DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (15 page)

“This is beautiful,” Dixon said.

Ethan whistled. It was beautiful. It looked like a tropical hideaway on a luxurious island. The plants hid the small patio from view of the neighbors, and by the same token they hid the wire fences and peeling paint of the neighboring houses from anyone sitting on the patio.

“Sit down, sit down. Maggie made some iced tea. Help yourself.”

Ethan poured himself a glass from the pitcher full of ice and tea and Dixon did the same. Boone already had a glass sitting beside his chair.

He took a swig, then looked at the two of them. “So what’s up at the Eighth? ’Cause I know you didn’t come here to admire the view.”

“It is spectacular,” Dixon said, propping an ankle on the other knee and taking a long swallow of tea.

Ethan knew that it was his job to question Boone about the incident they’d uncovered in Darby Sills’s safe-deposit box. They’d found a copy of the domestic disturbance report Boone Carter had written that had apparently never been filed, because despite Farrantino’s meticulous search of the case files for the past ten years, there was no mention of an incident involving Darby Sills.

Ethan sat forward. “Detective Carter?”

“Boone, son. Call me Boone.”

“Boone,” Ethan said reluctantly. He didn’t feel right calling the gray-haired man by his first name. He’d heard stories about Carter’s years as a detective. To him the man sounded like a superhero; and now that he’d met him, he looked like one, too. Still in great shape, Carter had a loose, predatory confidence that Ethan was sure had intimidated even the most hardened of criminals.

“So tell me what you got to tell me son, and I’ll see if I can help you guys out at all.”

“You know that Darby Sills was murdered four days ago,” Ethan started, but was interrupted by Carter’s booming laugh.

“Yep,” the detective said, grinning. “I knew it. I know exactly why you two are here.” He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Hit me with it.”

“Well, sir. Among the contents of Senator Sills’s safe-deposit box was a police domestic disturbance report made out by you of an incident with Sills and a prostitute.”

Carter was staring down at the patio floor. He nodded. “That’s right,” he said.

Ethan waited, but Carter didn’t say anything else. He looked at Dixon, who just raised his eyebrows and took another swallow of iced tea. So Ethan waited, too, sipping at the too-sweet tea.

“When I heard somebody had shot Darby, I wondered if it had all finally come to a head.” Carter shook his head without looking up. “What an idiot.”

Ethan frowned. “Who?” he asked.

Carter sat up and picked up his glass. “Darby, of course. He had a lot of problems—couldn’t keep it in his pants, couldn’t pass up a free meal, no matter who was buying or what kind of strings were attached, and worst of all, couldn’t stand to throw anything away.” Carter chuckled. “I’ll bet y’all found every receipt for everything he ever bought, including gum.”

At that, Dixon let out a laugh. “You’re right about that. And I’ve had the pleasure of going through all that.”

“So,” Carter drawled. “See anything in that safe-deposit box about Buddy Davis?”

“Buddy Davis? Why?”

Carter sent him a wry look. “Just making conversation.”

“Detective—sorry, Boone,” Ethan said, “is there something you know about Davis that might help us with the investigation of Sills’s murder?”

Carter stood and walked over to the fountain. From the wide ledge surrounding the pool, he picked up a small container and sprinkled some food into the water. “Let’s see, I guess it’s been ten years ago now. What was that girl’s name? Oh, I remember. Cristal Waters. She pronounced it with the emphasis on the
AL.
Made sure I spelled it right on the police report.
Like the champagne,
she told me.”

Ethan watched him sprinkle a few more grains of fish food, then stand and watch them crowd one another as they fought for the morsels. “I was called to a real skanky house, way over across Rampart. Man, I couldn’t believe my eyes. First thing I saw was Darby Sills, hopping on one foot and crashing into walls, trying to get his pants on. Cristal was holding a wet washcloth against her lip, which was split so bad the cloth was red with blood. Her eye was swollen, too, and starting to turn purple. When she saw me, she started yelling. I swear I think it took me a full minute to figure out what she was saying. She was yelling Buddy Davis’s and Elliott Montgomery’s names at the top of her lungs.”

“Montgomery?” Ethan said, a queasy dread suddenly pressing on his chest. “Are you sure she said Elliott Montgomery?”

Carter stopped laughing and scowled at Ethan. “Yeah,” he drawled. “I am.”

“What was she saying about them?”

“Well what do you think, sonny boy? She swore they were there with Darby.”

Ethan winced. This was bad. Laney had been devastated by the thought that her dad was being blackmailed. She would be crushed when she found out that it was because of a prostitute. “Did you find any evidence that either of them had been there? Because there’s nothing in the report.”

“Do you think it mattered one damn bit whether there was evidence or not? Why do you think that report was never filed?”

Ethan shook his head.

“Because about five minutes after I called in to dispatch that I was answering a domestic dispute call and gave the address, and about two minutes after I walked into that room and saw what I saw and heard what I heard, I got a phone call from the commander, telling me to get Sills out of there and make sure nothing was ever heard about the incident again.”

“Who was your commander?” Ethan asked, but Carter was still talking.

“And don’t think for a minute that it was the Eighth Precinct commander’s decision. That order came straight from the superintendent.”

“Because it was Senator Sills,” Ethan said.

“That’s right.”

“But what about the girl? What happened to her?”

“She never changed her story that those two were there with Sills,” Carter said. “Even though she swore that Sills was the only one who’d touched her. But somebody paid her to keep quiet. I don’t know if it was Sills or Davis or Montgomery or—even the department.”

Could some or all of the money that Laney’s dad withdrew have gone to Cristal Waters? It was possible, but Ethan didn’t think so. As much as it galled him to think that someone in the highest ranks of the NOPD would pay off a witness to protect a prominent politician, that seemed like the most believable explanation. Second most believable—Sills. Maybe Sills extorted money from Davis and Montgomery to pay Cristal.

Carter laughed. “It would have been a great story, wouldn’t it? Those three, the prominent statesman, the famous televangelist and the important lobbyist, all caught with their pants down—literally and figuratively.” He turned to the fountain, picked up his box of fish food and closed it, then sat back down and picked up his nearly empty glass of tea. “So you guys think Buddy Davis killed Darby Sills?”

Chapter Nine

By the time Ethan and Dixon returned to the police station, Laney felt as if she were going out of her mind. She knew they’d gone to talk to retired Detective Boone Carter about a police report they’d found in Senator Sills’s safe-deposit box. The report had never been officially filed.

It was less than three hours after Ethan had told her he was not going to let her out of his sight and here she was, back in an empty interview room waiting by herself.

She picked up the coffee cup she’d been given by an officer an hour ago. It was stone-cold, of course, and just as muddy tasting as it had been when it was hot. With a grimace of distaste, she set it back down and stood up. The room was small and most of it was taken up by the table and chairs. She walked over to the barred window and looked out at Royal Street.

Last night had been a stunning night, in many senses of the word. The idea that her father really had been paying blackmail to Darby Sills had ripped away the last vestige of illusion she’d had about him. Like most little girls, she had worshiped her father, maybe more than most, since her mother had died when she was eleven and so for most of her life it had just been her and him.

She supposed most children eventually found out that their parents were not superheroes, that they were just people who made mistakes and did things they regretted. She wondered if she was later than most learning that painful lesson.

She knew Ethan thought she was naive. She’d seen it in his eyes. He’d had a hard time believing she’d never wondered about the money her father had in his savings account, or the type of work he did or why he received such generous bonuses. She wished she could explain to Ethan that she’d never known another child whose parent had done the same kind of work her dad had. She’d never had anyone to compare him with.

Thinking of Ethan brought back the memory of the night before and their frenzied lovemaking. It had started innocently enough. She’d been upset, not so much that her father was being blackmailed, but that he’d done something to make himself vulnerable to blackmail. She didn’t like to cry, and she’d have given almost anything not to have broken down in front of Ethan, but he’d surprised her. He’d been as tender and solicitous as he’d been that first night in the E.R. So when he’d reached out to comfort her, she’d eased right into his arms. It had felt right somehow, to let him hold her and whisper to her.

Then, when the tender comfort had changed to desire, she’d been as frenzied as he. They’d torn at each other’s clothes, coming together with a passion she’d never felt before. Ethan was harsh and demanding and yet at the same time careful. She herself had quickly abandoned all care. For her, nothing had mattered except being as close, as intimate with him as was humanly possible. Their climaxes had been explosive and nearly simultaneous.

For those moments he was not a police detective and she was not a crime victim. There was no murder, no blackmail. The world had dissolved and the two of them may as well have been transformed into pure desire.

But this morning, their fiery lovemaking and their tender aftermath might have been just a dream. In the harsh light of day it seemed insane to think for even one second that they could be anything other than two strangers brought together by the insanity of a violent crime. His job was to solve the murder of Senator Darby Sills and her job—her job was to answer his questions and do her best to identify the faceless black-clad person who had killed the senator.

Once the case was solved, she doubted she’d ever see Detective Ethan Delancey again. As she tried to suppress that depressing thought, her phone rang. When she checked the display, the number was unknown. She grimaced. She was not in the mood for more questions about what she’d seen or requests for interviews. But here she was, stuck at the police station, with nothing to do, not even a magazine to read, so, knowing she was probably going to regret it, she answered the phone.

To her delight, it was the dealership where her car had been towed. With a grateful sigh she gave them her personal and billing information and asked them how long it would take before her car would be ready.

“It’s going to be a few days, ma’am,” the woman told her. “Would you like for us to arrange a loaner car? You do have that option with your insurance.”

She opened her mouth to say yes, but Ethan’s concern about her being in danger echoed in her head. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “Can I call back when I decide?”

The woman assured her she could, and told her she’d call her when her car was fixed and ready for pickup.

Laney hung up and called voice mail to listen to her messages. Most of them were the same, but there was a message from Senator Sills’s secretary, letting her know that the funeral would be on Sunday, two days away. She saved the message as a reminder and put her phone away.

She’d just about decided to march out into the squad room and ask somebody where she could get a cold drink, and by the way just how long did it take to drive to somebody’s house, interview them and drive back to the police station, when the door opened and Ethan came in, his phone caught precariously between his shoulder and chin as he scribbled on a small pad.

“What did you find out?” she whispered, but he ignored her.

“Right,” he said. “It’s not Waters? Mackey, okay. Phone number?” He glanced at Laney but his expression didn’t change.

Laney could hear the female voice on the other end of the phone. She didn’t know what they were talking about, but she listened.

“Is there an address?” He set the pad down on the table and took the phone in his left hand, holding it a little closer to his ear. Then he sat. “Can you spell that, please?”

She could still hear the woman but her voice was much more muffled. What she heard sounded like “Burgin.” She looked down at the pad where Ethan was writing. He printed, in almost block letters. Looking upside down at the pad, Laney read what Ethan had written: “8830 Bourgin—Meraux.” She had an address and either a first name or a last name.
Mackey.

Suddenly Ethan glanced up at her. She lowered her gaze to her fingernails and picked at a speck on one. Apparently it wasn’t enough to fool him because he picked up his pad and stood. “No,” he said, in answer to a question Laney hadn’t heard. “Hold on.” He stepped over to the door and opened it and went through. As the door was closing, Laney heard him say. “Okay. No, the name I have is Cristal, with an I. A prostitute that Sills—”

The door closed, muffling the rest of what he said.

Laney immediately grabbed her purse, digging in it for her phone. She didn’t want to miss anything that Ethan said, but she didn’t want to forget what she’d already heard either. She turned her phone on and waited impatiently as it booted up. Then she accessed her address book and pressed a button to enter a new contact. Quickly she keyed in Cristal Mackey, 8830 Bourgin Street, Meraux, Louisiana, and clicked Save. While she was writing her brain was racing. “A prostitute that Sills” was what Ethan had said.

A prostitute that Sills had what? Shared with her father maybe? She shuddered, stopping that thought right there. She couldn’t even entertain the idea of her father being involved with a prostitute. But what else could have forced her father to pay Sills blackmail? Nothing that she could even imagine. And now, because of all this, she was imagining all sorts of illegal or immoral activities. How much more damage could she endure to the memory of the man who’d born her and reared her for most of her life?

She held her breath and listened for Ethan’s voice. It sounded as though he was still talking to the woman. She accessed the web feature and started to type in the woman’s name, but at that instant, Ethan’s muffled voice changed timbre. Was he saying goodbye?

She stuck the phone under her chair just as he stepped back inside the room, pocketing his phone.

“Well?” she said, leaning forward. “What did you find out from the detective?”

“A lot of stuff,” Ethan answered evasively. “And right now we can’t even follow up on it, because there’s a big press conference in an hour and a half. Commander Wharton says Superintendent Fortenberry feels he needs to update the media about the progress we’re making on the Sills case. He wants Dixon and me to help with the prep ahead of time and to be visible on the podium while he addresses the media.”

“And you’re going to leave me stuck here all that time?” She shook her head. “No. I want to go home. I want to get into my pajamas and get into my bed and sleep for about twenty-four hours. Please.”

“Nope. There’s no way you’re going back to your house by yourself. Are you not convinced yet that whoever killed Sills knows who you are and where you live? We talked about this. These people are watching you, tracking you, listening to you. When are you going to figure out just how much danger you’re in?”

“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I won’t go home. I’ll get a hotel room. It won’t be as good as my own bed, but at least I’ll be able to sleep.”

Ethan was already shaking his head. “We already know what can happen in a hotel room.”

“Oh, come on,” she said tiredly. “How good do you think this person is? Are you telling me the only way I can be safe is if you force me to sit here in the middle of dozens of police officers? Well, I’m pretty sure I still have rights. Do I have to go through this again? Detective Delancey, am I under arrest?”

He glared at her. “Don’t start with me, Laney—”

“Am I?” She gave him glare for glare. “Because unless you have something to charge me with, I don’t think you can keep me here against my will.”

“How about resisting arrest?”

Laney was so angry her ears burned. “How about I tell them—” She stopped. There was no way she could betray him by telling anyone about their night together. She knew he regretted it. She knew enough to know he’d be on very thin ice if anyone found out that he’d slept with a victim and a witness in his case, even if he protested that she was a more-than-willing partner. Even if
she
swore she’d been willing.

She knew she could not do that to him, and she was horrified at herself for even hinting that she might. “Ethan—” she started, wanting more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life to take back those few words.

But Ethan was staring at her, his expression carefully neutral. She hadn’t stopped herself soon enough. He knew what she’d been about to say. “Okay,” he said without inflection. “You can go home. I’ll call my cousin Dawson and see if he has someone who can watch your house.”

“Ethan, I didn’t—I would never—”

He sliced his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture, refusing to let her apologize. “The name of the agency is D&D Security. An agent will park near your house and watch it. If anyone approaches, he’ll get pictures, description and vehicle license plates. If the person acts in any way suspicious, he’ll bring him in. He’ll be there to protect you if anything happens.”

“Ethan, I swear to you I would never ever betray you. Please don’t do this. Don’t assign me to a
babysitter.
That’s just plain insulting.” She had a plan forming in her head and a
babysitter
by any name had no part in it. “Not to mention ridiculous. There’s no way that’s happening. Besides, it’ll cost a fortune. I can’t afford it.”

Ethan shrugged. “I can.”

“I’m going home. If you want to hire somebody, fine. But they will not—” she pointed her finger at Ethan in emphasis “—will
not
tell me what I can and can’t do and where I can and can’t go. If you stick somebody out there to watch me, they’d better be good, because they just might have to keep up with me.”

The muscle in Ethan’s jaw ticked as he tried to maintain control. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him. While she wasn’t actually afraid of him, he was pretty darn intimidating.

“Don’t push me, Laney,” he said.

She lifted her chin. Fine. She was angry, too. “Don’t push
me.
”

“I don’t have time to worry about you. You’ve got two choices. I
will
put you in lockup for your own protection or I’ll hire an agent to watch your house
while you
stay in it.”

She didn’t speak.

“It’s your choice,” he said.

“My house,” she finally answered grudgingly.

“Good answer. When I get off work, I’ll pick you up
at your house,
dismiss the agent and take you to my apartment.”

“To your apartment? For what?” she demanded.

He stepped closer and looked down at her, his eyes blazing with anger. But that wasn’t all she saw in their depths. She saw the same fire she’d seen last night as they came together. It was a fire so hot and yet so compelling that she was at once fearful of being burned and compelled to move toward it. For a moment, standing there in the interview room of the police station where anyone could be watching them through the two-way mirror, she felt an echo of the thrill of his hot flesh against hers and the overwhelming need to pull him to her and feel it all again.

He gave a small shake of his head and an irritating smirk curled his lip. “For your protection,” he said with silky control. “What else?”

Laney blew out a harsh breath laced with frustration and embarrassment. He’d drawn her in, then deliberately rejected her. It was like a slap to the face. She stepped backward. “You are a—”

“Watch out, Ms. Montgomery,” he drawled. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

She clamped her mouth shut and folded her arms, refusing to look at him. “May I get a ride to my house?” she asked icily.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll have one of the officers take you, and trust me, I intend to have your
babysitter
waiting for you by the time you get there.”

As he opened the door and stepped back to let her exit before him, she remembered her phone on the floor underneath her chair. It occurred to her that it might be a good thing that she didn’t have it with her, especially if she was going to carry out the plan that was blossoming in her brain. Without it, nobody could trace where she went using GPS. She tried to ignore the small voice that reminded her that without her phone, she couldn’t call anyone if she got in trouble.