Shades of Passion

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NINA SPENT SEVERAL HOURS talking to Anne. Although there was no evidence that her father was guilty of anything more than being a controlling a*shole, he had no say over what happened next. Anne had tried to hurt herself and was legally required to be evaluated by a mental health professional. One that wouldn’t be Nina, since she would technically be classified as a witness. Nonetheless, Nina made sure the girl had her phone number along with the names of several counselors that Nina respected. Officer Harrison then drove Anne to the hospital, but before he did, Anne gave Nina a prolonged hug. The entire time, Simon stayed close, restless energy radiating off him like a raging fire.

Nina fought back gruesome memories of Beth and Rachel. This time, she’d helped. This time, no one had died. She’d been lucky. Lucky that Simon had decided to trust her and let her handle Anne as she saw fit. And lucky that things had worked out.

Simon, however, didn’t look like he felt lucky. He just drove, grim-faced and stiff.

Finally, the tense silence between them suddenly became too much for Nina to bear. She placed a hand on his thigh, forcing herself not to flinch when the muscles there bunched along with those in his jaw. He was vibrating, she realized. With residual anger? Fear? Both?

His girlfriend had been killed by a serial murderer. Simon believed that the reason she’d been killed was directly linked to her chosen profession. Anne hadn’t been a serial murderer, but she’d turned out to be a threat to Nina nonetheless. Had Simon thought of Lana in that moment? Had he wondered whether he would be responsible for yet another woman’s death? Because there was no doubt in her mind that Simon blamed himself for Lana’s death, just as he blamed himself for letting Anne Stanley get too close to Nina.

“Do you want to talk about what happened back there?” Nina asked. “Why Anne felt she had no choice but to use me as a shield?”

The leather wrap on the steering wheel squeaked as Simon squeezed harder. “I don’t really care why she went all wacko with a knife. That’s her business, not mine. I care more that she endangered you, and that you undermined my authority. That you refused to listen to me when I told you not the enter that room. This isn’t a f*cking game, Nina. These are life-and-death situations, situations I’m trained to handle—”

“I’m trained to handle them, too. We simply disagreed about how to handle this particular situation. But you did the right thing by listening to me, Simon. And listening to yourself. Your gut told you to give Anne a chance.”

“My gut was swayed by you!” He slapped his hand against the wheel. “And look what happened. You were almost killed.”

“That’s an exaggeration—”

“Her knife pierced your f*cking skin!”

“A slight cut. Nothing more. I wasn’t truly hurt. No, in this particular case, de-escalation didn’t work, not perfectly. A bad thing almost happened. But it didn’t. Even if it had, it doesn’t mean what we did wasn’t warranted. We can do everything by the book and still have horrible things happen. You know that. You can’t stop trusting your instincts because things don’t go perfectly.”

“My instincts are exactly what you’re trying to stop me and other officers from listening to.”

“That’s not true. The training I’m talking about will simply enable your men to have more information to work with. To assess the situation with. The way Officer Harrison was crowding Anne was making the situation worse. You instinctively knew that and—”

He cursed and suddenly swerved the car to the side of the road. He turned toward her, his arm against the back of the seat. “Instinct only goes so far. What if my instincts are telling me two different things?”

“Then you make the most reasoned decision that you can.”

“What if my instincts are telling me to pull away from you and pull you closer at the same time? What if they’re saying to back away because I don’t like your profession or the fact that you’re willing to endanger yourself the way Lana was? But what if they also refuse to let me forget the feel of your mouth under mine? Or the feel of your body pressed against me? What if they want me to kiss you again? Right here? Right now?”

She stared at him, her body trembling, her heart racing. She licked her lips and tried to think. “Again, you do the best you can. You reason things out. We’re attracted to each other and right now that attraction’s been heightened by the adrenaline spike we encountered back there. But we’re working together, and you don’t respect what I do, so reason tells us that you should follow your instinct not to kiss me.”

“And you always do the reasonable thing?”

She smirked. “Oh, come on. After the way I dared you to kiss me the other day, you’re actually going to ask me that question?”

“Dare me to kiss you again,” he whispered, his gaze flickering to her lips.

And God, how she wanted to. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she ruthlessly held them back.

She shook her head. “I can’t. It—it wouldn’t be professional.”

For a minute, he looked at her as if he wasn’t convinced. As if he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her and maybe even do more. Instead, he took a breath, turned away and quietly pulled back onto the road.

They were silent for several minutes, each unwilling to risk breaking the tension between them lest it unleash a tidal wave of emotions and desire.

“I called a friend of mine in Charleston,” she finally said.

He glanced at her.

“Molly’s husband is a cop. He—he did some checking around, and he says Beth’s father is still there. A neighbor of his said she’d seen him just last night.”

He grunted. Then said, “I know. I put out feelers about him and was told the same thing. I also got a call earlier. While you were talking to Anne. There weren’t any fingerprints on the letter but yours. But Davenport could have hired someone to deliver the letter and that person could have worn gloves while doing so. Or he could have flown to California and back in one day. It doesn’t sound like my source or your friend’s husband saw him for themselves. I’ll call the local P.D. and have a patrol car stop by and try to contact him directly. I’ll also double-check travel records when we get back to the office.”

“That seems like a lot of effort. I know how busy you are. How short-staffed. That isn’t necessary.”

He turned a dark expression on her. “Yes. It is.”

As they got closer to SIG headquarters, he asked, “You want to come in or—”

“No, I think I’ll just head back home.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Down a couple of blocks in a public parking lot.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach Nina’s old clunker. He turned the ignition of his own vehicle off but didn’t remove the key.

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow? Same time?”

He nodded.

She shoved the passenger-side door open and walked to her car. Behind her, she heard him call, “I’ll follow you home.”

She stopped and shook her head, turning around to face him. “That’s not—”

“Necessary. I know. But I’ll do it anyway.”

Remembering the scare she and Anne had caused him, she shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she muttered.

But when she tried to start her car, the engine wouldn’t turn over. Groaning, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a second before she sensed him standing next to her door.

“Want me to jump you?” he asked.

Her head snapped up. He was smiling again. Showcasing that fabulous sense of humor of his despite the tense circumstances they’d just experienced. His smile loosened the tight muscles that had clenched inside her stomach ever since the confrontation with Anne Stanley.

“Sounds wonderful,” she said.

He grinned full-out now, making him look years younger. Then his gaze flickered to the backseat of her car and he stiffened. “Shit.”

With a frown, she began to turn, but he reached out and stayed her. “Don’t look.”

She kept her gaze straight ahead even as she asked, “But why?”

He yanked open the back door and leaned into the car. “Someone left something for you.”

“What?”

He hesitated.

She whirled around in her seat to look, but Simon’s large shoulders blocked her view.

“What is it, Simon?” she demanded.

“A dead cat.”

“What?” she gasped out. “What does it look like?”

Had Six crawled into her car and died of heat exposure? She’d never forgive herself if she had.

“Nina, I’m sorry. This cat looks exactly like yours. Down to its sixth toe. It’s your cat.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I don’t remember leaving the windows open. I don’t know how she could have gotten in here.”

“She didn’t climb into the car on her own,” Simon ground out. He turned and faced her, and for the first time she could see Six. She wasn’t simply dead, she was bloody. “Nina, someone used your cat to leave you a message.”

* * *

NINA HAD FELT BONE-CRUSHING, mind-numbing grief before.

Losing her cat didn’t make her feel anything like she’d felt when she’d lost Rachel. Or when Beth had committed suicide. But it still hurt.

In her gut. In her soul. She ached for the small animal that had been her companion. But even more so, she hated being reminded humans could do such horrible things. And she hated the fear that had seeped into her very being. Fear at what might happen next.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Simon insisted even as he pulled up in front of her house. “Let me take you to a hotel. At least until I can talk to Charleston P.D. I need to know for myself where Lester Davenport is. I need to know he won’t get to you.”

For a moment, she didn’t understand what he was saying. He wanted her to go to a hotel? Some clinical impersonal space filled with strangers? She cringed at the very thought. “No, Simon.” She tried to explain her desire to be in familiar surroundings. Her need to feel safe in her own home. Reassured that her life wasn’t going to implode due to the actions of one sick individual. But instead she said, “I’m not going to run. Besides, you can’t be sure Lester Davenport left my...my cat there for me to see. I know he’s hurting and fixated on his daughter’s death, but he—he’s never done something like this before. Nothing so violent.”

“He left you a letter telling you that you were going to die! ‘She died and so will you.’ That’s what he wrote and he was obviously referring to his daughter. It makes sense, Nina. More sense than hiding your head in the sand.”

“Refusing to let myself be scared out of my own home is not hiding my head in the sand. I’ll be fine.” She opened the car door and stepped out.

“Do you have a security system?”

“Besides my locks, you mean? I told you my house alarm is broken, remember?”

“Damn it.” He slapped the steering wheel in frustration and stepped out of the car, as well. “Fine. Then I’ll stay, too. I’m sure I’ve never slept in such luxurious accommodations before. It’ll be a good experience for me.”

He said it with confidence and humor, probably hoping to distract her, but she wasn’t going to give in. She couldn’t. Giving in would lead to more giving in, which could very well lead to her collapsing altogether. She couldn’t let that happen. She was strong. She would survive this even if Six hadn’t. And she was going to have to do it without the comforting presence of Simon Granger.

“No, Simon. We both know that’s not a good idea.”

“Damn it, you’re stubborn.”

She snorted and arched a brow, as if to say, “And you’re any different?”

“Fine. At least let me go in. Check to make sure the place is secure.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And then you’ll leave?”

“If that’s what you want, yes.”

She shook her head. “That’s not good enough.”

“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” she said softly. “I’m—I’m not stupid. I’m shaken by what’s happened. It would feel good to let myself be comforted...”

He reached out and smoothed her arm. “Then why won’t you let me comfort you?”

“Because today established we’re not good for each other, Simon. I asked you to trust me. You did. Things didn’t go as well as they could have and that made you angry with me.”

“I was angry that you were put in danger. Justifiably angry!”

“But you were also angry with me. Angry that I put myself in danger. Part of you still is. Aren’t you?”

His expression turned decidedly mulish. “I can be angry with you and still comfort you.”

“But eventually you’re going to be so angry with me you’re not going to want to comfort me. And then where will I be? Yearning for something I should never have allowed myself to have in the first place. No, I can comfort myself. I’ve grown quite good at it.”

She was unlocking her front door when he called, “How good are you at comforting others?”

She froze. “What?”

“You don’t think I’m shaken by what happened?” He walked toward her, not stopping until the tips of their shoes almost touched and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I watched Anne Stanley get close enough to you to end your life. Someone’s threatened you several times on paper. Now some psycho has been bold enough to put a dead cat in your car? Hell, I’m shaken.” He smoothed his palms up and down her arms, probably not missing how she trembled. “I could use some comforting, even if you can’t.”

“Simon—”

“It’s been a rough year for me, you know,” he said.

Because his girlfriend—his psychiatrist girlfriend—had been murdered by a serial killer? Was he actually bringing that up, actually copping to the difficult time he’d been having as a result, in order to play the sympathy card to get inside her house? Or was it possible that Anne’s behavior and finding Six really had shaken him? That being closer to her would make him feel better?

“You’re ruthless,” she accused.

“Ruthless? Normally, I’d agree. Right now I need some TLC. Sex would be the ultimate, but I’m not asking for that. A cup a coffee will do. I’ll come in. I’ll take a quick look around. We’ll talk. And when you’re ready for me to leave, I’ll leave. Sound good?”

It sounded like both a temptation and a mistake.

Nina knew once she got Simon inside her house again, she wasn’t going to have the strength to ask him to leave. Not until she gave him the comfort he’d been asking for, and took some for herself, as well.

But she invited him anyway.

He checked the house while she made them coffee. When he was convinced everything was clear, they sat on her sofa, chatting civilly until Simon’s cell phone rang. He answered but kept his gaze on her as he spoke to Jase for a few moments, then hung up. “You were parked near security cameras. We should have been able to get the guy on tape. The bastard didn’t wear a disguise, but he didn’t have to. He knew where the cameras were. Knew the angles well enough to keep his face hidden. We can get a general sense of height but not weight. He was wearing a bulky jacket with a hood. Baggy pants. And, Nina—”

She didn’t like how he hesitated. Or the concerned look he gave her. “What?” she prodded.

“Your patient. The one who committed suicide. Her name was Elizabeth, but you’ve called her Beth. Beth Davenport, right?”

“Yes, she preferred Beth. Why?”

Simon leaned forward and held her arms, as if trying to brace her for what he had to say. “The coroner’s a friend of mine. He took a quick look at Six. She had the initials BD carved into her fur.”

Shock hit her like a slap in the face.

She swallowed back bile. She knew humans could cross the commonly established lines of decency for myriad reasons, grief being one of those reasons. She knew how dark a person could go in the throes of despair. Sociopaths and psychopaths weren’t the only people out there capable of carrying out horrific acts—one only had to look at the Nazis to know this to be true. But she still found the idea of Lester Davenport trying to pay her back for his daughter’s death by killing and mutilating her cat to be beyond repugnant. “Do you still think Beth’s father hired someone to come after me?”

“If your friend’s husband was right about him being in Charleston, then yes. The cat was still...warm. She hadn’t been dead that long.”

She nodded and blinked rapidly, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness.

Coffee and civility forgotten, he pulled her into his arms and she didn’t even bother resisting. She allowed herself to cry. Briefly.

Sooner than she wanted to, she swiped at her eyes and straightened. “I moved here to escape death...and I know she’s just a cat...but...but she was my cat. And—and seeing her that way...all I could think about was...was...”

“Was your sister?”

She nodded. “My sister. And Beth. I found her, you know. So I understand the pain Beth’s father is feeling. Why he would be angry and want vengeance. Do things that are out of character—”

Simon pulled back sharply. “Don’t try to justify what he’s done by the fact that he’s grieving. Not anymore.”

“I’m not justifying it. I’m explaining it. There’s a difference, remember? At least, that’s what DeMarco said. Even if he is responsible for this, it doesn’t necessarily make him a monster.” Or did it?

Simon stood and began pacing, running his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. “Jesus. Just what would make him a monster? If it wasn’t a cat he killed and mutilated, but a person? Would you believe he was a monster then?”

Right now she just wanted her cat back. No. That wasn’t true.

She wanted Beth to be alive.

She wanted her sister to be alive.

She wanted to believe it wasn’t Beth’s father doing such horrible things to frighten her, but a random act of violence that would stop as suddenly as it had started. “I’d believe he was dangerous and that he needed to be stopped, but whether I’d think he was a monster? I’m trained to see beyond a person’s actions. To not judge a person for his actions alone.”

“Then you obviously need new training.”

She sighed. “So it’s begun already. I guess I wasn’t as much comfort to you as you thought I’d be.”

“You’re still wearing your clothes. That might be why.” He said the words stiffly, but she saw them for what they were. Another attempt to lighten the tension between them. She appreciated his effort, even if it didn’t quite work.

“You said you’d leave when I asked you to. I think it’s time.”

“Is that really what you want? Because I don’t want to leave. And you didn’t really ask me to.”

“My mistake. I’m asking now.”

He seemed to struggle with himself, and she wondered if he would really fight her on leaving. And what she’d do if he did.

But he nodded. “Fine. Lock the door behind me.”

She followed him to the door, but before he opened it, he turned. “I’m sorry but I can’t leave without one more thing.”

“What?”

“This.” He kissed her. Gently. Thoroughly. As if the kiss could blast through their differences and everything that stood between them. When he pulled away, they were both breathing hard and he rested his forehead against hers.

“You managed to do it anyway, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Comfort me.”

This time, she was the one to smooth her palms across his arms. He was big, roped with muscle, and for a second he felt so good, so safe, that she wanted to say she’d changed her mind and beg him to stay. Instead, she simply said, “If that’s true, then I’m glad.”

“I’m not. Because you were right.”

“Right?”

“It’s just going to be harder to do without it when you’re gone.”