When the Storm Breaks (18 page)

Washington, D.C.

Saturday night

C
laire stepped out into the muggy night air and turned to say good night to Luis. Before she could say anything else, Aidan trotted up, grabbed the open door, and asked, “Mind if I share the ride?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just got in as though he hadn’t noticed Luis crying quietly in the corner. He’d finally been overwhelmed by the ghost of Lydia. Claire was relieved that he’d waited until she was getting out of the cab to start the maudlin tears.

“Bye, Luis,” Claire said, closing the door behind Aidan. “Good luck getting over Lydia.”

She felt like wishing Aidan luck, too, but was afraid she’d laugh out loud at the thought of what he’d have to go through during his ride. It only seemed fair that someone should suffer along with her. She waved after the cab as it pulled away from the curb, then turned to face Sean. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans watching her. She could tell by the angelic look on his face that
he was dying to make some kind of nasty comment about her date.

“Not one word,” she said. “Where are you parked? I’m not waiting for Aidan to take me home, because he could be hours. Somehow I don’t think Luis has gone through all of his Lydia stories yet.”

Sean snickered. “Even if he has, Aidan will just get to hear the good ones again.”

Claire laughed and got into the front of Sean’s truck. She eased her aching feet out of the tiny sandals she’d worn and leaned against the seat. “Thank God I won’t be seeing him again.” She tilted her head to look at Sean as she drove. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring one of your friends with you.”

“Huh?” Sean said, distracted by the smell of Claire’s perfume.

“You know, the women who sent you drinks all evening.”

“Oh, them.” He shrugged. “They were just having a night out, sucking up too much tequila and egging each other on. I don’t take it personally.”

Claire stared. He actually meant it. “How do you take it?”

“They were just goofing around. I was the only single guy in the dining area.”

“Aidan was there, and he didn’t get hit on.”

“Yeah, but he was over at the bar. Besides, he was watching Olivia and Afton most of the evening. The other women could probably tell he was otherwise engaged.”

Claire just shook her head. Unbelievable. He didn’t have a clue as to how attractive he was. “Whatever. Where do we meet tomorrow night?”

“Afton’s office. You have a date with the congressional staffer tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.”

“You knew the job was dangerous when you took it,” Sean reminded her, grinning.

“I didn’t think I’d be having dinner with the ghosts of girlfriends past. Luis needs an exorcist, not a dating service.”

Sean laughed as he pulled up to the curb at Afton’s house. Smiling slightly, Claire watched him. Somehow, she couldn’t see him in Luis’s position—more involved emotionally than the other party in the relationship. She didn’t see Sean Richter mooning over anyone.

However, she might find herself in those shoes in the near future if she wasn’t able to get a handle on her thoughts and stop comparing all her dates to Sean. Of course, it was kind of hard to stop comparing when he was no more than twenty feet away from her throughout the night, staring right at her.

Sean walked her to the door. She didn’t invite him in because there was no official reason to prolong the contact. Olivia was inside, and the house had already been checked by one of the surveillance officers.

“Lock the door behind you,” Sean said, and left without a backwards glance.

Watching Sean’s taillights disappear through the window, Claire decided that she’d better grow thicker skin if she was going to continue with this dating game under the cool, watchful blue eyes of Detective Richter.

With her thoughts focused on Sean, Claire didn’t notice the nondescript sedan that hesitated slightly, then drove past Afton’s house.

Washington, D.C.

Saturday night

T
he man braked at a dimly lit stop sign and ran his hands around the steering wheel, thinking about Marie Claire. She was going out to dinner with different men, but she had a police escort during and after each date. His lips twisted up at the corners. She must have really been rattled by his gift.

He’d enjoyed watching her, but would have to leave his sweet prey to her cops and boyfriends for a few days. Just when he’d decided he couldn’t wait any longer for Marie Claire, fate had presented him with an outlet for his needs. All he had to do was a little groundwork before he could feel that lovely blade plunging into his next convenient victim. Then, refreshed and patient again, he’d return to stalking his beautiful prey.

“Good night, Marie Claire. Sleep well. I want you strong when we meet again.”

Washington, D.C.

Sunday evening

C
laire walked into Afton’s office Sunday evening and was greeted by a long whistle from Aidan. Smiling at him, she turned around, showing off the itsy-bitsy red dress she was wearing for her third date.

Sean lost all cognitive function as he looked at the crimson sheath that hugged Claire’s soft curves, leaving her arms and shoulders completely bare. The heart-stopping sway of her rounded hips was accentuated by the black heels she was wearing, which matched the tiny leather evening bag she carried. When her back was to him, he saw that the dress hugged her butt so lovingly he actually clenched his hands at the memory of how it had felt to hold that same flesh.

“Wow,” Aidan said.

Claire grinned. “Livvie picked it out for me today. She said that if this dress didn’t have my date drooling on the floor and confessing his sins to the police, nothing would.”

“She was right,” Sean muttered.

“Your hair looks great, too,” Afton said. “I’ve never seen it down before.” She admired the cloud of curls that Olivia and Claire had spent the better part of an hour taming into a loose style around her bare shoulders.

“Thanks. Livvie’s idea again.”

Livvie is going to be the death of me
. Sean took what felt like his first breath since Claire had walked in the room. When all heads turned toward him, he realized he must have sounded like someone surfacing after a deep dive. Claire tilted her head inquiringly at him.

“You look nice,” Sean said, his voice sounding rusty.

She felt a little tug of annoyance at the lukewarm compliment. Then she remembered her determination to ignore him this evening and focus on charming her date. She’d been looking forward to this all day, and she wouldn’t let Sean ruin things before the night had even started.

“You’re too kind.” With an irritated shimmy, she settled her dress in place.

All the blood in Sean’s head went to his crotch. He forced himself to look away from her breasts, which were as lovingly cupped by the dress as her butt was. Then he risked another look at her. Jesus. “Where in hell are the microphone and transmitter?”

“The microphone is here,” Claire said, running her index finger lightly over the shadow between her breasts. “And the transmitter is—”

“Forget I asked,” Sean cut in, heading for the door. “I’ll get your damned table at the restaurant.”

Washington, D.C.

Sunday night

B
illy Green, a congressional staffer from Dubuque, Iowa, was the most entertaining dinner companion Claire had had in years. He was smart, funny, well-read, and a genuinely nice human being. He shared several of her interests, including cardio kickboxing and abstract modern art.

It’s too bad he’s gay. And it’s really too bad that he hasn’t figured it out yet.

Claire took a sip of the excellent Chardonnay her date had recommended. She focused on him again as he finished telling about his disastrous first day on the Hill, when he’d lost his congressman’s speech and then accidentally deleted the database of constituents who had made donations during a fund-raising dinner.

“Then I was in a meeting and asked someone I didn’t recognize where the bathroom was. Turns out he was a very senior member of the Senate, and here I was telling him I had to pee like a racehorse.”

Claire laughed and wished she had better luck with
men. Unlike some women she’d known, she simply wasn’t attracted to gay men. She only wished she could meet some equally entertaining and charming male who liked women
and
wanted to have sex with them.

Oh, well. Win some, lose some, never had a chance with the rest. At least he’s keeping my mind off the case and work, which is more than I can say of my last two dates.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sean turn around on his barstool after ordering another mineral water. Now there was someone who generated great chemistry with her. Unfortunately, he was as unavailable to her as Billy, though for dramatically different reasons. Life really was a bitch sometimes. Still, she was having her best evening out in months. It would be stupid to ruin things by whining over what she couldn’t have.

From the corner of her eye she caught a movement at one of the tables. Aidan met her eyes and raised an eyebrow at her, asking for a signal of some kind regarding her impressions of Billy. She studied her date for a moment, reviewing his broad, open features, blue eyes, and thick black hair. He grinned at her, and she knew this was not the cold-blooded killer they were looking for.

He’s too young.

Claire frowned and wondered where that thought had come from. Before she could track that idea down, she sensed Sean staring at her, waiting for a signal of some kind.

The natives are getting restless.

She excused herself to go to the rest room. Once inside, she spoke to the microphone discreetly clipped to her bra.

“He’s not the one. I don’t know why, but I think he’s too young. And his smile is open and real, nothing like the image I’ve had in my head all this time.”

Ignoring a woman who gave her a strange look for talking
to her boobs, Claire stopped to touch up her lipstick before she returned to her date.

“I ordered the appetizer platter for us both. It should be out in a minute,” Billy said. “Do you want to dance while we’re waiting?”

Claire looked out at the dance floor, where a dozen couples were moving to a fast-paced song with a pounding beat. Since this was the first night she didn’t have a headache, she grinned at Billy. “Let’s go.”

He took her hand, and they squeezed themselves onto the tiny floor. She laughed when Billy swung her into a spin, then proceeded to jump around her in an energetic, if slightly graceless, circle.

Ten minutes later, flushed and breathless, Claire and her date returned to the table. She’d completely lost herself in the driving rhythm of the music and the throng of other dancers. In fact she’d forgotten why she was there. While Billy ordered her a frozen margarita, she glanced idly around.

As her eyes moved past Sean, she wondered why he shot her such an irritated look. When he turned his head and made no further contact, she mentally shrugged and glanced to the next table.

Aidan had moved. Now he was sitting next to someone at a table in the middle of the room. When the waiter moved, Claire smiled as she recognized Olivia. Livvie just wasn’t the sort to sit back and let others do the work of watching out for her friend. Aidan didn’t look happy at having to do damage control, or whatever the police called it when they dealt with people who didn’t salute smartly and say “Yes, sir.”

“This is a great place,” Billy said. “I’ve heard of it, but never been. Do you come here a lot?”

“I’ve been here a few times. It was recommended to me by a friend,” she said, refusing to let her eyes slide toward Sean again.

“I feel like I’ve been to every restaurant in the city since joining Camelot. This has to be one of the best places yet.”

“You’ve been out on lots of dates through Camelot?” she asked, conscious of the need to gather information on Billy, if only to eliminate him from the list of suspects.

“Dozens. I just can’t seem to find the right girl. Maybe…I don’t know, maybe I’m trying too hard. Sometimes I’m not sure I even want to be dating at all.” He picked at a piece of bruschetta from the appetizer tray.

“Why do it then? If you’re not interested in a relationship, why force things with a dating service?” Claire asked carefully. She doubted that Billy understood the real reason behind his inability to “find the right girl.”

“My mother is pressuring me to settle down and get married. I’m from a rural community outside of Dubuque, where guys get married out of high school and then go into whatever blue-collar occupation their father is in. They certainly don’t go to college, or move to the nation’s capital to live in roach-infested apartments and work for practically nothing.”

Claire smiled. “I’m a long way from the Garden District of New Orleans, myself. All my friends from school, except my best friend Olivia, have been married for years and have at least one child.”

“Tell me about it. I’m the oldest of three, and yet both my brothers have wives and kids already.”

“There’s nothing wrong with choosing to focus on your career. The wife and family will come later, if that’s what you really want.”

“That’s what I keep telling my mom, but she’s got this
idea of the perfect life for me. I just don’t think it’s the same as my idea.” Suddenly he looked older, uneasy. “Hey, have you seen the new modern art exhibit at the Weir Gallery?”

Claire didn’t blink at the change of subject. “The one with live tropical fish built into each sculpture? No, but I’ve heard of it. I wondered what was eventually going to happen to the fish, since they’re sealed into the artwork.”

“They’re going to die in there. It’s Fitz’s commentary on the futility of modern life. He’s saying that no matter how beautiful the prison, we are all trapped and dying by degrees. I think he’s also highlighting the death of beauty in postmodern art. You know, that there seem to be pockets of color and splendor, but in reality they’re fleeting and unsustainable.”

“That’s fascinating. Not many people understand and appreciate modern art. I can never find anyone to go to new exhibits with me. I tell my friend Olivia that she has to look beyond the shock value to see the statement beneath, but she doesn’t buy it.”

“I’d be happy to go with you to any exhibit you want. We don’t have anything like it in Iowa, so I’m trying to soak up as much as I can.”

“I’m trying to picture what people in Dubuque would say to a series of paintings featuring a blue dog,” Claire said.

“My granny Ruth would probably say, ‘What, did the artist run out of brown paint?’” Billy imitated a crotchety old woman’s voice, making Claire laugh out loud.

Several tables away, Sean heard the delighted laugh. Gritting his teeth, he looked toward her table, where she and her date were leaning forward and talking animatedly about modern art.

Sean hated the stuff. If he wanted to see a painting of a soup can or a tennis shoe sculpture, he’d make one himself at home and save the ten-dollar admission ticket.

Checking his watch, he saw that more than an hour and a half had passed since Claire’s arrival at Très Chic. Surely she’d figured out by now that Billy Green was gay and clueless. Being gay absolutely didn’t fit the profile of their suspect. Unless Claire was attracted to sexually conflicted Iowa farm boys, Sean couldn’t see any point in continuing with the evening’s operation.

Sean’s mood got worse as the evening went on. Claire and Billy made multiple trips to the dance floor to jump around with the other diners, though he noticed they returned to their seats during the slow numbers. After their meals arrived, the two swapped plates around like old friends. Sean was forced to listen when they engaged in a long and lively discussion of the selections on the dessert tray. He practically ripped his earpiece out in annoyance as Billy described the blueberry crème brûlée as “orgasmic.”

Sean looked at Aidan, who was talking to Olivia while eating pasta and keeping Claire in sight at all times. When Claire and Billy headed out to the dance floor again, Sean decided the hell with it and ordered a bunch of appetizers to eat. Maybe he should join Aidan and the little redhaired mama tiger. Not that he minded Olivia being there as long as she stayed out of the way. She provided some cover for Aidan as he sat observing the other diners, and she didn’t cost the operation nearly as much as a police officer would have.

Sometime before eleven Claire gave the signal that she and her date were headed back to Camelot. Since Sean was alone, he would follow Claire’s taxi, which left Aidan and Olivia to go ahead and get into position. Sean easily
kept the cab in sight as it drove through the empty streets. He listened to the casual conversation Claire and Billy were having, this time about Billy’s longtime desire to learn how to scuba dive.

To Sean’s disbelief, Claire let Billy dismiss the cab once they had reached Camelot’s building. Instead of leaving, Billy led her over to take a seat on the low wall surrounding a fountain next to the lobby entrance. They continued their conversation about scuba diving, with Claire relating some of the experiences she’d had in the Caribbean.

When the discussion turned to great vacation destinations and the geopolitical considerations behind selecting a safe yet exotic location, Sean slowly banged his head on the steering wheel of his sedan.

After midnight, Claire began to yawn, even though she wasn’t the least bit bored. Billy took the hint and said he had to be up early in the morning, but asked if he could see Claire again.

“I’d be happy to see you again—as a friend,” she said.

“But I thought we were getting along great.” Billy watched his shoes as he spoke, but in all he seemed to be more relieved than upset at her choice.

“We are. I had a great time tonight.” Claire felt ten years older than her date as she tipped his chin up to look in his eyes. “But I don’t get the feeling that you’re attracted to me as a woman, just a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I want to be attracted to you,” he said desperately. “My mother would really like you.”

Claire winced.
Talk about damned by faint praise.
“That’s very sweet of you to say. But maybe you should worry about pleasing yourself in your choice of dates, not your mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll never be happy unless you live your own life. I think you know it. I think that’s why you defied your family and local traditions to make a new start in Washington, D.C. Don’t chicken out now, Billy. You’re doing the right thing.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re right. I just…I’m not ready to break all those ties yet.” He smiled sadly. “I guess I’ll say good night, then. Are you sure I can’t drop you somewhere?”

“No, thanks. My stuff is inside, and there’s a security guard at the desk. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can get tickets to the Fitz exhibit, and maybe we can go together. As friends.”

“I’d like that. Good night, Billy.”

She gave him a warm hug, friend to friend. He returned it the same way. She stood at the entrance to the Camelot building and waved as he got into a cab and drove away.

Poor kid. He’s so messed up inside he doesn’t know which way to go. I hope he finds a good man who understands where he is and helps him get somewhere happier.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Claire started at the angry voice behind her. Turning, she saw Sean standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s called a date,” she said. “Dinner, dancing, conversation. It’s something the civilized members of society engage in on a fairly regular basis.”

“Date, my ass. The guy’s queer. Can’t you see that?”

“Thank you for your Neanderthal summary of Billy’s confused sexuality. It’s because of people like you he’s spent his whole life in the closet.”

“Oh, bullshit. I work with gay officers all the time, and
some of them are damn good cops.” He rubbed his neck uncomfortably. “I just didn’t know if
you
knew Billy was—what’s the latest psychobabble—sexually conflicted?”

“I’m not an idiot. Of course I could see he was gay.”

“Okay. Some women can’t, that’s all.”

“I’m not one of them. My gay-dar is highly functional.”

Some of the tension seeped out of Sean’s shoulders. “Then why didn’t you end the date when you figured it out?”

“That would have meant turning the cab around on the way to the restaurant. I thought you wanted me to get more of an impression of him as a potential suspect.”

“Is that why you were bumping and grinding on the dance floor all night with him?”

“No, I
danced
with him because I liked the music and was having fun. You know, you should come out of your cave more often. Then maybe you’d understand the concept of showing a lady a good time.”

He slanted her an icy look. “We both know that I’m more than capable of showing you a good time.”

Claire sucked in a breath. It was the first direct reference either one had made to the night they’d almost made love. His words literally had her reeling. Then she remembered the microphone stashed in her bra, recording every word of their conversation and relaying it to Aidan and anyone else who cared to listen to the surveillance tape.