He nodded as he rose and took her by the elbow. Steered her toward the door. “And we’ll do that. Tomorrow. But right now you need to get some rest. And Darrell’s lack of success notwithstanding, I just remembered a place you can get a room. They always keep one in reserve.”

Her face brightened a little. “Really? Do you have the number? I’ll give them a call.”

“I’ll do even better than that.” He opened his office door. Guided her through it. “It’s right on my way. You can follow me there.”

Risa left her car in the driveway and aimed a hard stare at Nate, who was exiting the open garage door toward her, his computer case in hand. “Let me guess. The Hotel Chez McGuire.”

“I didn’t lie. I have a couple rooms open and you don’t have to call ahead.” Jamming his free hand in his jacket pockets, he arched a brow. “C’mon, it won’t be that bad. It beats a couch in the CCU waiting room and damned if I’m going to let you go back to Muller’s.”

“Let me?”

Something in her tone must have warned him because he held up one palm placating. “You don’t want to stay there either. You turned his offer down three times that I heard.”

True enough. But even with depressingly limited options, something had her hesitating. This couldn’t be a good idea. She’d have been better off at Morales’s than to stay with Nate, especially after being in his arms this morning.

Especially after her
reaction
to being in his arms this morning.

As if reading her mind, he said, “From the looks of you, you’ll be unconscious within an hour. Give me a few minutes to throw a frozen pizza in the oven, change the sheets . . . you get something in your stomach and go to bed.” The smile he gave her was crooked and much too appealing. “You won’t even have to see me until the morning. At which time you can show your eternal gratitude by cooking me breakfast. Tucker’s usual choice is frozen pancakes, and it’d be a treat to eat something that doesn’t have to be thawed in a toaster.”

Something inside her relaxed a fraction. He was making this simple. And if the niggling thought occurred that it could be just that easy between them, if she let it, Risa would refuse to allow the thought to put down roots.

“I do make a mean eggs Benedict.”

“Change the English muffin to a bagel, a poached egg to over easy, and switch the sauce for cheese and you’ve got a deal.” When he started back toward the garage, she fell in step beside him.

“I believe you can get that off the breakfast menu of most drive-throughs.”

“Ah, but then it wouldn’t be made by an ex-college basketball standout, soon to be porn star.” The elbow jab she aimed at his gut for that crack didn’t seem to faze him. “Think of my thrill of being able to say, I knew you when.” He pushed open the door to the house and then hit the switch to lower the garage door.

Risa preceded him into the home. “You never did say how you happened to recognize what a Peavy was.”

“I’m not a perv, if that’s what you’re implying. But I’ve attended my share of bachelor parties. Even hosted a few. Been to college. Take your pick. Haven’t watched one of those things in years.” He set his computer case down. Without a shred of embarrassment on his face, he grinned at her. “But if you’re really considering a career change, I could be persuaded to change my viewing habits.”

She fixed him with a jaundiced look. “You might want to consider the fact that I’m armed.” He didn’t need to know that the thought of drawing her gun and aiming it at another person still made her knees weak. Maybe if she pictured him as a window.

“Armed. But that’s not what makes you dangerous.” The teasing light had disappeared from his eyes to be replaced with something much harder to resist. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve always preferred a private one-on-one to watching a couple strangers. For future reference.”

She should have made a witty retort. Said something, anything, to defuse the suddenly charged silence. Exhaustion could only be blamed for so much. The temptation the man represented had her senses reeling.

And that’s exactly what made him so lethal. This wouldn’t be a man to enjoy and then leave without regrets. Without memories haunting her. And knowing that was just one more reason to maintain her distance.

Until she had her own life in order, she certainly didn’t need to complicate someone else’s. Especially someone who came with his own set of complications.

“Ah . . . let me change those sheets.”

Relieved that he’d managed to break the awkward silence, she turned into the kitchen. “I’ll find the pizza.” She rummaged in the freezer and found one before preheating the oven. Then she headed out the front door to her car to retrieve her purse and the sack containing the personal items she’d bought that day. Locking her car, she headed back into the house. Nate still hadn’t reappeared so she unwrapped the pizza and put it in the oven. Then gave in to the urge to look around.

There was more here that gave away the personality of the people living in it the house than her own apartment would, Risa mused. The mandatory big screen would be Nate’s choice, of course, as was the leather furniture. But the gaming system and pile of kids’ game cartridges would belong to his nephew. Tucker.

She stepped closer to examine the photos on shelves that lined one corner of the room. There were many of a darkhaired boy. Swinging. Riding a bike. Singing into a mike. A few featured the boy with Nate. A couple with a woman with long dark hair and a strong resemblance to Nate who had to be his sister. And some older photos of a much younger Nate and Kristin posing with a couple that were probably their parents.

But despite the photos, there was little in the house that stamped it with Kristin’s personality. Or any woman’s.

“Okay, maid service performed.” Nate appeared in the hallway behind her. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where you can put your things.” She trailed behind him. “Here we go.” He reached into a room to flip on the light. “Bathroom is next door.”

There was a bit more here to mark it as a female’s room. The half-open closet door showed a few hangers that hadn’t been vacated. There was an eight by ten of Kristin with Tucker. Another of her parents at some sort of formal function. A vase of dried flowers.

But none of the items had been important enough for her to take along with her.

“Tuck’s room is down the hall. Next to mine. He doesn’t sleep well some nights. It helps to have someone right next door.”

She set her bag and purse on the bed. Studied his expression. “You miss him.”

He ran his hand through his dark hair. And didn’t try to hide the worry in his expression. “I had him for nearly two years, from the time he was three. Kristin dropped him off one night for a round of babysitting and forgot to come back.” His mouth twisted. “It was an eye-opening experience for me. But eventually things worked out. I shopped around for a good pediatrician. The doctor was the one who first suspected Tuck was autistic. And after the diagnosis was confirmed I saw that he got special education services. Read up on the disorder.” His expression was bleak. “It was a steep learning curve, I’ll admit that, but we had started to get a routine going.”