Loves Redemption (2 page)

yesterday. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

His partner stole a glance at Maya as she waited for him in the doorway. With a low

whistle he answered, “Man, take all the time you need. How does she know the victim anyway?

She doesn’t look as though they were ‘colleagues,’ know what I mean?” Once again, his partner glanced over at Maya.

“They weren’t. From what I understand they were foster sisters. Probably grew up in a

group home together somewhere. I think that’s where the similarities end. I just met her in the lieutenant’s office, so I’m not sure of all the details myself. After she’s identified the body, I’ll ask her a few questions and go from there. I’m not sure what time I’ll make it back in, so don’t wait around for me.”

“Later on, partner,” Jordan answered. Mark walked back toward Maya and together they

left the squad room.

After they reached the elevator, he motioned for her to precede him, following closely

behind her. Once inside, he punched the button for the basement-parking garage.

“I’m assuming a uniform came to pick you up?” He asked, as they silently rode the

elevator to the garage.

“Yes. I was at Imani House when I called the station. It was a relief they came to pick me

up. I don’t think I’m in a frame of mind to drive right now.”

They were the only two occupants in the slow-moving elevator, and when it came to a

lurching halt, Maya fell against his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, and tried to move away from his light hold. Mark tightened

his clasp on her body fractionally before allowing her to step away from him. When she darted her eyes in his direction, he hoped she wouldn’t look down and see his body’s reaction to the small contact.

As the elevator made it to the basement level, he led her to his late model Expedition. He

opened the back hatch and threw in his gym bag after helping her into the passenger side.

He felt guilty over how he was handling his attraction to her. He knew she was terribly

upset and worried. He knew it, felt guilty as hell about it, but couldn’t stop himself from crowding her. “Dr. Richardson, when we’re through with everything, where did you want me to take you?” he asked, seeking more neutral ground.

“Detective, please call me Maya. I was working when the officers arrived to take me to

the precinct. I’m the director of Imani House. Are you familiar with it?”

“Please call me Mark. Yes, in answer to your question. Isn’t it the halfway house for ex

hookers--uh sorry, for former prostitutes?” he covered, maneuvering out of the parking garage and into traffic.

As she settled against the soft leather seat, he caught the sidelong glance she threw his

way, before she answered. “Actually, there’s more to it than that. We have a variety of programs, mainly designed for women to help them transition from prostitution to a more stable way of life.”

“Sorry if I offended you. It sounds like a great place for them to go when they want to get off the streets and get their lives together.” He backtracked, smoothly recovering from his gaffe.

He then drove the short distance from the downtown precinct to the hospital.

After pulling into the underground lot of the hospital, Mark found a space to park.

Turning off the ignition, he turned in his seat toward her. A curl had escaped her tight braid, and he barely resisted the urge to tuck it back behind her ear.

“The coroner is expecting us. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I may as well get this over with. Maybe it isn’t Ally after all.” She waited for him

to come around to the passenger side and allowed him to open her door.

They walked the short distance to the entry before Mark stopped short and turned her

around to face him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a dead body or not. With this possibly being your foster sister, it’s going to be a shock, so take a deep breath, and I’ll be right there with you.”

He saw the fortifying breath she took, as she straightened her shoulders, before with a

silent nod, she allowed him to lead her into the morgue.

Not until the attendant had drawn back the white sheet did Maya glance down, and when

she did, her body bowed over in obvious pain.

“Oh my God, oh my God, it … it’s her, that’s Ally,” she told him, covering her face with

her hands.

After motioning to the attendant to close the drawer, Mark moved closer to her and

encircled her shoulders with his arm, turning her away from the sight and out of the room.

Her golden brown complexion had a distinct greenish tinge to it. The eyes staring up into

his were large and dilated. The distant hint of blood vessels near the surface of her skin stood out in stark relief against her complexion.

Once outside the doors, he turned her fully into his arms, as uncontrollable sobs racked

her small body.

“Are you okay? I know that was hard to see. Would you like to sit down for a minute?”

He had known this woman for less than a few hours, yet it was tearing at his heart to see her cry so hard. As she cried, the only thing he could offer was the comfort of his arms around her body.

He rubbed her back and whispered soothing words, allowing her to cry until he felt her body calm down, and the sobbing wane to an occasional sniff.

Without her asking, he offered his last remaining Kleenex and watched as she wiped her

face and eased her body away from his embrace.

“Thank you, Detective, but I’m okay. If it’s all right, could we go now?”

“Of course. We don’t have to go back to the precinct. There’s a coffee shop nearby where

we could talk. A little less formal, but we’ll still get the job done.” He told her and they left the morgue and walked back to his vehicle.

Once inside, Maya eased her head back against the cool leather headrest and closed her

eyes. “That sounds fine, Detective. I could use a cup of coffee right now.”

After giving her one last sympathetic glance, he eased out of the parking space and

headed toward the café.

Mark maneuvered his SUV with expert ease into a space directly in front of the popular

coffee shop. Going around to Maya’s side of the vehicle, he took her hand and helped her out before guiding her into the café.

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I think I’ll have a muffin to go with my latte,” she

said, as she sat in the booth next to him.

“Sounds good. I hadn’t realized it was getting so late. They have great sandwiches here if

you’d like.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.” Maya looked around the dimly lit interior of

the inviting café. The walls were painted in grays and muted blues, a perfect contrast to the abstract prints that hung throughout the cafe.

The exterior had given the impression of a casually dilapidated building, but once inside,

this illusion was quickly dispelled. To the left of the door was a horseshoe-shaped, fully stocked bar, flanked with a dozen or more high-backed wooden stools. To the right was a lounge area with a raised dais, where a woman sat strumming a guitar and singing softly for the small crowd.

There were several smaller tables and booths scattered throughout the café, giving it a

casual put-together elegance. Looking up at him with approving eyes, Maya was going to make a comment when she noticed their waitress approaching them.

As she approached, the woman’s smile considerably brightened as she caught sight of

Mark. Smiling with interest in his direction, she took their orders, looking at him the entire time.

With a slight smile, Maya’s glance stole over the detective.

His close fitting shirt tucked into the waistband of faded jeans that hugged his muscular

thighs. Not only was he handsome, but his body was the picture of male perfection. She had an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch his arm, if only to see if his bicep felt as strong as it looked.

Instead, she demurely sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “Where do we start,

Detective?”

“We can start by me reminding you to call me Mark,” he reminded her with a smile.

“And then why don’t you tell me about Allison, who her friends were, where she hung out.

Boyfriends, girlfriends, anything you can think of.” He withdrew his notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

“Sure I can do that, but before we start I have a question. Do you know if Ally had a

necklace matching this?” She pulled out a small pendant, suspended on a thin gold chain.

Leaning across the table, his fingers glazed the tops of her breasts as he took the pendant from her fingers. Her breasts tingled from the light contact. Gently he allowed it to fall back into place between her breasts.

“No, I don’t remember a necklace being catalogued in the evidence room. I’ll check

tomorrow to make sure. You know, I kind of remember seeing these when I was a kid.”

Maya remembered how she’d gotten the pendant and smiled in melancholy. “Allison and

I became foster sisters when she was 5 and I was 7. We had both been in the same group home for girls, and bonded pretty quickly as only children can.” She laughed sadly in memory.

Memories of Allison also brought on memories of Santa Lucia Hospital when she’d lost

both of her parents in a tragic accident.

“My parents died when I was five years old. I survived the accident with only a small

contusion. Well, physically at least.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in sympathy.

“Thank you.” She paused before continuing, “My grandparents, who at the time I didn’t

know I had, wouldn’t claim me. So I was left with social services and entered foster care. That’s where I met Ally.”

Taking a satisfying sip of coffee, she thought back to the dreary time in her life and of

funny little Allison who had helped make life more bearable.

“At one point we thought we were going to be separated. Allison had been the one

constant in my life for a long time and I didn’t want to lose her. A few days after we were told we may be separated, she gave me this necklace. She had a matching one. She’d been saving it for a Christmas gift but decided to give it to me early, in case she couldn’t later. She said no matter where we were, we would always be together as long as we wore our necklaces.”

When he placed both of her hands into his much larger ones, she allowed his show of

comfort. Taking a deep breath, she expelled it slowly and withdrew her hands as the tears she’d been shedding throughout the day threatened to fall once again.

“I’ve worn this necklace every day since she gave it to me,” her voice sounded thick with

the unshed tears clogging her throat as she fingered the small chain. “I replaced the original chain with a real gold necklace as soon as I could afford to. Ally always wore hers too. She said it was her reminder she had someone who loved her and she mattered.”

“I’ll check the evidence room as soon as I can and find out for you Maya. I promise you.”

He cleared his throat from the sudden obstruction he felt. “How long had your sister been a prostitute?”

Maya wondered, not for the first time, had she not shied away from what Ally had been

doing to earn money, would things have turned out differently for her foster sister?

“When she was around 17, Ally became involved in prostitution. Soon after we’d moved

out on our own.”

She noted his surprised expression. “Ally and I didn’t have the most positive, nurturing

atmosphere growing up.” She laughed sadly. “Drugs, violence, gangs, and prostitution were the norm for us. We never really had too many ‘frills,’ you know. We had the basics, and sometimes not even that. We were forgotten most of the time and seen as a burden all of the time. Ally wanted a lot of things she’d been denied all her life and finally saw a way to get some of them.”

She blinked her eyes several times in an attempt to hold back the pain of her childhood

memories.

“I loved Ally. She was my little sister. I know she was only a couple of years younger

than me, but she always
seemed
a lot younger. She only wanted the same things her friends had, and she thought this was the only way to get them.”

Left unsaid was the guilt she felt. She believed Ally was her responsibility, and she’d let her down by not forcing her to stop her destructive behaviors.

“When was the last time you saw your sister, Maya? Did she continue living with you, or

did she move out on her own?” As she’d been battling her personal demons, she focused her

attention back to Mark.

“After I completed my Bachelor’s, I received a full scholarship for grad school at UTA.

By that time, Ally was 19, and I didn’t want to leave her on her own; she was too young.”

“You were young yourself. Did you ever get tired of the responsibility of having to care

for Allison? It seems as though you had the responsibility of her care for a long time.” Although he asked the question bluntly, she didn’t feel as though he were judging her.

“I never felt she was a burden. We looked after one another. I couldn’t imagine leaving

her, because I knew she relied on me. Besides, I didn’t like the crowd she was hanging with, and I thought a new environment would be good for her,” she insisted.

“Was it? Good for her?”

“At first. But within a few months, she’d found a similar crowd, and things escalated.”

“How so?” Mark placed his pad down and signed the waitress over to order sandwiches

and more coffee.

“She started smoking pot and drinking. I tried to talk to her about it, but she wasn’t about to listen to me. By the time I’d finished graduate school, she was barely speaking to me, and I had no idea what was going on in her head.” She ran frustrated hands over her face.

“That had to be tough,” he murmured in sympathy.