In Too Deep (24 page)

She knew he was referring to the photo that had been found on Mark. “Yes.”

Stewart unwrapped another stick of gum and shoved it in his mouth. “She recognize it?” He chewed loudly and then coughed, evidently having swallowed some of the juice wrong.

“It was the one he kept in his office at his law firm.”

“Shit,” Stewart mumbled, and Patricia could have sworn she heard the wheels in his brain squeaking as they turned.

“What did the hotel say?” she asked.

“Nada. We’re combing through their security cameras as we speak.”

“The staff, they didn’t see anything?”

“No. And according to their books, he didn’t have a room.”

She rubbed her hand over her forehead in frustration. “What are the doctors saying? Is he going to wake up soon?”

Stewart jiggled his keys as he spoke. “He’s doing okay for a guy who guy took a bullet in the shoulder, then got stabbed four times in the groin. I guess the anesthetic takes a while to wear off.”

“Christ.”

“You look like shit,” Stewart rasped.

“Thanks.” She smiled halfheartedly at him.

“I’ll go get some you coffee.” He walked off in search of the vending machines, leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Her mind reeled with possibilities, but she was too tired to make any sense of them. All she knew was the hate she had for Elizabeth Adams was growing. With every passing second, she hated her more. Especially when she thought of Erin. She glanced up as Stewart returned, carrying a small steaming paper cup.

“Thanks,” she offered, meeting his eyes as she took the cup. She had never known him to be the caring type, and yet she was too damn exhausted to ponder his behavior.

“Hey, even I’m not a total prick.” He sat down across from her and rested his elbows on his knees, his jaws working overtime on the chewing gum.

She eyed him and conceded that the obnoxious detective sitting across from her did indeed have a heart after all. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked as she sipped at the terrible coffee.

“Sure am. Someone’s fucking with us.”

“Where’s Adams?”

“She’s got an alibi.”

“Of course she does,” she scoffed.

“She’s holed up at that mansion of hers in the hills. We’ve got nothing on her.”

“Of course not.” This entire investigation was unbelievable. “Did we ID that body yet?”

He shook his head. “Still can’t locate the skull, but we did find two more teeth.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess, they match Reece’s dental files.”

He laughed. “Yep.”

“Of course they do.”
It’s just all coming about way too easily.

“Do I detect a note of cynicism Detective Henderson?”

“You’re goddamn right you do.”

*

Patricia stood in the hallway outside the open hospital room door. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the voices carried out into the hall and she’d heard what Erin had said to her cheating ex-husband. Erin had put a call in to Mark’s mistress, letting her know about his condition and requesting her presence. Patricia had been impressed with her nobility and her tact.

“You’re a good woman,” she said as Erin emerged from the room and closed the door behind her.

“Yeah, well, he deserves to be happy.” Erin looked tired, her eyes pained and bloodshot, her face drawn.

Patricia walked next to her, wanting desperately to touch her, to take away her pain, but she kept her hands by her sides, the fear of rejection and exposure of her true feelings winning out.

“So do you, Mac. So do you,” she said softly as they walked out of the hospital and into the warm, comforting embrace of the desert heat.

*

“Mac, you’ve got to listen to me. Please!” Patricia pleaded.

Erin shook her head and continued to shove her belongings into her large duffel bag. “I said no. I’m not doing it.” Her tone was firm.

“Think about what you’re saying. You’re completely disregarding your own safety.”

“I’m not going into hiding, Patricia, and that’s final.” She shoved the last shirt in the bag without bothering to fold it and tried to zip the bag shut. “Shit!”

Frustrated, she unzipped it and pulled her clothes back out of the bag and onto the bed. As she tossed her belongings around, she was overwhelmed with a sense of failure. Her cover was blown. Elizabeth Adams knew who she was. That thought didn’t scare her. Rather, it made her feel guilty and ashamed, knowing that Liz must now think their intimate encounter was just part of Erin’s job and meant nothing.

A shudder coursed through her as she remembered the look in Liz’s eyes just after they had made love. So deep, so tender, so unlike the woman everyone had warned her about. She shook the image from her mind and tried to get a handle on what she was more upset over—her failure in her undercover role or her exposure to Liz. She knew what she should be more upset over. Elizabeth Adams’s feelings should be the furthest thing from her mind. But the woman and her warm blue eyes remained, having claimed her from the inside out.

Lost in her thoughts, Erin watched as Patricia walked over to the bed and folded the clothes neatly before placing them in the bag.

“You know you aren’t safe right now,” she said. “They know who you are and they could come after you.”

“Then let them.” Erin grabbed a shirt angrily and placed it in the bag. “Let Liz or whoever you think will come, come after me. I dare them.”

Deep in her heart she didn’t think Liz would come for her. She couldn’t even fathom the woman being violent with anyone, not after the way she had touched her, had awakened her body. Confusion and desire spilled into her blood, and she wondered if she would ever see the beautiful and mysterious nightclub owner again.

“You think it’s Adams?” Patricia asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“I don’t know.”

Erin hurriedly zipped the bag. Once again, powerful images of their intimacy flooded her brain. She had to see her again; something ached inside of her, cried out for her. She remembered how she had stormed out, how she had run away from Elizabeth Adams and her penetrating eyes, so full of emotion and confusion. As badly as she wanted to see her, to explain things to her, she knew Liz would in no way want to see her again. She was not the kind of woman who would easily forget being tricked. Was the nonfatal attack on Mark a message from her, a cruel vengeance? Erin remembered her tenderness, the gentle knowing feel of her touch, the loneliness and vulnerability in her stare. It didn’t add up. Nothing did anymore.

She headed out of the bedroom and down the hall.

“If you won’t let the department put you in a safe house, then at least stay with me,” Patricia called after her, fear evident in her voice. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. And certainly not at your house.”

Erin stood still by the front door and gazed at the floor. Even in her jumbled head, Patricia’s words made sense. The thought of being alone in her own huge house scared her more than the thought of someone coming after her.

She met Patricia’s anxious eyes and lowered her duffel bag. “Okay. But just for a few days.”

*

Patricia sat poised in her desk chair, focused intently on her computer, her fingers flying across her keyboard. She had been writing for close to two hours and she was swimming comfortably now, the water warming against her skin as she swam through the sea her words created. She hadn’t realized it until she reread her words, but she was writing about Erin.

Lightning flashed brilliantly outside her window, illuminating the office. She looked up, startled, and looked out the window, almost fearing what she might see standing outside. The tree in her front yard bent strongly to the left, submitting to the powerful wind. Rain blew in spurts against the windowpane, smacking at it with large splattering drops. An enormous clap of thunder followed the lightning, shaking the house.

Jack came running into the room and jumped up in her lap, growling at the blowing tree outside the window. She stroked the standing fur on his back, trying to comfort him as he trembled. She couldn’t explain how, but her deaf dog could somehow feel the thunder. She looked back to her computer just as the screen went black, along with the desk lamp.

“Damn it.” She placed Jack on the floor and busied herself turning off her computer and lamp. She had saved her document and she had a surge protector, so she wasn’t too worried about anything regarding her work or her computer. No, she was worried for completely different reasons.

She rose and walked slowly out of her office and down the darkened hallway, making her way into the living room. Erin had placed a flashlight on the coffee table, and Patricia picked it up and clicked it on.

She shone the weak halo of light on the couch, where Erin lay sleeping soundly. “Mac?” She walked to her side and lightly shook her.

Erin stirred. “Yeah?”

“We lost power. I need you to come sleep in my bedroom.” With the house shrouded in darkness, Patricia knew she would never be able to sleep unless Erin was right by her side.

She helped her up and they slowly made their way to the master bedroom. Jack jumped on the bed, barking and chasing the flickering beam of light from the flashlight.

Erin lay down on top of the covers, making no effort to pull them back. Patricia walked to the dresser and lit a large eucalyptus-scented candle. Then she turned off the flashlight and placed it on the nightstand. Thunder crashed loudly and the wind surged against the house. Flashes of lightning lit up the room, brightening Erin’s sleeping form.

Patricia stood next to the bed, mesmerized by the woman she’d longed to see there. More than anything, she wanted to crawl in to bed next to her and curl up against her warmth. She wanted to get lost in the scent of her, to be lulled to sleep by her steady breathing. But she knew she had to double-check the house, she had to keep her safe.

Taking the flashlight, she went off to explore her house, to secure all the doors and windows. As she walked back down the hall, she heard her cell phone ring. She picked up her pace and jogged into the kitchen, where she had left it.

“Henderson.”

“Hey, it’s Jacobs. You okay?”

“We’re fine. Just lost power, though.”

Gary’s voice was distant and crackling. “The whole city’s out. The creek beds are full and we’ve got some major flash flooding.” He was breaking up, his signal weakening. “People trapped in their cars…We’ve been called out by the mayor…We have to go direct traffic…signals out…looting…You gonna be okay?”

She could no longer make out what her partner was saying. “Yes, we’ll be fine.” She shouted the words but got no response. “Gary? Gary?” She pulled the phone away from her ear and saw that the signal was gone. She set the phone down on the counter and continued on her quest to check the house.

With her fellow detectives unavailable, there would be no routine drive-by as she had requested. She and Mac were now totally alone, and she hoped she had the stamina to remain alert throughout the night.

Having checked all the doors and windows, she went to her office and collected a spiral notebook and a pen. She returned to the bedroom and propped herself up with the pillows against the headboard, careful not to disturb Erin. The room was already stuffy in the absence of the air-conditioning and the ceiling fan—not the ideal environment to try to stay awake in. She thought briefly about opening a window but decided it was too great a risk.

Erin moaned and rolled over onto her back, her face glistening with sweat in the candlelight. Jack had settled down under the covers, too afraid to be above them. Patricia positioned her notebook against her knees and began to write, inspired by the sleeping beauty in her bed.

She wrote steadily for what seemed like hours, milking her mind of the pressure that had built up during the last week. She wrote so intensely and so quickly that her hand throbbed from the strain and eventually she could no longer hold the pen. Her eyes became heavy with her mind’s sweet release and she fought sleep as long as she was able to. But exhaustion finally won out and she dropped her suddenly heavy pen and fell fast asleep.

*

Elizabeth Adams watched the front of the house through the back-and-forth motion of her windshield wipers. The rain was falling heavily, bathing her Range Rover with hard, heavy-sounding drops. She gripped her steering wheel and sat motionless. She knew who was inside. She’d been watching for a while.

A face flashed in her mind. The face that had reached inside her black, desolate chest and squeezed the life back into her heart. Another image stole her breath. The same beautiful face turning from her, the woman she had just made love to running from her, pushing her away and leaving her behind.

Erin McKenzie.
She silently repeated the name over and over.
Erin McKenzie, not
Katherine Chandler.
How did it happen? How did this happen to me?

Her chest tightened and she could feel her heart bleeding, filling her insides and drowning her soul. She turned off the ignition and stepped out into the cold rain, her jaw set. In a momentary daze, she watched as the water rolled off her skin, unable to penetrate into her very being, unable to cool the fire within. Compelling her legs to move, she walked toward the house.