Her Eyes (20 page)

Frank opened the menu, finding a great variety of food to pick from. He looked around to see what other people were eating. He also noticed that the cute redhead sat across the room from him. He could eat and watch those little dimples in her cheeks.

He mentally shook himself. His heart was mending from Pam. The last thing he needed was mending a broken nose from the cutie's boyfriend. Besides, looking at her only reminded him of Pam.

"Can I take your order?"

A waitress approached, rattling off the specials. Still he couldn't take his eyes off that other woman. Maybe he knew her from someplace or something. He couldn't remember being so enamored with anyone since Pam.

For the next hour he ate and tried not to stare at the couple in front of him, although he did catch the lady looking his way a few times. The meal was everything Frank had heard it would be and then some. It had been years since he'd had real lasagna. And while he didn't usually eat dessert, when he saw the woman order some sort of fluffy thing, he ordered some too. The waitress told him it was tiramisu. As he savored each bite, Frank resolved to himself to enjoy life a bit more.

His meal done, he paid his bill and grabbed the doggie bag to head home. Not that he couldn't finish the meal, but he wanted to bring a treat home for Win. The dog had been so stoic. His best friend probably missed Pam as much as he did.

Frank slid into his truck when his cell phone went off. The hour was a little late for work, but it was Bill's number. He answered it, wondering what new troubles had landed in his lap. A call this late had to mean something terrible had happened.

"What's going on?"

"Come to the hospital."

"The hospital?"

No one should be working at this hour. The men should've gone home hours ago. Frank started to say something about it when Bill stopped him.

"It's bad. It's Jose. He's real sick."

During dinner, much to Mike's chagrin, Claudia seemed preoccupied with a tall, dark-haired man dining by himself. As her gaze went back to him over and over, Mike felt his plans for a romantic evening going by the wayside. “Is that someone you know, Claudia?"

"Who?"

"The guy you keep looking at."

"No. I don't know him at all. There's just something so sad about him. He just seems so sad, you know?"

Unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice, he prompted, “So do you want to go cheer him up?"

Claudia stopped eating and looked at him. “Mike! I can't believe you just said that!"

"Well, the way you keep looking over there..."

"Mike.” She put her hand on his. “I'm here with you. We're enjoying ourselves, and well, I don't know why, but I do feel he's sad for some reason. I'm not about to poke my nose into someone else's business. Okay? It's not like I'm flirting with him or something."

"Yeah, Claud. I'm sorry. Sometimes,” he threaded his fingers through his hair, “sometimes I want, I want..."

"You want me to realize I'm crazy about you and that my past doesn't matter and that even if there was a guy in my past, I'd want you in my future."

"For a woman with no memory of her past, you sure have a grip on your present."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Just an observation."

"Okay, Mr. Observer, tell me about your day today."

As Mike started to fill her in on his day, he noted she tried hard to concentrate on him and what he was saying. It was an effort. Clearly there was something about the other man held her attention. The idea bugged him for the rest of their meal.

They both remained quiet on the drive home. Mike hated that. Usually they had no trouble having a conversation. He loved talking to her, listening to her opinions and how she'd sometimes wonder if they were long-standing or new ones or how she had occupied her time while he had been at work. Now, the silence in the car held physical weight, seemed to almost suffocate him.

All this had to be in his head. He was just upset about that man. Claudia paid him too much attention and he had caught the stranger watching her, although more discretely than Claudia had been. It brought up the nagging sensation that Claudia wasn't really his. Like he was some damn placeholder, a temporary thing when what he wanted was Claudia forever.

The awkward silence continued into their home. Something seemed to have shifted. Claudia must have sensed it too because she remained lost in thought, hardly watching the television.

"I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed.” He wasn't really all that tired, but he knew if he stayed up and around Claudia much longer he'd do something stupid. With a quick “Night,” he left her watching television.

A few years in the military and working graveyard shifts in the police department gave him a sixth-sense type reaction to sound. He could be dead to the world asleep and the slightest sound would bring him instantly awake. He'd also taken to sleeping with his gun under the mattress, not so much because of the neighborhood he lived in, but by force of habit from his army days. The slight creak of his bedroom door had him instantly awake, gun in hand, he couldn't believe the sight that greeted him.

Claudia stood just inches from his bed, the thin robe that barely reached halfway down her thighs parted to reveal the smooth skin beneath. Nothing could have prepared him for her slow, steady, and sure advance, nor for how he felt when she slipped between the sheets with him.

"Claudia?"

"I need you, Mike. I need to be with you."

You all right? Did something scare you?"

She shifted to roll half on her side, half on her belly, causing the robe to slip open.

"Did you remember something?"

"No, nothing like that, nothing bad, nothing scary."

"You sure you're..."

He took in a sharp breath as she placed her hand on his thigh and slid it upward coming to rest on his chest. “I just ... Mike, will you kiss me?"

"If I do that, I don't know if it will stop at a kiss."

"Then it doesn't stop with a kiss. It takes us where we belong. Mike, I know it bothered you when we saw that man tonight. He seemed so sad and lonely. I don't want to be that kind of sad person, and I don't want you to be."

"I'm not sad, babe."

"No, I know you aren't sad and lonely, but I was feeling lonely all by myself.” She slid her leg up along his body, causing Mike to take another quick, short breath. She nestled her knee just below his balls. Claudia sighed before continuing her journey just a bit more until she reached his cock. “Will you kiss me, Mike?"

She leaned in to him, lightly feathering her lips along his. As their lips met, Mike wondered where she had gotten the courage to walk into his room and then to seduce him. Usually it seemed like she kept invisible walls, never wanting or needing human contact. Something in her had changed tonight.

"Are you sure?"

"More sure than I've ever been of anything in my life."

He kissed her mouth again, long and deep, waiting for her to change her mind. She didn't though. Even as he rolled her onto her back and slid between her thighs, she didn't stop him.

Mike had never been nervous about sex in his life but he was now. He'd wanted her from the moment he saw Claudia in that hospital bed. Now he was getting everything he ever wanted.

He slipped along her thigh and eased into her moist folds. She trembled. This was his chance to claim her for his own, and so he made love to her. He withheld until her soft moans released, and only then did he allow himself the same.

When they were finished, he rolled to the side. He couldn't be certain in the darkness, but he though her eyes looked glassy, full of tears. He looked harder until he saw one escape and roll down her cheek.

"Are you happy or sad?” he had to ask.

"Happy,” she replied, but he wasn't so sure.

Waking slowly and probably more relaxed than he had been in a long, long time, Mike's eyelids lifted only slightly, just enough to take in the woman next to him. He wanted Claudia almost from the first time he saw her, even battered and bruised there was something special about her. When she woke and he started to get to know her, that special quality seemed even more pronounced. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that they would end up a couple. Oh, he wanted that, very much. But never thought it would happen. He was one of those guys that women usually called a “nice” guy, which meant no one wanted him. At least not for long. But here he was with Claudia, the woman he had long felt was “the one.” Now, here she was, in his bed, lying half on top of him, her thigh thrown possessively over him, her right arm across his chest with her hand tucked beneath his shoulder. It was as if they had always slept like this. If Mike had anything to say about it, they would sleep like this forever.

Before his thoughts, his hopes for a future with Claudia could start to fully take form he heard the insistent buzz of his pager. Reaching to his nightstand, he picked it up and saw the “1019—911"—return to station, ASAP, emergency code.

It had been a long night in the ER. Frank sat next to Bill. As far as they knew Jose didn't have any family here and they weren't sure who to call. Jose was in no condition to tell them. They still weren't sure what had happened.

"So Jose asked to leave early because his stomach hurts?"

"The guy looked bad. Very pale. I thought I'd take him home so I let him sit in the air-conditioned trailer until I could leave. It was only thirty minutes until quitting time. I walked out and came back to find him on the toilet. He came out, told me he was shitting blood.” Bill shook his head as if the shock still held over him. “I took him home, but the place was a dump. Nobody was there to take care of him, and he looked rough. I went to the store and picked up a few things for his stomach. When I got back, he was puking blood. That's when I decided to take him to the hospital."

"Bill Dyer?” A man in a white lab coat came out of the swinging double doors.

"Right here."

"Please come with me."

"Can he come to? He's the boss, the owner."

"Sure."

Frank thought it odd that they were led down the hall. They didn't stop at any of the curtained-off treatment sections with people hoping for a little help. He'd been to the emergency room a few times, but it never failed to give him the creeps. There was so much suffering, yet the nurses all acted like it was just another day. He supposed nothing shocked them anymore.

They were taken to a small corner office lined with books. In the center was a desk, a chart opened on the top. What caught Frank off-guard was the second man in the room. He looked familiar. He had dark hair, a set jaw, and hard eyes. A badge glinted from his belt, a Sig Sauer riding on his hip. Then he remembered that this was the guy with the redhead at the restaurant.

"Detective Mike Malone,” he introduced himself. “Will both of you have a seat?” He looked at the doctor. “You didn't tell me there were two people involved. I prefer to question people individually, but this time I'll make an exception."

"I'm Frank White. This is Bill Dyer."

Frank and Bill sat on the other side of the desk from him. A cop had arrived at the hospital and that told Frank that this was no flu Jose had. For a cop to be here, some serious shit was about to go down causing Frank to fidget in his seat.

"Did Jose Torres have any enemies that you know of?"

Frank shook his head and found Bill doing the same thing. Bill's face mimicked his own in the shocked expression. Jose was a good guy. He couldn't imagine anyone not liking him, much less wanting to hurt him.

"Did he eat or drink anything before getting sick?"

"Yes,” Bill spoke up. “He came into the office and grabbed a cup of coffee just after Frank left."

"Really? What's the address of the work site and the location of this coffee pot."

Bill gave him the address while Frank let the facts settle in his brain. An employee fell sick just after drinking the coffee. Coffee Catherine had offered him before she had left. He needed a few more facts.

"Please, this man isn't just an employee, he's a friend, he is close to me, and I need to know what happened."

"Who else was around a couple of hours before and right after?'

"My crew,” Frank told him.

"How many men?” This Malone guy kept firing questions.

"Eleven, no, twelve were on today."

"I'll need their names, addresses, phone numbers—Jose get along with them?"

"Jose got along with everyone,” Frank stated with Bill nodding his head in concurrence. “Jose is a great guy, hard worker. He sends at least half of his paycheck home to his family in Mexico. He's active in his community. He's the last guy in the world anyone would want to hurt."

The detective tapped his pen on the desk. “Will you allow a full search of the area without me going through the trouble of a search warrant?"

"Of course. Please, search everything."

"Doc, spell it out of them.” Mike nodded to the doctor.

The room was uncomfortably small and seemed to shrink as the doctor rose from his leaning spot in the corner. Something about that white coat gave him a presence, an authority that made Frank uncomfortable.

"Gentlemen, your friend is bleeding to death. We've given him Vitamin K to stop it but so much damage has been done that I'm not sure we can save him. We're giving him blood, thankfully he has a blood type that is in ready supply."

"Was he injured? I don't understand."

"The tests won't be back until tomorrow. Usually these tests take weeks, but this is an emergency. I personally suspect something along the lines of brodifacoum, talon, and maybe racumin in his body. It's some mix of anticoagulants. If the poison was old enough, there may even be some arsenic in it."

"Layman's terms, please."

"We think your friend got a giant dose of rat poison. We pumped his stomach, performed a gastric lavage, but didn't get much. From the hemorrhaging of the larynx, trachea, lungs, abdomen, and intestines, I'm guessing someone wanted him dead. I'm hoping too much damage hasn't happened to his circulatory system or they may still get their wish."