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Authors: Mary Burton

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BOOK: I'm Watching You
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Chapter
Four

Monday, July 7, 9:45
A.M
.

Lindsay leaned over the sink in the
shelter's kitchen, staring out the window toward the crime scene. Zack
had expanded the crime scene to include the entire backyard. No doubt,
he'd seal it for days, months. If anything, he was thorough.

Any hopes she'd had of preserving the shelter's anonymity
had vanished when she'd spoken to Zack. He wasn't going to cut one
corner on this investigation. She'd asked Ruby to call around to other
shelters to find beds for her six residents.

Lindsay watched as the forensics technician brushed her bangs off her
forehead as she stared up at Zack. The tech leaned toward him a fraction, her
smile subtle but flirty. One hundred dollars said the chick was wearing
perfume.

A familiar knot burned in the pit of her stomach. Was she the one Zack
had slept with the night she'd thrown him out of their apartment? Painful
memories compressed her heart. She turned from the window. It took a moment
before she could breathe deeply.

Lindsay's fingers tightened into fists. "I don't care
who he sleeps with now."

Ringing phones startled her from her mood. All at once three lines lit
up on the phone on the kitchen wall.

Lindsay slid open the pocket door that separated the kitchen from the
conference room. Ruby sat at a small desk, the phone cradled under her ear. She
mouthed "line two."

"Got it."
Lindsay picked up the line in the
kitchen.
"Sanctuary Women's Shelter."

"Lindsay?"

It was Dr. Sam Begley, chief resident in emergency medicine at Mercy
Hospital. Immediately, the pressure in her shoulders relaxed. Sam and Lindsay
had met six months ago when she'd given a seminar on domestic violence to
the hospital staff.

"Sam, what can I do for you?" She leaned against the sink,
her back to the murder scene.

"You might want to come down here," he said in a sober tone.
"I've got a woman in cubical six who's been badly beaten. Her
story has changed a couple of times. I think the abuse is domestic."

A protective urge welled inside her. "How bad are her
injuries?"

"Cracked ribs.
Bruised arms.
Sprained wrist."

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. A headache was starting to
pound behind her eyes. "Did she say who did it?"

"No, but she exhibits all the signs you outlined. No bruises on
her face. Whoever did this didn't want anyone to know she'd been
slapped around."

"Did she say anything about what happened?"

"She said she fell down some stairs. I was hoping the shelter had
a bed available."

Lindsay turned toward the window facing the cops crowding her backyard.
"I don't think we'll have a bed for a few days. But I could
talk to her, try to get her in another place if she'll take it."

He sighed into the phone. "Good. She needs someone to talk sense
into her."

"You sound tired. Did you pull another eighteen-hour shift?"

He chuckled. "No rest for the wicked."

Lindsay admired Sam. He was one of the hardest-working people she knew.
She checked her watch. Better to stay, deal with Zack, and be done with him.
"I'm stuck here at the shelter for another hour or so. Can you hold
on to her?"

"She's over eighteen and can walk out of here any time she
wants." He dropped his voice a notch. "But you know how slow the
paperwork moves around this place. It could easily take a couple of hours
before she's discharged."

Lindsay couldn't help but smile. Sam made life easy.
"I'll be by as soon as I can."

"Good."

"You're one of the good guys, Dr. Sam Begley." She
imagined his face turning red.

"You're the one who does the real work." He hesitated.
"I had fun at the movies last week. We should do it again sometime
soon."

"Sounds good."
She hadn't really thought of
their outing as anything more than a friendly trip to the movies until Sam had
kissed her. The awkward moment underscored the fact that she'd not been
out with another man since she'd left Zack.

"How about tonight?" he said quickly. "I'll buy
you a slice of birthday cake."

Her birthday was in two days. She'd almost forgotten. Leave it to
Sam to remember.

"I'm going to be working late tonight." She was
grateful to have a real excuse.
"Rain check?
Maybe next week?
And make the cake carrot."

He laughed. "Consider it done."

She glanced at her phone console, noticing two other lines blinking.
"Hey, look, I've got other calls.
Lots of stuff
going on here today."

"Everything all right?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you when I see
you."

"No problem. See you in about an hour."

"Thanks." Lindsay hung up and caught Ruby's gaze.

Ruby cupped her hand over the receiver. "Line three. Dana
Miller."

Lindsay's stomach knotted with tension. "Thanks."

Dana, the shelter's board chairman, was essentially
Lindsay's boss. Had Dana already heard about the murder or was the call
about the missed teleconference? Neither topic boded well.

She punched line three. "Hello, Dana."

"What's going on over there? First you miss our phone
meeting and then the director at Riverside Shelter calls and tells me Ruby
requested bed space for some of your residents."

Lindsay sighed. No beating around the bush with Dana. "A body was
found behind the shelter."

"What!"

"It wasn't one of our residents," she rushed to say.

"Who the hell was it?"

"I don't know. The police aren't telling me much right
now."

"Damn it, Lindsay. This is not good."

Lindsay pictured Dana sitting in her high-rise office wearing her
trademark red Brooks Brothers suit. On her desk there'd be a half-full
cup of coffee and a cigarette burning in a crystal ashtray. Dana had made
millions in real estate and had built a reputation as a hard-driving ball
buster who distained sloppy emotions. Lindsay never could figure why
she'd decided to champion battered women or Sanctuary.

"I know the victim is a man, and as soon as I know anything else
I'll call you," Lindsay said.

"Do you know how the guy died?"

"No."

Dana exhaled. "We don't need bad press, Lindsay. Not after
what happened before with that other woman."

"Her name was Pam Rogers." Dana may have forgotten the
woman's name but Lindsay never would.

Dana blew out a lungful of smoke into the receiver. "Handle this,
Lindsay. I don't want to defend the shelter again to the media.
It's not good for me or you."

Handle this
. "Consider it done."

The line went dead.

Ruby poked her head into the kitchen, clearly having overheard the conversation.
"Sorry about that. I wanted to call Riverside first thing. If we can get
Aisha Greenland and her boys transferred there, the boys won't have to
switch schools."

"The children's well-being comes before politics. You did
the right thing. Did they get bed space?"

"Yes. I've also put a call in to Michelle Franklin over at
Hayden House." The shelter was in the east end of the county.
"They've got two beds."

"We've got six people here now." Lindsay mentally went
through the list of residents.
"Greenlands to
Riverside.
Tracy and Cindy to Hayden House.
Call the Y and see if they have a bed for Barbara."

"I'll take care of it."

"I'll contact the women at work and tell them what's
happening. The last thing they need is to hear about this on the news."

Ruby shook her head. "What a mess."

"Yeah."

Lindsay called each of the women, did her best to downplay the
situation, and promised to transfer their goods to the new shelters so they
wouldn't have to return to Sanctuary. Ruby would pick the Greenland boys
up at school and take them directly to Riverside.

By the time she hung up the phone, Lindsay's head was really
pounding. She needed caffeine.

At the kitchen sink, she rinsed out stale coffee from the coffeemaker
carafe, refilled it with tap water, and dumped it in the machine's
reservoir. She tossed out the old grounds, scooped fresh into the metal filter,
and switched the machine on.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned in time to see Zack
step through the front door, a cell phone cradled under his chin. He'd
loosened his tie. Thick stubble covered his chin, as if he'd been up all
night. His gun rested on his narrow hip.

He spoke into his cell. "Ayden, you and Warwick need to see this.
Yeah, well, tell him his vacation is over."

The deep timber of Zack's voice swirled around Lindsay, raking
over her frayed nerves. Just having him close made her nervous.

Zack had a strong profile and Lindsay found herself liking his hair
short. It suited him. Unexpected desire flickered to life. A part of her still
wanted Zack. Probably always would. Damn. Her fickle libido was the last thing
she needed to deal with right now.

"I need to talk to the shelter director first," he added.

She turned back to the hissing coffeepot, in a sudden rush to have
something to do. She pulled the half-full carafe out. Hot coffee dripped down
on the machine's burner as she quickly poured a cup,
then
replaced the pot. Coffee spilled over the edge of the burner.

She grabbed a handful of paper towels and started to mop up the mess.
"Damn."

Footsteps sounded behind her. "Patience never was your
specialty," Zack said.

Lindsay ignored the greater meaning behind his words and swallowed a
tart retort. "No, I guess not."
Be nice,
she thought. Turning, she held up a mug. "You want a cup?"

"That would be great."

She filled a Styrofoam cup with black coffee and handed it to him. He
thanked her. The forced civility didn't fit them. Their relationship had
never been lukewarm. When they fought, laughed, or made love the intensity
could have shaken the rafters. And she'd been proud of that. She'd
never figured that that same intensity would also rip them apart.

Lindsay nodded toward her office door. "We can talk in my
office."

Tension snapping at her, she headed past him, down the center hallway to
her office. Her office, like every other room in the shelter, served many
purposes. The public health nurse used her desk when she visited, residents
used the space for private meetings, and donations were usually left there
before they were sorted.

Stacks of papers covered her desk but she could, at any given moment,
find anything she needed.

Lindsay removed a donated clothes bag from a chair and set it behind her
desk. She motioned for Zack to sit as she took her chair behind the desk. Here
she felt safe.

Zack took a seat and flipped open his notebook.

"Are you going to tell me who was murdered?"

In no rush, Zack sipped his coffee and then set it on the edge of her
desk before settling his gaze on her. "You had any trouble here at the
shelter lately?"

That was so Zack to answer a question with a question. "Not
lately. You know about Pam Rogers, the woman who revealed the shelter location
to her husband. He picked her up and later he killed her."

"Nine months ago, right before I joined homicide. I read the file."

"Since then, we've had no trouble."

"No threatening phone calls? No messages in the mail?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary."
She sipped her coffee. It tasted
bitter. "So who was murdered?"

He watched her face closely. "Harold Turner."

Stunned, Lindsay dropped open her mouth.
"The
attorney?"

"That's right. You know him?" He stared at her,
gauging her reaction.

Yeah, she knew Harold. He liked to slap his wife around, a fact few
knew. Lindsay had found out about the abuse when Jordan had cornered her in the
ladies' room at the Race for the Cure fund-raiser two weeks ago. Jordan
had told Lindsay everything: Harold's drug use, the beatings, and the
verbal abuse. Lindsay had comforted Jordan and begged her to come to Sanctuary.
But Jordan Turner had refused. She had admitted that she enjoyed Harold's
wealth far too much to abandon it. She had wiped her tears away, fixed her
makeup, and assured Lindsay she could handle Harold. She'd called her
tears a momentary lapse and then downplayed the entire incident.

Lindsay had likened Jordan's emotional outburst to a leak in a
dam. Eventually, the water would widen the dam wall, erode the foundation, and
rush out with devastating force.

BOOK: I'm Watching You
12.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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