L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (13 page)

He spun to face her. “Man? You mean Alfredo?” His gaze traveled from her dripping wet hair to her toes. She clutched the curtain tighter.

“No…no,” she sputtered. “A man, a stranger, was in here and he went through our stuff. My backpack. God only knows what he took.”

“When?”

“Just seconds before you returned. You must’ve seen him!”

Almost before the words left her lips, Adam was out the door, but just as quickly he came back and tossed her a towel. “Lock the door after me.”

She caught the towel to her chest.

“You should’ve locked it the first time,” he barked on his way out.

He was right. Wrapping the towel around her, she did as asked. Minutes later, Adam was back again.

“No one’s out there. Whoever it was knows the area and knows where and how to disappear. He probably does this all the time.”

She moved to the bed. “I was just going to see what he took.”

He closed and locked the door and stood with his back against it. “So, check.” Once again his gaze flicked over her.

She hiked up the towel and sidled toward the bed. Not wanting to bend over, she sat on the bed by her backpack and what used to be its contents. “Should we get Alfredo to call the police?”

“Not until we know why we’re calling.”

She checked her wallet and found her identification, money, business cards and passport were still there. “Odd. Nothing’s missing.” She looked up.

He frowned, then sat next to her and started going through his duffel bag.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh. Did he take anything of yours?”

He pulled some small metallic thing from his bag and gripped it tightly in his hand, his shoulders relaxing. “Nope. Everything’s here.”

His leg touched hers and her pulse quickened. From fear or his nearness she didn’t know which. “What do you suppose he was looking for? Drugs?”

“I doubt it. If he was, he’d certainly have taken the money.”

He leaned behind her to reexamine the pile of personal items on the bed, his movement such that he had to place a hand on her upper arm for balance. His hand was warm, and feeling it sent a jolt of electricity through her. He stopped midway, his head next to hers, his mouth near her ear. She heard him draw in a deep breath, as if savoring the scent of her.

She closed her eyes. She wanted him to kiss her.

“Did he see you?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes. “No, I was in the shower when he came in, so I guess he thought I wouldn’t hear him.

Another knock startled both of them. “Who’s there?” Adam almost growled.

“Alfredo.” Then he rattled off something in Spanish.

“Uno momento,” Adam said. Jamming a hand through his hair, he got up and went to the door. Alfredo was carrying a tray with two glasses filled with a red liquid of some kind.

He saw Jillian’s state of undress and averted his gaze. Then she saw him raise his eyebrows and smile knowingly at Adam as he placed the tray on the nightstand. Adam handed him some colones and he left.

“You didn’t ask him about the burglar.”

“The guy didn’t take anything, so it’s no big deal,” Adam said, his tone sharp.

Self-conscious sitting there in a towel and irritated that she was so easily affected by him, she said, more firmly than she’d wanted, “I don’t agree. Maybe having someone rummage through your things is an everyday occurrence, but it isn’t for me.”

“So what would you like me to do? If I bring it to Alfredo’s attention and he calls the police, we’ll have to wait for them. They won’t come till tomorrow, and we won’t get started when we want to in the morning. In addition, there was no break-in, no robbery. Nothing can be done—believe me, I know.”

“But wouldn’t Alfredo want to know? What if this happens to others and it’s not so innocent?”

He rubbed his chin. “I’ll tell Alfredo in the morning before we go. At least he’ll be aware of what happened and can keep watch when he has other guests. Will that make you happy?”

“I guess.” She shrugged.

“Okay, my turn for the shower, but you’re going to have to stay inside. Treat yourself to one of these fruit drinks. They’re refreshing.”

Fine with her. Once he was in the shower, she found her nightshirt, slipped it on along with a pair of cotton panties, then placed her silver hoop earrings on the table by the window where Adam had placed some change and things from his pocket. One looked like a medal of some kind.

She picked it up. A Medal of Valor. She remembered after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, which seemed so long ago now, several officers had received the award for bravery. She’d known then that not all police officers were like her father.

That Adam had received a medal like that for an act of bravery didn’t surprise her. But that he carried it with him did. Whatever he’d received it for must’ve been terribly important to him.

Hearing the water shut off, she quickly took the blanket, which they surely didn’t need, rolled it into a tube and arranged it as a barrier down the middle of the bed. She crawled under the sheet on her side and was sitting up drinking the fruit punch when Adam came out of the shower.

His hair, wet and slicked back, looked darker. The towel was hitched around his hips, and she had difficulty dragging her gaze away.

“I’ve got to drop this towel to put something on,” he said. “You can either close your eyes or you can watch.” He grinned. “I’m okay with either.”

She quickly glanced away and shut her eyes, mostly because she was embarrassed. She’d love to watch and he probably knew it.

Seconds later he said “Okay. You’re safe now.”

He was wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants that hung low on his hips and didn’t cover any more than the towel had. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe…as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

When he crawled into bed beside her, the mattress dipped severely. She had to catch herself to keep from rolling into him.

Getting comfortable in a sitting position, he said, “What the devil?” He flipped up the sheet, then burst into hearty laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

He stopped laughing long enough to say, “Sweetheart, if I was interested, do you think that scrap of cloth would stop me?”

Heat scored her cheeks.

He chuckled while reaching for his drink from the nightstand. The affectionate smile he bestowed on her caught her off guard. “You’re too much, Jillian Sullivan, you know that?”

Desire inhabited her body. Could a person be mortified and turned on at the same time? If not, this was a first.

After a few sips of his drink, he set the glass on the nightstand, then lowered the white mosquito netting around them.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ADAM AWOKE FIRST TO FIND Jillian spooned against him, her tangled curls spread out on the pillow. Despite the man rummaging through their stuff last night and his concern about what awaited them here, he hadn’t slept so well since his partner was murdered and his marriage had ended.

Now, leaning on one elbow, he watched her sleep. Just looking at her pulled at his insides and sent his pulse into overdrive. He passed a hand over the sheet along the length of her, letting his mind do the touching. Then he picked up a lock of her hair and curled it around a finger. It was just as silky soft as he’d imagined.

But then, he’d imagined far too many things, and if he didn’t move away from her now, she was going to know exactly what was on his mind.

He sent his thoughts in another direction—to the man who’d been in the room last night. What would anyone be looking for if it wasn’t money or drugs?

Since they’d been asking about Corita Sullivan, it was logical to think there was a connection. Someone wanted to know why they were interested. And who, other than Jack Sullivan, would want to know that?

One thing was clear—they’d probably never know who the guy was unless he came looking again.

Jillian stirred, stretched and reached out. Her hand fell across his chest, warm and seeking.

Man, oh, man. His thoughts could only go one direction with that happening. Just as he started to slide away, she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself a second or two to savor the closeness. She was warm and soft and her scent was delicious.

She moved and her hair brushed his face. He sucked in a deep breath. He could make love to her without a second’s thought. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he wouldn’t be able to walk if he kept this up much longer. He moved to the side and slipped from under her arm. She stirred, then kicked off the sheet.

Her long legs were bare all the way up to her white cotton panties. His blood surged, and for a moment he wondered how receptive she’d be. It was a stupid thought, one he eliminated immediately.

He didn’t know her very well, but he was certain she wasn’t into one-night stands. Unpredictable though she was, he knew she was the kind of woman who thought about the future. The fact that she ran a successful business and owned her own home and vehicle, free and clear, attested to that big time.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could handle a one-nighter. Because then he’d have to think about other things besides the fact that he wanted her. He’d have to think about how he respected her for doing what she believed in, admired her for her loyalty, even though her scumbag husband didn’t deserve it. Worse yet, he’d have to think about how much he liked her.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood. At his movement, her eyes blinked open.

She stretched her arms above her head, then when she noticed he was there and standing beside the bed, she smiled.

“Good morning.” Her languid morning voice was low and, to his ears, seductive. She was seductive, and she didn’t have a clue.

“Good morning.”

Still smiling, she trailed her gaze from his face down his chest to his hips.

Instead of averting her gaze, she stared.

Yeah. He was in full salute. He started for the bathroom. “Hope you slept well. We’ve got another big day ahead of us if we’re going to accomplish what we came here for.”

He closed the curtain behind him. Maybe talking about the job would get his mind and his delinquent body headed in another direction.

Jillian all but flew from the bed when Adam headed into the bathroom. Within seconds, she’d dabbed her underarms with deodorant, pulled on a pair of lightweight jeans and a red tank top, which she covered with a white safari shirt to protect her from mosquitoes. Then she gathered her unruly hair into a ponytail and fastened it with a red-white-and-blue band.

Adam emerged from the bathroom and she went in to splash some water on her face and brush her teeth. When she came out, Adam was dressed in jeans and a blue denim shirt and ready to go.

Within minutes they were packed up and on their way to the hospital, which wasn’t that far from the center of town. She suggested they go there directly and not bother with coffee and breakfast. They’d have enough time for that afterward.

Mostly she just wanted to get it over with.

Adam had balked, not particularly willing to delay his coffee, but in the end, he agreed. She didn’t know if he’d acquiesced because he understood her need, or because he didn’t want her to discover something without him.

It didn’t matter to her. She had her own agenda. She would do what she had to do and go home. Being around Adam was more difficult than she’d imagined. Not because he was a pain in the ass, which he could be, but because she couldn’t seem to focus when he was there.

Being around him made her think of things she shouldn’t, made her feel things she hadn’t felt before, not even when she was married…and suddenly a safe, pleasant life in the suburbs didn’t seem as important as it had been before.

Clouds of dust kicked up behind them as the VW clattered down the small dirt road toward the main part of town. They’d soon discovered that not all the streets were quaint and cobblestoned. Some were hard-packed dirt.

Her nerves stretching tighter with each passing block, they kept driving until they reached the town square, where a statue of a conquistador on a horse stood in the middle of a grassy area. An enormous cathedral was the focal point on one side, and several one-story buildings surrounded the square on the other sides. A side street looked as if it was set up for a farmers’ market.

After parking, Adam got out and inclined his head in the direction of a small white building next to the church. “According to Alfredo, that’s the hospital.”

Jillian saw a red-cross emblem on one window. “It’s so small.”

“From the size of the town, they’re lucky to have one at all.”

With the exception of the farmers’ market activity, the streets were quiet. It was 8:00 a.m. but apparently the locals slept late. Her thoughts raced as fast as her pulse as they walked toward the hospital. She sped up her pace, wanting to get it over with.

Adam held the door for her and her heart stalled as she stepped inside. No turning back now. A woman in a white nurse’s uniform sat at a desk and smiled as they approached her. Jillian smiled back, though she felt anything but happy. Why was she so nervous? Did she expect the worst?

Adam appeared to have no qualms whatsoever and steamed ahead. In Spanish, he inquired about the woman named Corita Sullivan. After a bit of conversation, the nurse’s face looked stricken. She pressed a hand to her mouth and rattled off another string of words—the only one Jillian recognized was muerte. Spanish for death.

Jillian’s heart plummeted. More conversation between the nurse and Adam, and then he thanked her, took Jillian’s arm and led her outside. “What? What is it?” she kept repeating as they crossed the street to a park bench and sat down.

“So, spill. Is she dead?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Yes. About four weeks ago.”

Jillian sank against the bench and let out a sigh. “Now what? Did the nurse say anything that could help us? Did you ask where Corita lived? About her next of kin? Where she was buried or if her husband had come to see her? What happened to her little boy? Did her husband—”

“Whoa.” Adam held up a hand. “Let me tell you what she said, and then you can ask questions.”

Jillian couldn’t help feeling impatient. It was so terrible that the woman, a little boy’s mother, had died, but she had to separate herself from all that and focus on her purpose, and the sooner they got this over with, the better.

Adam leaned against the back of the bench next to her. “Maybe we should talk about it over coffee. There has to be a café around here somewhere.”

“Tell me now. I need to know now.” She tapped her foot, nervous energy making her unable to sit still. “Then we’ll have breakfast and figure out what to do.”

He pulled in some air, obviously reluctant to share. “She said Corita Sullivan had been sick for a long time and had sent her son to stay with a friend. Apparently the woman had no relatives except her son and her husband, who had never been to see her the whole time she’d been sick.

The nurses thought he’d deserted her, but Corita Sullivan didn’t believe he’d do that. She told the nurse that if her husband came to the hospital, she should give him the directions to her friend’s so he could pick up the boy.”

“And? Did he come?”

Adam shook his head. “No.”

Jillian slumped. A dead end. She thought for a second, then said, “Maybe her husband knew the friend and where to find the boy, or got directions from someone else. Maybe he picked up the boy and the friend knows where he went.”

“I thought of that. I’ve got the directions to the friend’s here.” He held up a slip of paper. “A village called Cabacera. If the kid’s father went anywhere, I hope it was to find his son.”

Jillian’s mouth fell open. “So that’s the plan? Find the boy and we might find his dad?”

Adam looked at her. “You got a better idea, Sherlock?”

“Well, how far is this place? I was going to try to find the address for the number I called from Chicago, go there and see if the man who answered is the same Jack Sullivan as the man in the photograph. Right now, all I know is that the number was listed in that name.”

Frowning, she looked at him. “It’s not likely there’s more than one Jack Sullivan in Mirador, is it?”

Adam shook his head. “No, and it’s a good idea. He gazed down the street. “Yeah. Definitely something to check out first. It could save me some time and a trip that could turn out to be for nothing.  Let’s just hope he didn’t get spooked and took off.”

That worried her, too.

I’ll also check the map to see how far Cabacera is.”

She noticed he used the first person. It could save me some time. Obviously he planned to go alone. Fat chance that! “So, shall we try it?”

He cracked his knuckles one at a time. Was he debating about what to do? Whether he should do it with her or not? She couldn’t forget that he hadn’t wanted her along to begin with.

Finally he said, “Let’s find a place for breakfast before we decide anything.”

As they walked to the car, Jillian saw that the streets were a little busier. Several children had come to play on the edge of the green in the square, and a couple of women, probably the children’s mothers, stood nearby exchanging torrents of Spanish.

She and Adam climbed into the car and drove along the nearest street, stopping at the first café they saw. Again they sat near the window so Adam could keep an eye on the car.

A young girl of about twelve took their orders, then called them out to someone, probably her mother in the back. Hot black coffee came within seconds, and Jillian waited for Adam to take a couple of swallows before she said, “So … I think we need to find the address for the man I called. Then if that doesn’t work out, we go to the village where the woman sent her son.”

Adam was silent for the longest time before he said, “I was thinking if we have no luck here in Mirador, you should go back to San José and then home.”