Shades of Passion

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE BLUE AND WHITE LIGHTS on the last patrol car faded into the distance. Standing in her front yard, Simon turned to face Nina. She was pale and trembling. All he wanted was to bring her inside and take her into his arms, but she couldn’t stay in the house. In minutes, the forensic team would arrive to process the place. In the meantime, they needed to get her stuff.

When he reminded her of that, however, she looked confused.

“Why do I still have to leave? Davenport’s in custody.”

Gently, he explained about the forensics team. Then said, “Besides, aside from the forensic team needing to do their job, we can’t make any assumptions. Davenport’s obviously guilty of breaking into your house. I think he’s the man who killed two men because of his daughter’s mental illness, but I don’t want to make any assumptions that could put you in danger. I need to go in and interview him. Get him to confess he killed Cann and that second man. In order to do that, I can’t afford to be distracted. Worried. I need to know you’re safe. I can still take you to a hotel. Or better yet, to a friend’s house. Is there a friend you can stay with?”

It took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, to accept that this wasn’t over quite yet.

“Nina,” he prompted.

She glanced up at him with shadowed eyes, then nodded. “I can stay with Karen. My boss. She’s a friend, too.”

“Okay. Let’s go in and call her. If it doesn’t look like he’s messed with your things, you can grab some essentials and then I can drive you to her house.”

They both went inside.

“Mud,” Nina grumbled under her breath as she walked past her living room and headed for the stairwell.

“Excuse me?” Simon asked, on her heels.

She pointed to the faint impression of muddy footprints near the back patio door and automatically took a few steps toward them. “Davenport must’ve tracked it in.”

Simon grabbed her elbow and pulled her to a halt before she could get too close to them. “Don’t touch anything yet. We don’t want to contaminate the scene. As soon as the techs come in to process the place, they’ll photograph the prints and match them up to Davenport.” Simon frowned. “But I thought he gained entry through your front door. It was unlocked. Is it possible you left it unlocked when we left this morning?”

“It’s possible. More likely probable. He definitely came in through the back. See, the footprints are red, made with the mud from my backyard,” Nina said slowly, drawing her words out. “I’m having a new patio put in. Right now part of the backyard is covered with this red-colored earth—fill the contractor put down as a base before laying the brick. Davenport had to have been in my backyard to get this red dirt on his feet.”

Simon stroked her arm, knowing she had to be rattled by the fact Davenport had broken into her home. Hell, even he was still rattled, overcome with thoughts of what Davenport had been planning to do to Nina. None of them were pretty and even now he envisioned Nina’s torso bared, her back marred with bloody initials. Fighting back nausea, he took his hand off her arm and patted her back, hoping she wouldn’t notice that he was shaking. “Let’s see if he touched your stuff.”

She led him to her room. The last time he’d been in it, she’d cried herself to sleep in his arms. Now...

Nina’s horrified cry mingled with Simon’s ugly curse.

The letters BD were spray painted on her walls and on her pale bedspread.

Once again, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Doc. But if this doesn’t link him to the homeless murders, I’m not sure what will. I’ll get the stuff in your dresser. You grab what you need from your closet. But if anything looks like it’s been messed with, don’t touch it, okay?”

Shakily, Nina nodded and headed for her closet. As she extracted a suitcase and began filling it, Simon walked over to her dresser and examined a few of the items on top of it. Framed photos of her and Rachel. A ballerina music box. A bundle of swim team ribbons. A little teddy bear with a pink bow. Like the rag doll she carried in her purse, was the bear something she’d had as a child? Maybe even something that had belonged to her sister? But he wasn’t about to ask her that now, just as he hadn’t pressed her for details about her sister’s suicide. He already knew Rachel Whitaker had slit her wrists in the bathtub. The last thing Nina needed right now was to remember that.

He turned to her. “Bring casual and business clothes. In case you—” He broke off at the expression on her face. Her jaw had gone slack, her complexion ashen and the pupils of her eyes had dilated until they seemed almost black.

“Nina.” Simon took a step forward, but she shrank back. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Nina took another step back and pointed a shaking finger. “The bear. On my dresser.”

“What is it? Isn’t it yours?”

She swallowed and wrapped an arm around her stomach, then bent at the knees, going into a low crouch. She gave a low moan of pain.

“Oh, Doc. Oh, no.” Immediately, he went to her and gathered her in his arms. With gentle movements, he stroked her hair as she buried her head in the crook of his neck, gasping for air. He murmured her name and held her tight until her breathing regulated.

“That’s how she did it,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“That’s how who did what?” he asked, but somehow he knew the answer.

“That’s how Beth killed herself. She used a pink ribbon from a teddy bear to strangle herself to death. That bear doesn’t belong to me. He brought it with him. Davenport. He left it here for me to find.”

* * *

SIMON WANTED TO RIP Davenport’s heart out through his rib cage, but right now Nina needed him. After she’d come close to collapsing in her bedroom, he’d held her until she stopped sobbing. Then he’d finished packing for her, throwing items from her dresser and closet into the suitcase she’d already pulled out. After that, he’d struggled with indecision. He’d been planning on leaving her in a hotel or at a friend’s house and following up with Davenport.

But at that moment, Nina had needed him more. She’d trusted him with her body. He was taking responsibility for her emotional well-being, too.

He’d bundled Nina and her overnight bag into the car and had taken off for his place.

Nina hadn’t argued. Didn’t even ask questions. That worried him. She wasn’t going to be able to take much more. Not with everything she’d already gone through.

On the way to his house, Simon called DeMarco and asked him to conduct Davenport’s interview, but DeMarco said Davenport had asked for an attorney. There would be no interviewing him until at least tomorrow.

That was good. That meant Simon could give Nina his full attention.

Now, in his guest room, he unpacked her items and put them away as she sat curled up on the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked utterly defeated. And that scared the shit out of him.

He sat next to her on the bed.

“I know he got into your house, Nina, even with the new security system in place, and I know that has to scare the shit out of you, but don’t let him into your mind. Don’t let him invade that space, too.”

“He already has,” she mumbled. “He’s been there for the past three years, reminding me of what happened. How I failed to stop it.”

“Then get him out. Shove him out of your mind. Put something else in there.”

“Like what?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Distract yourself with something.”

They stared at each other, remembering what they’d done earlier that day to distract her.

“Is that an invitation?” she asked.

When she placed a hand on his chest and flattened her palm over his pectoral muscle, the rest of the world faded away. Rational thought left the building. He saw only her. Smelled only her. Felt only her.

But he still managed to keep hold of some small measure of sense. He’d worried earlier that day that making love to her would be taking advantage of her. She’d convinced him that wouldn’t be the case. That she known full well what she’d wanted, and what she’d wanted was Simon. She might want him now, but this was different. She’d suffered one shock too many for him to even think about having sex with her.

“No, baby,” he said even as he clasped her hand in his. “We can’t. You’re too upset. That’s not what you need.”

She tried to withdraw her hand, but Simon held on.

“Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “What do I need then?”

“You need me to hold you,” he said firmly. “All night. You need me to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That you’re going to be okay. And that I’m going to be here to make sure of it.”

She stared at him, lips trembling, blinking to fight back tears. Eventually, she took a deep breath. Swallowed hard. Then nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s what I need.”

So that’s exactly what Simon gave her.