Sterling's Reasons (23 page)
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Sterling’s Reasons
“I go where I please and I please to be here with you, my friend.”
“You’re not helping me. I need to know you’re safe.”
“Sorry.” She snuggled against his shirt and listened to the even beating of his heart.
“This person or persons might be planning on playing with me. Like a cat plays with a mouse until he weakens it, so he can kill it with one swipe. Just because our target died on the scene doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t risen to take his place.”
“I can’t picture you weak.”
He had to grin at that. She had made him weak. She had drawn the very life from him into her and then returned it ten times stronger. No woman had ever had the power over him that she had. In a way it threatened him. In another way it was a wonder to him. He ran his hand over her silken hair. He knew, right then, that his decision, made hastily when he had returned and found her still there, was the right one.
In the darkness of midnight, Joe walked barefoot around the bedroom, gathering a few things and throwing them into a small bag. His gun was tucked in his belt at his back. His boots were positioned by the door.
When he’d chosen what he wanted to take with him, he set the bag down and knelt by the bed. In the dim light cast from the other room, he studied her face as she slept, exhausted from making love with him. He saw the lashes that once raised would reveal eyes so stunning, so full of life that it scared him. He gazed at her mouth. Lips that had brought him such pleasure, and her hands…hands that held on to him so tightly that he felt like a louse sneaking out on her. But it was for her own good. Her safety. He had to find out what was going on, and he couldn’t do it with her around. Not only did she split his
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attention, but she endangered them both with her unwillingness to face the seriousness of the situation they were in. One he had gotten her into. He could not live with hurting her. He had to go.
She stirred and he held his breath. He didn’t want her to wake up. He didn’t want to have to pull her hands away from him and jump in the Jeep and take off.
He wanted to picture her like this. Wanted to remember the sound of her contented sigh as she fell asleep in his arms.
He stayed with her as long as he dared, and then crept toward the living room. Walking over to inspect the sleeping lumps of fur in the box under the sink, he shook his head. Yes, Elliott looked sick. She would care for them all.
When she awoke, she would be angry, but she would gather her things and go back to Mr. Ramsburg. Back to her safe existence. Even if she didn’t, if she looked for him, she wouldn’t find him. He hoped whoever was stalking him was doing a good job and would follow him out of there.
He opened the door slowly, and looking back for only a second, pulled it closed and latched it quietly. He hesitated only a fraction of a minute while the pain of leaving her tore at his heart. Then, engaging all his training and years of self-control, he jogged to his Jeep. Reaching in he put it in neutral. He pushed and coasted it away from the house. Jumping in, Joe jammed the keys in the ignition and twisted them, starting the motor. Stealing one last glance at the cottage, he pushed the pedal to the floor.
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Chapter Thirteen
“How could he?” she shouted to the empty walls of the cottage. Furious and hurting, Sterling hurled herself around the house. She kicked one of his paperback books across the room. She set up the baby bottles, one at a time, slamming them on the counter.
“Just left you all here, too. He doesn’t care about any of us. He just pretended to. He used us. We could have gotten a dog. A big one with long, sharp fangs.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it vehemently. She knew none of this was true, but it made her feel better to rant and rave. Otherwise, she would cry, and she refused to do that. She refused to shed a tear over that stubborn, obstinate, determined, pigheaded, opinionated, bull-headed mule. She was commode-kicking mad and she didn’t care. She deserved to be. And then she had to smile. He was whole again. All cop. He was in control. She felt a surge of pride just before she felt the hurt again. She shouldn’t be so hard on him.
One tear followed another. She licked at a salty drop. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t. Sterling gave up. Sitting on the floor next to the babies, she took Elliott out and hugged him to her and wept.
By the time she had the kittens tucked back in the box with full bellies, she had her plan all sketched out in her mind. She would go to Georgetown, to his apartment. She would find him. The first thing to do was to call Ramsburg and have her Porsche exchanged for a very dull and very large station wagon. She refused to drive anything around D.C. that would draw the attention of thieves.
She was going to be too busy to have to worry about that.
Joey Light
Joe Timothy MacDaniels. He might think she would go away that easily, but he had a lot to learn about her. And she was going to see to it that he had the rest of his life to study her. She had lost one man and she wasn’t about to stand by and watch this one slip away.
Sterling stuffed things in boxes, crammed suitcases and put them by the door. She had called Ramsburg and, without letting him get a word in edgewise, she had made arrangements for the other car to be brought out and exchanged.
Walking out onto the deck, she sat on the top step and stared at the ocean.
She was going to miss it. But they could come back. She plotted. First on the list was to stop at a gas station and get a map. Flying into one of D.C.’s airports was definitely out. Airports were no place to be if you were in a hurry. Then she would have to arrange for a car, pick up her luggage, half of which she would have to leave here. And then there were the cats to consider. No, she had to drive. Besides, it would give her time to cool down and decide exactly what to do.
The gulls swooped and dipped to the water and then soared upward again.
Their cries sounded lonely. She hadn’t noticed that before. She hadn’t stopped to realize how alone she had been before Joe. It would be that way no more.
Joe had left her to draw the stalker away from her. She had to believe that. It couldn’t be that when all his personality and character traits kicked in full speed that he decided he didn’t want her. That he didn’t love her. No, it couldn’t be that. Being a good cop, he was going after whoever it was…not just sitting and waiting. It all made sense. She dropped her forehead to her knees.
I miss him. I
want him to hold me.
A happy young man brought her station wagon. She thanked him and took the keys in exchange for the Porsche keys and delighted in his exuberance to be on his way. She doubted he got much of a chance to drive a precision machine.
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She packed the back of the station wagon with absolutely no thought to order. She slammed the tailgate shut with vengeance.
Gently pushing the box of kittens onto the passenger side of the front seat, she took one long look at the cottages and the ocean and slid onto the seat. If she took too much time remembering, looking at certain spots where they had shared special times, she would just delay herself. Squaring her shoulders, she popped the ignition switch and pushed the gas pedal. It felt like a Sherman tank climbing mud compared to the sleek black car. She shrugged. It was only temporary. So very much actually was.
The man at the gas station was very helpful. He drew a red line across the map and jotted down the road numbers for her to refer to on another slip of paper.
She folded the map and placed it on the seat between her and the kitten box.
Fishing in her purse, she found her sunglasses and put them on. Turning the key in the ignition, Sterling sighed inwardly. She wasn’t looking forward to this four-hour drive through unfamiliar places but it had to be done.
She pointed the station wagon north and rolled onto the highway and headed out. Any other time she might enjoy driving through towns with names like Salisbury and Kent Island. She would be driving right by Annapolis, and had always wanted to see the naval academy. But not now. She punched the gas pedal and listened to the drag in the motor and prayed for no breakdowns.
Hours later, tired from the grueling traffic on 495,
Sterling turned into another gas station for final directions. She had made a wrong turn for the last time. The kittens were howling for lunch, and she was thirsty and irritable.
Dragging herself out of the car, she questioned the first man she saw. It turned out that she was only a couple of miles from the address she had for Joe. It was nearly two o’clock.
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Georgetown was what she expected it to be. It teemed with life and had the flavor of years gone by. Derelicts littered doorways and Mercedes and Rollses lined the street. She had almost forgotten how nasty it was to be surrounded by asphalt and concrete with only an occasional scrawny tree straining for the sky and fresh air.
She drove around the block twice before she spotted a parking space, then cursed her decision to bring a station wagon. It was so difficult to park. She noticed that Joe’s Jeep wasn’t anywhere nearby. She hoped he left a house key outside somewhere.
After searching the top of the doorway and looking under the mat, she dumped the dead plant out of its pot and searched the dirt for the key. As a last resort, she turned the knob and found it unlocked. Unlocked! That was unheard of in the city. Unless, of course, you had nothing to steal.
And he
had
nothing to steal. The interior of his apartment looked much like the cottage at the ocean. No TV, a small, worthless stereo, lots of overflowing ashtrays, and a few empty bottles of beer. The furniture looked very old and worn. No pictures adorned the walls. The calendar on the wall hadn’t been turned since April. A stack of
Smithsonian
magazines lay next to a few issues of
Playboy. U.S. News and World Report
was under a stack of unopened mail. She placed the box holding the kittens on the couch.
She walked to the kitchen. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Some forks, microwave plates and glasses sat in the sink waiting to be washed. A can of automotive grease cleaner leaned against the bottle of dish detergent. A couple of car parts and a screwdriver adorned the counter. The phone answering machine blinked, indicating a message. The light was on for the automatic coffee maker.
She flipped it off. The coffee appeared to be strong and thick.
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Reaching the bedroom, she leaned on the doorjamb and smiled. It was the same. Dirty clothes, clean clothes. The bed was unmade. The quilt had slid down between the footboard and the mattress and been forgotten. His bag, the one he must have brought back with him, was slung carelessly across a chair. Where was he? When would he come back?
She returned to the car and brought the bottles and formula in to get the kittens fed and settled down. While she fixed their lunch, she opened the refrigerator and looked for something to drink. Vodka was in the freezer beside plastic bags marked VENISON and SQUIRREL. A case of beer was on the refrigerator racks alongside two Coke cans. Not much else. Cheese. Olives. A jar of Miracle Whip. A container of jelly. Before she fed the kittens, she greedily drained the pop can.
An hour later, Sterling moved the kitten box to the floor and lay down on the couch. The drive had tired her. The waiting was exasperating. Her eyes drifted closed.
Horns blasting. People yelling. Tires squealing. Through the maze of exhausted sleep Sterling opened one eye. God, what noise. She had forgotten city sounds so quickly. She looked to the wall where his clock hung crookedly. Five o’clock. Rush hour. He could be at the police station going over clues. He could be in trouble somewhere. She went to the window and watched as life teemed along, ignorant of her worry and oblivious to her problems.
On impulse, Sterling turned to the kitchen drawers and searched till she found his phone book. Selecting the number of a cab company, she called for one. Going into the bathroom, she freshened up. She didn’t overlook the faded aroma of his aftershave that lingered there.
Calling a cab was a mistake at this time of the day. Traffic was thick and snarled. She arrived at the 11th Precinct at precisely six, and she judged she
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could have walked it easier and faster. She paid the cabbie and pushed open the door to the old office building.
Shiny brass, dulled from neglect. Glass doorknobs and black-and-white tile floors. The smell of paper, leather, and humanity assailed her nose. The sound of voices; raised and muffled, typewriters and conversation floated to the ceiling.
People sat everywhere on everything and anything. Some were handcuffed, some just slept. Uniformed officers and men in shirtsleeves sat behind desks or maneuvered their way around chairs and between people. Phones rang. Most were answered, but some shrilled on relentlessly.
Sterling spotted a young officer kicking at a vending machine. He smiled satisfactorily when a candy bar finally slammed down into the tray.
Making her way to the larger desk off to the right, she waited her turn to speak to the sergeant. “Excuse me,” she finally butted in after waiting several long minutes. “I just need to know where I can find Lieutenant Joe MacDaniels.”
“He doesn’t work here anymore, lady.” His answer was curt, and he promptly turned his attention to matters at hand.
She didn’t give up so easily. “Have you seen him today?”
The sergeant looked up and examined her fully for the first time. “No. Who are you? A reporter?”
She thought fast. “An old friend from Indiana. I went to his apartment, but no one was there.”
