Sea of Suspicion (20 page)

Last night Rafael had woken her every time she’d drifted off for more than thirty minutes and while she appreciated the sentiment, she needed sleep and needed it badly. Otherwise she was going to collapse.

“I just came for my keys.” Her sore throat made her cough, and coughing sent pain shooting in a million different directions behind her eyes.

Nick was silent. She squinted at him. She might not look good, but he wasn’t cutting the Hollywood auditions either. His eyes were bloodshot, the stubble on his cheeks darkening his jaw and making him look rough and not just dangerous, but deadly. His features were cut too deep, blond hair standing up in ragged spikes.

“Where were you? I called, but there was no reply.” He raised a finger to her bruise, but she flinched away.

“I stayed at Rafael’s house.” His expression shifted and she knew she’d go to hell for baiting him. But as anger seeped into his green eyes, she laughed. It was inappropriate—like smiling during a cremation. She wasn’t going to play games. “Nothing happened, Nick. He’s my student, for heaven’s sake. I went for a run, tripped and hit my head on a rock.” Disorientated by the injury, she’d also managed to scare herself silly on the beach afterward, but she wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. “When I came around, I crawled home and found Rafael on my doorstep.”

“What was he doing there?”

So much for sympathy. Maybe Nick didn’t realize she was being literal.

“I’ve no idea and, frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

Nick’s trust issues were as wide and deep as the Atlantic and out-competed basic human emotions like compassion or sympathy. It was one more reason they’d never work out. She was a wuss. A softy. He was…something else entirely.

His eyes moved over her features and, by the way his features tightened, he was obviously trying to suppress anger or jealousy. Or maybe she was deluding herself? Maybe he wasn’t feeling anything at all. Octopi demonstrated more emotion.

“Look Nick, I just came by because I lost my keys when I tripped. I’ll search the beach for them later, but with the tide…” She shrugged. She’d never find them. “Rafael and Lily took me to the ER last night and then Rafael let me sleep at his house and checked on me throughout the night because I had a mild concussion.” She forced her lips into a smile. “He was a real sweetheart.”

She expected fury but got the sort of frozen stillness that reminded her of a predator armed with long sharp teeth poised to strike. His eyes glittered—busy trying to figure out if she’d screwed her student while she’d had the chance. Trying to work out just how big a slut she really was.

Nice
.

Her eyes watered and she curled her fingers into her palm because finally she knew she was worth more than that. “Look, we aren’t working out. I’ll just grab my keys and say goodbye.”

“Don’t.” Something unreadable flickered across his face and he took a step toward her. “Don’t.”

He moved closer, brushing past her to open a drawer. Keys jingled as he stepped away.

“Let me drive you home.” A small dimple punched the corner of his mouth even though the light in his eyes dimmed.

“No,” said Susie. Nick had already seen her weak and exposed. It was time to reconstruct the barriers, to end it before she got her heart broken. Obliterated. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her.

“Look, Susie…” He ran his hands through his hair, flattening the tufts. “I’m sorry you had a rough night. I called you a few times, but then I got caught up in work.”

Work was important. She understood work. But it only emphasized all the reasons they were wasting their time together. They’d never have time for a relationship. They just squeezed in sex—fantastic sex—but just sex and she shouldn’t kid herself it was more. And she wanted more. She wanted a baby. The last few days had made her realize she should grab life and wrestle it kicking and screaming into the shape she desired.

It was humbling, but she finally conceded she didn’t even need a man to get pregnant. She seemed to have a flaw inside her that was attracted only to the “love ’em and leave ’em” types. But she had a good job to support herself, and even though her mother would never approve of her being a single parent, it wasn’t Susie’s problem. She’d call some fertility clinics and arrange an appointment as soon as her head stopped rotating in the opposite direction to the earth.

Voices echoed down the corridor.

“Come on,” Nick urged her with a glance at the door. “Rocket needs a walk and I want to check up on Emily.” He smiled and Susie felt a funny little twist somewhere in the region of her chest.

Nick’s colleagues were just outside the door. She stood awkwardly, clutching the desk behind her to stop swaying. A group of police officers opened the door and squeezed into the tiny office.

“What happened to you?” Ewan held two mugs of steaming coffee. He put them both on a desk then swept aside her hair and checked out her bruise. He whistled. “That’s a stoater. How d’you do it?”

“I fell on a rock.”

“That’d do it.” Ewan squeezed her shoulder.

“Beating up your girlfriend, Nick?” Another officer shot her a smile and a wink.

“I only hit real men,” Nick said without taking his gaze from hers. “You’re safe.”

They huffed out laughs.

“I’m driving Dr. Cooper home. I’ll be back in a few hours.” His eyes dared her to refuse him.

God, she wanted to, but the words evaporated in her throat because there was this gossamer-thin thread of hope inside her that maybe she could have everything she wanted—if only for a short time.

“Good idea. Make sure she gets home safe.” Ewan patted her arm and Susie swallowed back tears. Why would this man’s awkward attempt at comfort make her weep?

Nick took her hand, his fingers gently entwined with hers as he pulled her away from the support of the desk. “Let’s get you home, Susie Q.”

Susie was hyperaware of all eyes on her. How many others had the same suspicions as P.C. Mosel? She straightened her shoulders and tried not to show how uncomfortable she felt being in the spotlight.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Ewan’s eyes crinkled. “Your car is due back today. I’ll arrange to have it cleaned and drop it off this afternoon.”

Gratitude overwhelmed her. “That would be fantastic, Ewan, thank you.” Her car meant freedom and she needed that.

Nick hustled her out of the building. Sunbeams streamed over St. Salvator’s clock tower as they turned east and somehow they were holding hands. It took a moment to register and when she glanced at his face, he had a grim set to his mouth.

“Why, Nick? Why drag this on when we both know it won’t last?” They strolled along the sidewalk like real lovers, the smell of the sea teasing her soul like wishes and confetti.

“We’re not done, Susie.” He turned to her with a smile and lifted her off her feet, his body solid against hers. She rested her sore head against his shoulder and breathed in his scent. She had a feeling by the time Nick was done with her she’d be nothing but a quivering, weeping mess. But maybe by then she’d have something else to hold on to.

Nick opened the door to his flat and a hairy bullet shot down the steps to cock his leg on a small patch of grass. Rocket took a leak with a resentful gleam in his black eyes.

“Sorry, boy.” Nick herded the bouncing bearded collie back up the steps. Poor bugger hadn’t been out since dinnertime last night. Nick should have taken him back to Dougie’s, but he’d been foolish enough to believe this investigation was over.

Susie hovered at the bottom of the stone steps that ran up the outside of his house. The bottom floor was a workshop and storage area. He’d been thinking of converting the whole building into living space, but hadn’t got around to it yet. She looked pale. Nick frowned at the bump on her head.

What had happened last night?
And why had Rafael Domenici been there to pick up the pieces?

Professional distrust melded with male territoriality, but he wasn’t jealous of the Latino prick. He wasn’t
that
freaking juvenile. Domenici had been charged with rape, he was a suspect in a murder investigation and Susie had been alone with him all night.

But Susie was here safe and sound, so what did it matter?

He’d spent a useless night searching the Student Union surveillance tapes with nothing to show for it except pinning down separate arrival times for Callie Sizemore and Rafael Domenici. He didn’t know when they left—they must have exited through the side door onto the street—but they hadn’t been picked up on the Market Street camera, which left him exactly nowhere.

He’d already requested polygraphs from all his suspects, but he was skeptical as to whether or not they’d be any better than he was at revealing who was lying. But even asking for the polygraph might reveal something useful. Like who had something to hide. If Judy were innocent it left Jake wide open with no alibi. Or maybe Callie and Rafael were in it together? Some sort of lovers’ pact?

Nick felt as if he was missing a vital piece of the puzzle, but was too tired to see straight.

“After you.” Nick waved Susie up the stone steps and into his home. It was the first time he’d let a woman enter this sanctuary, except Leanne, who didn’t count. He followed Susie and saw the apartment through her eyes. Sparsely furnished with solid oak pieces he’d gradually been restoring. French doors that led to a tiny balcony with the view of the harbor. A big-ass TV and a hairy couch. No pictures. If he wanted a seascape he opened the curtains. He didn’t need a photograph of Chrissie to remember her. Her image was etched on his mind like an acid engraving.

The only thing on the wall was a wooden crucifix.

Susie pointed to the cross, a crease pulling at her brows. “I didn’t know you were religious.” She tried unsuccessfully to hide her skepticism and he smiled.

“It belonged to a friend.” He shrugged. His relationship with the church had little to do with God and everything to do with a man he’d called Father Mike.

“Your family?” she asked.

“I don’t have family.” His relationship with Susie was getting complex and personal, and yet he was the one who’d refused to end it. He walked into the bedroom, flicked a glance at his bed where he hadn’t slept in days, grabbed a change of clothes, picked up his shaving kit and came back into the living room. If he were honest he’d admit he’d considered getting Susie naked, but she was hurt and needed sleep and maybe he wasn’t as big a bastard as he’d always thought.

She opened the curtains and stared out to sea, the sun flooding her skin with golden light, but her eyes looked distant and sad. Something about the image made words dissolve on his tongue. He couldn’t speak.

“I saw your grave that day you had lunch with Candace,” she said.

Her words registered somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind. He frowned. “My grave?” Then it clicked and he snorted. “Emily had that headstone made. I couldn’t convince her I wouldn’t rest next to Chrissie for eternity. Not after what she did.”

And that still hurt, knowing that the promises he’d made before a God he’d believed in had turned to dust.

Susie faced him, big blue eyes shining with empathy. And something that looked suspiciously like love. Dammit. He knew he should leave her alone. Why hadn’t he let her finish things between them? He’d told himself he wasn’t finished with her yet. Not just sexually. There were those secrets of hers that intrigued him, and a need to make her realize she was a good person, better than him, that was for damn sure. But what would it do to her self-esteem if she found out he’d used her to steal her card and break into the Gatty the night Tracy was killed?

“Let’s go.” He jerked his head and Rocket shot out the door. Susie swept past him, but her now guarded expression tore at his conscience. He reached out, stroked the pad of his finger down the soft skin of her cheek. “It’ll be all right.”

The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him and he sucked back a breath because she was right. She walked into the Fife morning, silent and brooding. But he didn’t have time to deal with this emotional crap right now. He had a killer to catch and Susie needed a ride home. That was all.

He cared about her—so what? It didn’t mean he was about to declare undying love. Nick never wanted to feel that soul-sucking sensation ever again. Susie deserved better than him, but he was addicted to her as certainly as his mother had been addicted to heroin. No doubt about it, withdrawal was going to hurt like a bitch.

Susie opened her eyes and stared at the vision of a clean-shaven Nick Archer sleeping soundly at her side. There was a jolt in the region of her heart. Light cut through the drapes and made his cheeks look as smooth as weathered granite and his hair as soft as ermine. He was naked, stretched out face-down on top of the white duvet. Planes of strong muscle covered his back, no hint of spare flesh, no soft edges. Beautiful.

It hurt to look at him.

Her brain was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t had sex. She checked and her pj’s were carefully buttoned. They had definitely
not
had sex. So what was he doing here?

The scent of her shampoo drifted from his hair and stirred up a vision of domestic fantasy. The desire for that familial illusion closed her throat and threatened to choke her. She edged away from between the sheets.

She was falling in love with him.

He wasn’t a man to commit. Loving Nick would get her nothing but loneliness and disaster. She bit her bottom lip, determined to stop hanging on to some bogus dream about falling for a guy who actually wanted to make a life with her. Artificial insemination was cold and sterile, but it wouldn’t break her heart. And he would.

Looking at him sleeping made something twist inside her, an ache, a pain, a terrible sense of foreboding. They were running out of time. He hadn’t even left yet, but already it hurt to let him go.

In the bathroom she stared at her reflection. She was pale but the lump on her forehead had disappeared, leaving the skin a magnificent purple. She washed her face and her head was clearer, the tenderness almost gone. She patted her face dry with a soft fluffy towel.

She walked through to the kitchen and the dog stirred. Then he stared at the door and started barking a second before someone knocked. Susie dashed for the front door, not wanting Nick to wake just yet. Grabbing the knob she yanked it open, forgetting the alarm which started its countdown of irritating warning beeps.

Lily threw herself inside as the dog shot out. “I can’t find Mom!”

Susie staggered under Lily’s impact even though the girl was a good head shorter than she was. Lily gripped Susie’s pajama lapels and started shaking. Damn, the girl was strong. The alarm was about to go off when Nick sauntered into the hall, pulling up his jeans, and punched in the code, even though she couldn’t remember giving him the number.

Embarrassment washed through Susie, although her sleeping arrangements were nobody’s business. But Lily was her student. It was all such a tangled mess.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Nick asked Lily.

“I checked her at 1 p.m., just before I went for my run.” Lily let go of Susie and stood poised on the balls of her feet. After a moment’s hesitation she threw herself at Nick and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Why didn’t Ewan call?” Nick asked Susie with a frown.

The clock on the mantel said it was 2 p.m. Susie shrugged.

“I gave Mom her pills and went for a run. I just got back and poked my head in on her before jumping in the shower, but she wasn’t there.” Lily’s hair clung to her face in darkened sweaty streaks. “What if she’s hurt? I already looked on the beach.” The girl gulped noisily, tears running down her face, her black eyeliner running down to her chin. “I should never have left her alone!”

Oh hell
. Susie didn’t want to think about the night they’d dragged Emily out of the sea.

“Maybe she just went for a walk?” she suggested, trying to calm the girl.

“And maybe she fell off a cliff looking for her dead bloody kid!” Lily drew back her lips as she bared her teeth. Susie took a step away.

Nick frowned over Lily’s head and raised his eyebrows in question. Susie hugged herself—she didn’t know what had warranted the change in her usually upbeat and open student. But the stress of worrying about her mother must be enormous. He pulled out his cell phone as Lily impatiently paced the hall.

“Ewan?” Nick spoke quickly. “Never mind that. Emily Heathcote’s gone AWOL. I didn’t tell you before, but she’s been showing signs of dementia. I need a bulletin put out for officers to be on the lookout for a sixty-year-old gray-haired woman along the Crail coast road. Five-foot-ten, medium-to-heavy build.”

Susie went into the kitchen and flicked on the coffeemaker. She needed caffeine. Nick angled around to keep her in sight. “
You
do it. The supe won’t give a damn when the alternative is another dead body turning up when an officer was in a position to prevent it. Don’t give me that crap, you’ll be fine.”

Nick closed his phone and looked up. “The boss is planning a press conference in an hour.” He went into the bedroom and, to Susie’s dismay, Lily followed him. Susie trailed them both, uncertain whether to get changed out of her pajamas or wait for privacy. Nick pulled a green T-shirt over his head and bent to pull on socks and shoes.

“They polygraphed the Sizemores after they agreed to non-binding voluntary tests.”

Lily looked impatient enough to do up his laces. Susie hovered uncertainly.

“Jake failed on the sexual relationships and Judy failed when she repeated her confession of murder.”

“What about Callie?” Lily held up his jacket, which he grabbed.

“She passed everything.” The expression on Nick’s face revealed nothing. “Doesn’t mean anything. True sociopaths don’t feel guilt, so the physiological readings that might tell us she’s a liar don’t always register.”

Susie rubbed her upper arms, feeling cold. She knew she needed to do something so she went to her dresser and pulled out clothes. “I’ll get dressed and help you search.”

“No.” Nick walked over and examined the bruise on her forehead, kissing it gently. “Stay by the phone and try to get some rest.” He brushed his lips over hers.

“Nick, come on!” Lily’s voice was impatient as she hovered in the doorway.

He shot her a glare and then looked back at Susie, the green of his eyes darkened by the olive shirt. “Lock up once we’re gone, aye? Don’t let anyone in except Ewan or me,” he added.

Susie was still nodding like one of those wobble-headed dolls when they went out the door. She didn’t even have the dog for company. Alone, she went to the living room window, the glass cold beneath her palm, and watched them jog up the gravel road toward the Heathcote cottage. A big man and a tiny young woman, both of whom had impacted her life in a major way. When she breathed out, the window misted with condensation, leaving a handprint behind.

It was Halloween, she remembered suddenly. And a real-life horror might be unfolding at this exact moment. Poor Emily. Poor Lily.

She rubbed the gooseflesh that pebbled her arms and hoped Emily was okay. She flicked on the TV to catch the world news but frowned. It made her antsy to be up but not to be working. She needed to finish that review article, needed to draft the NERC grant application due the beginning of December.

Susie walked into her office, booted up her PC and checked her email. There was one from Candace wanting to know when she should reschedule today’s lecture for. Four messages from her mother in an escalating scale of worry and irritation. Remembering she’d unhooked her phone before going to sleep that morning, she went and plugged it back in.

The marine lab was caught up in a scandal that was probably making her mother squirm in pre–million-dollar-campaign jitters, though derailing her mother’s run for office wouldn’t be such a bad thing for Susie.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. That wasn’t really fair. Her parents had forced her to give up her baby, but it hadn’t been through malice. Darcy Cooper had believed she was doing the right thing at the time and had found a wonderful couple to adopt Susie’s little boy.

Maybe it had been the right thing to do?

Susie shook her head, determined not to get distracted by thoughts and doubts regarding what might have been. That was the past. With a click she filled the oppressive silence with music.

She deleted a bunch of emails from the press. A message from the university reminded staff and students about tomorrow’s memorial for Tracy Good. Poor Tracy. Tears welled in Susie’s eyes and she couldn’t quite make them stop.

Tracy had been in foster care. She’d had no blood family who wanted her. Had she ever really felt loved? Did Susie’s child feel loved?

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks for a girl she hadn’t known and the boy she’d abandoned. She clicked open a file a private investigator had sent her and looked into the blue eyes of a young man on horseback. Laughing, joking with the person behind the camera. All appearances suggested he loved his adoptive parents and had everything in life he could wish for. What if the press found out about him and destroyed that joy?

Every time she looked at her son, a huge yawning chasm opened up inside her chest. A sense of failure, pity and regret. But also pride that he’d turned out so well.

She’d been stupid. And yet there he was, happy and healthy. How could she risk tipping his world just because she wanted to get to know him?

But what if he wondered whether or not his real parents had loved him?

And what if he didn’t?

She was caught between a rock and a hard place. She had to get over her own regret and let her son choose his future.

She searched for “Sperm Bank” and “Scotland” and stared at the facilities listed on the Web. Not redemption for her past mistakes perhaps, certainly not forgiveness, but a way forward, a way to get on with her life. She’d also check out adoption laws in this country.

She picked up the telephone and made an appointment at a private fertility clinic in Edinburgh for the following week. As soon as she replaced the receiver, her head started pounding. Pushing away from the desk, she headed for the shower. The phone rang, but she ignored it. She stripped and shoved her head into the hot deluge of water. She’d deal with the world later.

Nick hadn’t found Emily. His body was sweat-soaked from jogging the coastal path to Crail and back. Lily had gone the other way, toward St. Andrews, but neither of them had seen any sign of the confused woman. Spray rasped his face as he looked out to sea, and coldness spread over his skin and seeped into his flesh as he realized how completely he’d failed.

It didn’t seem fair that Emily might die like this. Alone. Bewildered. Perpetually grieving. She was just a fragile old lady, long broken by grief. But who knew what the tide, with its grasping currents and bitchy temper, would toss at their feet come morning.

Twilight thickened. Night came early this far north at this time of year, an irascible darkness that cut deep into life. Darkness was the enemy now. Search and Rescue had been called. The police force and local media had been alerted. There was nothing he could do except wait and hope. He turned and spotted Susie walking the length of the beach, skirting the wet sand. Her body was braced against the wind, her blond hair whipping behind her like a flag. He couldn’t see her expression but had no doubt her forehead was pinched with worry, her mouth compressed with concern.

Why did he find that so alluring?

He was an experienced detective, used to getting his own way and wise to the ways of the world. Did he really think he wouldn’t hurt her when he walked away? Did he really think he wouldn’t screw himself in the process? He stepped down the dune to meet her. He couldn’t do anything for Emily and he had to get back to work. The murder investigation wasn’t over, the Sizemores had been released because of lack of evidence, and Tracy Good’s killer was still at large.

As Susie got closer, he saw evidence of tears in her eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Emily she was crying over.

Bloody hell
. He didn’t have time to deal with this, but he held out his arms even as his conscience screamed for him to leave her the hell alone. Then she was in his embrace, warm and sweet, her breasts pressed against his chest, her arms pinned tight around his waist. He nuzzled her hair, tasted the wildness of the sea on her skin.

“Did you find her?” Susie’s voice was muffled against his shirt, her breath stirring both heat and lust.

“No. We didn’t find any sign of her.” He held Susie away from him and stared at her tear-stained face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She avoided his gaze.

“Come on, Susie.” He was getting impatient. He didn’t have time to screw around.

“I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Susie…” Nick smiled, exasperated. “You are
exactly
the person I think you are.”

She flinched. And maybe that was why he bothered trying to change her skewed perception of herself. Susie was as transparent as Edinburgh crystal. She was kind. Beautiful. Intelligent. Warm. Innocent. And definitely not for the likes of him.

He’d stolen from her, lied to her and gotten her naked every chance he got.

“You’re uptight, overconscientious, hardworking and practical. You worry every little detail to death.” Her eyes flashed, but he stalled her by brushing the hair off the bruise on her brow. “You are a
good
person, Susie Cooper. Christ knows I’ve dealt with some of the bad.”

She pulled away, her eyes narrowing, her pointy jaw set at the sort of angle that told him she was pissed. God, she was pretty when she got that pain-in-the-ass look on her face.

“When I was fifteen I seduced an older man and got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption without even holding him in my arms.” Her eyes turned opaque, holding on to the memories, her fingers biting into the sleeves of her jacket.

Nick laughed and her eyes burned with fresh tears.
This
was her big secret? This was what caused the self-reproach he saw in her eyes?

“Susie.” He held her arms. “There are worse things than that. I already told you what happened to me.”

She flinched and lost what little color she had left. “That was different. You were abused. I gave away my baby.”

“If you expect me to despise you for what you did when you were a kid, you chose the wrong confessor.” Nick found his patience vanishing. “What did your parents do when you got pregnant, your mother the senator?”