Slave to Love (34 page)

He’d love her all the more, he realized. Finally, there would be someone with whom to share both his dissolute fancies and his strict personal code. Someone who understood him. Someone who wanted him, not despite them, but because of them.

His worst nightmare had come true.

He’d found his soulmate.

And he couldn’t keep her.

He’d understood that last part all along. But seeing his father again tonight had brought it home with a fierceness that still razored through his heart. Brought back all the terrifying memories. The rage, the despair. And sealed his fate more surely than a coffin lid.

Dear old dad was back, bent on vicious revenge. Revenge on Mick, for what he’d done. Revenge on everything and everyone he loved.

He stood abruptly, went to the bed, touched Caro’s face. He let his fingers trail down the pale, tender column of her throat to the wisp of orange silk, felt the pulse beating steadily in the delicate blue vein under it. So vulnerable. So trusting.

His father would not go away. He’d haunt Mick and taunt him, goading him, constantly reminding him of how alike they were, how he was bound to end up, no matter how much he fought against it. Until the violence erupted and one of them ended up dead.

Of course, he had known that from the second his father walked out of Corcoran prison a free man. He’d counted on it.

What he hadn’t counted on was Caro.

Mick ran his hands softly over her body, smoothing the teddie into place, snapping the bottom snaps between her legs. Letting his fingers linger in her warmth, still moist from their lovemaking. And sighed with regret.

For so long, he’d been able to redirect the violence within himself, by joining the police force and channeling it toward doing good. Keeping a rigid code of behavior, avoiding potentially dangerous entanglements. For all that time—except for the short lapse with Lauren and her abusive husband—he’d kept it together. Fooled himself into thinking a predilection for kinky sex was as far as it went with him.

But deep down, he’d always dreaded that one day the house of cards would come crashing down around him. And now it had. In spades.

He’d screwed himself and he knew it. Soon everyone would know it. In a weird way, he relished that fact. It upheld his belief in the order of things, the inevitability of fate. Crushed those few ludicrous hopes and dreams he’d secretly harbored for all those years—that he could crawl out from beneath the rock his father had buried him under from day one, and make something of himself other than a violent jailbird. That he might somehow be permitted to keep just one person he loved.

Foolish, foolish fantasies.

He carefully placed Caro’s hands on her abdomen and folded one over the other. She looked so beautiful. Like a fairytale princess sleeping on the beach. He leaned over her and kissed her lips, her nose, her eyelids. He was the wrong man to awaken her. He was the dark, evil prince, not the one on the white steed destined to make her his queen.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “For what I have to do to you. I love you.”

***

He left her. Took his things, got in the Camaro and drove past the iron gate.

It was best this way.

He waited till the gate closed behind him with a solid clang, then pulled out his cell phone, got Julio Martinez’ number from dispatch and dialed it.

“Yeah?” a muzzy male voice answered.

“Detective McGraw for Sergeant Martinez.”

The receiver clattered and the voice said, “I told you not to let your fuck-bunnies call here.” There was the sound of a hard smack.

Mick’s brow lifted. “You really have to get rid of that guy,” he said when Julio came on the line. “Before he kills you.”

“Who is this?”

“McGraw. I need you to do something for me.”

He heard rustling, a curse in Spanish, then, “It’s four-fucking-o’clock in the morning, McGraw. This better be about Caroline.”

“She’s in San Marino. Got a pencil?”

More rustling. “
Digame
.”

Mick gave him Su’s address and the codes to the gate and the alarm. “The task force meeting starts at 9:00 a.m. sharp,” he said, “I’m counting on you,” then hung up.

He decided not to wake Bobby, but dialed his voice mail at the station instead to leave a message.

“Hey, partner. It’s a little before five and I’m heading out for my run, and then home to change. I’ll try to get past the reporters without too much damage and be in by seven. Listen, I wanted you to be the first to know, I saw my father last night at Brimstone. Bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? I’m hoping you’ve found Smythe by now. They were both in Corcoran, you know. See if they ever connected, okay? I’m betting cellmates.”

He closed his eyes briefly. Wondered if he should say any more. No.

“Plan on going to the party tonight at the Tether Club. I’ll pay for you myself if the department won’t. I’m going in, regardless of what happens today, and I’d like you there. But remember, I don’t want Caro within a mile of the place. I have a bad feeling.
Keep her away, Bobby
. I mean it.”

He opened his eyes when a car behind him honked. “As for anything else... You do what you have to do, bro. I’ll understand.”

He punched the off button. And mentally ticked one more item off the morning’s to-do list.

It was so early, only the die-hard reporters hung about the entrance to his apartment building when he steered into the parking lot through the back alley. He pulled his PPD baseball cap low over his eyes and slipped out of the car, setting out at a slow jog toward bungalow-town. No one spotted him.

He did his usual circuit, past the Connors’ craftsman with its manicured lawn and magenta azaleas. The cop on watch at the end of the block waved, yawning, and lifted a pad of paper to the window. He must have gotten a long list of license plates tonight. Mick gave him a thumb’s up and proceeded on past the Atkins place. There, too, the officer watching from the back of his camper in the neighbor’s driveway indicated he’d had a good night for suspects.

This was where he should head down Elizabeth Street toward the Taylor/Slocum house but, instead, he detoured over to Caro’s duplex. He spotted Brady and Denny’s car a few lots down. Making a quick decision, he jogged up, opened the door of their unmarked car and dove into the back seat, ducking down.

He looked up into the muzzles of two service revolvers.

“Morning gentlemen,” he said with a grin.

“Good way to get you’self killed, Detective,” said Brady, holstering his weapon.

“I’m feeling lucky today. Anything interesting last night?”

“Just the rumors,” Denny answered with a cough. “’Bout you and Officer Palmer.”

Mick rolled to his back, catching his breath. Hard living was catching up with him. He usually hadn’t even broken a sweat at this point in his run.

“Misinformation,” he assured them, “to fool the killer.”

“Figured as much,” Brady said doubtfully.

Yeah, right. “Any reporters hanging around?”

“A bunch last night. Neighbor dude ran them off.”

“Roger?” The sneaky little man who’d called the cops on him and Caro. “How?”

“Threatened to shoot them for trespassing. Got out his shotgun an’ everything.”

“Maybe you should look over his background check again,” Denny suggested.

Mick pretended to consider, out of politeness. “The guy’s a weasel. But I doubt he’s our man. Doesn’t fit the profile.”

“No harm in a closer look.”

“Good point. So, how many plates you get tonight?”

“Nine or ten,” Brady said. “More’n usual.”

“Same with the others,” Mick said. “Must be because it was a Friday night.”

“Maybe we’ll get the right one today,” Denny said.

“God willin’,” Brady said. “We need to catch this fucker soon.”

“We will,” Mick said with authority. “Listen, send the list of plates to Bobby, okay?”

“Why not you?”

He opened the door. Jetted out a breath. “There’s probably going to be some reorganization on the task force this morning.”

With that, he jogged off before they could ask any more questions. He headed for his next stop and then up Mountain Ave to the main leg of his run, down the Arroyo and through the Rose Bowl, where he could work off some of the nails and acid churning in his stomach.

Today was going to be one bad-ass bitch of a day.

The perfect climax to a lifetime of bad-ass bitch days.

He ground his jaw, picked up speed.

And if it was really, really bad, he might even live through it.

Chapter 23

“
Madre Dios! Querida
!”

Caro heard the exclamation from far, far away. Slowly she came to consciousness, felt gentle hands on her wrists, her throat, seeking... seeking... a pulse?

“Julio?” She opened her eyes. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around, expecting to see her own room. “Where—”
Ah, yes
. “Where’s Mick?”

“Guadalajara by now, if he’s smart,” Julio seethed. “I can’t believe— He’s not going to get away with this. I’m sorry, Caro, this time he’s gone too far.”

Damn, Julio was serious. She dragged her thoughts from where Mick might be, to focus on her partner. Former partner. Whatever. “What are you talking about? If you mean this place, I can ex—”

“The place is bad enough,” he interrupted. “But
look
at you! My God, Caroline, just look at yourself, at what he’s done to you!”

“What?”

She raised her head off the pillow and glanced down at her body, trying to remember. Instantly she realized what he meant.

She really couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Okay, it’s a bit theatrical I’ll admit, but—”

“Don’t you dare dismiss this, Caroline Palmer! It’s sick, it’s perverted, it’s...
sick
. He deliberately sent me here,
wanting
me to think you were
dead
!”

“Julio, calm down. Please.”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down,
chica
. He arranged you in exactly the same way as the Teddie victims! Same outfit, same pose, same...makeup. There’s even a chair at the end of the frigging bed!” Julio’s horrified gaze caught sight of the orange scarves dangling from the bedposts. “Jesús!
You let him tie you up?
”

“For a minute or two.” She definitely wasn’t about to elaborate. Julio would go postal. “Jul, trust me, he’s just trying to get into the killer’s head.”

“He’s over the edge,
querida
. After what he made you do yesterday— I don’t care what you say, I’m reporting this to Internal Affairs. For your own good. The man’s a psycho. He should be put away.”

IAB? Hell. “I told you. He didn’t
make
me do anything.” She regarded her partner calmly, seeing a new bloom of bruises on his beautiful olive-skinned face. “And at least Mick doesn’t hit me.”

Julio snapped back as though she had. “Tell that to the jury after he strangles you!”

“Don’t be silly. He’s not going to strangle me.”

“I’ll have you know, there’s a rumor going around the station this morning. That the Teddie Killer is a
cop
.”

“Why would they say that?”

“The way he’s eluding us. The fact there’s never any evidence.”

“He might just watch the Discovery Channel,” she said wryly. Everyone was a forensics expert these days thanks to cable.

“They found fingerprints, Caro.”

She sat up. “You’re kidding.”

“I’ll give you one guess whose.”

Shock slammed into her momentarily. “
Mick’s
? I don’t believe it. Where?”

“At yesterday’s crime scene.”

Her breath whooshed out. “Big surprise there. He was all over the place as lead detective! Hell, he probably just picked something up.”

“Wasn’t he wearing gloves?”

“Of course.”

“Shoots that little theory, doesn’t it?”

She thought back. Yes, they’d both put on gloves outside the apartment, as soon as they’d arrived from his place.

“Maybe he took them off for some reason.”

But she knew he hadn’t. Why would he?

Damn. What the hell was going on?

“There’s a perfectly plausible explanation,” she insisted, climbing out of bed.

“Yeah,” Julio said. “There is. Mick McGraw is the Teddie Killer.”

***

Caro indulged her former partner as he spun out his absurd theory in detail on the drive to her place to change into her work clothes, and then to the station. On the surface, he made a pretty convincing case. Of course, she didn’t believe it for a nanosecond. Yeah, Mick certainly had his dark and dangerous side. But a serial killer? Please.

She’d made love to the man. Held his body inside hers, kissed him until she didn’t know where she stopped and he began.

It wasn’t possible he could do the things the Teddie Killer had done.

But it was possible he’d somehow known he’d become a suspect, and that was why he’d tried to push her away last night.

She was grasping at straws, but nevertheless her spirits buoyed. He had to know she’d stick by him through thick and thin. Let him try to send her away. She wasn’t going anywhere.

When they got to the station, it was surrounded by reporters. “Any comment on Detective McGraw’s behavior yesterday with Officer Palmer?” one called out as the car inched through the throng.

“Should they resign from the Teddie Murders task force?” another shouted.

A third stuck her microphone up to the car window. “What do you think of the theory that McGraw is the Teddie Killer?”

“
That’s it
.” Caro reached for the button to lower the glass and give the reporter an earful.

Julio punched the window lock before she could get to it. “Forget it,
querida
. So far they haven’t figured out who you are. Let’s keep it that way.”

He parked in the underground lot and they went into the station through the back entrance. She felt like she was taking a perp walk. Though the reporters couldn’t see her, every police officer they passed either stopped to stare or turned away and wouldn’t look her in the face.

“
Ho-kay, then
,” she muttered. “Guess California isn’t so liberated, after all. Least not the cops.”

“Don’t pay any attention to them.” Julio took her arm and escorted her all the way to the conference room in Homicide where the task force meeting was due to start in a few minutes.

At the door she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride. And the support. It means a lot, you sticking by me.”

He gave her a hug. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Something in his voice made her say, “But...?”

“Walk away, Caro. From the man. From the task force. Getting into Homicide isn’t worth your reputation and your career. Maybe even your life.”

She squeezed him back. “I know what I’m doing, Jul. We’re going to catch this guy, Mick and I. It’s the only way.”

“Just don’t lose yourself while you’re doing it,
querida
.”

***

Caro said goodbye to Julio and went into the conference room.

The place was packed. Every cop who’d ever worked the task force was there, including Woodruff and Cody propping up the wall to one side. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the din of conversation stopped dead, like someone had pushed a mute button.

Mick was at the head of the table as usual, Bobby in the first chair to his right. At his left elbow sat Brady Washington. They both smiled as she approached—two of the few who did. Mick didn’t turn.

Further down the table where she always sat, her chair remained empty. She hesitated. She wanted to be closer to Mick. As though reading her mind, Brady got up and offered her his seat.

“Thanks,” she said, and sank into it.

With a start she noticed Lt. Fredrickson sitting across the table next to Bobby. It was the first time the L.T. had attended a task force meeting that she knew of. Was it because of the fiasco yesterday? Or because of the fingerprints Julio had mentioned....

Mick’s expression was blank and unreadable. Ignoring her, he leaned over and whispered something to Bobby. Bobby glanced at her and nodded grimly.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Mick said, cutting through the thick atmosphere of the room. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the last crime scene has produced a lot of evidence.”

“Detective McGraw,” interrupted Seth Johnson, the sergeant in charge of the canvas team. “Aren’t you going to address the rumors first?”

“Rumors?” Mick asked.

The sergeant’s face turned beet red. “Well, about...um, what the news is reporting. The window thing.”

Caro felt her cheeks go hotter than they already were. Ah, shit.
Here it goes
.

“I thought we cleared that up yesterday,” Mick said levelly.

She couldn’t believe he could keep such a cool demeanor when she felt like sinking right through the floor. Even Tim and Cody were smirking.

“But they’re still reporting—”

“You believe everything you hear on TV, Sergeant Johnson?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Good. Let’s move on, then.”

But Johnson wouldn’t leave it alone. “So it’s not true?”

Mick exhaled. “Does this have a bearing on the Teddie Murders?”

“It could.”

“And how’s that?” Mick asked, his patience obviously wearing thin.

“Because of the fingerprints, for instance.”

This was so unfair. Caro wanted to shout they were all crazy to suspect Mick of anything. Just because they didn’t like his hot-blooded sexual practices didn’t make him a cold-blooded killer.

“I’m not sure I follow your logic,” Mick said. “But forensics is as good a place to start as any. Maria, would you give your report?”

The chief of Forensics shot a glance at Fredrickson, who nodded slightly.

“All right, Detective,” she said. “Unlike the other crime scenes, this one contained a relative abundance of forensic evidence. We found fingerprints from eleven individuals apart from the victims, including a clear left thumb and forefinger plus two right partials. Both of which were identified as belonging to you, Detective McGraw.”

There was a moment of silence while Mick stared at Maria. “There’s no mistake?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. They’re a perfect match.”

“Where were they found?” he asked.

Maria glanced at the L.T. again. Fredrickson gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake.

Caro gritted her teeth with outrage. Withholding details so he could incriminate himself by knowing them.

“On an object,” Mick stated, ever the seasoned veteran detective. “A portable object. Am I right?”

Maria nodded.

“Let me guess. Something found behind or beneath the bed, or some other place I couldn’t accidentally have dropped it yesterday. A condom wrapper?”

Caro gasped along with everyone else at the table.

Maria’s eyes flashed. “How did you—” She cut off, no doubt coached by the lieutenant beforehand.
Mustn’t elicit a confession without issuing Miranda rights first. Sticky in court
. Caro wanted to jump up and smack the woman—and the L.T., too.

“Don’t say anything more,” he said brusquely. “We’ll question you later about this. For now, let’s just move on.”

Mick stood up. “Under the circumstances, I think it best if I resign from the task force.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. In their eyes, she knew it was an admission of guilt. No way was she going to stand by and idly watch him deep-six his career.