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THE CHANCE YOU TAKE

by

CATHERINE SNODGRASS

Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com

The Chance You Take
An Amber Quill Press Book
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2004 by Catherine Snodgrass
ISBN 1-59279-282-0
Cover Art © 2003 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting
Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

Published in the United States of America

Also by Catherine Snodgrass

Another Chance, Another Time
Circle In The Sand
Dreams
The Favor
Feather On The Wind
Hurago
My Only Wish
Out Of The Ashes
The Quest For Gillian's Heart
Seven Rings Binding
Silk Dreams And Satin Lies
A Simple Choice
Smoke And Shadow
The Wishing Tree

With Bryndis Rubin

Always Faithful
Ice Princess
Judging Ellie

Writing as Caitlyn Willows

The Heir

Stargazer
Star Traveler
Teacher's Pet
Warrior Princess
White Lies

Chapter 1

Beth Manning stared at the battered body of the three-year-old girl. Her stomach twisted in knots at the sight. She'd seen more than her share of dead bodies since she'd been working Homicide. But she could never plan for the fact that one day she'd be looking at a child. It was the event she'd always dreaded. Now that day was here. One question screamed in her head, drowning out everything else—Why? She forced her gaze to focus on the small body. The little girl wore a pink cotton nightgown with Sesame Street figures all around it. Blood spatter mocked their smiling cartoon faces. Her feet were bare, smooth on the bottoms, untouched by the horror of what she'd endured. Cuts, bruises, and welts marred her ivory skin where the long, slender weapon had struck her. Thick brown hair that drifted in long curls to her waist was nothing more than a tangled mess. She'd been a pretty, delicate little thing. It wouldn't have taken much to kill her. That's why all this made no sense. It was rage out of control, pure and simple. She would have been a beauty when she grew up. Now she would never know the joys of visits from the tooth fairy, learning to ride a bike, her first dance, falling in love. With all the innocence of childhood, she'd trusted an adult. And just like that, she was gone, tossed in a dumpster by the trash who had killed her. She didn't even have a stuffed animal or blanket for company in death. Kids her age always had something like that in tow, didn't they? Unfeeling bastard. All Beth needed was an hour alone with the murderer, just to give him a taste of what he'd done to this baby. Him? Why not a her? her internal investigator asked. Women were as capable of this kind of violence as men. Poor little one. Where are your parents? There was a muffled sound beside her as her partner, Russ Salk, covered his emotions behind a cough. This had to be hard on him. He had two young daughters of his own. Beth forced herself not to look his way. One glance at those sympathetic blue eyes and she'd crumble. He had that effect on her. To devastate her with laughter, bring her to tears, or drudge up guilt—all with a glance. It wasn't so much the look. It was what she saw deep within it. As if she knew what he thought before he said it, and he, her. She supposed that's what made them such excellent partners. They could depend on each other in all ways—an invaluable asset when they were out in the field. She longed to rub her hand over his shoulders to let him know she knew and understood how he felt. Again, one touch and she'd be collapsed in his arms bawling. That's just what their fellow officers needed to see. They'd tease her unmercifully from that point on, no matter what the circumstances. She did that once—collapsed in his arms with heart-rending sobs. Beth didn't know what she would have done without his support. No one teased her then. They didn't dare—one of their own had been murdered and it had affected every single one of them. Chances were they wouldn't tease her now either. The murder of a child was a horrible thing. But Beth needed to be strong so the men around her could be strong, too. There was the rustle of paper as Russ popped a stick of Doublemint gum in his mouth. He nudged her arm, offering her a piece. Beth waved it away. It was going to take more than gum to calm her down. "Do we know who she is?" Russ asked. "Susie Carson." Sergeant Tavares' voice lacked emotion this morning. Beth wondered how many kids the big guy had. He towered over them all at six-four with broad shoulders that could block out the sun. Yet he was one of the gentlest men she'd ever known. The whirr of a camera intruded on her thoughts as one of the Crime Lab investigators photographed the scene. Tavares pulled his head up on a sigh. His voice might be monotone, but his brown eyes looked haunted. He motioned to the dilapidated four-story apartment building across the street. The carport beneath it looked like a showcase for a junkyard. Just like thousands of other places sprinkled throughout the Los Angeles basin. "She lived over there. Landlady found her when she was taking out the trash. She spent a lot of time at the playground in the apartment courtyard. She was well known, considered a sweet kid. Landlady hadn't seen her in a few days and thought she might be down with the flu." "Parents?" "Trying to round them up now." Russ cracked his gum. "Seven in the morning and the parents aren't here. That's telling a story, isn't it?" It sure was. He peered over the dumpster where the medical examiner checked the body. "I don't suppose there's any doubt about the cause of death." Carl Dobbins stood, shaking his head. Despite the coolness of the morning, a bead of sweat trickled down his face. It was a good thing he was a slight man, otherwise he wouldn't have fit in the trash receptacle with the girl. "Not after a beating like this. I hate to think what we'll find during the autopsy." Beth's did, too. She prayed that hadn't happened. Her eyes filmed over with tears. This was the one aspect of her job she'd hoped she'd never have to deal with. Spouses and lovers killed in a jealous rage, yes. Drug pushers and users, pimps and prostitutes, robbery victims, drive-by shootings—anything but this. Frankly, she was lucky it had taken this long for her to get a call on a child. Excusing herself, she hurried to their unmarked police car and jerked open the door. The young girl lying in that old steel tub was the same age as her own niece and only a little younger than Russ' youngest daughter. How could anyone abuse a child like that? She shut herself in the relative silence of the car. It didn't matter how much of a professional she was supposed to be, the tears still came. Beth forced anger to the surface. She'd use it to sharpen her skills, make her focused. Tears just made a person vulnerable, out of control. She'd shed an ocean of them when Rick had died the year before. They didn't do her a damn bit of good then and they wouldn't now. Stay angry. Stay focused. She pulled out her notebook and started to dissect the scene piece by piece. She'd find who did this if it took the rest of her career do to so. Whoever killed little Susie Carson would not kill another child. * * * * Russ approached the car slowly. This whole thing made him sick. How? Why? What could possess a person? He liked the parents for this. Seven in the morning and they weren't here? In his mind, no one else could have done it. Nothing else made sense. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn't enough to chase the image of the battered child away. It was permanently etched in his brain along with all the other homicides he'd worked on. No, not along with, right smack-dab in the forefront. He couldn't wait to see his girls again and hug them tight. A sharp swat or two on the bottom for the most serious infraction was the only physical discipline he or their mother ever delivered. It was one of the few things he and Marianne had agreed on during their strained marriage. He looked up at Beth. She sat half in, half out of their car, hand flying across a pad of paper as she laid out a game plan. He didn't know what he'd do without her and never wanted to try. And to think he balked at the idea of having a female partner. Okay, he'd been furious with the suggestion. Women were a distraction. Especially a woman like Elizabeth Manning. Oh, he'd seen her around. Who hadn't? She worked in Traffic. A petite brunette who didn't bother to hide her femininity, but neither did she flaunt it. She drew the attention of every man in the station. Russ was going to hate her...he just knew it. But he didn't. He could never understand why Rick didn't get jealous of the attention his fiancée drew. At first he chalked it up to Rick's absorption in his work. The guys in Vice pulled some crazy hours and even crazier assignments. Maybe he was so jaded by what he saw at work, he never noticed the looks that followed Beth. Then Russ saw her in action. She pulled over a perp on a traffic violation. The guy had a dead body in the trunk. Russ was seconds behind her and the first to arrive on the scene. The perp dashed past Beth's partner. She whipped out her nightstick, hurled it in the perp's direction, clipping him in the knee. She had his face in the gutter and his hands cuffed before the guy knew what hit him. A knee in the small of his back held him captive while she secured him. The way the guy wailed, you'd thought a six-seven, five-hundred-pound giant had him. Russ would never forget the look on the guy's face when Beth hauled him to his feet and he saw his "giant" was five-foot-two and might weight one-twenty. Russ had never laughed so hard in his life. No wonder Rick didn't worry. Beth could take care of herself. All his preconceived notions about her were blown away. He couldn't wait to have her as a partner. She transferred in a week later. That was three years ago. They'd been best friends and partners ever since. Through his pending divorce, through Rick's awful death two months before their wedding, they'd had each other's back. Another memory Russ wished would fade. Rick was found in an alley, shot through the head by an unknown assailant. They'd been the ones to respond. Beth had fallen apart. Russ didn't blame her a bit. He called for back-up, then held her while she cried. It was the only time he'd ever seen her lose her composure. For three days, she was a mess, and for three days, he never left her side. Then, on the day they buried Rick she said only one thing. "We all know the risks of this profession. It's the chance you take." Russ wished he had half her strength. In the last couple of years, he'd seen his marriage gasp its last, painful breath and lost a close friend. It was hard...so hard...and so unfair. But who said life was fair? The one constant was Beth. She'd always have his back. How could you not admire a woman like that? How could you not want to... Russ shook away the thought. She was his partner. Those kinds of feelings had no place here, no matter how intrusive they might be at other times. But they existed nonetheless and were growing stronger every day. Maybe it was time they dealt with them before it affected their work. Opening that door would change everything, but Russ couldn't keep on this way—pretending friendship when he constantly ached for more. They had to at least talk about it. They talked about everything else, why not this? Later, he reprimanded himself. He slid behind the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. "You all right?" Her hand stopped its progress across the page. A sigh lifted her shoulders. "Oh, Russ, she's just a little girl." She sagged into her seat. Russ dared a look in her direction. At that moment, with her eyes dilated in a puddle of unshed tears, she looked no older than a vulnerable teenager instead of a thirty-year-old woman. She blinked rapidly, dispelling the illusion. "I keep wondering if she still sucked her thumb." The image stabbed him through the heart. His vision swam. He cleared his eyes and popped another stick of gum. "At times like this I bet you wish you hadn't quit smoking." She bent back to her work. Russ focused on her hair. Woven into a French braid, it still shone with red and gold highlights just as it did when it was draped around her shoulders. Not one strand was out of place. He pondered that nonsensical mystery while he shoved all other thoughts aside. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Do I have a bug in my hair or something?" "Nope. Just a mouse looking for a home." "Then I hope he's comfortable." She stabbed a period on the end of her sentence. "Glass of wine's going to taste good tonight." "Or two. Want me to pick up a bottle after work?" "I've already got a bottle of pinot chilling." "Chinese food?" "Sure." Beth handed her notepad to him. "I'll let you buy. My place. I'll drag out the good dishes." "Chinet, wow! Then I'll even spring for egg rolls." "It's a wonder a big spender like you isn't beating them off with a stick." "Yeah, it's a wonder all right." But not when one considered the only woman who interested him was right across the hall. "Your place or mine?" Beth laughed lightly. "Silly, that's a given." It sure was. Russ' only furniture was an old sofa. He had one of each of the essentials—plate, fork, towel—the list went on. Marianne had left him with nothing. Russ spent ninety-nine percent of his time at Beth's. Hell, he might as well be living there. If things worked out the way he wanted them to, he would be. Tonight was the night. If he waited much longer, he'd explode. Beth cracked her knuckles and stepped outside to stretch. Russ quickly adjusted his hard-on to a more comfortable and less noticeable position. She had the finest looking ass... He yanked his focus back to the job. Forensics swarmed the area logging evidence. Russ studied Beth's notes. Nothing new here. Standard procedure. But it helped her keep her emotions in control. She plopped back into her seat. "It's senseless. Makes me all that more determined to catch her murderer." Russ slipped his fingers over hers and squeezed. "Don't worry. We will. Now, let's grab Tavares and start asking questions." He shoved his shoulder into the door and exited. * * * * Beth watched him hail the sergeant. Her hand still tingled where he'd touched her. Was it so wrong to feel this way? She'd tried to fight it, but the feelings refused to go away. In fact, they only got stronger. She couldn't say when or how these emotions had surfaced. They just were. There wasn't a night lately where she didn't make herself come while wishing his hand was between her thighs and not her own. She watched his tight bottom as he walked toward Tavares. It had to be a sin to look so good. She had a hell of a time concentrating when they played racquetball. She couldn't keep on this way. Something was going to have to happen. Beth laughed at her lustful thoughts. Back to square one. First, she didn't know if Russ felt the same way. True, guys rarely turned down sex. But in her heart she knew it was beyond that for her. She wouldn't play games with him. Second, they were partners. Good partners. This was one line they shouldn't cross. One of them could always request a transfer. There was an opening in Vice. Still, she hated the idea of not working with him. She watched him yank the cell phone from his suit jacket. He glanced toward the car. "I don't know," she heard him say. "I'm in the middle of something right now. One of us will call you later." He ended the call. "Marianne," he said to Beth, then turned back to Tavares. Beth grabbed her notebook and left the vehicle. The third reason why she shouldn't harbor these feelings or carry them out—his soon to be ex-wife. While she and Marianne had grown apart since Rick's death, they were still casual friends. It didn't matter that the marriage was floundering long before Beth met them. Or that the divorce had nothing to do with her. She knew Marianne wouldn't like it. She might not want Russ, but she damn sure didn't want Beth to have him. Marianne didn't want any woman to have him. She wanted him at her beck and call 24/7. Marianne wasn't happy in the marriage. Russ sure as hell wasn't happy, although he'd tried to make it work for his daughters' sakes. When Marianne asked for a divorce, Russ had no problem. He said it was like a ten-ton weight off his shoulders and wasted no time giving Marianne everything she asked for. And still she couldn't let go. Beth worried constantly about adding more conflict for Russ...at those times when she wasn't craving him so badly she thought she'd explode. "You two start at the top." Russ pointed to Tavares and his partner. "We'll start at the bottom and meet you in the middle." They nodded in unison, then moved as one toward the apartment building. "Ma-maaaaa." The cry stopped them cold. Beth's skin lifted two inches. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. "What the hell..." Russ charged toward the dumpster. Beth's legs refused to move. Carl held up a baby doll. "Sorry, it was under her." Beth swallowed hard. The lump in her throat stayed. Tavares swung his back to them and wiped at his eyes. His rookie partner stared, white-faced and slack-jawed. Russ stomped back their way. "Let's get to work. I want this bastard found." She pulled some strength from deep inside, snagged the young officer's sleeve and spurred him gently to action. "Yep. Me, too."

Chapter 2

Cornelia Hudson looked like the kind of woman who could wrap the world in a hug. It'd be a damn shame to lose that. She was tall and slender with a head of red hair guaranteed to make her noticed in a crowd. Beth sensed she was normally energetic. She'd have to be to keep up a place like this. But Susie's death had taken the life out of her. Grief added years to her face and stooped her thin shoulders. "I should've checked. I've always checked before when she was sick. I didn't. Why? Why?" She dabbed tears away from her pale green eyes with a soggy tissue. A dozen more were piled on the maple coffee table before her. If it weren't for the narrow lip on it, they would have spilled to the golden shag carpet long ago. Cornelia sat on a blue floral Early American sofa that had turned gray with age. The matching chairs sagged in the middle. Beth had to sit on the edge to keep her butt from falling through. She noticed Russ did the same. But as old as the décor was, the apartment was spotless. It sparkled and shined, offering a haven against the tragedy that had occurred just beyond its doors. "It was so hard to not scoop her up when I found her. It broke my heart to leave her in with all the trash, but I watch enough Law and Order and CSI to know I'd mess up evidence. And I want this bastard caught. You hear me?" "Yes, ma'am. We do, too." Russ rested forearms on knees and leaned forward. "We're going to be talking to all your tenants." She clutched her fist to her mouth and stared into space. "I'd hate to think one of them..." She nodded. "You talk to them all. This early in the morning they should all be home. I'll even give you the master key if you need it." "That won't be necessary, ma'am. But if you could tell us something about her parents." Beth poised pen over paper while she waited for Cornelia to start. The woman shrugged. "Seemed like a nice little family. Not so much as a peep out of them. No complaints. They've had their share of arguments like just about every couple here. Tommy didn't like Christina's work. I heard them arguing about that just the other day." "What'd she do?" Russ asked. Cornelia turned up her palms. "Said she was a waitress, but I don't know where. I've never seen her at any of the places around here. And she worked odd hours. I heard him say they could live without that kind of money." She flicked her gaze to Russ. "I'm not an eavesdropper, if that's what you're thinking. The walls are thin." He offered her a smile. Beth knew he blessed thin walls, especially at times like this. "And Tommy? Where does he work?" "Night Manager. 7-Eleven down the road. Should be home by now. I don't know where Christina is. Do you think someone took her, too?" "I don't know, ma'am, but we'd like to start talking to those tenants now." As Russ stood, so did Cornelia. "You do that. I'll keep a watch out and let you know when Tommy gets home." "We'd appreciate it. Just don't say a word to him about what's happened." Decision warred in her face. Finally, she nodded. Beth and Russ joined the uniformed officers in the hallway. "Okay, just as we planned. We'll meet in the middle." Russ waited until the other two disappeared into the stairwell then swept his arm before him. "After you." From the outside, the Sunshine Apartments complex looked like it had seen better days. Inside told a different story. Cornelia cared. The halls were immaculate. No peeling paint, no dirt on the floors. A glimpse into the apartments revealed the same thing. Whatever money she'd taken in, she put back into her building, not herself. The place circled a small, grassy courtyard. Barbecue grills sat at opposite ends of the rectangle. A swing set, monkey bars, and covered picnic tables made up the rest of the area. It was Cornelia's attempt to bring her tenants closer, to make them feel not so alone. Beth hoped that in doing so she hadn't signed Susie's death warrant. The poor woman would never forgive herself. All the nice touches that made her building special would disappear. Her guilt could make her bitter. Her tenants would lose a lot. So would she. The story was essentially the same. Just about everyone knew Susie or had seen her playing in the courtyard. She was a sweet kid. There was nothing remarkable about the parents or the family. No one had seen her for a couple of days. No one thought anything about that. Kids get sick. Susie was a kid. No one new lived in the building. No strangers were hanging around. No one could remember if they'd seen the parents the last few days. Beth could write a script on what they heard. Judging from the look on Tavares' face when they met up, he and his partner had gotten a similar story. "Now what?" Before Beth or Russ could answer, they heard footsteps scuffing up the stairs. Cornelia burst into the hallway. "He's home. They both are. They look a mess." "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Russ skirted past her and down the stairs. Beth followed, spitting instructions to Tavares as she went. "We want to bring them in for questioning. Keep it simple and keep them separate at the station. Remember, it's just questioning. If either lawyers up at any time, let someone know. Don't ask them questions." She heard shouting the second they stepped onto the first floor—the Carsons arguing. A crash followed—broken glass. A lamp thrown or someone thrown into it? Russ stood to one side of the door, weapon drawn. Beth and the two officers mirrored his position on the opposite side. It paid to be cautious. You never could tell what you were walking in to. "Look what you did, Chrissie!" Another crash. Russ rapped his fist against the door. "Police!" Nothing. "It was you," a woman shrieked. "You caused this, you son of a bitch!" Russ pounded again and again announced their presence. No response. "Bitch! Whore! Filthy whore!" The crack of flesh against flesh punctuated each word. A muffled squeak of pain followed. "Don't run away from me. When I'm finished with you, no man will want you!" "Bust the door." Beth jerked her head at Tavares. "No." Cornelia rushed forward, key extended. "I have a master. Please use it." Tavares slipped it from her fingers, seated it in one thrust, then whipped the door open. "Police!" Russ and Beth rushed in. The wife had pinned her husband up against the green plaid couch with a butcher knife. "Put the knife down, Mrs. Carson. Now!" The woman did as Beth ordered. It fell to the carpet with a muffled thud. Tears gouged canyons in Christina's makeup. The imprint of her husband's hand blazed on each cheek. Mascara smeared the hollows beneath her eyes. "She killed my baby." Tommy Carson's hand shook as he jerked it toward his wife. A snarl twisted her face as Christina Carson lunged for her weapon once more. Beth kicked the knife out of her reach. Russ hauled her back and forced her face down over the couch. Her skimpy top lifted, revealing a line of bruises that drifted into her pink spandex tights. Tavares whipped out the cuffs and secured her. Tommy Carson was next. "What are you cuffing me for?" "Domestic disturbance. Spousal battery." Tavares clicked the cuffs in place. Then he and his partner led the couple to the waiting patrol car. As Russ did, Beth scanned the living room and adjacent rooms for something, anything, in plain sight they could use as evidence. Other than the shattered remains of two lamps, a coffee table on its side, and cushions hurled across the room, there was nothing. The apartment was clean, neat, orderly. Russ craned his neck down the hallway. "Probably wouldn't hurt to see if there are any other children." "Oh, there aren't," Cornelia said from the doorway. Pure venom clouded his gaze. The woman's innocent help had screwed their chances for a further look inside the apartment. Fortunately, Cornelia couldn't see Russ' face. He pasted on a cheery smile and turned. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. We appreciate your help." Pride puffed up her chest. "Always glad to do my part." He thanked her again as they left the apartment, then again when they left the building. The sight of the body bag being loaded into the coroner's van silenced them. Stifling a sniffle, Cornelia ducked inside. Russ glanced to the sky. "Haze has burned off. Looks like it's going to be a pretty day." They'd never enjoy it. "Coroner or station?" he asked. "Coroner's. It'll give Tavares time to book the Carsons for domestic dispute." "Not to mention give them a chance to stew and fret and maybe give each other up." He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and shut out the growing light. "Oh, yeah." Definitely, yeah. * * * * Beth and Russ passed the drive back to the station in relative silence except for a brief conversation about nothing in particular when they pulled in at a Starbucks for coffee. The quiet helped order their thoughts after their visit to the morgue. The death of a child was too personal. They had to deal with it inside themselves, then anesthetize their emotions before they could treat it like any other case. Maybe going to the coroner's hadn't been such a good idea. Seeing the child on that cold steel table...well, Beth would be lucky if she didn't have nightmares for weeks, if not forever. Saying it was all part of the job didn't work today. The best she could do was deal with it now before the next one. And, sadly, there would be a next one. Their captain waved them to his office the second they stepped through the door. Mack Kinsey spit instructions into the phone while he pointed them to the olive drab vinyl sofa. As always, his thinning hair refused to be tamed. Wisps of it sprung from the top of his head. By habit or maybe of necessity, Mack rubbed his hand over it. The strands obeyed...for ten seconds. The cushion split as Beth sat. She turned it over and saw an even bigger tear. Still talking, the captain pulled a roll of duct tape from his desk and set it on top of the stack of folders on the edge. Using the pocketknife Russ fished from his trouser pocket, Beth cut two lengths of tape and repaired the rips. As she sat, another section gave way. Beth ignored it. All the duct tape in the world wouldn't save this old relic. Mack tossed the phone in its cradle and leaned back. The beginning of a paunch peeked from his rumpled white shirt. A brown, striped tie hung loosely around his neck. Shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. "Just get back from the morgue?" "Yeah." Russ parked his forearms on his knees. "Pictures will be ready by tomorrow morning. Kid was black and blue wherever you looked. It's enough to make you want to throw up." Mack rocked his chair. "Exact cause of death?" "Ruptured spleen. Blood just poured out of her when the doc cut her open." Beth longed to shut her eyes against the image. "Beating was severe and lasted over the course of several hours. Broken arm, two ribs, skull fracture. No evidence of molestation. She had crescent-shaped indentations on the underside of her arm where the person grabbed her. She hadn't been dead long. Less than an hour. She'd been in the dumpster longer. Probably unconscious." Beth prayed she'd been unconscious at that point. This was too horrific as it was. But something about a dying child crying in a pile of trash made it worse. Mack grimaced and stared at the papers piled on his desk. "What could anyone, much less a three-year-old child, have done to deserve being beaten to death? I'll never understand it." "Me neither." Russ let his head droop. "How does someone cross that threshold from spanking to...that?" Beth pulled in a ragged breath. "I'm ready for the parents." Mack popped his chair upright. "The father's in Room A. The mother's in B. They've been read their rights, but neither has asked for an attorney. And they haven't stopped crying since they were brought in. They look like they're barely out of their teens. They're also plenty scared. You might want to use that to your advantage." "Well, let's get this over with." Russ stood and opened the door in one fluid motion. "We'll start with the father first." Beth followed him to the interrogation room. They'd tag team questioning, feeling their way as they went. She always thought of it as a science, trying to pick up on the subtle clues body language sent. Sometimes a person responded better to Russ than her or vice versa. It was up to them to pick up on that without conversation, to make the switch seamless. Oddly enough, their technique came second nature. It wasn't something they'd planned. It just was. They were damn good partners. Russ swung the door open. Once Beth stepped through, he shut it behind him. Tommy Carson turned a bloodshot gaze their way. Tears still made rivers down his cheeks. His nose was red and puffy. A pile of tissues lay to one side. He slumped at the table, a can of grape soda clutched in his shaking hands. His black hair hung almost to his shoulders and framed a face that looked like its major concern should be acne, not murder. With a jerk of his head, Russ motioned the uniformed officer on guard from the room. He dragged a chair from the table, scraping the metal legs against the floor. Tommy winced at the squeal, then again when Russ sat and scooted the chair in place. Arms crossed, Beth propped herself in the corner. "Mr. Carson, I'm Detective Salk and this is my partner, Detective Manning." "Where's my mom and dad? I called them an hour ago. Where are they? I want them here." "I'm sure they'll be here soon. Care for another soda?" He dropped his head and shook it. His hair hid his face. "How old are you, Tommy?" "Twenty-one." Beth resisted the urge to shake her head. "Want to tell us what happened?" Sobs shook his shoulders. "She did this. This is all her fault." "You're saying your wife killed your daughter?" "It's her fault. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for her." Russ slid the pad of yellow legal paper in front of him, and clicked his ballpoint pen into ready action. Silence, except for the sound of the pen clicking. Ready, not. Ready, not. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Like a metronome setting the pace of what was coming. Tommy watched him from under his brows, seemingly frozen by Russ' play with the pen. "Tell us exactly what happened." "Where were you last night, Tommy?" Beth asked. "I worked all night. I work nights at the 7-Eleven." "Anyone see you?" He jerked his head up. "A lot of people saw me. What are you trying to say? That I'd do something that horrible to my little girl?" He buried his face in his arms and sobbed once more. "It was that bitch who did it. All she had to do was quit. She's no good. Never was. I shoulda listened to my mom." "Quit what?" Russ leaned back, elbows perched on the arms of the chair, open and ready for confidences. Beth stayed where she was. "Quit hitting her? Did the two of you fight and she took it out on Susie? Was watching her too much and she cracked?" "No, but she may just as well have. Whore. Damn whore." He parked his elbows on the table, dug his fingers into his stringy hair, and leaned forward. Russ twirled the pen through his fingers like a miniature baton, holding Tommy's attention once more. "Your neighbors say they hadn't seen Susie in several days. They thought that was rather unusual since she played outside a lot. Was she sick?" Tears splashed to the brown Formica tabletop. "Chrissie said they took her." "Who?" "The men Chrissie works for." Beth tightened the hold she had on her arms. "Are you saying she was kidnapped?" He nodded. Russ clicked his pen. "Then why didn't you report it?" Tommy jerked his head up. Anger, grief, and frustration blazed in his eyes. "Because they said they'd kill her. What else was I supposed to do? All they wanted was for Chrissie to keep working for them. At that point, I didn't give a damn what she did any more." "She turning tricks?" Beth asked. "Yeah. And here I thought she was waitressing. Then I saw what they'd done to her. I don't know how she hid it from me for so long. She said her clients like it rough and they pay very well. Said it wasn't so bad. It was just sex. I swear I wanted to beat her myself when I found out." "And did you?" He shot a glare Beth's way. "No," he pushed out through clenched teeth. Russ tossed the pen to the paper and laced his hands before him. "So, you told her to quit." Tommy whipped his attention back to Russ. "Damn straight I did." "And did she?" The fight went out of him once more. "She tried. They told her she was in until they said she was done. They had wealthy clients they couldn't afford to lose. She refused. She said they snatched Susie and forced her. And they still killed my little girl." Sobs overtook him once more. Beth and Russ exchanged a look. She shoved away from her perch and slipped silently into the chair beside him. "Tommy, do you know who they are?" He shook his head. "Chrissie never said names. Swore she didn't know." "Then how did she work for them?" Russ asked. "I don't know. I didn't get into the details with her. When I found out, I was pissed. Then, when they took Susie, I was so scared. All I wanted was to have her back. Chrissie could've fucked the brains out of every guy on the street and I wouldn't have cared. I wanted my little girl back. Then I was going to leave her lying, whoring ass." He spit out a sound that rang of a hollow laugh as he stared at the far corner of the room. "She said she did it for us, for the money, and just got trapped. All the money in the world wouldn't have made me do this." He shifted his gaze to Russ. "If they had to kill someone, why not her? Why Susie? Why? She was just a little girl. A sweet, little girl." Chin quivering, he dissolved into grief once more. They weren't going to get any more information out of him for now. At least they had something to go on. She and Russ stood as one. "We'll be talking to your wife now," Russ told him. Tommy nodded. "I want my mom and dad." "If they're here, I'll have them brought back to you." They left him crying over his soda. After brief instructions to the officer guarding him, they went to the interrogation room where the mother waited. Christina Carson's long, blonde hair drifted down her back, over her shoulders. It was straight, shiny, and looked genuine rather than a bottle job. She glanced up when Russ and Beth walked in, confirming Beth's theory. Blonde eyebrows curved over bloodshot blue eyes. Devoid of makeup, she looked no older than fourteen. Acrylic nails lay on the table before her. She'd chewed them off. A glimpse at her wrists revealed bruises. Russ pointed at them. "How'd you get those?" She drew her arms into her sleeves and tucked them on her lap. She kept her gaze on the pile of fake nails while they sat down. "I'm Detective Salk. This is Detective Manning. We're investigating your daughter's murder. You want to tell us what happened?" "She was killed to...to punish me." "By who?" Beth asked. "He'll kill me if I tell...or worse," she squeaked out. How much worse could it get? Her child was dead. Her marriage and reputation ruined. From the glances they'd gotten, it was clear she'd been beaten and bound as well. Beth was guessing they could probably add rape to the list. Russ' chair groaned as he leaned forward. He laced his fingers before him on the table and tried to catch Christina's gaze. The young woman took the bait. "Then let's start with how this happened in the first place." He adopted the same tone he used on his daughters when they'd done wrong—calm, stern, demanding. The few times Beth had witnessed it, the girls had spilled their guts in record time. Russ was counting on Christina's youth to give him an edge. "One of your tricks take her?" Instead of jerking her head up in outraged denial, she buried her face in her hands. "What happened? Did he want more than what you were willing to do?" Her arms tensed. Sleeves slipped, revealing a circle of bruises around each wrist. "Or did he promise you a better life? Riches beyond your dreams? The only thing holding you back was your little girl. Problem eliminated." He snapped his fingers. Christina jumped. Russ leaned closer. "Or maybe you did the eliminating." "No!" She jerked upright. Beth fought a victory smile. "Then why not tell us what happened? Who did this? Or do you want this to happen to another innocent family?" She dropped her gaze once more and started to bite what was left of her nails. This time she didn't bother to hide her wrists. "Does he pay you good for that?" Beth pointed to the bruises. Christina sighed. "More money than I could earn in two months of waiting tables for just one time." "But the pain." She shrugged. "It's not so bad. I just zone out and think of all that money. I'd do it forever if—" "Tommy hadn't found out and threatened to leave if you didn't quit." "He didn't understand that I did it for us. But I love him. I did what he asked." Russ parked his elbows on the arms of his chair and rested his chin on the points of his fingers. "But the man you worked for refused to accept it." "He had clients. Obligations to fulfill. He said I was too perfect. Too much in demand. Said his boss would never allow it. I still refused. Next thing I know, they've got Susie." Tears slipped in a steady stream down her face. She stared unblinking at the table. "He said she was with his boss. That she'd be all right as long as I kept working. I did what he asked. Everything he asked. Why did..." She slowly shook her head as she let the sentence die. "Who is this man? Do you know his name?" Beth asked. She shrugged. "I only heard someone call him by it once when I first met him. I don't remember. I think it started with an 'R.' That's all I know. I don't know who his boss is." Beth leaned forward. "An R...like Robert or Randy?" Christina nodded. "Yes, Randy. That was it." A chill seeped into Beth's bones. It was all she could do to keep from shivering. Randy...as in Randy Calvins. They'd need to pull some mug shots. Let Christina ID him. They'd have to be cautious and let her feed them the information, not let any hint or suggestion on their part screw this up. That cold feeling settled in her stomach, twisting it in knots. She had to stay calm, professional. Yet her brain had shut down. All she could think about was the man she believed was responsible for Rick's death was almost in her hands.

Chapter 3

"Slow down." Beth stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Russ. A frown knit her eyebrows. Hands splayed onto her narrow hips. "What's the problem?" "I think you know." Who did she think she was fooling? She could act innocent and confused all she wanted to. He knew better. "What?" She turned up her palms. "I'm only pulling mug shots so she can ID this guy." "Just make sure you pull enough." "I'll pull the whole damn book. The answer's still going to be the same. You know it and I know it." "You fed her the name, Beth. Worse than that, you emphasized his name. Of course, she snagged onto it." Four steps brought her into his space. Determination blazed from her eyes and her scent surrounded him. Russ didn't have time to brace himself. His body surged to life. "We know it's Randy Calvins. It's the same M.O." He slowly shook his head and fought the urge to cup her face, to trace his thumbs over her cheeks, to draw his lips over hers. He pulled in a steadying breath. It didn't help. "The prostitution, yes. But murder?" "Maybe the stakes were never this high before. And why not murder? Rick was undercover to go after him. Rick's dead. Who else could have done it?" She had a point. "Possibly, but it's still a big stretch to pin this on him. And if it is Calvins, you're off this case." "The hell I am." She pivoted on her heel and continued her march. Russ let her go and his body slowly returned to normal. Squaring his shoulders, he returned to Christina Carson. She sat much as he'd left her, chewing her fingernails. He glanced at the pile of acrylic nails. That's what had made the crescent-shaped marks on Susie's arm. He'd beat money on that. "Detective Manning is pulling some mug shots for you to look at." He slipped back into his chair. "Let's clean these up so there will be some room." He pushed an empty ashtray her way. Christina raked the nails into it. He'd get them to the lab for comparison. "Christina, how did you meet this man?" She shrugged. "He sorta found me in the grocery store. I was adding things up as I shopped because I didn't want to go over my budget. He told me he could make sure I'd never have to worry about money ever again." "And you jumped at the chance." Feed her, bait her, make her defensive. That's what seemed to make her spill her guts the fastest. "No. It took about a month. Every time I went to the store, he was there." You could've gone to a different store. Russ knew the answer to that one. His proposition intrigued her. She'd just needed a little persuading. "So, finally you went there without Susie, and took him up on his offer." She nodded. Since he'd returned to the room, she'd yet to meet his gaze. "Were you shocked by what he wanted you to do? Prostitution? A nice girl like you?" Tears fell to her lap. "It was just sex." Russ pointed to the ring of bruises around her wrists. "Doesn't look like just sex to me." What kind of money could make something like that worth it? Beth breezed through the door and set the heavy book of mug shots on the table. "Here you go, Christina. Just look through these and tell us when and if you see someone who looks like this man." Christina stared at the book. Fear bought her silence. Hell, maybe the money did, too. And Beth... Russ tried not to look at her. It wasn't easy. He caught glimpses of her from the corner of his eye. She looked like she was ready to crawl onto the table and turned the pages. Too anxious. Much too anxious. Not that Russ blamed her. He wanted to catch Rick's murderer just as much as the next guy. But even if Christina Carson ID'ed Randy Calvins, that still didn't link him to Rick. Only suspicion and speculation did that. They still needed hard evidence. If they had that, Calvins would've been locked up a year ago. Christina's hand shook as she reached for the book of mug shots. Russ knew the outcome before she started. She was going through the motions. There was no way she'd give the guy up. Still, she gave a good show of looking. She passed her gaze over each photo before moving to the next page. Russ focused full attention her way, looking for the slightest hint she'd found the perp. A hesitation, the lift of a brow, breath held for that fraction of a second—anything to give them a lead. They got nothing. As she came to the last page, Christina shut the book and leaned away on a sigh. "Sorry." Beth reached for it. "I'll get another." "Don't bother." She shuttered her gaze. "I just don't think I can give you what you want. The pictures make it too hard to tell. I'm not so good at recognizing faces." Russ snidely wondered if she'd have better luck recognizing their penises. "We could put a wire on you the next time you're scheduled to meet him." He knew the answer to that one, too. She shook her head. "There won't be a next time. He said my services would no longer be required. He said the boss wanted me gone." Beth braced herself on her knuckles. "Any information you can give will help." Christina shrugged. "I got nothing." "Maybe a night in jail will refresh your memory." That brought her head up. "I didn't do—" "There's still the issue of domestic violence, Christina." Beth's voice was calm, measured. No trace of her frustration or disappointment showed. Russ gave her extra points for that. This had to be killing her. "We can't let something like that go. If we hadn't come in when we did..." She let the sentence hang. Christina pressed her hands to her face. Russ slid his chair back. "Anyone you want to call?" "I got no one. My parents threw me out when I got pregnant." And with those words, a hint of the harder edge of Christina Carson came out. She slapped her palms to the table. "Okay, so I enjoyed it. All of it. I couldn't get enough of it. The more I did it, the more I wanted. "If Tommy hadn't interfered, none of this would've happened. He just didn't understand what was at stake. We're talking fifty thousand a movie. That's how good it was going to get." "Until Tommy stuck his nose in your business." Russ scooted to the edge of his chair as he laced his fingers on the table. "It was only sex. I don't know why he got so tight assed about it." She hiked a shoulder and snorted. "Probably a little something like fidelity. Isn't that supposed to be a part of marriage?" Beth wrapped her fingers around the door handle. "Did you give your daughter to these men willingly?" She shook her head. "No. I told him what Tommy said. I really wanted that money. He said he'd take care of things. Next thing I know, Susie's gone. I was frantic. He said not to worry. We did the shoot last night. Afterward, he gave me the cash and told me I wouldn't be needed any more. I came home and..." Russ tried to keep his excitement down. As hard-core as she tried to be, she was breaking. "Can you tell us where this shoot took place?" A simple question, simply asked. She dropped her head and nodded. Tears splashed to shaking hands held tightly on her lap. "He'll kill me. I know he will." "We'll protect you." Russ clicked his pen into action. "The address." "I don't know it." She pulled a tear-filled look his way. "But I can show you." * * * * Another dead end. The warehouse loft looked like elves had cleaned the place. Nevertheless, the Crime Lab techs were going over it with a fine-toothed comb. If there was anything there, they'd find it. But it still didn't make for a good end to their day. He and Beth sat in the captain's office watching Mack go over everything for what seemed like the tenth time. Russ didn't know what he hoped to find. It was nothing but words. They needed hard evidence. Mack cleared his throat, shuffled the papers together, then set them aside. "I was watching you with Christina Carson, Beth. You fed her Randy Calvins' name. I ought to put you on report. You know better." Beth stared at the wall behind Mack's head. "You're right. You should and I'd understand. I admit my mistake and will take whatever comes of it. I was...over zealous." Mack shifted his gaze to his cluttered desk. Russ fought a smile. Beth's quiet acceptance unnerved the captain, but it also helped diffuse the situation. She'd get by with a verbal warning and that would be that. "Despite Christina Carson's statement, there isn't any evidence to tie Calvins to the child's murder. Forensics found hairs matching her parents and no one else. Not even Calvins." Beth touched the edge of his desk as she tried to catch his gaze. "Then let's haul him in for prostitution." Mack looked up under his brows. "That's for Vice to decide, not us." She eased back. "So...he gets away with murder." He squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I understand how you feel. I want him off our streets, too. But this has got to be a tight case. I don't want him to get away or warn whoever he's working for. Vice will bring him in on the usual stuff. He won't suspect a thing. We'll take it from there." "But, Mack—" "I know how you feel, but you can't let your personal feelings get involved." She drew her mouth into a tight bow. "Obviously, your mind's made up." "I won't budge on this one." "Fine." She slipped from her chair and out the door. It barely clicked on her exit. That alone screamed of the tight rein she held on her emotions. Most people would have slammed the thing until the glass broke. A few had done so in the past. Mack heaved a sigh. "Talk to her, Russ. Help her understand." "Right. But who's going to help me? I still like the mother for this murder. Any word on whether the nails match?" "Not yet. I'll let you know the second I do." Russ shoved himself to his feet and followed Beth's departure. He found her at her desk shooting rubber bands across the squad room, her feet propped on his desk while she lounged in her chair. He couldn't blame her for being upset. No matter how sound Mack's reasons, Russ still didn't like the idea of having to take a back seat here any more than Beth did. He nudged her foot. "How 'bout taking some of that anger out on a real target?" "The range?" "Yeah." She shrugged. "Might as well. I can pretend my target is Randy Calvins. That's about the closest I'll ever get to nailing him. Still on for dinner tonight?" "My mouth's watering just thinking about it." Beth snapped her chair uptight. "Then what're we waiting for?" She pulled a brown leather gun case from the bottom of her drawer—Rick's .38 Smith & Wesson. It was the only thing of his Beth had kept. Everything else went to his family. And the only time Beth used it was when she was pissed. But she sure didn't let it show on the range. Each shot was calmly made and dead on target. Conversation was nonexistent as they fired one round after another. When an hour had passed, they simultaneously cleaned their weapons and left. Thirty minutes after that, they were on her living room couch sharing the contents of three Chinese food containers in front of the television. Work clothes were exchanged for something more comfortable—jeans and a T-shirt for Russ; leggings and red fleece top for Beth. She'd taken down her hair. It fell in shiny waves past her shoulder. As with the range, they ate in relative silence while they watched a rerun of Friends. It was nice, homey...and both slowly relaxed from the tension-filled day. He liked her apartment. He always had. Rick used to refer to it as a private oasis from the crazy world. Russ couldn't agree more. His body was cradled in comfort on a plush sofa that had two matching chairs on either side of it. The suede-like sage color was like sitting on a bed of cool, spongy moss. Glossy end tables the color of cracked ivory with cream-colored lamps of spiral design punctuated the distance between sofa and chairs. All around, the scheme of green and ivory prevailed with touches of blues and violets dominating the bathroom and bedroom. The coffee table was a ready place for dinner or to toss magazines—as long as you didn't mess up the jigsaw puzzle currently in progress. Beth had nested long ago. And the place had certainly been Russ' sanctuary these last couple of months. It beat the hell out of his stark apartment. Russ lifted the corner of the white sheet Beth had tossed over her latest project. This was a doozie—violets on a field of snow. She had the border complete and a good portion of the flowers. All the other pieces were divided by color. He spied a fit and poked the piece in place. "How many puzzles do you have now?" She gave a light laugh and propped herself into the corner of the sofa. "About a million. Want to count?" She jerked her thumb toward the double-doored closet in the adjacent hall. "I'm not that bored." She laughed again. "So, now I'm boring." "Never." He split the wine between their glasses and eased back to admire her entertainment console. Big TV, stereo, DVD—what more could a man want? Who was he kidding? Beth could live in a sty and he'd still want to be with her. She was the calm in the storm. Turmoil didn't exist in this apartment. Here with her, peace reigned. Rick had said that often. But now Russ could truly appreciate that. He picked up the remote to channel surf. From the corner of his eye, he saw Beth turn his way as she tucked her feet under her. "I heard there's an opening in Vice." Russ set the remote aside and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. "Yeah, I heard. They're starting to screen for it. Why? Are you interested?" He sure wouldn't recommend it. At least not until Randy Calvins was off the street. Beth shrugged one shoulder. Her top slipped down her arm, baring her. Russ stared at the exposed skin. She wasn't wearing a bra. His body pulsed to life. This was it. He had to tell her how he felt before his courage left him...again. "I don't think I could work in Rick's old unit," she said. "What about you?" He traced the lines in the sofa fabric. "The pay would be a little better, but the hours would be atrocious. I wouldn't have any guaranteed time with my girls. I need those weekend visits." "Yeah, but the money sure would be nice. Remember, you'll have child support and alimony now." "Don't remind me. Hell, you'd think the amount was generous enough for Marianne to sign the damn papers. I've given her everything she asked for and it still isn't enough." Russ laughed and nudged her knee. "Hey...are you trying to get rid of me and get yourself a new partner?" Beth stretched out as she laughed. "What? And break up the team of Salk and Manning? Never." Her humor faded. "But it could very well be your step up to captain." "And what about you?" She snickered. "I doubt very seriously if I'll ever be captain. I also think Vice wants a man. They already have enough women." The phone blasted out a ring. Beth didn't budge. Russ lifted an eyebrow. She waved her fingers toward it. "Let the answering machine have it. I don't feel like talking to anyone tonight. Except you, of course," she added with a smile. "Of course." Four rings later, it picked up. Russ tensed at the sound of Marianne's voice. "Beth, it's me. Pick up." She stayed where she was. "Oh, well, guess you're not there. Russ never got back to me and he's not answering either. I was hoping you could join us for dinner tomorrow night. Let me know. 'Bye." She gave him a quizzical stare. "Dinner? Why?" He nodded. "My brother deigned to pay a visit. Marianne wanted a family dinner so the girls could see him. She suggested you come, too." "Sounds like a fix-up to me. From the tone of your voice, I take it you don't approve." No, he didn't. The very idea of her going out with any other man gnawed at his gut. But Teddy? Hell, no. "He and I have never really gotten along. Frankly, I'm surprised he called. Unless it's a holiday at our parents' house, we never see each other. Most times not even then." "Strange." She twirled one strand of her long, brown hair around her finger as she stared into space. "He's the doctor, right?" "Finishing his residency now." "Hmm...what's he look like?" Russ didn't like the turn of this conversation one bit. "He's short, pudgy, bald, and has a wart on the end of his nose." Beth tossed back a laugh. "Obviously, you don't want me to have anything to do with him." "No. I don't." "Why?" She nudged his thigh with her toe. Russ caught her foot. He wanted her. He didn't know if the time was right or if he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but he'd be damned if he stood by quietly and watched another man have her, especially Teddy. He traced each toe through her sock, never once breaking eye contact. "Because he's not good enough for you. Because..." Tongue-tied, he danced his fingers up the inside of her leg. Beth's mouth parted on a gasp. He tensed, afraid of what she'd say, what she'd do; that he was ruining the best partnership in the history of his career. "Russ...I..." Mouth still parted, she reached for him. He bent closer to cover her body with his, to taste those lips that called to him. She felt the same way as he did. The revelation alone made him ache for contact with her, to seal this bond they had with their bodies. Another call from the phone went ignored. He breached the bottom of her fleece top and swooped his hands beneath. Beth sucked in a breath as his fingers found what he sought. Her nipples were like BBs—hard, round. "Yes." Her breathless response was swallowed by the second ring. She nuzzled her face to his, then found his lips. Russ slipped inside her mouth with a muffled groan, dancing his tongue with hers as the phone nagged a third time. He pressed forward, rubbing his length against her crotch. Beth rocked back, offering more. A fourth ring. He dove his hand into her leggings and panties, cupping her ass as he lifted her hot core against his erection. She moaned beneath his lips and rubbed against the ridge, pulling a groan from deep within his throat. The answering machine clicked on. "Beth, it's Mack. Pick up." They froze, then slowly peeled away their lips from each other. Mack muttered a curse. "All right, then. Just thought you and Russ should know. Christina Carson was found dead in her apartment about thirty minutes ago."

Chapter 4

Beth still burned hot and ready where their bodies had touched. It took every ounce of concentration she possessed to breathe normally. She didn't know whether to bless Mack's interruption or curse it. It had happened so quickly, with no hesitation on either of their parts. Long-simmering emotions had finally caught fire. She laughed to herself. Talk about exaggeration. But that's how she felt—on fire. She glanced at Russ' profile in the dark car. Passing headlights illuminated his features in bright, but brief light. Did he regret what they'd almost done? He was so quiet, fully focused on the job ahead of them. Beth scolded herself. That's how she should be. Yeah, they'd crossed a big line tonight, but she couldn't let that affect her work. They'd both come too far in their careers to screw up now. Still... "When's the last time you had sex, Russ?" He eased to a stop at the intersection and waited for the light to turn green. "Three or four months ago. It had become such a rare event you'd think I'd have recorded it for posterity's sake. And, yes, I'm damn horny. And, no, it wasn't because you were there and convenient. And, no, it's not because I have a subconscious need to reaffirm my life after having to deal with death all day." Beth had to laugh. "Reading my mind again?" He gave her a lingering glance. "I only wish I could right now. It's been a damn long time for you, too." She didn't honestly know how to answer. It'd been over a year since she'd been with a man. God knew she was ripe for it. But there was a friendship and partnership on the line here. They couldn't jeopardize that for sex alone, and Russ wasn't free yet to offer more—if he intended to do so at all. But a line had been crossed. Could they ignore it and go on? How could they when he kept looking at her like he wanted to have her right then and there? Just the thought of him ripping off her clothes and pounding that rock hard erection into her made her throb. That would be a good one for the six o'clock news—"Cops Found In Flagrante Delicto At Intersection." A toot behind them alerted them to the green light. Russ executed a left turn and kept his eyes forward. This really wasn't the time to talk this out. The job had to have priority. But once they were finished... God, she needed the relief only he could give. The Sunshine Apartments complex was swarming with activity by the time Russ and Beth arrived. Mack paced a nervous path in front of the building while he waited for them. Cornelia Hudson stood near the entrance wringing the edges of a tattered tissue while tenants surrounded her to offer comfort. The coroner was also on the scene. Mack rushed the Toyota pickup before Russ could come to a complete stop. Beth jumped out a second later, a million questions perched on her lips. "M.E. have a time of death yet?" "Not more than two hours ago," Mack said. Russ and Beth fell in step beside him as they strode toward the building. "And, let me guess—no one saw or heard a thing," Russ said. "Nothing." So much for thin walls. "They didn't see anyone come in or go out. Didn't hear anything." Beth gave a nod to Cornelia as they passed. "How was she discovered?" "Killer left the door wide open. Neighbor got curious and went in. Then promptly threw up at the scene. Not that I can blame him. I've never seen so much blood before." They paused at the entry to the apartment. The stench of blood reached them in the hallway. Russ reached for his ever-present pack of gum and discovered he'd left it in his other jacket. Mack stepped in their path. "I've got to warn you. It's bad." "Yeah, we can already tell." Russ sidestepped him and went in. "Carl's got some Vicks with him. You might want to use it," Mack called over his shoulder. Sounded like good advice to Beth. She normally didn't need to smear Vicks under her nose unless they were working on a decomp. But, considering the fact she was already pretty close to gagging... It looked like Russ felt the same way. He snagged the M.E. as he walked to the main crime scene in the bedroom. Carl squatted next to his box of "toys" and handed out the jar. Russ wiped a small glob under his nose, then tossed the jar to Beth and walked on. Beth followed suit, handing the Vicks back to Carl as she and Mack brought up the rear. The poor man looked like he hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. "Rough day, huh?" she asked. "Not one of my best," he said. "That wasn't a good way to end it." He jerked his head toward the bedroom. Beth edged up behind Russ. He'd moved no farther than the doorway. She peeked around his shoulders then wished she hadn't. Carnage is what it looked like. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the walls, soaked into the mattress, dripped on the floor. Christina Carson was tied spread-eagle to the bedposts. A gag tied in her mouth had muffled her screams. Her nude body was a mass of cuts and slashes, ending with a cut across her throat that nearly severed her head. Arterial spurt painted the walls. Beth pressed a fist to her mouth. She'd never seen a more vicious attack in her career, not even in training photos. The Vicks wasn't helping much. She coughed back bile. "She's... I'm surprised she didn't choke to death on the gag," she said, pointing. "Nope." Carl squeezed forward. "She exsanguinated. Cut to the throat did it. The rest are just—" "He systematically tortured her. He wanted her to suffer." Hands on hips, Russ surveyed everything in a single glance. "There's got to be evidence in this mess somewhere. A fingerprint. A footprint. Hair of some kind. Other blood. You don't cut someone like this without cutting yourself." "I don't know." Carl blotted the sweat from his face with a handkerchief, then shoved it in his pants pocket. "Whatever he used was very, very sharp. Thin blade. I don't think it was your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill butcher knife killing. This was thorough and planned out." Even finding her, so it seemed. Beth walked through the living room. No sign of struggle. No sign of forced entry at the front door. Christina knew her killer, trusting him enough to let him in. "Where's her husband?" she asked. Mack wandered around the periphery of the room, searching for anything of relevance. "Parents picked him up after the judge released the two on their own recognizance. Got a little ugly. Christina caught a cab and presumably came here." "What time was that?" She pulled out her notebook. "Around three. Judge wanted them gone. Didn't want them clogging up the jails for a minor domestic dispute." "I'd hardly call pulling a knife on your husband minor." "Believe me, if he'd been the one waving the knife, I'd have his ass in custody right now despite his alibi. I'm going to let you two have the scene while I talk to some of the neighbors." Beth wished him luck on that one and started making notes. * * * * Russ admired Beth's professionalism. He wandered around in a daze like a green recruit. All he could do was think about how good Beth felt, how much he wanted her. He resented the intrusion just as much as he resented the constant vibrations from his cell phone. Marianne was calling...yet again. It seemed he talked to her more since they'd split than in all the years of marriage. She was constantly calling about everything from how the girls were doing to something as stupid as what wattage of light bulb she should use for the ceiling lamp. And she dangled her promised signature on the divorce papers like a carrot. Russ was just about at the end of his rope. He couldn't understand. She wanted this divorce as much as he did, so what was the problem? Screw it. It was bad enough letting his want of Beth distract him from work, he damn sure wasn't going to let his problems with Marianne drag his attention away. Pulling in a deep breath, he slipped on his mask of professionalism and dug into the job. If Beth could do it, so could he. Unless she didn't want him as much as he wanted her. Russ brushed that notion aside. Judging from how she'd clung to him, wrapped around him, melted her mouth to his, it was just a matter of time. If they even had a hope of continuing as partners once that happened, they needed to get a handle on things right from the beginning. He studied the crime scene with a fresh perspective. There had to be something in all this mess. Yet everywhere he looked, Russ couldn't find anything—no blood smear, no void in the blood splatter, no tracks. "Did you do a vaginal swab?" he asked the tech collecting evidence. "No sign of trauma," the man said. "She'd been douched. There's no semen on the sheets. Guy must've used a condom, then cleaned her out for extra measure. Can't find the condom, so he probably took it. Two douche bottles were in the bathroom trash. No fingerprints." "Wiped clean?" "Never there." "So he used gloves." The tech nodded. "I'll check the dumpsters in the vicinity." * * * * Noon. They'd been awake for thirty hours. And they'd had as much luck with the investigation of this latest murder as they'd had with the previous one—none. The killer obviously knew how to cover his tracks well and camouflage himself, too. He had to be covered with blood after his attack on Christina. Yet no one in the building or the surrounding neighborhood saw a thing. And he hadn't left a single shoe print in all the blood in the bedroom. Beth glanced Russ' way. He looked beat. Hell, she probably looked just as bad. They'd subsisted on coffee all morning. Now all they looked forward to was a bite to eat and some sleep. "Denny's?" Russ eased away from the curb. If she sat down to wait to be served, she'd fall asleep. "No, I'll whip us up something at my place." He pulled a U-turn back to their apartment building as he stifled a yawn. His cell phone went off again. Beth could hear the vibration from where she sat. It'd been going off steadily for the last six hours. "Good God, Russ, answer the damn thing. Something could've happened to one of the girls." Sighing, he pulled the phone from his pocket. "Salk...Yes...I'm working...We'll be there later." He turned it off and stuffed it away. "Satisfied?" "Something tells me I won't be. I presumed you accepted her dinner invitation for me?" "I sure as hell ain't goin' alone. You're my partner. You're supposed to provide back-up." That got her laughing. Her humor faded when they got back to her apartment and Beth found twenty-three messages on her answering machine, all from Marianne. "I swear she's gone crazy." Russ sank into one of the chairs. "And you expect me to go over there tonight alone?" While he kicked off his shoes, Beth stretched out on the couch and draped an arm over her eyes. "Well, I sure don't feel like socializing. I'm beat. But I'd doubt Marianne will understand that." "Nope. As much as I hate it, I'm just going to have to continue to play nice with her until she signs those damn papers." Beth's laughter this time wasn't funny. "Ain't gonna happen, bud. Not without a fight." "She asked for the divorce, Beth. I'm merely obliging and with great pleasure. I've tried to make that marriage work since the day we said 'I do.' It's been one-way. You know how thrilled I was to have it over—at any cost. I've been miserable and stagnating for ten years. It's time for me to move on and be happy. It's over." "Yeah, I know. She opened the door and you walked through it." "Hell, I ran through it and never looked back." She dropped her arm. "And that brings us back to last night." He snapped to his feet. Before Beth could move, he had her pressed into the couch cushions. He was hard, his intent more than clear. It was all Beth could do to keep from wrapping her legs around him. "What about last night?" His fingers drifted beneath her blouse, spanning her ribs. "Do you have regrets?" "No." She locked her fingers behind his neck. His eyes were bright, his smile deliciously naughty. "Do you?" "Yeah." His smile grew. "That we were interrupted." It felt good and right. Protests she'd formed in her head before didn't seem to matter. They made great friends, wonderful partners, so wasn't this a natural step? Wouldn't this be just as terrific? She met his lips halfway, shivering as he teased his way into her mouth with licks and nips. She shifted beneath him, freeing her legs so she could get him just where she needed. Russ grunted a response and yanked her leg around his waist. The damn telephone rang. They sealed the kiss and butted foreheads. "Ten guesses who." Beth sighed. She didn't need to guess. She knew. Marianne. "Hi, Beth. Just talked to Russ. Confirming with you for tonight. Six. 'kay? Bye." "This isn't going to work, Russ. I'm there for you. I know how miserable you've been. But this can't happen until that"—she jerked her head toward the phone—"is settled. It's only fair—to everyone concerned." He sat back and motioned to his crotch. "You're killing me, you know that." Beth laughed and gave him a playful slug. "You'll survive. Try a cold shower." He hovered over her, hands braced at her sides. "With you?" Don't tempt me. "You're such a man." Another playful slug freed her. "I'll get breakfast now. Bagels okay?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. "I'm not all that hungry. We need sleep more. Come on, just lay down with me." It was sleep. What would it hurt? "We can't sleep on this couch," she said as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm used to it. Been sleeping on a couch for two years now." The confession said more about the sad state of his marriage than anything else he could have detailed. "I meant there isn't enough room." She slid away to her feet, then caught Russ' hand. "Come on. Let's go to bed." A naughty twinkle danced in his eyes. Beth had to laugh. "To sleep, mister." Standing, he pressed close. His heat embraced her. "Can't blame a guy for trying." On tiptoe, she kissed him softly. "Behave yourself now and tonight maybe..." She left the promise open and led him to the bedroom. Russ stopped at the door. If the rest of the apartment was an oasis, this was the pool itself. A mix of blues surrounded him. The queen bed was the center, the pool. A deep blue comforter topped the marshmallow softness. The walls were papered with pale swirls of blue and sand. The light blue curtains swagged down the windows like the inside of a harem master's tent. The dresser, bed frame, chest of drawers, and nightstands all looked like they had been carved from the desert—solid, yet delicate. It seemed a sacrilege to step across the threshold with the stench of thirty hours of work still clinging to him. "I can't go in there. I stink." Beth swiveled her head his way. "You stink too much to lay on my bed, but not my couch?" "Yeah, go figure." He snagged her hand and tugged her in the opposite direction. "I could use a shower. Wash my back?" Laughter bubbled out of her. Her eyes lit up. "Russell Salk, you are incorrigible! You won't be satisfied until we're canoodling." He steered her in front of him. "What's a shower between friends? We'll save water." "I doubt that," she said with a laugh. "What if I promise no sexual intercourse?" He paused at the doorway. "I'd say you were a bald-face liar." "Man of my word." He stripped his shirt over his head, then toed off his shoes. "Are you chicken? Come on. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours." Beth tucked her arms under her breasts. Smirking, she passed a gaze down his body that Russ swore would be his undoing. "So far I haven't seen anything new. How do I know the view will be worth it?" He tossed back a laugh and snagged her around the waist. Anchoring her against his body, he cupped her buttocks and pressed his erection against her belly. "There's a hint." Her smile widened. "Could be a gun in your pocket." "A cannon, maybe. But a gun?" Beth giggled. "Does it have a quick trigger?" He laughed with her. "At this point, it probably does. But you never know until you take a chance." She arched her eyebrow. "No intercourse?" "No sexual intercourse." Beth stepped back and grabbed the edges of her shirt. "Somehow I get the feeling I'm going to get caught on a technicality, but here goes." She knew him well. But he'd gone this far; he wasn't backing down now. His erection throbbed against his jeans, begging for freedom. Seeing Beth drop her bra added to his agony. Hard nipples dotted the tips of dark aureoles. Her breasts hung in perfectly rounded proportion just asking for his hands, his mouth. Russ reached for her. Beth slapped his hand away. "Uh-uh. That would a no-no." He rubbed the sting away. "You're mean." She wiggled her finger toward his jeans. "Show it, Salk." "You first." "All right...together." Zippers whispered down simultaneously. Russ kept his gaze locked with hers as they finished stripping. Her cheeks pinkened. It was all he could do to not say, "Awww," and hug her. "Get that water running." He watched her sweet looking ass while she twisted on the faucets. Her skin was smooth, nicely bronzed on those parts her swimsuit didn't cover and perfectly creamy on those places it did. She stepped into the tub and grabbed the shower curtain. "Coming?" She glanced down at his crotch. Her cheeks flushed more. Realizing her faux pas, she snapped the curtain closed. "I didn't mean that literally," she said from the other side. We'll see about that. Beth shoved her head under the warm spray. She couldn't believe she was doing this. There was no way they were going to leave this shower without sex, not after what she'd just seen. How could any sane woman look at an erection that big and not want it? The man was hung. And obviously not ashamed to show it. Why would he? It was something to definitely be proud of. It bobbed before him like a flagstaff. The rings of the shower curtain clattered as he stepped in behind her. Beth grabbed the bar of soap in her hands and faced him. His teasing smile was gone, replaced by a look Beth could only describe as hunger. She lathered her hands, then dusted the suds across his chest. Russ drew in a sharp breath. Beth pulled her lower lip between her teeth as her gaze fell. He was gorgeous to look at, but then she'd always known that. They'd played too many hands of racquetball for her not to notice. Muscles sculpted him to perfection; not the huge, bulging kind...the lean ones that really made him cut. As a woman she'd appreciated that in the past. As his partner, she often ran interference with those females who couldn't keep away. Now, he was all hers. Using both hands, she traced the plains where his pecs rested. His nipples pebbled into her palms. Beth let the water rinse him clear, then flicked her tongue over them. Russ made a sound somewhat like a cross between a grunt and a groan. She twirled suds into his sparse chest hair, rinsed, then traced the smattering of hair down to his navel before her hands drifted onward. Lather grew in his pubic hair around his hard shaft and his legs to his tight sack. His breath hissed out, followed by a groan. Beth licked her lips and rinsed the soap away. He was too tempting not to taste. She knelt before him. Russ cupped her head. "Uh-uh. Not this time, honey. You don't want to spoil me our first time, do you?" Grabbing her hand, he helped her stand, then tucked her back against him. "Your turn." Beth whimpered with the touch of his soapy hands gliding down her body. He cupped her breasts, then circled them and slid up to her nipples. He massaged the hard tips into his palms while shocks of pleasure speared through her body. "Oh, Russ, please..." He kissed her neck, her shoulder, and back again. One hand caressed her breast while the other drifted lower. Beth parted herself to him, letting her soft cries urge him on. It'd been so long, so damned long. Then he found the spot. Gasping on a moan, Beth looped her hand behind her, around his neck, turning her face and pulling his head down to kiss him. Her lips melted into his, but Russ refused to allow her to turn. He wedged his erection against her back while his fingers circled and circled. Beth broke off the kiss as the feeling spiraled upward. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Every part of her was focused on that tiny spot between her legs. She clutched the towel bar for balance. Russ shifted, capturing her breast with his lips. She cried out, arching into the caress while he suckled deeply. Fire swooped in to claim her. She tensed and let the moment have her, then collapsed into his arms. He held her there, dotting kisses to her head while she recovered. Beth traced circles on his chest. Russ pushed her hand lower. "I want you inside me, Russ," she whispered. "I promised." "But we just—" "Don't make me get out the dictionary, Beth." She wrapped her fingers around his penis and gently stroked. He sagged against the tile on a groan. Beth wiggled her other hand between his thighs to cup him there. Now Russ had to grab the towel bar. She tightened her grip as he thrust into her hand. His body demanded hard and fast, but she was in control now. Long, sure strokes brought him to his knees. Water beat against his chest while he let her have at him. He tossed his head back unrestrained as she pulled the orgasm from him. Tension seized his body. Fingers gripped the edge of the tub in a white-knuckled hold. He arched into the release, then bucked as it came. Panting for breath, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard. "I sure could use that nap now," she said. "You and me both, sweetheart." Twisting off the water, they towel-dried each other and headed for bed. "How are we going to make this work, Russ?" She snapped back the covers. "We just will." She crawled in beside him. "If Mack finds out, he'll split us up." He tucked her into his arms. "We'll just have to be discreet, that's all." How could she do that when she'd be wanting to jump his bones all day? Same way she'd been doing, she supposed. She'd been wanting him for months. This shouldn't be any different, should it? Oh, but it was. Now she knew he wanted her, too. Now she knew how sweet it could be. Well...almost. "I have a box of condoms in the bedside table. Is that enough for now?" A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "It's a start. I'm pretty much a noodle right now. But later..." "Later's good. I'm pretty much a noodle myself." She cuddled closer. Russ breathed deep. "Even with damp hair, you smell so nice. You always smell so nice." He snuggled her into his arms and they fell asleep.

Chapter 5

Marianne Salk fired up the gas grill on the back patio of her sprawling home. As the breeze rustled the towering eucalyptus trees, she brushed a stray tendril of blonde hair from her face and stared absentmindedly across the yard. It was a spacious expanse of green surrounded by a redwood fence. Pyracantha bushes hugged the border, making it a beautiful sanctuary. Marianne could have cared less. Oh, she'd cared plenty when she nagged Russ into buying it. She'd cared again when their shell of a marriage fell apart around her. The house became a different kind of trophy then—a prize she refused to give up. Now it felt like a prison. She'd felt that way from the beginning. She always wanted what she couldn't have. Once hers, the responsibility weighed her down. Then what? There were some things you couldn't, or shouldn't, toss away. In her haste for freedom, Marianne had cornered herself. Russ might have the bills and support payments, but she'd won the girls and all the responsibility that went with them. Pride refused to allow her to let Russ have custody and look what she'd gotten. Certainly not her freedom. She never should have asked for the divorce in the first place. It was a ploy to bring him to heel, and it had backfired miserably. She remembered his stunned expression when she hit him with the demand. He stared at her, unblinking, mouth agape. She expected him to plead for her to change her mind, to promise he'd do whatever it took. He might even clutch her to him and cry. None of that happened. In fact, shock quickly changed to relief. He'd sighed and said, "Fine." And that was it. He moved out in record time. Marianne was the one left stunned. She'd been struggling to regain ground since then, dragging her heels in the hope he'd change his mind. She glanced toward the swing set. It was the first thing moved and assembled when they bought the house. Rosemary and Carrie loved it and the backyard playhouse Russ had started to build. He was still very much a part of their lives. Just not enough for Marianne's liking. The children's laughter, their constant chatter, their fusses—everything was like a thousand spikes being driven against her nerves. Each day was an effort to get through. Thank God for weekends when Russ was here. She couldn't look at the girls without resenting them and what their presence represented. And it was getting worse every day. How bad would it be if she just ran away and never came back? She closed her eyes against tears. Her parents would never let her hear the end of that. She couldn't live with that stigma. Much as she hated to admit it, she had to get Russ back...and fast. Her security and her sanity demanded it. The only sound Marianne could hear on this gentle spring day was the occasional bzzt of the bug zapper in the corner of the back yard. The girls played quietly in their room. She savored these minutes alone. It was time to ease her troubled mind and shattered nerves. All she had to do was tell Russ she was pregnant a third time. They'd had sex within that time frame, hadn't they? She was sure they had. Once he knew, he'd be back in a flash. Duty demanded it. All would be right once more. He was predictably and boringly dependable. A familiar arm slipped around her waist. She sighed. Long fingers pulled her hair away from her neck and soft, full lips nuzzled her exposed flesh. Teddy. Her addiction. Her curse. "I've done nothing but think of you and your hot body all day." He snapped the button on her shorts and shoved his hand inside. Marianne gasped as he tweaked her hard. Her knees trembled. "Ted...not here." "Where are the girls?" he whispered roughly as he rubbed his erection against her rear. "In their room, but—" Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her into the adjoining garage. "Open the van door." "Te—" "Now." He knew how she loved when he demanded. His fingers dug harder against her, never once letting up. Her shorts and panties had slipped to her thighs. She opened the sliding door of the Sienna and started to crawl inside. "No. Just bend over." Marianne braced her hands on the carpet and lifted her hips high. He entered her in one hard thrust. Climax rippled through her. Digging fingers deep into her hips, he pounded himself into her over and over again until he was finally through. Teddy chuckled as he pulled free. He added a hard smack to her butt, then hauled her panties and shorts back into place. "So, what did you find out?" His zipper going up punctuated the question. Her fingers shook as she buttoned the shorts. The encounter was too brief. She still hungered for him. "I'm pregnant." He chuckled. "Maybe we'll have a son this time." Marianne spun around to face him. "Stop it, Teddy." He merely smirked as he always did. "You telling Russ the happy news?" "That I've stabbed him in the back? How can you be so cold-hearted? He was there for me when you ran out." She clenched her fists so tightly her arms quivered. If only she had the courage to hit him, just once. Fear of losing him wouldn't let her. Anticipation of retribution tantalized her. He shrugged. "I'd have come back." Liar. Ted was more self-centered than she was. "When? When Rosemary was four years old? Don't you have any idea what that would've done to my parents? Or me? Or do you even care?" His steady stare was answer enough. All Ted ever cared about was what he wanted. They were a perfect match. "I cared." More lies. When Marianne had discovered she was pregnant eleven years ago, he deemed it her problem. It broke her heart and yet she still crawled back into his bed years later. "You never gave me a chance to show I cared. As soon as I left, you convinced my bleeding-heart brother the baby was his." He walked back outside. She hurried after him. "As soon as you left?" Her laugh was raw, rough. "Teddy, it was two months later!" A flock of birds burst from the trees with her shout. Marianne swallowed hard, then lowered her voice. "Russ was and is a decent man. He cared enough about me and the situation I was in to marry me." Ted snickered. "Of course he did. You told him he was the father. He was too stupid to realize you'd lied." She lifted her chin. "And he's been a good husband." "So good you've decided to divorce." Ted smirked. "So good you fall back into my bed every chance you get." She raised her hand to slap him, then dropped it when his eyes turned a cold blue. He leaned closer. "Passionate in bed, passionate in anger. I'll remember that next time we're together." "Stop it," she pushed through bared teeth. He danced his fingers down her arm. "Is that what you really want? To finally end our very lengthy love affair? Maybe I should seriously consider this woman you've invited over tonight." Marianne fought the jealousy that rose. She hated the idea of Teddy sleeping with anyone else. But she also needed security and that was Russ, not Teddy. If she ever had a chance of getting Russ back, she had to find someone worthy enough to keep Teddy occupied. Once he stopped coming around, Marianne wouldn't have to live with the constant temptation. She was counting on Beth Manning's good looks to seal the deal. "Maybe you should think about Beth," she forced herself to say. Ted tossed back his head and laughed. "Maybe I'll just do that. I'll have a soft, warm body whenever I want again instead of having to wait for our infrequent trysts...Or maybe I'll just have you both. Isn't that what you did...go from Russ' bed to mine and back again? But we know the answer to that one, don't we? Can't risk having Russ see my...love marks." Marianne's eyes filmed over with tears. He was sweet poison. Just the thought of him taking her made her knees weak. "Go ahead and sleep with Beth. See if I care." "You'll care plenty." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Marianne knew she couldn't resist him. As his lips descended on hers, she closed her eyes. Carrie's squeal of excitement from inside the house jerked them apart. Russ was here. "Now's your chance to tell your husband the good news. Maybe this time he'll put it all together and realize who the daddy of his children really is." She hiked up her chin. "Carrie could be his, not yours. So could Rosemary for that matter. After all, I did sleep with him before I slept with you." "Why don't we tell Russ and let him decide?" he asked with a smirk. "Then let's see you explain number three." "Go to hell." "I probably will, but you, sweet thing, will be right there with me." He chucked her under the chin and sauntered into the house. Marianne stared after him. She owed Russ so much. But Ted was her addiction and, try as she might, she couldn't refuse the unexplainable need she had for him. As much as she despised him at that moment, she knew within the week she'd be tumbling into bed with him. She glued a smile on her face and went inside. * * * * Russ scooped five-year-old Carrie into his arms. Her unbridled welcome sure made up for him having to leave Beth's bed. They'd slept longer than intended. He'd woke to the delicious sensation of his hard-on tucked against her butt cheeks. What he hoped would be more bliss in her arms turned into a race to get here in time. She was still trying to pull hair and makeup together when he left. They parted after a kiss that promised much more later on. It was all Russ could do to walk out the door when what he really wanted was haul her back to bed until dawn. Russ had felt the absence of Beth's company the second he got in his truck. Images of the crime scene flashed in his head. This was exactly what he needed—Carrie's unconditional love. He absorbed her giggles, her joy, as he tried to erase the horrible image of Christina Carson's body. Blood. So much blood. He could smell it as if he were still there. Just put it out of your head and try to enjoy the night. Hard to do, even when he'd just said that to Beth thirty minutes ago. This dinner would be anything but fun. He and Beth should have spent their time wrapped in the wonder of each other. He wondered how Marianne would react when she heard the news. Not good. He hated to admit it, but Beth was right. As poor as his marriage had been, he at least owed Marianne the courtesy of finalizing things before they told her. It was best to be discreet for now. But how much longer was he going to have to kiss her ass before she signed? Russ carried his daughter inside and set her on her feet. Marianne's choice of color for the house hit him harder than usual. He chalked his reaction up to the earlier crime scene. Everywhere he looked Russ saw shades of red. She didn't seem to know any other colors...except maybe gray and black. Thank heaven she'd left the walls white. Burgundy and gray throughout the sunken living room mutated to black and silver in the kitchen-dining room. The girls' rooms were pink despite their protests. Rosemary wanted yellow; Carrie asked for purple. Marianne didn't care. They got pink. The worst rooms in the house had to be the master bedroom and bath. Red everywhere—carpet, curtains, bedding. It looked like someone had bled to death in there. There had been nights Russ couldn't even sleep in it. Not that it mattered. During the last couple of years, he and Marianne had slept apart more and more. The sectional sofa was his bed. He couldn't count the times they'd told the girls Daddy had just fallen asleep after a hard day. "Where's your sister?" he asked Carrie. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him further inside. "On the phone with Melissa. She's always on the phone." Yes, he supposed she was getting to that age. He'd hoped they would have at least a couple more years before dealing with adolescence. But kids seemed to grown up faster these days. "Daddy!" Rosemary tore from her bedroom and threw herself into his open arms. The cordless was still clutched in her fingers. She stretched on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Soon she wouldn't have to stretch much—she was getting tall fast. God, how he loved his girls. They were the image of Marianne—blonde and fair-skinned. But their mannerisms, their body structure were one hundred percentage Salk. Russ could see his father in their blue eyes, himself in the way they walked and ran, his mother in the way they moved their hands, and, most annoying, his brother's smirk when they thought they'd gotten the upper hand. Russ glanced up as Teddy sauntered into the room. They acknowledged each other with a barely civil nod. Why Marianne insisted on this dinner was beyond him. They hadn't seen him in ages. Her excuse of a family dinner so the girls could know their uncle didn't wash. Teddy didn't care about his nieces, and Russ sure as hell didn't want him in their lives. But he'd play nice for their sakes and in the hope of getting Marianne to sign those papers. Marianne came up behind Teddy. Russ swore she'd aged ten years since he'd seen her a few days ago. She looked pale and drawn. Shadows underscored her eyes and she moved stiffly. "You all right?" he asked. "You look...off." Her smile, though hesitant, chased away her gloom. "Just a little tired. The grill's hot and ready to go—if you'll do the honors." She craned her neck for a look out the front window. "Where's Beth?" "She'll be along shortly," he said. "It's been a rough day." "What happened?" Ted flopped into the nearest chair and propped his feet on the glass coffee table. "Didn't get your quota of parking tickets?" Russ stared hard at his younger brother. That cocky smirk Russ hated stared back. "If you're smart, you'll keep that comment to yourself when Beth gets here. Like I said—it's been a rough day. The last thing either of us need to hear is your mouth." "Come on, Daddy. We're starved," Rosemary said. He let the girls tug him into the kitchen. Again he regretted letting Marianne talk him into this dinner tonight. Ted had a few admirable characteristics—he was intelligent and witty. He was also an obnoxious bore and, as far as Russ was concerned, that canceled out anything good about him. Where was Marianne's head, trying to play matchmaker? Russ had news for them all—no one was getting near Beth, especially Teddy. Beth was his. "So..." Russ rubbed his hands together. "What's Mom got thawed for dinner?" Rosemary whipped open the refrigerator door. "Steak." Russ stared at the packages of red meat. His stomach turned. All he could see was Christina Carson's mutilated body. * * * * Beth felt like she was driving to her own execution. She hated blind dates, and felt betrayed that Marianne would pull this stunt on her. All she had to do was turn her car around, then call to cancel. It was as simple as that. But she couldn't bring herself to hurt Marianne's feelings, not to mention clue her in to Beth's new relationship with Russ. Still, she paused a few yards from the house, debating on whether or not she could go through with this. After the day they'd had, all she wanted to do was sink into the bathtub and soak her troubles away...with Russ across from her. They'd spent the afternoon wrapped in each other's arms in the most blissful sleep Beth had had in a year. This dinner was definitely not what she needed. She came to a stop in front of the house. Ted Salk had already arrived. His silver Porsche was parked in the driveway. It seemed like an ostentatious display of wealth when parked beside Russ' ten-year-old Toyota pickup. Almost like Ted thumbed his nose at Russ for being able to afford what Russ couldn't. If that was the case, he should feel particularly grand when Beth parked her Geo Storm behind his Porsche. Her gaze roamed the house sprawled over a lush green lot. Gardenia bushes nestled against the charcoal-gray shingles. On a clear day, there was a beautiful view of the Santa Monica Mountains from the back patio. Beth lived only five miles away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the city, so diverse were the neighborhoods. It was a beautiful house. Décor aside, one step from the front hall into the sunken living room was like walking into a dream. Everything was open and roomy, flowing from one room to the next. A shame Russ never got to really enjoy the place. A double shame Marianne didn't have a clue how to bring out the best features of the house. Everywhere you looked was red. It was like being plunked down in a bag of plasma. "Oh well," Beth said with a sigh, and pulled in behind Ted's car. "Not too close. You don't want the son of a bitch suing you for putting a scratch on his baby." She suddenly felt ashamed of herself for pre-judging him. He was, after all, Russ' brother. How much different could he be? He had probably scrimped as long to buy this car as Russ had to buy the house. The least she could do was give him a chance. With another resigned sigh, she walked up to the front door, knocked, then let herself in. "Anybody home?" "On the patio," Marianne called out. Ted waited for her by the sliding glass doors. Beth hated him on sight. Ted might match Russ in looks and height, but that was as far as the resemblance went. Even from this distance, she could see he had an attitude. The look in his blue eyes suggested he was used to having his way with women. Already he appeared to be sizing Beth up for later activity. Beth wanted to slap the leer off his face. Thirty years from now he'd fit the term "dirty old man" perfectly. She could see mothers warning their young children to stay away from "old Mr. Salk." "So this is the lady I've heard so much about." He extended his hand to her. It was all Beth could do to force herself to take it. His long fingers were cool, smooth. It gave her the creeps. "Marianne told me you were pretty, but I didn't realize she meant beautiful." Give it a rest. "Thank you." "And charming, too." He bent to kiss her hand. It was too much. "If your lips so much as graze my skin, I'll bust your teeth out." Ted jerked back. Beth smiled sweetly and slipped her fingers from his. He returned the smile, but his blue eyes remained cold. "Nothing like being put in your place by a beautiful woman." "And don't forget charming." At the grill flipping chicken breasts, Russ fought laughter. His added wink to Beth soothed her tension. At least she had his support. Judging from Ted's greeting and the shock on Marianne's face when love sparks didn't immediately appear, Beth would have to say she'd definitely been set up. Marianne needed her head examined if she thought Ted was the guy for her. She'd have a heart attack when she learned where her interests really were. Beth was half-tempted to tell her. If it weren't for that golden signature of Marianne's that Russ needed, she would have. The rattle of ice cubes pulled Beth from her thoughts as Marianne handed her a glass of ice tea. "Russ said you two had a rough day, but you really look the part. What happened?" She knew they couldn't talk about a case. Why did she keep asking? Ted stretched down on the chaise lounge chair next to Beth. The webbing groaned with his weight. Beth prayed it would break. She'd love to see the wise ass stuck. "The news said a three-year-old girl was murdered night before last and her mother last night. That your case?" he asked. Marianne gasped. "Good God! Who would do such a thing?" Beth sipped her tea. "We don't know." To tell her anything else might jeopardize the case. Gossip traveled fast and Marianne liked to talk. The wrong words twisted could easily end up in the wrong hands—the news media's. "It was really hard on both of us." Russ closed the lid on the grill. "I can imagine so since you refused to cook the steak I'd thawed...not that I blame you," Marianne said. "I don't know how you two do what you do anyway. I sure wouldn't have the stomach for it." "Yeah, well, sometimes I'm not sure I do either." Just thinking about all that blood made her sick. Beth eased into a lawn chair as far from Ted as she could get. He straddled the end of his chair as he leaned forward. "Well, I bet it gets real interesting sometimes. I'll tell you...if you ever stopped me on the road, I wouldn't mind if you frisked me for a concealed weapon." Russ slammed the barbecue fork down so hard it bounced off the grill and stabbed into the lawn five feet away. "Get out!" Ted shrugged and turned his palms up. "What did I do?" "You know damn good and well what you did. Beth is my friend and I won't stand by and let you insult her." "Yeah, and I'm your brother. Doesn't that count for something?" "Not when you behave like an asshole. Now get out." Beth set her drink aside and stood. "Don't bother. I don't care to stay." She paused for a second to bore a glare into Ted, then quietly walked away. Russ called out. "Beth, wait." She kept walking. She didn't want to be here in the first place. The farther she got the better. "Beth, wait!" He snagged her arm just outside the front door and gently pulled her to a stop. "Don't go. Supper's ready. You've got to eat." "I'll eat dry cereal before I go back in there with him." She jerked her head toward the house. He rubbed circles against her arm with his thumb. "I don't blame you for feeling that way. My brother is—" "Devil spawn?" Russ chuckled and shook his head. Beth smiled. "Sorry. I know it's not your fault. I just can't believe Marianne would..." She shook her head. "Never mind. Let's just call this a wasted night and let it go. I didn't feel much like socializing anyway. I'll see you later." "Just hang on. I'm coming with you. I certainly don't want to be here alone with them." He leaned close to her ear. "Besides, I know exactly how I've love to spend the rest of this night." That put a smile back on her face. Looked like that bubble bath daydream might come true after all. The shadow of a little person came up behind him. Carrie tugged at his shirt. "Daddy, my tummy hurts." With a sigh, Russ dropped his hold on Beth and reached for his daughter. They both knew where he'd be spending his night. Beth accepted that. His kids came first. But she longed to be wrapped in his love as Carrie now was. "I'll see you in the morning." Swallowing her emotion, Beth hurried to her car. * * * * Russ watched until Beth's car disappeared around the curve. After tucking Carrie on the couch with her stuffed dog and blanket, he charged to the patio. Neither of them had budged from their chairs, despite the billows of smoke rising from the grill. "I guess you want me to apologize, too." Ted popped the top on a beer and lifted it in mock toast. "What I want is for you to stay as far from Beth as possible." Russ stabbed the charred chicken and tossed it on a plate. "Why? Jealous?" "Why you..." Russ slammed the fork down. One step put him right in front of Ted. Without so much as a blink, he hauled him up by the shirt with one hand and reared back a fist. "Russ, no!" Marianne grabbed his forearm in both her hands and tugged it down. He flung Ted back to his chair. The webbing ripped but held. Too bad. "You're right. He's not worth it." "God, Russ, he's your brother!" "Right now, I'm a little ashamed to admit that." When was he ever proud to own up to the relationship? "And here I thought blood was thicker than water," Ted said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Go to hell." He stood and smoothed his shirt. "That seems to be a popular vacation choice for me lately. I'll take that to mean you'd like me to leave now, so I'll go. It's been a fun evening." Russ slammed the glass door on his departure then spun around to Marianne and shoved a finger in her face. "The next time you get the urge to matchmake—don't." Tears swam in her blue eyes. "I just want Beth to be happy...like we used to be." Russ snorted. "When were we ever happy, Marianne? The only good thing that ever came out of this marriage is my girls." "Daddy!" Carrie shrieked. "I need you!" He skirted Marianne and hurried inside. * * * * Beth studied the selection of frozen dinners in the display case, hungry yet not quite interested in eating. A battered child, her dead mother, the specter of Rick's murderer looming over them, a man impressed with himself, and an overwhelming need for Russ all churned in her head. What she really longed to do was soak her worries away in a hot bath with a glass or two of wine. She doubted even that would be enough to make an empty slate of her mind. "Decisions, decisions," a voice said behind her. Beth looked up. Ted's face was reflected in the glass. "Isn't this a coincidence?" She shrugged a shoulder. "Hey, it's a small world." When she made a move to leave, he caught her arm. "What do you want?" "Only to apologize," he said with a smile. Beth pulled free. "Apology accepted. Goodbye." "Wait." He grabbed her again. "I'm sorta in the dog house right now for being such a jerk. Why not come back with me and we'll start all over?" Beth peeled his fingers away. "Look. I'm tired, hungry, and I've got a headache. I don't feel like visiting. You've apologized, I've accepted. Let's leave it at that." She walked away again. This time he didn't try to stop her. Beth was glad, but she remained tense in anticipation of a confrontation. After purchasing a bottle of white zinfandel, she returned to her apartment for that leisurely soak in a hot tub of bubbles. It did more to relax her than the wine she sipped. The longer she stayed immersed, the more she felt the day's troubles glide away. A book would have been nice to read, but she was too relaxed to get out of the water to search for one. She leaned back and closed her eyes, humming a tune to amuse herself. A doorbell blast shattered her peace. Beth tried to ignore it, but each ring grew longer until the visitor depressed the button with no reprieve. "Damn it. Persistent son of a bitch." She shook the water from her body, wrapped herself in a plush robe of jade green, and stomped to the door. Wet footprints marked her exit. When she looked through the peephole, she wished she'd stayed in the tub. Ted stood there juggling a six-pack of beer and a pizza. Beth whipped open the door. "What now?" He smiled and lifted his arms, as if she couldn't see the burden he held. "I've come to make amends." "Go away." When she tried to shut the door, he wedged his shoulder between it and the frame. "Come on, be a sport. I ruined your dinner. At least let me try to make it up to you. What do you say? Just eat with me and I'll leave." "And if I don't?" "I'll pound on your door all night." "And I'll call the station and have your ass hauled to jail." He leaned into the door. "Aw, come on. Give a guy a chance." He was determined to force his way inside. Well, Beth still had a few tricks up her sleeve. "All right. You win." She motioned him to the sofa. "I'll dress and be right back." Ted popped the top on a beer and sat down. Looked like he was homesteading. Beth had news for him. She dressed quickly in an old gray sweatsuit and tucked Rick's .38 in the waistband. Safety ensured, she walked into the living room just as Ted was returning the portrait of her and Rick to the table. Nosey bastard, too. "I see you started without me." Ted jerked his hand back from the picture. He looked guilty at having been caught snooping. Maybe he had a conscience after all. It still didn't redeem him. "But I'm always ready to share." He slid a beer across the coffee table, bunching the white sheet and scattering puzzle pieces everywhere. Frowning, Beth sat in the chair across from him and tucked her bare feet under her. She ignored the beer. "But I'm not." The insult rolled off him. Ted pointed to the picture. "Who's the guy?" "My fiancé." "Where is he?" "Dead...Look, let's just get this over with so I can get back to what I was doing." "You don't like me. Why? You don't even know me." "I know enough. I recognize your kind." "Stereotyping me, aren't you?" Beth kept her gaze locked on him. "You're an attractive man and you know it. For those people who aren't aware of it, you're happy to bring it to their attention. I would imagine you chose to be a doctor merely for the money and the prestige. You have no interest in helping people. You're used to having women fall at your feet, and you found it a blow to your ego that I didn't." She arched an eyebrow. "How am I doing so far?" He splayed his fingers over his heart. "I'm hurt you could be so judgmental." "I'll bet." He leaned forward, as close to her as he could get without leaving his seat. "What would you say if I told you, you are the most beautiful, most desirable woman I've ever met?" "Nothing." He chuckled, braced his hands on the arms of her chair, and hovered over her, his face inches from hers. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" "I don't think you want to know the answer to that." Ted covered her mouth. His tongue lashed against her unyielding lips. Beth tugged the pistol free. "Come on, baby, let it go." His voice made her skin crawl. "I will if you keep pushing." When he tried to kiss her again, she pulled back. "I have a .38 pointed right at your belly. Do you really want me to 'let it go'?" Ted jerked back like he'd been stung. The gun barrel smiled at him from its secure hold in her hand. "Get out of my apartment. And don't bother me again." Beth watched his eyes. The pistol surprised him, but he showed no fear. She knew that put her at a disadvantage. He might think she was bluffing and try to force her hand. Beth hated the idea of shooting someone, but if he attacked her, she wouldn't hesitate to fire. Perhaps it was the unwavering glint in her eyes that finally made him realize she was serious. He grabbed his beer and walked out the door, slamming it so hard the sound echoed in the hallway. Beth tucked the revolver into the holster hidden under her wasitband. After bolting the door, she picked up the pizza and threw it out the window. Ted would find it on the street when he left the building. Then with her wine and a paperback book, she tucked herself in bed to finish what remained of her evening.

Chapter 6

"You're late." Beth shot Russ a glare from the corner of her eye. Leave it to a man to state the obvious. "I was beginning to worry." "I got caught up in a book last night and lost track of time. I slept through the alarm." She was too embarrassed to tell him she'd sucked down a bottle of wine all by herself. She hoped it didn't show. She'd used a half bottle of mouthwash trying to drown the camel-shit taste from her mouth. A couple generous squirts of perfume hopefully covered any aftereffects. Now, if only the headache would quit pounding her skull. Thankfully, her stomach hadn't rebelled. But then she hadn't been stupid enough to feed it. Russ wrinkled his nose when she slipped behind her desk. "You stink." "Thanks ever so much." "That's what friends are for. I'd throw that vintage of perfume away if I were you." "Touché." He got her all right. Hopefully, he'd feel sorry enough for her to not lecture. "What can I say? I was so caught up in the story, I didn't realize I'd drank the whole damn bottle until it was gone. At least I slept." He kicked back in his chair, hands laced behind his head. "Slept hell. You passed out." "Shut...up." Beth gave the chair a nudge that threatened to unbalance him. He just laughed and righted himself. "You tease now, mister. What goes around comes around. See how much sympathy I give you when that happens." "Will getting you a cup of coffee help?" "It wouldn't hurt," she said, sitting at her desk beside him. Russ set a steaming mug of black coffee next to her phone. "Sorry about last night," he said softly. Which part? Beth briefly considered telling him about Ted's visit, then decided it wasn't worth mentioning. It would only make Russ mad. What would be the point? She'd done a fair job of scaring Ted off. Russ didn't need to be bothered. She shrugged a shoulder. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fault. How's Carrie?" "Threw up all night. Good thing I was there." True. Marianne didn't deal with the kids' illnesses very well. Even if Russ had left, she would have called him to come back over to help with Carrie. Beth would never fault him for that. It was one of the many things she liked about him. The door to Mack's office flung open. "Glad to see you finally decided to join us, Manning. You two get in here. We need to have a sit down." Beth steeled herself for what she was sure would be a reprimand for being late. The only excuse she could come up with was that she was stupid. Mack parked himself behind his desk, fingers laced before him. He didn't look either of them in the eye. The door clicked shut. It echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room. "Sit," Mack ordered. The vinyl sofa sighed under their weight. "Any new leads on the murders?" "Nothing solid. Only gut instincts," Russ replied. Mack nodded. "Your instincts on the mother could've been right. The lab says her nails match the indentations in Susie's arms. But now she's dead so... There's no way to prove Randy Calvins did this." "There's never any way to prove Calvins did it," Beth said. The man had a skill for eluding prosecution. Mack cleared his throat. "The DA was hoping Christina Carson could eventually nail him for the kid's murder." That was a big hope, especially since the woman refused to ID him, even when the DA offered her protection. She wondered at what point during her attack Christina wished she'd taken that protection. Beth rubbed her sweaty palms on her black twill pants. "Can Vice work an undercover sting to catch this guy?" "Uh...well.... No...for a couple of reasons." Mack shook his head and stared at the desk. "First, none of the women in Vice can pass for a teenager. Calvins likes them young. He waits at the bus station for runaways. He picks fresh-faced virgins because they're generally free of disease and drugs. That's what his clientele want." "And the second reason?" Russ asked. "Everyone in Vice is old-hat to him by now." He paused for a moment, spreading his fingers before him as he leaned back. For the first time since they'd walked in, he made eye contact. "We've come up with a plan, though. Once I tell you what it is, I want the two of you to go somewhere to discuss it. Take all the time you need." * * * * Russ stared into his coffee. It'd grown cold long ago. As far as he was concerned, Mack's plan was stupid. But what could he say? The decision wasn't his to make...it was Beth's. He was merely along as a sounding board. As a man, as her friend, and as her lover, his opinion was a definite and firm, "No." As a police officer, he couldn't say that, and so far Beth hadn't asked how he felt. It killed him to wait. Did Mack offer the job out of duty to the department, hoping she'd say no or Russ would convince her to refuse? Why else would he be sitting here? Even if they hadn't crossed the sex line, Russ couldn't be objective where Beth was concerned. She was his partner, for God's sake. He was supposed to protect her and she, him. This was putting her right in the line of fire. What the hell was Mack thinking? He could have refused out right, yet here they were. Did he have so little regard for her, or were they that desperate? Russ wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that one. He looked at Beth. She, too, seemed mesmerized by her coffee. He couldn't bear the thought of her living that way. She could be killed—just like Rick was when he tried the same damn thing. It was a risk they took every day in their profession, but for her to deal with Calvins made it seem like death was a certainty. And the things she'd have to do to survive.... "You realize you're going to have to squelch all the self-defense moves that are second nature to you now. You'll be thrown into situations where you might have to break the law." "I know." "What if you get pregnant? What if you get AIDS?" "He runs a clean show. That's how he can get the high-priced clients. Condoms. Vasectomies. Health checks. That's why he plucks fresh-faced virgins off the Hollywood bus." Russ still didn't like it. Sex issue aside, the man was a brutal killer. "It's too dangerous. I think it's a stupid idea." There, he'd said it. Now all she had to do was concur with relief and they could go tell Mack to forget it. She just sat there tracing the lip of her coffee cup with her finger. * * * * It was a dangerous and stupid idea. Beth was surprised she hadn't refused on the spot. She certainly hadn't been pressured. Mack realized the impact his plan would have on her life should she agree to participate. He'd been emphatic she take her time deciding. But what he was suggesting went far beyond her having men proposition her. They wanted to charge Calvins with pandering, blackmail, and murder. They wanted his clients, his associates, and his employees. They wanted the scoop on any other activity he might be involved in. And, right now, there was only one hope of obtaining that information—someone had to get inside his operation. If she agreed, Beth would have to work for Randy Calvins. She'd have to be his hooker. I can't do this, she told herself for the hundredth time. Then a vision of Rick's once vibrant body in a gray coffin hit her. A picture of a battered little girl on a stainless steel table flashed in her mind. The carved-up remains of Christina Carson churned her stomach. She'd be helping to put a vicious murderer behind bars. History was filled with women who had done the same thing for justice, for their country, for some war effort. True, she wasn't going to accomplish anything so grand, but it was the same principle. Men did it all the time, and why couldn't she? It wouldn't be easy. She knew how hard it was on Rick. He'd hold her tight each night he was able to be home. But as the weeks wore on, he withdrew into himself more and more. Undercover work did that to people. Sometimes they lost themselves. What would she do if it happened to her? She glanced up, saw Russ' sky blue eyes questioning her, and quickly looked away. "Would you sleep with someone to catch a killer?" "Since I'm not in that situation, I can't answer that question." "Would you think less of me if I did?" Would you still want me? "Never," he quickly replied. "But could you sleep with someone you had no feelings for?" Beth shrugged a shoulder. Now she knew how Mack felt. She couldn't look at Russ. "I never tried. How difficult could it be? A lot of wiggling, a few faked orgasmic groans on my part, and the guy'll be done." Russ jerked forward so fast she jumped. His face was tight with anger. "And what are you going to do if they do something you don't like? What if they want it now and you're not ready?" He jammed his index finger onto the table so hard coffee sloshed from the cups. "Beth, these guys don't believe in foreplay. You'll be a hooker and they'll want their money's worth. The word 'no' means nothing to them except as a turn on to be rougher. This isn't like the sex you're used to." She pursed her lips and fought her own mounting temper. "And how the hell do you know what I'm used to?" "I have ears. And that cabin at Big Bear was small." Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. "Sorry," he mumbled, and leaned back in his seat. He wished he'd kept his mouth shut, but she had to understand what she was getting herself into. An awkward silence lay between them now. His mind drifted to that weekend over a year ago, and the sounds he'd heard coming from the bedroom she'd shared with Rick. Just thinking about it made him want her more than he already did. How many times since then had he remembered that night and felt the same longing? He wanted her, needed her...loved her...and definitely did not want her to do this. It infuriated him to think of her living that way, even if it was her job. "There has to be another way to catch Calvins." "Before he murders someone else?" she asked. "I don't like the idea of you screwing around," he whispered harshly. Beth slammed her spoon down. "Hell, Russ, you act like I'm going to do it for shits and giggles! This is a job!" "And what do you think Rick would say about this job?" "Don't you throw Rick in my face. He's dead, Russ. If he were alive, I wouldn't even consider this." "Why? Because you'd be getting it regular?" Russ cursed himself the minute the words left his mouth. He'd seen Beth angry before, but it had never been directed at him. She glared at him through eyes the color of storm clouds; lightning bolts of rage fired at him. He stumbled over an apology in his mind, but every word he could come up with sounded hollow when compared to his previous statement. Russ felt the distance widen between them. He was losing her, her friendship, and nothing before in his life had ever felt so devastating. He reached for her, and she drew back. "Beth, I—" "At least now I know where Ted gets it. He is truly your brother." "Beth..." She tossed her napkin on the table and stood. "If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do. And, just for you, I'm going to make sure I enjoy every minute of it." Russ watched through sad eyes as she marched out of the coffee shop. He longed to rush after her, but as mad as she was, he doubted she'd listen to any apology he could muster. Figuring she'd cool down a little if she had a few minutes alone in their unmarked car, Russ paid the bill then walked outside. She was still pissed. The blazing eyes and finger tapping against her cheek told him that. Without a word, he slid behind the wheel. The ride back to the station was frosty. Russ didn't try to talk to her. He was afraid anything he might say would only erupt into an argument. He recalled the day Rick had first been assigned the job of investigating Randy Calvins. Rick had been geared up, filled with plans and ideas. With each successive day, he withdrew into himself, unwilling to discuss any of the details. It would prove to be an unfortunate decision, since any clues and information gleaned had died with Rick. As soon as he pulled into their parking slot, Beth wrenched open the door. "This is my decision. I'll go to Mack alone." "We're still partners. We go together." Beth bristled. As far as she was concerned, this united front was a crock of bullshit. Russ had made it quite clear what his opinion was. She supposed she'd have to get used to that. Attacks were bound to happen when the truth finally came out about of her assignment. Hearing it from Russ was what hurt most of all. That he would turn on her that way was the worst betrayal she could ever imagine. A true violation of trust. Even when this was behind them, she knew she would never forget the knife-like pain his words caused. * * * * If Mack suspected there was friction between them, he kept it to himself. He merely shifted his gaze from one to the other and waited for someone to say something. Beth stared at a crack on the wall behind his head, refusing to meet his gaze for fear she'd see condemnation. "I've decided to do it." "Out of vengeance for Rick's murder?" The question took Beth unaware. She'd be lying if she said no. "I don't think I can honestly answer that. We all know Rick was onto something. Now we finally have a chance to pursue it. Nothing would please me more than to put his killer behind bars. I can't promise this isn't somewhat revenge motivated, but I will promise to not let my personal feelings cloud my professional judgment." "Are you sure you want to do this?" Mack had never had cause to doubt her before. Why did he bother to ask now? Because of the nature of the assignment? It was just another job; that's how Beth had to treat it. Her reply was firm and determined. "Positive. Shall I report to Vice?" "No, you'll work for them through me. This is a special assignment, not a transfer. If you're still sure, then sit down and we'll go over the details." Beth eased into the nearest chair. Russ hesitated. To stay would mean supporting a plan he abhorred. To leave would seem like he was only confirming the cruel words he hurled at her earlier. He sat on the edge of Mack's desk—for now, it was the best apology he could make. He prayed Beth would accept it. * * * * Beth wandered around her apartment aimlessly straightening throw pillows and knick-knacks. She expected to be gone no more than a month. Going into an uncertain situation, it seemed an eternity. Doing unnecessary housework seemed a good way to memorize the place. She'd miss this small sanctuary. Russ would keep an eye on things while she was gone—pick up her mail and water the few plants she had. Her apartment would be in good hands. She was still angry with him, though, and would be for a long time. Still, he had amazed her by involving himself in the plans for her assignment. Beth's priority was nailing Calvins. Russ' priority was Beth's safety and welfare. He wanted her wired—it was impossible. Instead, the wire would be disguised as a Walkman she carried in her purse. They'd be able to track her movements and monitor the situation. Jolene Anderson and John Evans were added to the task force to help keep around-the-clock tabs on her. If anyone asked, they'd be told she went to visit family. Beth hugged herself to ward off a case of nervous shivers. If all went well, by tomorrow morning she'd be with Calvins, entering an alien world where sex and money ruled. A world where the slightest mistake could get her killed. It was an excellent incentive for ensuring against foul-ups. Beth could stay in character—that was no problem. It was the other part of the arrangement that had begun to gnaw at her gut—sex. She hated to admit Russ was right. The thought of what she might be forced to contend with frightened her. Was it really worth it to catch a killer? Right now, Beth couldn't say, but she'd made the obligation and would see it through. Knowing help was on the other end of a radio line made it easier. She picked up the picture of her and Rick, wishing for a psychic connection across dimensions that could link their thoughts. She flipped it over to study the cardboard backing. How many times had she pulled that off, hoping for a microscopic clue? At least a dozen. After the first shock of learning he'd been killed, she'd meticulously combed through everything he owned, looking for a tiny scrap of paper or a strange phone number that might tell her what he'd discovered. Nothing. Anything he had, he'd kept in his head. The doorbell broke through her thoughts. It would be Russ to get the key to her car; he already had the one for her apartment. That he didn't use it to come in was further evidence of the rift between them. She set aside the picture and opened the door for him. Russ walked in. The atmosphere between them was heavy with tension and the awkwardness of misspoken thoughts. "I came for the key." "Yeah, I know. I'll get it." She retrieved it from her bedroom and placed it in his palm. Russ fingered it while he searched for something to say. Late tonight he'd drive her to Bakersfield and put her on a bus back to Hollywood. It'd be a month before he saw her again...if he saw her again. It didn't seem right they should leave this way—with angry words between them. "About this morning," he began. "I said some things I didn't mean. I guess I was just so worried about you I didn't think before I spoke." Beth's chin raised a notch. "Yeah, I know what you were worried about." Even though he knew he deserved the jab, the sarcasm in her voice still stung. "What will it take to convince you not to go through with this?" She jerked her thumb toward the bedroom. "Maybe if you took me in there and gave me a long, hard fuck." Russ' expression tightened with suppressed anger. Beth knew she'd pushed a little too far, but didn't care. She was ready to have it out with him. "Well?" she asked. "Maybe the couch is more to your liking? The floor? The kitchen table?" "If you're that horny, I guess it doesn't much matter." He took a step toward her. Beth's heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Her instincts told her to back away, but her stubborn streak forced her to stay put. He was bluffing, calling her bluff, and she was determined not to back down. His arm snaked around her waist, encircling her in a band of fire that ignited feelings she thought were tamped down. He drew her close until her breasts were pressed against the unyielding wall of his chest. His head dipped closer, seemingly in slow motion, and Beth's breath caught in her throat. Blue eyes penetrated hers with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm her. She dropped her lids to shut out the view. Russ studied the minute lines and soft angles of her face, memorizing details. The way her dark lashes feathered her eyes. The tiny dimple that deepened when she smiled. The way her lips were slightly parted as if waiting for his kiss. He longed to follow through. His body responded with a call of its own, rising between them in so flagrant a manner there could be no denying he wanted her. If he kissed her now, there'd be no turning back. He wanted her in a way that frightened him. Desire threatened to consume him. Loving her once would never be enough. If they did this, he damn sure couldn't let her walk out that door. She'd be his woman. Russ could picture the fury in her eyes if he tried such a tactic. It would take a long time to heal that rift. Much as he hated it, he couldn't interfere with her job any more than she should interfere with his. The choice had to be hers. If they had sex... "If I thought making love to you would change your mind, I'd love you 'til you dropped." Beth lifted her gaze to his. She could scarcely breathe, much less talk. How could she tell him to back off when the secret part of her wanted what he was offering? The very thought and feel of the ridge pressed against her belly sent her mind spiraling with erotic imaginations. To be loved 'til she dropped. How long had it been since a man had done that to her? The phrase alone sent shivers through her. Would Russ be a tender or a rough lover? Would once be all or could he last the night? Their play yesterday wasn't enough to know. She found herself comparing him with Rick...or trying to. Already Rick was overshadowed by the one thing Beth was aware of—that essence of virility poking against her stomach. She turned her lips to his, offering what she knew she shouldn't. Her lips were moist, inviting. Russ held back, his breath teetering on the edge of becoming ragged. A kiss and he'd be lost—he knew that. He wouldn't be able to turn back. And, when it was over, he was sure of something else—Beth would still go undercover. Reluctantly, he set her away from him. "That's what I'd do if I thought it would change your mind. But I know you well enough to know that will never happen. You're a good cop, Beth. You're doing a job you feel you have to do. I don't like it, but I respect you for it. I'm sorry I got out of line this morning. See you later." Beth watched him rush out the door, then eased her shaking body into the arm chair. Elation and devastation assaulted her. The attraction had been too dangerous. She was glad he was gone, yet struggled to keep from running after him. * * * * Russ leaned against the door of his apartment, fighting for control. He couldn't go through with this. Beth was free to do as she pleased, but he refused to help her do it. Mack would have to take her to Bakersfield himself. With this firmly resolved, he called the captain and told him just that. There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Mack answered. "I understand how you feel. You and Beth have always been just a little more than partners. Best friends comes to mind." He paused again. "She's going to need your support. If she doesn't get your acceptance, she probably won't get it from anyone else. She's your partner, your friend...don't shut her out when she needs you the most. I don't think she'd do that to you." "You're not giving me a choice in this, are you?" Russ asked. "Just pointing out what's hard to see when you're too close to a situation," Mack said. "Choice is still yours." Russ sighed and rubbed his aching neck. "All right. I'll do it. I feel like I'm driving her to a trip in hell, but I'll do it." "She'll be fine," he said. "She's got the radio in her purse. First sign of trouble and we'll yank her out without blowing her cover." "Sounds great in theory. It'd better damn well work." He tossed the phone down and headed for a cold shower. He got as far as the bathroom. The memory of him and Beth loving each other under the water was too much. He ached to have her. All the cold water in the world wasn't going to change that. Beth was going to do what she wanted, what she felt she needed to do. God only knew what would happen to her. How could he let her leave with all these harsh words between them—words he really didn't mean? It would be a month or more before he saw her again. If something awful happened, he'd never forgive himself for letting her leave this way. Long strides carried him to her door. There his courage almost failed. Let her be the one to tell him to get lost. He was going to do the right thing, no matter how hard it made the parting. * * * * Beth flicked away tears. Why was this so hard? She'd walked to the door a hundred times to go to Russ and beg him to understand she had to do her job. To beg him to not hate her, to plead for him to still want her afterward. They could make a deal to never speak of what happened while she was undercover. Much like the deal she'd had with Rick. Yet each time she reached the door, fear pulled her back. She couldn't stand the pain if he rejected her. A knock pulled her head up. Beth wiped the heel of her hand over her cheeks as she hurried to answer it. A peek through the spy-hole showed Russ standing there, head down, arm braced on the doorframe. Beth swung open the door. They stared at each other. Words weren't possible. He swept her into his arms, or she wrapped hers around his neck, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter. He scooped her behind the knees and lifted her while he kicked the door close. Lips sealed, he carried her to bed. As he placed her in the center, he caught her shirt and pulled it over her head. Beth unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, then grabbed for his shirt. By the time she got it over his head, his jeans were down and off, shoes and socks with them. Beth fumbled to get her pants off. "Drawer in the table," she somehow managed to say. Russ didn't question her or hesitate. She quivered with anticipation as he ripped the package open and seated the condom with one jerk. She reached for him, pulling him against her as her lips found his once more. His tongue danced with hers while his fingers drew circles around her breasts. Beth opened to him, wrapping her legs around his. The length of him fell hard against her opening. She shifted her hips, adjusting the aim. If he didn't take her soon... He dragged kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, down to the curve of her breast. Beth tangled her fingers in his hair and guided his mouth to the nipple. He flicked the tip beneath his tongue before suckling her deep with a long groan. Long fingers pierced her lower, readying her for the sweetness to come. His thumb danced over the hard nub down there, bringing her up fast. Climax rushed upon her so quickly, Beth couldn't breathe. He caught her against him, waited for her to open her eyes, then eased deep inside. Beth gasped. God, this was heaven! She grabbed his face between her hands and slipped her mouth over his. Tongues twined together, he pulled back and thrust deep. Beth broke free on a moan he echoed. She dug her heels into his buttocks urging him on. Still, he took his time, drawing out each thrust until she was on the edge of orgasm again. Then he reared back and found her sweet spot with his thumb. Balancing her hips on his thighs, Russ let her take control, riding him as he pulled her over the edge again. Only then did he give in, pivoting into her with wild abandon. Beth met him thrust for thrust, thrilling in the tension, the rapture on his face as he finished. They fell together panting for breath. Russ traced her cheek with his thumb. "I don't like this one single bit, Beth. But I respect your right and need to do your job, no matter what. It's killing me to see you do this. But I've got your back. I swear it. I'm here for you." "No matter what?" "No matter what."

Chapter 7

The ride to Bakersfield had been silent, each of them locked in their own thoughts. Russ kept hoping against the odds Beth would change her mind. Her heart had to be pounding a mile a minute. His was. But he kept his mouth shut. All the talking, all the threats, all the coercion in the world wouldn't change her mind. At least they had a good memory to part on. "We're almost there," Russ told her. "Would you like to stop for some coffee...something to eat?" "No. My stomach's so tied up in knots, I couldn't digest a thing." Russ could sure sympathize with that. He stole a glance her way. The transformation was miraculous. Black leggings, an oversized pink T-shirt that threatened to expose a shoulder, tennis shoes with pink crew socks, little makeup, and sable hair left flowing in uncombed disarray around her face. Beth looked like she had just stepped off the school bus. Would it be enough to tempt Randy Calvins? He hoped not because then they could call an end to all this. In his heart, he knew her illusion of innocence was bait Calvins couldn't resist. He prayed whatever happened from that point on, Beth wouldn't be hurt. He stopped a block from the Bakersfield bus station just in case Calvins had an accomplice staked out there. The hardest thing he'd ever had to do was to let Beth go. He set her suitcase on the sidewalk as she got out. "I guess this is it," he said. Beth sighed. "I guess so." "Got everything?" "Yeah." "Mack and I will be watching at the bus depot in Hollywood." He grasped her shoulders in a gentle hold. "Be careful. Do whatever it takes to survive." She slid her hands along his arms. "You've almost convinced me you mean it." "I do mean it. This scares the hell—" She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I know. I'm scared, too." He kissed her hand and pulled it down. "Hang in there. Watch your back." She nodded. "I will." He longed to clutch her to him and never let go. Instead, he gave her a simple kiss, then released her. Beth stared at him for what felt like hours while Russ prayed for her to change her mind. Then, without a word, she picked up her suitcase, walked away, and never looked back. After watching her turn the corner, Russ sadly drove back to Hollywood to await her arrival there. * * * * Beth stared out the bus window watching the night roll by. She should have been focused on the job ahead, but all she could think about was Russ. She was glad for the darkness that had hidden the chiseled sternness in his face. As much as he hated this whole scheme, he'd kept his word to support her. It had to be one of the hardest promises he'd ever given, especially after they made love. He knew what she'd face, what she'd have to do. Any other man would be branding her his, demanding a choice—him or her job. At least Russ was smarter than that. Oh, he might want to posture, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Obviously, he'd learned from their earlier confrontation. To make such sweet love to her, then let her go? She'd never in a million years be able to express her gratitude for the gift he'd given her. She just prayed that when this was all behind them, they truly could leave it in the past and move on. If not...well, hopefully their friendship would remain intact. Memories of his arms around her and his body pressed to hers sent Beth's stomach on a roller-coaster ride. It was a hard feeling to squelch. Harder still to risk what was rapidly blossoming between them. She just had to trust their bond was strong enough to withstand the trial to come. And she had to stop dwelling on it. If she didn't stay focused on her job, there wouldn't be a future for them. Russ had promised he'd have her back. She'd promised to survive. He'd already started to live up to his word. It was time she did so as well. Beth rehearsed her role and mentally reviewed all the case info on the subject. Nerves aside, she was as ready as she'd ever be. She spied Calvins the second her bus pulled into the Greyhound depot at Hollywood. He leaned against the wall puffing on a cigarette held between his long fingers. He wasn't the type of man people immediately noticed, not ugly nor overly handsome, merely an average guy, a face in the crowd. His thin build gave him the illusion of height from a distance, yet he topped out at five-foot-seven. Beth had committed his image to memory long ago. He smoothed a hand over his short, ash blond hair while he watched the arrivals. After ten years in the business he'd obviously learned the best places to look, and this was where he always found them—young runaway girls. All were eager to prove themselves, to show they could make it on their own without parental guidance. The dream of a show business career brought them to Hollywood. Ninety percent of them wound up working for him or one of the other pimps in the area. Tonight Beth would see he found that someone special, that certain quality of innocence and freshness—a young girl whose very looks screamed virginity. It seemed forever until she could leave the bus. The other passengers, though few, were in no hurry to disembark. She tried to not look his way, to appear nonchalant. He wouldn't leave until he'd seen all the arrivals. He had to notice her. Her pink T-shirt slipped down over her shoulder. Beth let it stay and stepped down to wait for the luggage to be unloaded. It was hard not to look around. Mack and Russ were tucked away somewhere nearby. Was Calvins still here? Had her disguise been tempting enough? Someone bumped her from behind. Before she could turn around to glare at the man, he yanked her purse from her shoulder and took off. "Hey!" she yelled, and started after him. Another man grabbed her arm, and Beth spun around face-to-face with Randy Calvins. "Don't worry, miss, I'll catch him," he said, and raced after the mugger. He chased the bandit around a corner and out of Beth's sight. She willed her heartbeat to normal speed. It was a good ploy, an obvious set-up. An unsuspecting young girl robbed of her money would be easy prey for Calvins. What worried her was the radio in her purse. Without that she had no link to her people. She searched the crowd for Russ or Mack. Nothing. They were either very well hidden or not there. Should she run away or take her chances? Before she could decide, Calvins trotted back toward her, her purse firmly in hand. Clutching hands under her chin, Beth beamed her gratitude to him. "Thank goodness you got it back." He held the purse out to her and Beth took it. Empty. Just in case Russ was looking, she opened it and shook it upside down. "I found it a short distance from where we turned that corner," Calvins told her. "I think he took what he wanted and dumped the purse." Beth's eyes filled with tears. Who would think the loss of one little Walkman would make her feel so vulnerable and isolated? She spied Mack a short distance away. He sliced his hand across his throat, telling her to abandon the plan. Russ was behind him silently pleading with her. Their presence strengthened her. She wasn't alone after all. They'd always be close. It was just what she needed to carry on. They'd come this far. She'd made contact. They couldn't lose this chance. She sat on her suitcase and buried her head in her hands. "He take everything you had?" Calvins squatted down to her level. "Everything." "Name's Randy Calvins." He extended his hand in introduction. "Liz Mason," she replied, accepting his handshake. "Thank you for your help. I hate to ask since you've already been so nice, but may I borrow a quarter? I'd like to call home and have my parents come get me." "No problem, Liz." He reached into his pocket and tugged a quarter from his tight jeans, but paused just short of giving it to her. "Are you sure you want to call home?" "Well...no...not really. After the way I left, I'm sure to hear about it when I call. But what other choice do I have? Every cent I had is gone. I'd been saving forever. How can I even get started without money?" "Tell you what...You look like a nice kid and I remember what it was like starting out on my own. I have a two-bedroom apartment I share with my sister. She just left to visit our parents. You're welcome to stay with me 'til you find a job and get a place of your own." "Well, I don't know." She added a hesitant note to her voice. It wouldn't do to appear too eager. Let him persuade her. "Come on." He gave her a playful slug in the arm. "You don't want to have to admit to your folks you failed on your first attempt at living alone, do you?" "No, I don't." "Come on, what do you say? Maybe I can even get work for you." He nudged her knee with his own. Beth feigned a sniffle. "What do you do?" "I'm in sales." He grabbed up her suitcase. "Come on." He jerked his head toward the parking lot. He was convincing, Beth had to give him that. His personality boasted charm and sincerity. What young girl wouldn't trust him? If she didn't know better, even Beth would have been fooled. She glanced toward the other two men. Russ looked like he was ready to tear out his hair. Mack scowled at her. Beth beamed a smile of gratitude back at Calvins and tucked her empty purse securely under her arm. "You're a life saver, Mr. Calvins." "Randy...Call me Randy." With a gallant sweep of his arm, he motioned her forward. Chatting like he was her long-lost friend, Calvins walked her to the parking lot. He was definitely a pro at putting people at ease. He pressed the remote on his key chain as they approached a row of white cars. The lights on a Ford Focus flashed. As she sat in the passenger seat, he tossed her suitcase in the trunk. She shot a glance around. Russ and Mack weren't far. They watched every move. She was safe. Then why didn't she feel that way? Beth clicked her seat belt in place, then clutched her hands on her lap to quell their shaking. "Nice car," she said when Calvins slid behind the wheel. "I like the smell of a new car." "Yeah, wish this baby was mine." He patted the dash. "Mine's older than dirt. Had a fender-bender. It's in the shop. Insurance paid for a rental." If that was the truth, then he must have his car registered under a different name as well. Motor Vehicles had no vehicle listed as belonging to Randy Calvins. Hell, maybe it wasn't even his name. Although, his driver's license had checked out. The engine purred to life. He eased from the parking space and into the street. Traffic was light in these early hours. She hoped Russ and Mack could follow without detection. Once dawn hit and rush hour traffic with it, they would be more easily camouflaged. Unfortunately, so would Calvins with his white, mid-sized car. Beth expected him to take her some place off the beaten path where a girl would be isolated and alone, her cries for help not heard. Addresses for Calvins had uncovered such houses. So she was surprised he stayed in the city where businesses interspersed with apartment complexes kept squalor at bay. They passed a mini-mall, a clinic, and towering office buildings. A movie theater and a costume shop were perched on opposite corners where McDonald's, Burger King, and Taco Bell warred for people's attention. An upscale café with outdoor seating appealed to the trendier crowd. "Here we are." Calvins parked in front of a six-story building with a white brick façade. He retrieved her suitcase, expecting Beth to follow. Instinct screamed at her to leave. Determination made her walk inside with him at her elbow. The elevator door sealed her fate. On the sixth floor, he led her to a door not ten feet away—a corner apartment adjacent to the elevator. Privacy guaranteed. "In we go." He pushed open the door. Beth cast a wide-eyed gaze around Calvins' spacious apartment. Dawn poured into the airy place highlighting southwestern tones of peach, turquoise, and earth. "This is nice." "Your room's over here." He led her to an open doorway on the other side of the room. It was definitely a feminine room. Pastel ruffles and lace accents adorned light maple furnishings. The canopied double bed was draped with a white-eyelet bedspread. Beth struggled for the words a teenager might use to convey appreciation of the room's beauty. "Cool. Freakin' cool." She hoped she got it right. "Thanks. Make yourself comfortable and I'll see about rustling us up some breakfast." As she unpacked the few things she'd brought, Beth wondered how many other girls had optimistically accepted his hospitality only to find themselves in a hideous trap. How long did Calvins continue his big-brother routine before slamming the door on his victim? She joined him as he prepared breakfast, sitting at the white island that separated the kitchen from the living area. If time was money to him, he couldn't afford to waste it. Whatever plans he had for her would probably happen soon. "Phone's right there if you still want to call home." He pointed to the telephone beside her. "I don't think so." She twirled once around on her bar stool. "Things that bad at home?" "Yeah. They treat me like a little girl." "And just how old are you, Liz?" "Eighteen, and I've already graduated from high school so I'm perfectly capable of managing on my own," she said, trying to sound as confident as a naïve teenager. "Must've broken your boyfriend's heart to see you leave." "Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," Beth said. "We broke up because I didn't want to put out." "I see." His smile was big as he set French toast before her. "So, tell me why you left." He braced forearms on the counter, giving her all his attention. "Well, it's like I said... They treat me like a little girl." She picked at the food. Nervous as she was, there was no way Beth could make a good show of eating. "They still expect me to check in when I go out, hand me out chores just like the other kids, and try to tell me how to live my life. After twelve years of school, they actually expected me to go to college. No way. I've been planning to leave for a long time, but last night my father hit me. I decided then and there that was it, so I packed my bag and left." "And here you are," he said with another smile "Here I am. I'm gonna make it big, then they'll see." "You must be tired from being up all night." "Yeah, but I have to go job hunting first thing this morning." "Tell you what..." He tapped the surface and pushed back. "You get some sleep and I'll make a few calls to see if I can get work for you." "You would do that for me?" she asked with wide-eyed surprise. "Of course." He tilted a nod her way. "You're so nice." To add measure to her enthusiastic response, Beth jumped up and gave him a hug. Calvins chuckled and patted her rump. "Go on. Get some sleep." Beth hurried to the bedroom, anxious to shut herself away and gather her courage. There was no lock on the door—maybe it would happen tonight...this morning. She couldn't stand the wait. Tiptoeing back to the door, she eased it open a crack. Calvins was already on the phone. She strained to hear snippets of the conversation. "New...virgin...young girl," filtered her way. A sum was decided—"Five grand." A time—"Tonight." A promise—"She's perfect. You'll enjoy her." Beth shut the door and rested her forehead against the wood. Her skin crawled at the thought of some man touching her. Her stomach churned. What had she gotten herself into? She wanted out...now. Hoping to signal Russ or Mack on the street, she ran to the window and flung open the drapes. Red bricks stared back at her—the building was butted against the one next to it. No way out. All she could do now was see this through until someone could help her. Until then, she'd have to play her part. * * * * Russ parked the surveillance car a quarter block down the street. They had a perfect view of Calvins' vehicle and the entrance. He slammed the gearshift into park. "You wanted her in. Now she's in." "Damn, stubborn little..." Mack growled. "Now you know how I feel," Russ told him. "She's taking stupid risks." "Something I believe I pointed out in the first place." Mack rubbed his chin. "We'll have to keep extra close watch on her." He snapped open his cell phone. "I'll call Jolene and John. We'll have to take shifts." "If you think I'm leaving her, you're crazy." Mack stopped dialing. "You're not going to be any good to her if you're dead tired." "Then I'll sleep in the back seat." Russ jerked his thumb in that direction. "You're going to stay in this car 24/7 until she comes up?" "If that's what it takes." "You ought to be real ripe after a couple of days. Calvins should be able to smell you coming." He grudgingly admitted the captain had a point. Mack notified the other team and set up a rotating schedule, then he leveled a stare Russ' way. "Her welfare depends on us being at the top of our game. We've barely started and you're already looking ragged. Do her and yourself a favor and get some rest." "Is that an order?" "I'm hoping I don't have to make it one." Russ unrolled the window. "Fine. I get the first shift." "I'll hold you to it. We can't have any stupid mistakes just because someone's not rested." Hell, no. Not when they had so many other stupid moves to deal with. But Russ kept that thought to himself.

Chapter 8

"This is fantastic!" Beth clapped her hands and jumped up and down in her seat. The car bounced with every move as it wove through the winding streets of Hollywood Hills. "I can't believe you've already found me a job. And look where this guy lives!" She committed to memory addresses of the swank houses they passed. "I sure hope he likes me." She kept her hands folded on her lap to hide their shaking, but there wasn't much she could do to keep the pounding fear from her heart. When she and Calvins left his building, Beth had seen Mack down the street. Other than screaming, there was no way she could signal him she wanted out. She wished it were Russ who sat guard over her. At least he'd have been able to see the anxiety in her face and known she was in trouble. "As long as you do your job, he'll like you just fine." Calvins turned into a driveway edged with Italian cypress. Despite the high, white concrete wall around the property, no gate barred their entrance. The two-story Spanish-style house was tucked away at the top of the short hill. Red roof tiles kissed the elms that surrounded it. No other cars were in the circular drive, and no people seemed to be about on the shaded lawn. He led her across the cobblestoned drive to the front door and entered without knocking. Red pavers decorated the foyer. A wrought iron chandelier hung overhead. Without pause he continued up the wide staircase while Beth tagged along. Heavy white carpet muffled their footsteps. At the top of the stairs, they turned left. Calvins paused in front of a polished oak door, tapped three times, then led Beth to the next room. Her stomach turned. Revulsion choked her. They were in what looked like a small dressing room. Pink and white—a little girl's room. A sailor dress was draped across the back of the pink brocade loveseat. White knee-high socks and black Mary Jane shoes sat on the floor before it. "All right, Liz, time to get to work. Take off your clothes and put on those." Beth could scarcely breathe. "What?" "I don't believe I stuttered." His warm smile was gone. In its place was the icy stare of a hard-core pimp. "Why?" "Our client likes 'em young. He pays a good price for it, too." She glanced at the door. He wouldn't expect her to run. If she took him by surprise, she might be able to make it outside where Mack waited on the street. It was a long run, but she was in shape. She could make it...if she could get past Calvins. "I thought you said you were in sales." Her voice quivered. "I am, and you are one of the products I distribute." "Well, I won't do it." She darted for the door. Calvins grabbed her arm and swung her around, slamming her to the wall. Anger tightened his face. He slapped her hard. Beth reeled from the blow. He jerked her upright and held her in place. "You will do it. It's too late in the game for me to get someone else. Don't worry. You'll get your cut. He wants a virgin and I intend to see he gets one. Now get dressed." He shoved her toward the clothing. When Beth didn't move fast enough, he whipped off his belt and cracked it against her back. Beth muffled a cry and sank to the floor. She curled into a ball and raised her arms to fend off his blows. Defending herself would blow her cover. They couldn't afford that. She was trapped. Calvins might kill her if he suspected she was a cop. But the pain... The leather beat unmercifully against her until all she could do was bury her head in her arms and cower. What had Christina said? She zoned out and let them do whatever. Beth swallowed her cries and tried to force her mind elsewhere. Finally, he stopped. Calvins grasped her chin and squeezed her face between his fingers. "I'm only going to tell you this one more time. Get dressed and get in there with him. You're going to let him do whatever he wants to you or I'll beat you here, turn you over to him, then beat you again afterwards. Understand?" Beth nodded through her sobs. He hauled her up by her hair and shoved her toward the clothing. Calvins stared openly as she changed clothes. She could see her nudity stirred his own lust and he wasn't ashamed to let her see as he fondled his erection through his clothes. With shaking hands that matched the rest of her body, Beth hurried. Why had she agreed to this lunacy? She had no choice now but to carry on. Refusal would only get her killed. Once she was able to leave, she could signal Mack and be rescued. She swallowed the bile in her throat and tried to shut out the horror of what was about to happen. Zone out. Zone out. When she was dressed, Calvins grabbed her elbow and shoved her into the adjoining room. Beth trembled as she stood before the gray-haired man. He was dressed only in a black satin robe. The monogram on the pocket was "G.C." His midriff paunch drooped over the sash. In his hand he held a wooden paddle. He stalked toward her. Beth backed against the wall, wishing she could fade into the golden wallpaper. She felt fat fingers sink into her upper arm. He towered over her, easily outweighing her by a hundred pounds. For a moment, she was suspended in the air. Pain shot through her shoulder where he gripped her. Beth cried out, and he slammed her face down across his lap. She pleaded for him to let her go. It only made him more determined. Sobs racked her body as he raised the skirt and slipped his hand into the ruffled panties she wore. He pulled them down slowly, his hand lingering over her bare flesh as he did so. Beth shuddered in revulsion and braced herself for what was about to happen. Zone out. Zone out. A solid whack echoed through the room. Beth gasped from the pain as the fire spread across her buttocks. He allowed her time to recover then delivered two more in quick succession. She screamed and fought to get away. His hold tightened like a steel band. Blow after blow rained upon her buttocks and the tops of her thighs until he grew weary from the effort of beating her. Setting her on her feet, he tore the dress away, then forced her onto the bed. Beth scrambled for the headboard. He caught her ankle and dragged her back. She kicked out with the other one. He merely laughed and wedged himself between her thighs as he dropped his robe. Using his weight to his advantage, he held her down and rammed himself into her. Beth beat fists against his pudgy back. It was just as effective as smacking a pillow. After what seemed an eternity, he tensed and finished, then relieved her of his weight, put on his robe, and left the room. Beth drew herself into a fetal position as sobs overcame her once more. She wished she'd listened to Russ. Why hadn't she? "Oh, Russ, please help me," she whispered. She heard the door open and balled herself up tighter, afraid the man had returned. Calvins threw her clothes at her. "Quit your blubbering and get dressed." Beth hurried to do so, anxious to hide herself from his lecherous gaze before he made good his previous threat. "Bastard." "Before you get too upset, take a look at this." He fanned a wad of bills in her face. "Five thousand. He liked you and wants to see you next week." "I won't do it. I want to go home." Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Half of this money is yours," he said. "Then give it to me and let me go." Her body quivered as she struggled to finish dressing. "You've got to be kidding." He chuckled. "You're going to be my little gold mine for the next several months. I'll just put your money away for you for safekeeping. Tomorrow at noon you have another appointment downtown." She tugged her T-shirt in place, cutting off his view. "I won't be your whore." "But you already are." With her arm in a vice-like grip, he led her away. Beth tried to calm herself. It was over. Once Mack saw her, she'd be safe. But the captain never got the chance to see her. The front door opened, and she was whisked to Calvins' waiting car a mere six feet away. Beth never saw Mack or the surveillance vehicle as they drove off. If he was nearby, he was well hidden. Panic threatened to take over. It was all she could do to keep her senses. She'd leave on her own, just as soon as Calvins fell asleep that night. Her plan was destroyed the minute they walked into his apartment. With a twist of a key, he secured two dead bolts then shut the key in a wall safe in the kitchen. Beth saw a lock on the telephone. She couldn't even call for help. "Now it's my turn to see just how good you are. I've had this hard-on too long." He pointed to his room. "Undress and lie on the bed. Don't make me have to force you or you'll find I enjoy disciplining a woman even more than your gentleman this evening." Afraid he would do exactly as he promised, Beth did as he ordered. She balled the bedspread in her fists and squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for his assault. She heard him enter the room and approach the bed. His clothes rustled as he removed them. Beth felt the bed sag with his weight. In a surprising touch of sensitivity, he applied a soothing cream to her raw crotch. Then he took what he wanted. * * * * A little after dawn, Russ arrived to take over the vigil for Mack. He expected the other man to be bleary-eyed and ready to leave. Instead, Mack was alert and unwilling to tear his gaze from Calvins' apartment building. Mack would have had a shit hemorrhage if he knew Russ was parked six spaces behind him and had been for most of the night. He'd kept his word—he'd taken his shift break and gone home. He just didn't stay there. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. Russ had walked into the emptiness of his own apartment. The place looked barer than it ever had. He'd showered, then walked across the hall to Beth's place. Peace washed over him the second he crossed the threshold. Her scent lingered, giving him the feeling she was no farther than the next room. He helped himself to the leftover Chinese food while he poked pieces of her puzzle in place and listened to the TV. At some point, he stretched onto the sofa and fell asleep only to jerk awake an hour later. Worry nagged at him. He wandered aimlessly around the place, ending up in her bedroom. Russ thought sleeping in her bed would at least perpetuate the feeling she was nearby. It only made matters worse. He craved her presence, her body pressed to his in passion and sleep. He needed her voice, her laughter, her breathing. He couldn't stand not knowing how she was or what was happening. Russ tried to tell himself he'd drive by just once to see if there'd been any progress. Seeing Calvins' car gone as well as Mack's nearly drove him insane. He couldn't call and demand progress without giving up he'd disobeyed orders and returned. So, he parked and waited...and waited. Finally, they returned. Calvins whisked Beth inside. It was too dark to see anything more. He had a box of NoDoz in the glove compartment if he needed it and enough fast food joints around for a coffee fix, plus a cordless razor to keep the stubble away. So far worry and adrenaline had kept him going. Just as it obviously had for Mack. Too bad he hadn't thought to have a cordless razor. Russ slipped into the passenger side of the unmarked car, his gaze transfixed on the building catty-corner from them. "Any news?" Mack answered without turning around. "He took her up to the Hollywood Hills last night. To Garrett Caruthers' house." "The attorney?" "Yeah. Then he brought her back here. I barely got a glimpse of her, so I'm not sure how she is." Russ drummed his fingers on the dash. "We're blind without that radio. We need to get her out." "I agree," he absentmindedly replied. "First chance we get, we'll grab her. We just need a plausible reason for doing so without blowing her cover." Screw that. Busting down the door seemed like a good option, if he wasn't afraid it would get her killed. Russ never should have taken his eyes off her. Orders be damned. He should have insisted...no, demanded she give this up. Screw the consequences to their relationship. At least she would have been safe. "Hang on, honey. Just hang on," he muttered. Mack glanced his way. "You say something?" "Just talking to myself." And praying Beth knew he was there. * * * * Beth awoke late the following morning to the smell of bacon frying. Her body was stiff, sore, and tired from the previous night's cruel assaults. The thought of food made her queasy. A flimsy flowered wrapper lay on the end of the bed. She pulled it around her, then eased to Calvins' bedroom window. Sunlight and a busy street six floors below greeted her. Somewhere down there, Russ and Mack watched. But where? At the open-air café across the street? In one of the cars parked there? Beth pressed her hand and forehead against the cool glass. There had to be some way she could make a run for safety. If she could get to the café, someone was bound to help her. Until she did, though, she had to remember to stay in character. "Good, you're awake," Calvins said from the door. "You've got just enough time for breakfast, a douche, and a shower before your noon appointment." Beth slowly faced him. "How can you be so pleasant and nice yet force me into this?" "I'm a businessman doing business, and my business is supplying young women to gentlemen," he simply replied. "How much of the money did you say was mine?" "Half." "Then give it to me so I can go home." "No way. You're in this for the duration. Girls like you are too hard to find." "And how long is the duration?" "'Til you're too old-looking to earn us a profit. Come and eat. Time's wasting." "What if I get pregnant or catch some disease?" "Little chance of either. All our clients are given a clean bill of health or we don't service them. They know my girls are clean. That's why we do such a good business. All the men have had vasectomies—it's one of our rules. Even me. And, just in case, we all wear condoms as you'd see if you opened your eyes." Convenient. That and the douche also took care of any DNA. She was surprised he didn't have her comb out her pubic hairs to eliminate any stragglers from the clients. "You could do a lot worse than me, Liz. Once you learn to relax, it'll be easier for you. You might even enjoy it." Never. "Now, come to breakfast. And hurry up. You'll find punishment comes quickly when you don't do as you're told." Beth reluctantly followed him. She picked at her food silently, then cleaned herself while he hovered over her to make sure she did everything he'd ordered. Afterward, Beth squirmed into a white tank top and denim miniskirt he gave her to wear. "Nice to see you being so cooperative," he said with a smile. Like I have a choice. He looped his arm through hers, making sure he had a firm hold on her. "It's only four blocks to his office, so we'll walk." Other pedestrians on the crowded sidewalk paid them little notice as he threaded her toward the towering office building. Sunlight glinted off the black glass that covered it. He led Beth into the parking garage and toward the freight elevator. "Always go this way. It attracts less attention," he said. "He'll expect to see you every weekday at noon until you're replaced." Beth scanned the area for help. She couldn't see Russ or Mack anywhere. The crowd made it impossible. She was on her own, forced to endure another humiliating act. On the sixteenth floor, Calvins led her to the client's office. The reception area was deserted. He pointed to a door. "In there." Beth didn't know how she managed to command her feet to move, but she did, opening the door, stepping inside, then shutting it. A middle-aged man looked up at her and stood. He motioned her to bend over the desk, which she did. It was a situation similar to the one last night with the only exception being this man was less brutal. When he was done, he readjusted his clothing and hers then resumed his seat to continue working. Obviously, she'd been dismissed. Beth left the office, and Calvins escorted her back to his place through another exit. He guarded her more closely than a dog watched over a bone, and Beth was beginning to wonder if she was ever going to be able to get away from him. Her eyes wandered longingly to the café. So near yet... Her heartbeat quickened. Marianne sat at a table near the street! Yelling was out of the question. Marianne would never hear her over the traffic, and Calvins would grab her before she had the chance to run. Sadly, she watched her chance fade as they stepped into the building and up to Calvins' apartment. "We got two thousand from that guy." Calvins tossed the bills onto the breakfast bar. "We'll get that everyday. It's in a sealed blue envelope on the secretary's desk. Just pick it up as you leave." Beth stared at the money while Calvins walked toward the bathroom. It was the chance she'd been waiting for.

Chapter 9

Marianne tapped a fingernail on the stem of her margarita glass—her third drink since she'd arrived. Ted was an hour late. She hated it when he kept her waiting, and hated herself even more for putting up with it. This time, though, it was she who'd begged for him to meet with her. She was sure that massaged his ego. He was probably primping in front of his mirror while she sat at a table where the whole world could see her. She wondered what he'd say when he discovered her reason for this meeting wasn't for sex, but to show him a horrible piece of correspondence. She'd like to say she would enjoy his shock, although, under the circumstances, she'd never know the pleasure of reveling in that feeling. This was the price for her years of infidelity. She stared at the innocent looking costume shop down the street. That was where it normally happened. Their secret rendezvous—a black-and-white bedroom on the second floor of that store. Marianne didn't know if the owners ever rented any costumes, but they certainly had a lucrative business on the side. Ted breezed up behind her so fast, Marianne jumped. He signaled the waitress as he sat across from her. "Decaf...two." He handed the young girl Marianne's drink. "You shouldn't be drinking alcohol in your condition. Think of the baby." "Why? You don't." "Don't get testy with me," he said through clenched teeth. "I had to jump through hoops to get our room at the last minute." "That's not why I called." She slid the envelope his way, then waited while he read the blackmail letter. Ted's scowl deepened with each word. Long fingers absentmindedly caressed his blue striped tie. She must have caught him at work. That was the only time she ever saw him dressed up. Crisply attired in a white shirt and black trousers, he commanded attention. Marianne had to admit she felt intimidated. She wondered about his patients. Did they dare question his word or did they treat it as gospel? Was his bedside manner calm and reassuring? Somehow she doubted that. Ted wasn't the nurturing type. It was his way or no way. His way or suffer the consequences. A trill of excitement wiggled through her. Marianne cursed herself. No matter how hard she tried, she was never immune to the pleasure-pain only Ted could deliver. Now more than ever that felt like a jail sentence. If only... "Where did you get this?" "It was in the mailbox this morning. What are we going to do? He says he has pictures...a video. Ted, you can't let this happen." "There's been a little misunderstanding somewhere." He tucked the letter into his trouser pocket. "Little? That man wants to film me sleeping with other men," she whispered harshly. "Teddy, please." "I'll take care of it right now. Wait outside while I pay our check." Marianne picked up her purse and walked outside. All she could do was trust him. * * * * Russ banged his fist into the hood of the car. The metal bent then popped back into place. "I can't fucking believe this!" He yanked open the door and plopped down. It was like chasing after a gopher. Calvins had a thousand holes to escape from. "He must be part chameleon," Mack grumbled. "That's a no-shitter." The crowd had swallowed them whole before Russ and Mack could get close. But not without Russ seeing the dark bruises splashed on Beth's arms. They'd tracked them to a freight elevator at an office building down the street. Thinking he was cornered, they'd waited. The son-of-a-bitch took another elevator and slipped out behind them. Russ caught a glimpse of them as they'd stepped back into the crowd. He'd had to hustle to keep them in sight. They ducked into Calvins' building before he and Mack could reach them. "I wonder how bad she's hurt," Mack asked, more to himself than to Russ. Russ kept quiet. The fact she was hurt at all infuriated him. He stared at the building, willing them to come out. Then he saw Beth tear through the front door. "She's making a run for it!" Russ shoved his shoulder into the car door. Mack was a half second behind him. They sprinted for Beth, but the quarter block distance felt like a mile. "Beth!" His shout was swallowed by the traffic buzzing by. He watched in horror as she dodged cars and trucks to get to the café across the street. Calvins was only a few yards behind her, ready to close the gap. Even if she reached the café, he'd still have her. There were too many bystanders for Russ to pull his weapon. He had to get to her! He dashed into the street. A truck rig forced him back to the curb with Mack, horning blaring that he would dare trespass. The noise turned heads toward the scene. Beth was almost there. So was Calvins. Russ scanned faces, praying someone would intervene. Marianne? What the hell? Her eyes widened when she saw Beth. She shot a glance around her, looking for help. Beth grabbed her arm. Russ saw the words she spit out—"Call for help." Marianne tried to pull free. Panic jerked her movements as Calvins grabbed Beth's shoulder. He jammed his hand into Marianne's chest and shoved. Time moved in slow motion as Russ watched her slip from the curb and into the path of an oncoming truck. His warning shout mingled with the squeal of tires and Beth's scream. Guts in turmoil, he watched as Marianne bounced off the front of the truck and fell into the dirty street. Traffic skidded to a standstill. Russ raced across the street. The gathering crowd camouflaged Beth. Calvins was getting away with her. "Someone call an ambulance!" Mack shouted. Russ dove into the crowd, weapon drawn. Mack grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back. "You stay with your wife. I'll go after Beth." "But—" "Stay!" Emotion warred with Russ as Mack disappeared. Finally, he knelt beside Marianne. No blood. There had to be internal injuries. He had to keep her immobile until paramedics arrived. "Oh, Russ...It's you." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She strained to see around him, then bit back a sob. "Hush," he soothed. "It'll be all right." "But Beth..." Russ looked around. Beth was nowhere in sight. Calvins had taken advantage of the distraction. Sirens careened around the corner. Police and paramedics. Both swooped in. Russ stood back to let them do their job. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Mack standing beside him. "You go to the hospital. I can manage here. I'll get someone else to stand watch with me." "Beth's in trouble. She needs me...us." He'd promised her he'd have her back. He'd promised. "All we can do is wait for a chance. We can't risk blowing her cover or she's dead." "Even if it means he's killing her right now?" Russ asked. "You know the answer as well as I do." * * * * "You'll pay for that stunt." Calvins shoved Beth into the bedroom. She stumbled back, hitting the footboard hard. Beth scrambled for balance. A sharp backhand blow knocked her down. She skidded across the carpet trying to get away. Calvins wrapped his hand into her long hair and yanked her to her feet. Strands tore from her scalp. A fist to the stomach doubled her over. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Another fist to her head dropped her. Calvins hauled her upright and tossed her face down to the bed. Straddling her, he ripped her clothes away, then used a strip of material to bind her hands to the bedpost. Beth tugged at the bindings; they only tightened. She bucked beneath him, striking out with her feet. Calvins snagged them in an iron-fisted grip and flipped her to her back. He bound them together then tied one to the bedpost, cut the wrap, and tied the other until she was spread-eagle. She sucked in a breath to scream. Before she could let out as much as a squeak, he shoved a gag into her mouth. Gasping for breath, he hovered over her naked body as he laughed. "I'm going to enjoy this. Oh, yes, I am." Still laughing, he left the room. Beth struggled against the ties until they threatened to cut off her circulation. "Still fighting?" Calvins said from the doorway. She forced herself to look his way. Terror raced her heart. He wove his fingers through three strands of a leather whip. His smile widened. "You're gonna learn who's boss, little girl." He slashed the whip against her skin. Pain took her breath away. Another slash and she choked on her scream. And it was just the beginning. She prayed she lived to the end. How much more before she prayed to die? * * * * Duty and love warred in Russ' conscience. Duty to the mother of his children or love for Beth? Where did he belong at this moment? Sitting in this hard, plastic chair waiting for word on Marianne's condition? Or busting down every door in Calvins' apartment building until he found Beth? Leaning into his knees, he buried his head in his hands and parked his fingers in his hair. He'd never felt more torn. Beth... What had Calvins done to her? What was happening now? Judging from the bruises on her arms and legs, she'd been through hell. If he ever got his hands on Calvins... He prayed she would survive, mentally and physically, from whatever retaliation Calvins might dish out for her escape attempt. Mack should take the team in and get her. He knew if they did, there would never be another chance to get Calvins. Word would spread through that community quickly that police had tried to infiltrate them again, ruining any future efforts. Calvins and his circle of degenerates would just dig deeper, making them impossible to find. On top of it all, there was this new information on Marianne. Two hours before he'd heard the paramedics announce Marianne had told them she was pregnant. Pregnant? Why hadn't she told him? Because of their divorce? Why would she have lied about something like that? Had the paramedics made a mistake? Yet, Marianne was conscious when they wheeled her inside. She hadn't bothered to correct them. Was she ashamed of her condition? Angry about it? And what was she doing at the café alone? "Mr. Salk?" Russ glanced up at a gray-haired doctor in surgical greens. "Yes?" "I'm Dr. Walker. I've been caring for your wife." He slid into the chair beside Russ, facing him fully. "She'll be fine, but unfortunately, we couldn't save the baby." Guilt knifed into him. If only she'd said something. But would that really have changed the outcome? She still would have been at the café. But Beth might not have put Marianne's life in danger if they'd known about the baby. Russ chided his train of thought. This wasn't Beth's fault. It was an accident. If he had to blame anyone, it would be Calvins. "How far along was she?" "A little over three months. I'm sorry. I'm surprised she wasn't hurt more. She has a broken arm, a very mild concussion, and, of course, the miscarriage. All things considered, she was a lucky woman." "When can I see her?" "Not until sometime tomorrow afternoon. She's a little groggy. We want her to have as much rest as possible." Russ thanked the man and stretched to his feet. His first thought was that he was free to find Beth, then he remembered his daughters. They'd be home from school soon and no one was there. With Marianne in the hospital, he had to find someone to care for the girls until he came home at night. He'd have to wait until morning to join Mack. It seemed an eternity. An agonizing one at that. * * * * A day and night of torture and abuse had passed, and Beth was certain she couldn't endure any more. She truly wanted to die just to have the nightmare end. Calvins had kept her bound and gagged during those long hours, allowing her to get up only when she needed to go to the bathroom, then standing over her while she relieved herself. Beatings were administered with cold, quiet precision. Beth had forced herself to lay perfectly still, enduring the punishment, and repositioning herself when he indicated in order to have another section of her body whipped. Beatings were shorter when she didn't struggle. But, at this point, Beth would have done anything Calvins asked just to stop the punishment permanently. She tried to force her mind to relive happier times. The images refused to come. Each flicker of joy was replaced by the picture of Marianne lying on a dirty Hollywood street. Calvins hadn't waited for her to see if Marianne was okay. He'd dragged her off like she was nothing but a sack of garbage. No one had done a thing to stop him. A human tidal wave surged toward the accident scene, oblivious to anything else. Beth prayed Marianne was all right. She'd never forgive herself for putting her in danger, possibly getting her killed. All she could think about was Rosemary and Carrie growing up without their mother. The bedroom door opened. He was back again. Beth cringed and instinctively tried to roll into a ball. The bindings made that impossible. "Well, he really worked you over good," a female voice said quietly from the door. Beth rolled her head in that direction. A willowy blonde stood there. She was striking enough to have been a model. Obviously, her presence here indicated another profession. Her hair skimmed her bronzed shoulders in subtle waves, drawing attention to the diamond solitaire necklace at her throat. A melon-colored silk tank top barely contained her bosom, yet allowed her to show off well-cut arms that boasted of hours at the gym. Her short skirt matched the top, cinched at the waist with a tropical sash. Long, tanned legs were bare; her feet covered with white, wedge-heeled sandals. Her toes and long nails shone with a pearlized cream polish. She looked like a million bucks. "My name's Alicia." She set a glass of water on the nightstand, then untied Beth's arms and removed the gag. Beth licked her lips and stretched her mouth. "Drink this." She lifted the glass to her lips. Beth wrapped shaking fingers around it and sucked down the water offered her. "Can you help me get away?" Alicia sat on the edge of the bed. "I only wish I could. But if I did, it would be me here getting whipped. I don't want to go through that again." She dropped her hand to Beth's knee. "There are other ways to be free of Randy. It just might take longer." "How much longer?" How could these women live like this? They have no other choice, her conscience replied. Nor did Beth...for the moment. "Let's get you into a soothing tub of water and we'll talk." She helped Beth to her feet. "Randy won't hurt you again unless you give him cause, and he's gone for now so we can talk freely." "Where did he go?" Alicia wrapped a supporting arm around her waist and led her to the bathroom. "Who knows? Who cares? He called me to say he was going out and told me to talk to you. To set you straight and get you ready for your noon appointment... In you go." Beth eased into the hot bath Alicia had prepared and let its soothing warmth permeate her skin. Every part of her ached. A deep sigh settled her against the vinyl air pillow Alicia tucked behind her. She closed her eyes and willed her body to stop hurting. "Why won't he just let me go?" Alicia sat on the toilet. "Because your type is hard to find," she softly replied. "What do you mean?" It was hard to play dumb, but she did anyway. "Young, virginal, drug-free. Despite his profession, Randy does have his standards. He can get young runaways easy enough, but ninety percent of them are on drugs and have already been around the block a bunch of times. Randy despises drugs, and he needs young innocents for the type of clientele you've been servicing." "So how do I get out of this?" Long bruises covered her from neck to ankles. "As I said, it'll take a while. First of all, you'll have to win Randy's trust again so he won't keep you on such a tight leash. A good way to start is to go to your noon appointment and come right back here. Secondly, you'll have to do the jobs he arranges for you. I know it's degrading, but it's called survival. For now, it's your only choice. "After about six months, he'll grow tired of having you here and the clients will want a new girl. That's when you'll be able to move into your own place. Randy will still keep you under his thumb, but as time passes, he'll ease up and soon you'll find he trusts you completely. Then you can set the rules." Tears welled up behind Beth's eyelids. They slipped free and trickled down her cheeks. "How is that escaping?" "I started out like you. Once he trusted me, I set my own schedule. I have my own apartment and it's mine—no man, not even Randy, has been there. I go to college during the day and work three high-paying clients a night for Randy. I get my cut immediately. There's also the extra special jobs at a place not far from here where people go for discreet liaisons. "When there aren't enough partners to go around, Randy helps with the supply. The clients think they're fooling around with another client. The manager goes fifty-fifty with Randy, and Randy goes fifty-fifty with his girls. "All this time I'm saving my cut and getting an education. Sure, I could probably go home now, but to tell you the truth, I'm ashamed. When I go back, it'll be with my college degree in my hand. One year from today, I'll be gone. I've got a car big enough to pack everything I own in it, and a doctor client who'll help me go. After that, I'm free. I've turned a nightmare around to my advantage." It sounded like a pathetic waste of life to Beth, but she had no energy to debate that. "I know it hurts." Alicia reached over and patted her hand. "But there are ways to make it easier. Vaginal suppositories will give you adequate lubrication. And as for the rough stuff... Well, a properly orchestrated moan will make them forget about that after a few swats. Trust me—I know. Make them think you can't wait to be screwed and when they do, groan, moan, and wiggle for all you're worth. I guarantee it'll be over fast. Soon you'll be like me...having clients who are happy with a quick blow-job." Beth shuddered in disgust. The very thought of being that intimate with a stranger made her gag. "You'll get used to it," Alicia told her. "It all sounds so cheap." Beth felt sorry for the girls trapped in this profession. "It is. But like I said, it's called survival. You don't want him to beat you again, do you?" "No...Maybe I can leave after six months." She prayed Russ or Mack were working on a plan to rescue her now. "And he'll be armed with photos of you pulling tricks to show your folks," Alicia said. "You could do worse. At least Randy and his clients are clean. You lie there and soak while I see about getting you something to eat. Think about what I said." Calvins' girls were no better than slaves and, once brainwashed, robots to do his bidding—even Alicia. But after what she'd just been through, Beth could understand how that could happen. She stared at the bruises and welts covering her body and realized there were only two options open to her—to be beaten to death or do as Calvins told her. He had to learn to trust her enough to relax his guard over her. There was no way Russ and Mack could get to her without endangering her more. As much as she hated it, she had to keep up this horrible game or risk losing her life. Rick had died because his cover had been blown. That was not going to happen to her. They'd come too far to jeopardize the case with door-crashing heroics. Beth knew that and hoped the men did, too. After all she'd been through, she wanted this case to be tight—no matter how badly she wanted out. She washed in the now tepid water, and when she joined Alicia at the breakfast bar, she announced the decision both Alicia and Calvins most wanted to hear. Alicia smiled. "I thought you might come to that conclusion." Beth shrugged a shoulder. "What other choice do I have?" "My point exactly." She set a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a cup of noodle soup before her. "Here's a package of those suppositories I was telling you about. They're a water-based lubricant so they won't weaken the condom. I don't care what Randy says, I want that shield between me and them." She slid the box beside the soup. "I know you don't have any cash yet, so this will be my treat. Insert one before you go on a job and you'll have no trouble accepting the man. You can pay me back by helping any other girls who follow after you." "I hope he won't treat them like this." She took a sip of the soup. She was so dehydrated it hurt going down. "Oh, you can bet he will. They always try to get away." "I almost made it, too." She covered her eyes to drown out the memory of Marianne's body bouncing off the truck. She gave a humorless laugh. "I actually think he looks forward to the attempt." A key in the door announced Calvins' return. They turned as one when he walked in. "Well?" He passed a gaze down Beth that made her shudder, then slammed the door behind him. "We've had a meeting of the minds," Alicia replied. "Good. Glad to see you've finally come to your senses." Seeing a chance to make up to him, Beth gave him the best little-girl pout she could muster. "I'm sorry, Randy. I was wrong and deserved to be punished. I won't ever do it again. From now on, I'll do whatever you want." "Good. You can start by getting dressed for your noon job. Go alone. Don't be late. And remember...if you run off, I'll find you and drag you back. If you thought last night was bad, you don't even want to see what I'll do if you pull a stunt like that again." He pivoted on his heel and strode to the bedroom. "He means it, too," Alicia said softly. "And I'll give you a bit more advice... If you're ever picked up for prostitution, never, ever turn Randy in. If you do, he'll make sure you never get to testify. And that's no joke. You wouldn't be the first girl to disappear. He has big friends in high places. Now get ready. You've been given a second chance, so don't blow it." * * * * "What's going on?" Russ slipped into the car beside Mack. His gaze was riveted to Calvins' building. "Calvins left. One of his girls came. Then Calvins came back. I haven't seen Beth." "Any chance he could've taken her out the back way?" "Jolene has that entrance covered. How's Marianne? She at Kaiser?" "Yeah. Doctor says she'll be fine. I can see her today. I just can't believe how hard it is to find good help to watch kids. Even my parents were out of town. And I couldn't reach anyone in Marianne's family." "It's okay. John sat last night so I got a few hours' sleep." "That's not the point, Mack. That's my partner in there." The captain tore his attention from the building. "And that's one of my detectives. I put her in this situation. How the hell do you think that makes me feel?" Mack couldn't understand how Russ felt. Hell, no one could, not even Beth. Even he didn't realize the full extent of his feelings until he'd dropped her off in Bakersfield. Unburdening himself right now wasn't going to help the situation. If Mack suspected Russ' concern was far deeper than that of loyalty and dedication to his partner, he'd yank Russ off the case without blinking an eye. Russ wisely kept the information to himself and focused on surveillance. A resigned sigh from the driver's seat indicated Mack had done the same. A few minutes later, the apartment building's front door opened and Beth stepped out. "She's alone." Mack stated the obvious. But Russ would guess Calvins still watched. The bastard. A red paisley peasant blouse with a faded black skirt covered Beth to her ankles and wrists, but her stiff movements showed how badly she'd been hurt. They waited until she was a block away and sure Calvins wasn't around before following. Five feet from her and another block later, Russ hissed her name. Beth paused and turned. Tears shimmered in her silver-gray eyes. He longed to swoop her into his arms and carry her away. To do so would jeopardize all the sacrifices it was clear she'd already made and the hell she'd just been through. "Stay back." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Follow me. Sixteenth floor. Fifth office on the left. Arrest me. Arrest me like you would any hooker. If you don't, he'll kill me." She walked away before they could ask any questions. Mack pulled at his face. "Good God, what have I gotten her into?" "Let's go." Russ hurried on, with Mack close behind. They caught up with Beth as she ducked into the freight elevator. Minutes seemed like hours as Russ waited for it to return. When it finally arrived, the thing crawled back to its previous destination. On the sixteenth floor, he raced Mack to the office Beth had told them about. With weapons drawn, and no preliminary warning, they pushed open the door. Beth's client jerked up his pants. "What the hell..." With shaking arms, Beth yanked her skirt back into place, but not before Russ got a glimpse of the bruises that covered her flesh. He swallowed the pain that brief look created. There didn't seem to be a part of her not hurt. He couldn't speak, much less think. Her pain was his. His rage was all his own. "You two are under arrest for prostitution." Mack jerked the man's hands behind his back to cuff him. Russ hesitated. Beth's wrists were already chaffed from whatever Calvins had used to tie her in place; he couldn't hurt her any more. "Do it," she whispered. "Or I'm dead." As carefully as possible, he did as she asked. They played out the game, even when they reached the police station. Beth was booked under "Liz Mason;" her client as "John Doe." Under shouts of protest and complaints of harassment, John Doe was escorted to the cells. Russ curled his hand around Beth's elbow and led her to the nearest interrogation room. There, he released her, and tried to pull her into a comforting embrace. Beth gently held him back. "If either of you hug me now, I'll get hysterical. Let's get this over with. I've got evidence and I want it documented." "What kind of evidence?" Mack asked. "Just get a camera and Jolene. After she's done taking pictures, get me to a hospital. I'm hurt...bad."

Chapter 10

Russ stared into a Styrofoam cup of coffee that had been cold for at least thirty minutes. Although the photographs of Beth still needed to be developed, all he had to do was recall Jolene's graphic descriptions and he got sick to his stomach. The only parts of Beth that had escaped injury were her face, hands, and feet. At least none of the wounds had cut deeply into her skin. Beth wouldn't be scarred, at least not physically. The doctor also suspected internal bleeding—he checked on that while Mack dealt with his guilt and Russ with his fury. Knowing Beth had also suffered repeated rape only fired his rage. It didn't matter that they were aware of the risks before she went in. Reality was a little too much to bear. Russ glanced at his watch. Time to visit Marianne. He wished it was Beth. "You know where I'll be. Come get me when Beth can have visitors." Mack just nodded. It was more guilt on the man's shoulders. Russ knew that feeling well enough. If he'd only gotten there in time. If he'd only watched Beth more closely. If he'd only talked Beth out of this or Mack or... He stopped outside Marianne's room. Guilt she'd been drawn into this mess gnawed a hole in his gut, but not as much as the guilt he felt over wishing he was with Beth right now and not her. Even if they did have a rotten marriage. Even if they'd married because of necessity and not love. Even if passion never underscored any part of their relationship. She deserved something. She was the mother of his children. All Russ could dredge up was duty. A deep breath, squared shoulders, and a false smile carried him through the door. Marianne smiled and extended her injured hand to him. The arm cast dwarfed her, but her eyes were bright. Her blonde hair fanned neatly on the pillow. He slid his hand into hers and sat on the edge of the bed. For a woman who'd just lost a baby, she didn't look very distraught. "You look pretty...considering." "The nurse helped me fix up. I wanted to look nice for you." He squeezed her fingers. How could he respond to something like that? "Girls are fine. I've found someone to watch them 'til you're back on your feet." Small talk, that's all it was. He was killing time while he tried to find a way to confront her. Just get to it. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" Her smile dropped. "I...I didn't know." "Bullshit, you told the paramedics. The doctor said you were twelve-plus weeks along. Why the hell didn't you say something?" Marianne turned her head into her pillow. "I don't know." Russ let her hand fall to her lap. "That's a hell of an answer. I think I deserve something better." Her head snapped around. "I told you I don't know why! Isn't that good enough for you?" He eased back. "Maybe you didn't tell me because you'd planned to do something about it. There's an abortion clinic around the corner." She sank into the pillow. "What does it matter? I'm not pregnant anymore." "It matters to me. That was my child," he told her. "Were you planning an abortion?" "No." She twisted her sheet in knots. "You know I could never...I met a friend for lunch. I didn't tell you I was pregnant because I kept hoping I was wrong. What does it matter...now?" It mattered a lot. She was lying. Other than badger her until she broke, he doubted he'd ever get her to admit it. "Well, I can see you're tired, so I'll let you rest." He touched her shoulder as he stood. Marianne grabbed his hand and pressed her cheek to it. "Beth?" "What about Beth?" He slipped free of her hold. "Is she all right? What's going on?" "It was business and I can't discuss it with you." Anger flashed across her face so quickly Russ would have missed it if he hadn't been looking right at her. "You'd think I'd know better than to ask after all these years," she finally said. "I was only concerned. As long as I've known her, I've never seen Beth so frightened. The least you can do is tell me if she's all right." A sigh bowed his head. "She's...hurt. She's been admitted to the hospital here, but I'm not sure how she is." "You'll let me know?" He nodded and turned to the door. "Thank you for being there, Russ," Marianne said to his back. He glanced over his shoulder. What could he say? That he'd almost left her to go after Beth? If he had, Beth wouldn't be in the shape she was. He should have gone after Beth. Someone would have helped Marianne. Beth had no one. "Russ?" He glanced up. Mack hovered in the doorway. "We can see her now." Russ turned back to Marianne. "Rest. I know you're anxious to get home." He was out the door before the last word died. How could three rooms feel like three miles? Russ struggled to match Mack's slower pace. It was killing him. But not half as much as the sight of Beth propped up in that hospital bed. Pain and exhaustion made her sink into the pillows behind her. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks damp from tears. The hospital gown did nothing to hide the bruises and lash marks on her arms. Her sun-kissed brown hair was a tangled mess. The hairbrush and comb on the tray before her had gone untouched. Mack coughed into his fist. Beth opened her eyes. Even the smile she managed showed exhaustion. "Hi." Wincing, she pushed herself more upright and tried to move the tray out of the way. Russ darted ahead and did so for her. Uncaring of what Mack thought, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. Mack stood guard at her feet. "Is Marianne all right?" Her voice was as weary as the rest of her. Hurt as she was, she still thought of someone else first. Russ caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "A broken arm, a mild concussion, but she'll be fine." Beth had enough to deal with; she didn't need to know about the miscarriage. He couldn't bear to see her hurt this way. He longed to crush her to him and will her injuries to heal. "Can you ever forgive me?" More tears drifted down her face. "For what?" A swipe of his thumb wiped her cheek clear only to be replaced by another tear. "If it wasn't for me, she'd never have gotten hurt." Her lips quivered. He longed to kiss them until everything that had happened was nothing but a vague memory. "It's okay. It was an accident." "I'll go see her as soon as I can," she said. Mack gave a nervous cough. The emotion was too much for him, too. "You need to rest." Beth gave a weak laugh. "I promise I will." She swallowed, then went on. "You need to take two statements from me. One as Liz Mason, the other as Elizabeth Manning. It's very important Liz's statement is well circulated. Calvins has to believe he can trust me. If he suspects differently, he'll kill me." "There'll be time for that later," Mack barked. Beth slowly shook her head as if even the effort of moving a little hurt. "I have to get this done while it's all clear in my mind. So...start writing." Judging from the grip she had on his hand, Russ guessed she didn't mean him. She must be depending on his strength to get her through. Nothing would compel Russ to break that link, not even the captain's orders. Mack pulled a worn leather notepad from his suit pocket. Pulling the hospital tray his way, he clicked on his pen. "Go. The sooner we finish..." He left the rest unsaid. As Liz Mason, Beth's statement was sparse, denying any knowledge of Randy Calvins, and stating she worked alone. Her official report as a police officer was one Russ could have lived without hearing—a narration that would haunt him the rest of his life. She left out no detail of her brief, abusive stay with Calvins. Russ wished he could wrap his hands around Calvins' throat and strangle the bastard. The information was a gold mine of data. It was the verification they needed of the extent of his operation. Only the identity of his clients was left to discover and that's what frightened Russ the most. Beth behaved as if she had every intention of going back under. He considered asking her, but didn't think he could deal with her answer. And he knew she couldn't take any lectures from him right now. "This Alicia," Mack was saying. "Do you think she'd be willing to give us information about Calvins?" Beth shook her head. This interview was tiring her out. He could see it in her face. "She's too afraid of him. Considering everything, I can't say that I blame her. It wouldn't surprise me if Calvins sent her on a scouting mission to see if I've told you anything." "Would Calvins show up?" Russ' voice was rougher than he intended. He couldn't help it. All Calvins needed was a hint of Beth's subterfuge. She could be dead in a split second. "Too risky," Beth said. "We'll post a rotating guard outside your door," Mack told her. "John and Jolene. If Alicia shows up, they'll let her in, but keep a close watch in case she tries to pull something." "Rest." Russ tucked her hand on her lap. "We'll see you later." He resisted the urge to kiss her forehead, then walked to the door with Mack. * * * * Beth didn't wait for them to leave. With a sigh born of the security she felt, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the comfort of her bed. Here she was safe from the painful reality of the horrors she'd just relayed. But she couldn't forget there were hundreds of girls who couldn't escape that trap. As much as she tried to not think about it, Beth knew she still had a job to finish. Although the thought of returning to Calvins scared the hell out of her, Beth knew she had to do it. As sleep drifted upon her, she prayed for the strength and courage to complete the job she'd started.

Chapter 11

Marianne played with the dinner the nurse placed in front of her. The meatloaf was dry and the mashed potatoes so tasteless they were only suited for what she was doing to them now—making railroad tracks with her fork. The room was scented with bouquets of flowers from friends, family, and one Russ sent from the girls. But the one person she looked for something from had neglected her, just like he had at the café. She tossed her fork onto the tray and smacked back against her plumped up pillows. The son of a bitch didn't even bother to see if she was alive or dead. He merely glanced over the crowd then scurried away like the rat he was. It only confirmed her feelings it was time this extended affair with Ted ended. No matter how much she loved him or how wonderful he was in bed, it was nothing but self-destruction to continue the relationship. He was bad for her...unreliable...irresponsible. Not like Russ...nothing like Russ. Regret washed over her. She'd truly made a mess of things. She'd had security with Russ and tossed it away. Somehow she had to get it back. She remembered the look on his face when he learned Beth was ready for visitors. In all the years she'd known him, all the times they were together, she never saw him look at her with that kind of love. Marianne never cared until now. Oh, hell, she still didn't care about the love. But she needed that security. With Beth in the picture, she didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting him back. Soon he'd stop coming over at a moment's notice. It had already begun—curt responses whenever she called. Then he'd take the girls away for weekend visits rather than stay at the house. Someone else would have to do the lawn, the repairs. The weekend of relaxation she looked forward to would be gone. Russ wouldn't be there to cook and clean. He...they...would set up housekeeping elsewhere. She'd be truly on her own. She'd never been more frightened. There had to be a way to turn all of this around. Marianne smoothed her sheets with her free hand. The accident was a blessing in disguise. She could play up Beth's part in it all, work that guilt to her favor. She'd lost a child—Russ' child, so he believed. The divorce would be her reason for not telling him. More guilt. As long as she was recovering, Russ wouldn't think of leaving. He was too honor and duty bound. That would give her precious time. He'd see the benefits of reconciliation. The promise of more time with the girls. The end of child support and alimony. Surely that had to account for something. She'd stress the domestic contentment Russ had always craved. It would pale in comparison to starting over with Beth. Wouldn't it? Marianne closed her eyes and fell back into her pillow. They had so much in common. How could she compete with that? She'd never been able to before. How many times had Russ, Rick, and Beth shut her out of conversations with their cop talk? She'd just have to show Beth how much better Russ was with her, how devoted he was to the girls and his home. That would scare her off for good. "You pout just like our daughters," Ted said from the doorway. Marianne opened her eyes to narrow slits. Teddy stood in the doorway with his peace offering—a vase of red and white carnations. A mauve pullover hugged his chest, and he wore the black Armani slacks she loved so well—the ones that showed off his tight ass. Ted was clever. Marianne couldn't deny that. But even though she knew the flowers and his method of dress were calculated, she found her resolve to end things quickly evaporating. She tilted her chin up a notch, trying to disguise feelings she knew he could see. "What happened to you yesterday?" Ted set the vase next to the others and braced a hand on either side of her thighs. "I paid the check and went to the men's room. When I came out, it was too late to do anything except wait for the ambulance." "And why didn't you?" "You had enough to worry about. I didn't want to put you in the awkward position of explaining my presence to Russ...unless you're ready to tell him." "No." It was the last thing she wanted, especially since she was on the road to winning him back. "I meant what I said the other day. This has to end. I have to think of my marriage." Ted smirked. "You have no marriage. And, besides, since your conscience hasn't bothered you for eleven years, why start now?" He traced his index finger around her ear, smiling when she shivered. "You're not tired of me, are you? Don't you like our...games?" He peeled her gown from her shoulder and bit her hard. Her body responded quickly and against what little will she had. "Ted, please...Why can't you let it end?" "For the same reason you can't...there's too much fire between us," he finished in a whisper, then bent to kiss her. Marianne turned away. Ted pulled back. His mood to seduce her was gone, replaced by a gruff determination to have her. She'd seen that hungry look before and reveled in it. He'd pin her down, strip her naked, and take her, willing or not...and she was always willing at that point. He always played her to perfection. "I had a long talk with your blackmailer friend." Marianne's heart thudded impatiently while she waited for him to continue. "The accident yesterday was deliberate. He said to consider it a warning. Next time he'll get nasty...Maybe with you...maybe with one of the girls." Her head whipped around. "No!" "He means business. He knows we can't call the police because it'll mean telling Russ." Marianne dug her fingers into his arm to fight the panic that raced through her. Tears blinded her. "Teddy, I can't do what he wants." He smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's okay, baby. I talked him out of that. All you have to do is continue to be with me. To let them film us." She eased back, her expression a mixture of shock and fear. "It's the only way." Ted squeezed her limp hand. "Marianne, he already made sure you lost one child. Do you want him to hurt Rosemary or Carrie?" The tears trickled down her cheeks. Words were impossible. Ted patted her hand. "I didn't think so. You get healed and we'll take it from there. It won't be so terrible. It isn't something we haven't done before." Marianne was only vaguely aware of him dropping a kiss to her forehead before he walked out the door. Her deceit had trapped her, as she always knew it would. But she never suspected her daughters to be threatened by it. She wished she could scream out her outrage. She couldn't. She only had herself to blame. Streams of tears turned into rivers. There had to be a way of out this mess. There just had to be. * * * * Beth had just drifted into a delicious dream of Russ' arms round her. They were her haven against the world. He dotted kisses to her face and neck. No one could hurt her now. A cool hand curled over her shoulder and jostled her awake. Beth shrugged it away and cuddled deeper under the covers, hoping whomever it was would take the hint and leave. The visitor was persistent, but it was only when Beth heard, "Liz," whispered harshly that she finally opened her eyes. Alicia stood over her, her brown eyes wide and inquisitive. She hardly resembled the sophisticated woman Beth had met the day before. Jeans and a pale blue T-shirt were her clothes today. Her long, blonde hair was swept into a ponytail. She looked sixteen. For all Beth knew, she could have been. Beth shook the cobwebs out of her head. She couldn't afford a slip-up now. "What're you doing here?" "Relax. I told the cop outside I was your sister. Randy sent me to find out what happened." She scooted the plastic chair closer and sat. Beth draped her arm over her eyes. "Be damned if I know." She played up a deep sigh. "Cops busted in the office right in the middle of things. Locked us both up." "Yeah...from what I understand, it was a bad bust. They have no evidence. The guy is swearing you're his mistress. They had to let him go. What'd you tell them?" "Not a damn thing. Just like you said. They wanted the name of my pimp. I told them I worked alone. I don't know if they believe me." She flung her arm away as she sat up. "I think they'll be watching me carefully for a while so you and Randy stay away. I'll come to him as soon as I'm sure it's safe." Alicia nodded. "Good girl. I brought your things from Randy's place." She motioned to Beth's suitcase by the door. "The money you earned is in there. It should be enough to get by 'til you can come back. You will come back, won't you?" "Do I have a choice?" Beth asked. "Not really." Alicia stood, reassuming the self-assurance she'd had when Beth first met her. "See ya when we see ya." Beth watched her leave. She didn't know whether to celebrate or cry. It would be so much easier if her conscience would just let her walk away from all this. Jolene poked her dark, curly head in the door. "Okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine. Better let Russ and Mack know Alicia made contact." "Sure thing. Go back to sleep, though. They'll keep 'til morning." Beth pulled the covers back around her neck. Jolene had the look of a poodle, but the force of a pit bull. Too many preps had learned that the hard way. Beth was in good hands. Maybe not as good as Russ', but... She let sleep surround her once more. * * * * Russ listened with only half-attention while Beth told them about Alicia's visit. He kept comparing Beth's convalescence with Marianne's. Marianne's room was filled with flowers from family and friends; Beth had nothing. Marianne could be comfortable in her own nightgowns; Beth had to settle for a hospital gown. They couldn't take the risk of blowing her cover by giving her those things. It was for her own safety she was forced to do without, but Russ still felt she was being cheated. Now that Calvins' representative had paid a call, they might be able to at least bring her something to sleep in. The flowers could wait until she got home. Beth was pale and, despite her night of sleep, still looked exhausted. The bruises on her arms were a painful reminder of what she'd been through. She had to be hurting. The slightest move in a wrong direction made her wince. Even her voice lacked that spark that made her truly Beth. It was as if Calvins had beaten the life out of her. And, like Marianne, she seemed to lack the energy to even eat—her breakfast was pushed to the side, untouched. Russ lingered after Mack left. Safe behind closed doors, draped from view, he cupped Beth's hand in his. "It's just you and me." He gently rubbed some warmth into her icy fingers. "You can drop the professional tone. Tell me...how do you feel?" "I hurt all over," she calmly replied. "That goes without saying. But that's not what I meant. How do you feel up here?" He tapped her head. When Beth tried to pull her hand away, he held it in place. She refused to meet his gaze. "You can't keep this bottled inside you. You have to let go. Tell me, Beth. Lean on me. That's what friends are supposed to be for." Her lower lip began to quiver. She was fighting a valiant battle, but he couldn't let her lock this away. He crooked his index finger under her chin and turned her face to his. "Tell me. Talk to me." Tears flooded her eyes, magnifying the gray until they shimmered like a lake in the moonlight. Russ waged his own war now, fighting against the urge to cover her moist lips with his own. No matter how much he wanted her, now sure wasn't the time for intimacy. He gathered her close. Beth clutched him like a lifeline as the sobs tore from her throat. "It was horrible. I feel so ashamed. So humiliated." He combed his fingers through the tangles in her rich brown hair, offering comfort the only way he could while Beth cried into his chest and told him everything. Again, he longed to wrap his fingers around the throat of each man who had hurt her, then crush their windpipes. Torture and castration were also on the list of possibilities Russ considered to avenge Beth. "I never could understand how any woman could allow herself to be trapped into prostitution." Her voice was muffled by his chest. "But I sure know now. I'd have done anything he asked just to keep him from beating me. If you and Mack hadn't come to get me, I don't think I would have had enough courage to leave." "Sure you would." He brushed a kiss to her forehead. Beth shook her head. "You don't understand." His chest rose and fell with a sigh. "No, I don't. All I know is that I don't want you going back." "But that's just it—I have to. I'm the only one who has a chance to get this guy off the streets. Only..." "Only what?" She hesitated in order to force back another sob. "After all that's happened, I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy sex again. Every time I think of a man touching me, I think of them. I feel dirty. I get sick inside. And to finish this job, I have to pretend to like it. How can I? How?" "Let someone else finish up. Calvins will get caught one day." "But how many more people are going to die before that happens?" "I don't know, Beth. I just don't know. As for the other... Remember what you had with Rick. He never hurt you. You know how it can be. It'll just take time. And when you're ready—" "You'll be there?" "Yeah...I will. I'd never hurt you...or judge you. You know that. What we shared the other night wasn't a fluke. It was real and wonderful. And it will be again." Would one kiss be bad? Russ was afraid to move, afraid to offer more than the comfort of his arms. She needed gentle reassurance, understanding, support, and patience, not his tongue in her mouth. All he could do was hold her until her tears subsided. Scooping her gently in his arms, he crawled onto the bed and cradled her on his lap. She curled around him as if hanging on for dear life. Long bruises were latticed down her legs. Russ resisted the urge to hide them beneath the sheet. Beth had to deal with them and so did he. "What would I do without you?" She sniffled as she nestled her cheek against his shoulder. "I guess we'll never know the answer to that, will we?" It was a hollow promise considering their line of work. Fortunately, Beth didn't call him on it. Pulling in a steady breath, she eased away, shoved the remnants of tears away, then offered him a weak smile, which Russ returned. "How is Marianne doing?" She crawled from his lap. Russ eased to his former position at the edge of the bed. "Pretty good. Doctor says she can probably go home tomorrow." "I need to see her. Can we dare a visit?" "You did a good job warning Calvins off. Sure. I'll have the nurse bring you a wheelchair." "I'll walk. It might help get the kinks out." She swung her legs over the side and sucked in a gasp. Russ draped the hospital robe around her, covering the view. "It'll heal, honey." She continued to stare. "Outside, yes. But inside?" "That, too." He dipped down and dropped a simple kiss to her lips. "Oh, Russ, I—" "Time, honey. All the time in the world if that's what it takes. I've got your back."

If that wasn't a declaration of some kind, Beth didn't know what was. He'd...they'd...made their feelings pretty clear the other night. That now felt like a world away. Too much had happened, too many harsh words said. But he was still right by her side offering his support. Was she wrong to think love might be part of that package? It seemed a lot to hope for. They were partners, best friends. Would love be the icing on that cake? Beth didn't feel like tearing the question apart. All she knew was she needed Russ in her life or she'd never be a full person again. She'd face all the repercussions later. It was a chance she had to take. Her muscles screamed at every movement. She hadn't ached this badly since her academy days, if then. Beth was determined to work through it. To do less would be to admit Calvins' victory over her. Beth refused to allow it. Leaning heavily on Russ' arm, she made her way down the hall. Still, she was glad when they reached Marianne's room. Russ pushed open the door and guided her toward the bed. Marianne gasped and threw back the covers. "My God, Beth! What happened?" Beth eased to the bed. "Oh, Marianne, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault you were hurt." Marianne wrapped her arm around Beth. "It was an accident. Just a stupid accident. But what happened to you? Who was that man? Why were you running? I've never seen you so frightened before." Beth pulled away and squeezed her hand. "It's not important." "And even if it was, you couldn't tell me your secret cop stuff." The animosity in her voice was clear. Beth couldn't blame her. Marianne had been unwittingly dragged into their business. She was lucky to be alive. Beth would be dealing with the guilt forever. "The important thing is we're both okay. How about taking a short stroll with me? The sooner we show these people how fit we are, the sooner they'll let us go home." "I'm all for that." Marianne reached for the burgundy velour robe across the foot of her bed. Her hand stopped in mid-air. She stared down at her legs, eyes and mouth wide with fear. "What is it? What's wrong?" Russ and Beth asked in unison. "My legs." She gasped. "I can't move them...Oh my God, I can't move my legs!"

Chapter 12

It was a cruel fate—a horrible practical joke someone was playing on them. Of all the people in the world, Beth wondered why Marianne happened to be at that café at that particular time. There were dozens of other places much closer to her home where she could have eaten. That thought aside, there were at least fifty other people eating there, another fifty walking on the street. Beth could have run to any of them for help, but it was Marianne she chose. Looking back, it seemed a foolish gesture to seek aid from a woman no bigger than herself to fight against a man whose strength was tripled by his anger. Because she'd acted rashly, Marianne would probably never walk again. Guilt before was nothing compared to how Beth felt now. She stared out her hospital window. The overcast day was a good reflection of her emotions. She must have been standing there for hours, looking vacantly at the crowded streets of Hollywood. Each time she managed to stop crying, all she had to do was think of Marianne and a new batch of tears would well up. What would Russ and the girls do? Marianne would be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. She'd never walk, never dance, never run across a sandy beach, never ride a bike or ski. Beth knew many people learned to adjust well confined to a wheelchair, but she couldn't see Marianne falling into that mold. Beth pressed her forehead to the windowpane. It should be her who was paralyzed, not Marianne. She had no one who depended on her. She could adapt. Why?...Why? "I'd gladly trade places with you if I could," Beth choked out in a whisper. * * * * Russ waited as calmly as possible while Dr. Walker shuffled the papers around on his desk. If his news was bad, Russ wished he'd just get on with it. The telephone called the man's attention away again, and Russ drummed his fingers on the arm of the brown leather chair. The noise drew the doctor's gaze his way. He stared at Russ' fingers then looked up at the mounting anger in Russ' eyes. "Thanks," he said into the phone. "That's what I expected." He eased the receiver down and laced his fingers before him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Salk. I was waiting for that call for some results of the lab tests. As you know, we've run several tests on your wife." "Estranged wife." It was a petty point. Russ didn't know why he made an issue of it. Walker cleared his throat. "Yes...well... There's no damage to her spine, her pelvis, or her legs. We can find no reason for her paralysis. Even the EEG showed normal, as did the CAT scan." Russ leaned forward. "You're saying there's nothing wrong with her?" "I'm saying we can't find anything wrong." "Then why can't she walk?" he snapped. "We can't overlook the possibility her paralysis is psychosomatic." "You mean it's all in her head?" Russ asked. "Why would Marianne do something like that?" It was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Dr. Walker leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on the points of his fingers. "How about guilt?" "Guilt?" "Mr. Salk, the mind is a very powerful thing. Perhaps your wife is blaming herself for the loss of her baby and this is her subconscious way of punishing herself." More hogwash, but how could he argue? This wasn't something she could fake. "So now what? How can she get better?" "Psychiatric care. Therapy. We'd like to begin as soon as possible." Russ was only vaguely aware of nodding. He wasn't sure if he believed this theory, but with no apparent physical damage, there seemed nothing else to believe in. He muttered a few words of thanks then stumbled out the door. His first thought was how this was going to affect Rosemary and Carrie. There would have to be a few adjustments made in all of their lives. He'd have to move back in for the time being. Marianne sure as hell wouldn't like that. Russ wasn't crazy about it either, but what else could he do? If the therapy didn't work, once Marianne got the hang of a wheelchair, things would be somewhat easier...he hoped. Everything now depended on her attitude. If she was guilty enough to cause herself not to walk, she might also balk at any help given her...even the mobility of a wheelchair. Knowing Beth waited for word, Russ walked slowly down the hall to her room. She'd be blaming herself for this; he was pretty sure of that. He didn't know how to convince her otherwise. No matter how he presented the facts, they all came to the same conclusion—Marianne wouldn't have been hurt if Beth hadn't run to her for help. It was up to him to ease Beth's guilt before it consumed Beth as Marianne's had consumed her. Russ nodded a greeting to John Evans who guarded Beth's room, then stepped inside. She stood at the window. Her back was to him. From the way her shoulders quivered, he knew she was crying. It was, of course, a natural reaction—one he'd been fighting all day. He couldn't help but feel that to give in to that inclination was like giving up hope. He wasn't ready to do that. She glanced at his reflection in the windowpane when he curled his fingers over her shoulders. "God, I'm so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She draped her arms around his. "If I could trade places with her, I would." He kissed her temple. "Don't blame yourself, honey. It was an accident." "An accident I caused." He turned her around to face him. "Stop it. You're not doing anyone any good by dwelling on this. Everything's going to be okay. There's nothing physically wrong with her." Puzzlement tugged her eyebrows together. "I don't understand." "The doctor said it's in her head." "You mean she's imagining this?" The furrow between her brows deepened. "Something like that." Russ explained the situation as best he could. When he finished, he tilted her chin up until he could look into her troubled eyes. "See what misplaced guilt has done to her? If you keep blaming yourself for this, you'll drive yourself crazy. I know. I've spent the majority of my time blaming myself for not getting across the street faster. But it happened and that's that. There's nothing any of us can do to change it. We just have to learn to accept it and go on." Beth nodded and blew her nose on a well-used tissue. "Yeah, I guess you're right... How long do they expect this therapy to last?" "As long as it takes." "How is Marianne dealing with this?" she asked. "She hasn't said a word. Just stares." * * * * She was never going to walk again. No matter how optimistically the doctors talked about therapy and counseling, Marianne knew it wouldn't do any good. It was the miracle she'd asked for, horribly disguised. An apt punishment for all the years she'd betrayed Russ. She wondered how long they'd have to go through all this rehab before they realized how futile it was. For the rest of her life she was going to be totally dependent on Russ. He'd never leave her alone now. Even if she managed to get used to maneuvering a wheelchair, their house wasn't structured for a handicapped person. But, thank God, Ted wouldn't bother her anymore. That thought alone made her want to weep for joy. It was like a release from an eleven-year jail term. Confined to a wheelchair, she'd be of no use to any man. Ted's interest in her would be gone and him with it, as he was every time she needed support. That was fine with her. She had Russ. Good, old dependable Russ. They'd reconcile, of course. He wouldn't have it any other way because of the girls. Not exactly what she envisioned when she was looking for a solution to her problems. This was a classic example of being careful what you wish for. Permanently paralyzed, life in a wheelchair, no longer able to function as a woman—there was no doubt in her mind she deserved it all. The doctors could give her all the therapy and counseling they wanted—she knew what the future held for her. She'd won Russ and security...at a cost. But at least Teddy was gone. And Beth... Marianne had that one all figured out. She'd play on her friendship big time, make Beth her confidante. Beth was a sucker for sympathy. She'd do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt her. Marianne allowed herself a tiny smile for her shallow victory. No leaving anything to the whims of the Universe this time. She had control. A step at a time and she'd have all she ever wanted. * * * * Beth stood in the doorway, watching Marianne. She'd never seen anyone stare so long without blinking. For a moment she wondered if Marianne might be dead, but the gentle rise and fall of her chest reassured Beth. It was probably shock that made her so quiet. That's how she'd be handling it if it were her. But recovery depended on Marianne's attitude. She'd hoped Marianne would rally a little spirit soon and fight this. "Feel like a little company?" Marianne rolled her head toward the door, then closed her eyes. "I don't think I want to see anyone right now," she said with a weary sigh. "Shutting yourself away isn't going to solve the problem." Beth saw tears escape from under Marianne's eyelids. She pushed the door closed and sat in a chair beside her. "Marianne, I can't begin to tell you how very sorry I am. If I hadn't—" She shook her head. "Not your fault...Mine." "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard," Beth told her. "Where'd you get an idea like that?" Marianne opened her eyes to a flood of tears and groped for Beth's hand. She clutched it as if her life depended on it. "It's true. I'm being punished. Oh, Beth, I've done a horrible thing. A horrible thing." "What are you talking about?" She opened and closed her mouth three times before the words came out. "Promise me you won't tell. Promise me." "Won't tell who? What?" Marianne was crushing the life out of Beth's hand. "Promise me." "I promise," Beth said. The words spewed out of Marianne. Beth tried not to show how shocked she was over the other woman's revelation. Of all the people she knew, Marianne was the last person she'd ever suspect of having an affair. And for eleven years? To say it was a staggering shock was an understatement. Beth let her talk, never once interrupting the flow of words. The more she heard, the angrier she got. If she didn't have a reason to hate Ted Salk before, she certainly had one now. Beth was glad Marianne didn't pause. That would have required her to comment. If it was sympathy and understanding Marianne was looking for, Beth wouldn't be able to provide it. All she could think about was how hurt Russ would be if he found out about this. During their marriage, Russ had never neglected his wife or sought the companionship of other women. He believed in family and commitment, and he'd gotten neither from Marianne. It was why they decided on divorce in the first place. Now even the daughters he cherished could actually belong to another man. Beth thought about the pain this news would cause him. Marianne needn't have worried about her passing this information on to anyone else. She could never hurt Russ that way. "You hate me now, don't you?" Marianne asked through choked sobs when she was finished baring her soul. How could she answer a question like that? "God, Beth, please don't hate me." Marianne clutched her hand in a death grip. Beth wrapped her arms around the other woman and let her cry herself out. It was the only comfort she could offer for now. Anything she might have said would have only come out as condemnation. What the hell else was she supposed to do? A big part of her longed to run right to Russ and tell him what Marianne had done. Just the thought of telling him the daughters he loved and adored much weren't his made her Marianne's unwilling accomplice. She could never hurt Russ like that. * * * * A jingle pulled Beth up from her thoughts. Russ stood in the doorway, rattling his car keys, an inviting grin on his face. "Do you suppose I can convince you to leave?" Beth was on her feet a half a second after the words left his mouth. "After three days in this place, what do you think?" "I saw how you've been pacing. I'd say you're ready." He picked up her suitcase. "Are you sure it's not possible for me to go home?" she asked even though she knew the answer. "Not if we want everyone to think you're a minor and in foster care," Russ said. Beth chewed on her lip. "Yes, but is staying at your house such a good idea? What if he comes after me and hurts the girls?" "I really don't expect that to happen. He knows you're being watched, and he won't come near you for fear of being associated with you. He hasn't made it this long without being especially careful. He won't risk it. He can't risk it." Beth couldn't argue with that logic. Being alone and returning to her apartment would only reveal her real identity. She had to protect herself now for that future time when she'd have to go back undercover and to Calvins. Her heart raced with that thought. Maybe by the time that day came she wouldn't feel the panic. She imagined herself with one of Calvins' clients and shuddered. "Are you okay?" Russ cupped her shoulder. The warmth of his fingers spread through her body. "Just fine." She tucked the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "Ready to go when you are." Although Beth would have preferred to return to the comfort of her apartment, she was looking forward to spending some time with Rosemary and Carrie. Their lives had been changed by the accident, too. She hoped she'd be able to help them adjust. She wasn't exactly sure how to do that, but was certain the words would come when the time was right. Staying at the Salks' would also ease some of her guilt over both the accident and the secret she now guarded close to her heart. Even though Russ had hired a housekeeper, Beth planned on doing as much as possible around the house. She had to do something or she'd go stir-crazy. And Russ needed to have someone he could depend on; obviously that wasn't Marianne. They were quiet on the drive. Russ concentrated on maneuvering in afternoon rush hour traffic while Beth scanned the passing cars and streets for some indication they were being followed. On this remarkably hot April day, a blanket of smog enveloped the city. By August, it would be almost unbearable. Beth always used that month to escape to San Diego and lay on the beach with her family. She wondered if she'd be able to make the trip this year. If she did, she wasn't sure she could ever comfortably join the ranks of innocent sunbathers again. A nurse had assured her the marks on her back and back of her thighs wouldn't leave scars. But Beth wouldn't believe it until she could see for herself. She imagined lying on a beach soaking in the warmth of sun and sand and people staring at her as they passed by. They'd know she'd been beaten. Even without scars, she was too self-conscious now, as if people could see inside and know what she'd been through. Beth already felt the shame. And how could she begin to explain to her family? They were close, but she doubted they'd ever understand the reasoning behind her undercover assignment. At times, Beth wasn't sure she understood it herself. Looking back, knowing what she knew now, she could honestly say she should have taken Russ' advice and not gone under. Knowing she still had to finish what she started, Beth admitted she was scared to death. She clutched at the promise of a relationship with Russ. Marianne obviously had her own agenda and had from before they were married. Russ deserved loyalty, compassion, commitment, love. And Beth sure wanted to be the one to give him those things. She just needed time. She tried to recall the times she and Rick had made love and those too-brief instances in Russ' arms. Both were blocked by the memories of Calvins' beatings and his clients attacking her. Bile rose to her throat. She forced it down, then hugged herself to keep from hyperventilating. "Beth?" Concern softened Russ' voice to a caress. "I'm fine." He didn't need to hear all this again. It was nearly dinner by the time they arrived at Russ' house. Once he helped Beth explain her presence to the girls, he would return to work. Later, he'd stop by her apartment for a few of her things. Beth couldn't wait for that little piece of home to be brought to her. Rosemary and Carrie were sprawled in front of the television, chins perched in their palms. Eyes clicked toward the open door. They were in Russ' arms before he could shut the door; in Beth's a second later. She winced as they hugged her tight, but she refused to pull away or ask them to be careful. It was ten-year-old Rosemary who broke contact first. "You're hurt, too. Just like Mama." Beth combed her fingers through the child's long blonde hair, a match to her sister's...and Marianne's. Beth could never really appreciate how much they resembled their mother until now. She was glad they bore no resemblance to Ted, yet she found herself wishing she could see Russ in them. It broke her heart. "I fell down. I'll be just fine," she finally said. "Beth's going to be staying with us for a little while," Russ told them. "She'll be here until Mom gets back on her..." He caught himself and struggled for a different word. "Until she gets better," Beth finished for him. "You can sleep in my room, Beth," Rosemary offered. She smiled and draped an arm around her shoulders. "The sofa will be just fine, but thanks for the offer." "But that's where Daddy always sleeps." "Oh...well..." A shuffle behind them saved the awkward moment. Beth liked Mrs. Nelson on sight. Silver-gray hair curled around her head and seemed as shiny as her smile. She smelled of vanilla, chocolate, and spice, all of which dotted the white apron around her ample waist. Yet her cornflower blue dress, right out of the fifties, was spotless. America's grandma right here in the Salk home. "Two more for dinner?" she asked with a smile. "I was just getting ready to start cooking." "I have to get back to work," Russ said, then apologized for another late night. Mrs. Nelson didn't seem the least bit fazed. "Three then. I'll let you settle, Miss...?" "Beth," she quickly answered. The woman beamed a smile and waddled away. Bright, open-hearted, and sweet she might be, but the woman could hardly move. Beth gave Russ her best what-were-you-thinking look. Turning palms up, he shrugged. "She's the only one who was willing to work odd hours and nights. And she's great with the kids. That's worth a million bucks all by itself." But could the poor woman keep up? "Well, I'm giving her the night off. I'll watch the girls. Now go, or you'll be late for your shift." If he resented her interference, his smile didn't show it. "I'll be glad when things get back to normal. Working without you is bad enough, but doing split shifts is killing me...Well, gotta go, girls. Give me a kiss." Rosemary folded her hands under her chin and gave him her most enduring look. "Daddy, is it all right if I go to Melissa's slumber party tonight?" "You know the answer is no," he told her. "We've discussed this last week. I told you then if you didn't bring up your grades you couldn't go. You got an 'F' on your math test and a 'D' on your spelling." "But I already told her I'd be there," she whined. "You knew the answer before you asked. You'd better call Melissa and tell her you can't go." "It's not fair!" She stomped her foot and ran from the room. Her departure was punctuated by her slamming the bedroom door. "Neither is failing school," he shouted to her back. He swung Carrie into his arms for a goodbye hug then set her back on her feet and left. Carrie returned to the television. Beth heard Mrs. Nelson rattling pots in the kitchen. Her offer of help was quickly brushed aside. "You look like you've been through the wringer. A long, hot soak will do you good. Go." Beth gave her a grateful smile. Hospital smell did linger on her. "You're a mind reader." "Scoot." She shooed her toward the door. Beth settled in the master bathroom, slowly undressing while the tub filled. The full-length mirror tempted her to look at her back. With shaky hands, she picked up a handheld mirror to look at her reflection. Five long, ugly, dark bruises striped her among the fading ones. She knew she should have been grateful there were no open wounds, but the wealth of bruises haunted her. She eased into a sea of bubbles and fought tears. It was over. Crying now would only drag it out. Beth took a deep breath and reached for the National Geographic she'd brought in with her. It was safe reading—nothing to remind her of what she'd been through or lost because of it. Carrie's shrill scream shattered her peace. Another scream and Beth was out of the water. Calvins had found them! He was hurting the girls! She tucked a towel around her as she raced into the dining room. Mrs. Nelson was slumped on the floor against the cabinets, fist wedged in the canyon of her bosom. No Calvins, she thought with relief. Beth steered the panicked five-year-old into the living room with one hand while she dialed 9-1-1 on the cordless with the other. With each movement, the towel slipped a little more. "Rosemary, get out here and help your sister!" She squatted down beside the old woman. "The paramedics are on the way." "Looks like you need them more than me," she gasped out. Embarrassment muted Beth. How could she explain the horrors she'd endured to this sweet lady. She patted the woman's knee, helped her find a comfortable position, then hurried back to dress. Within twenty minutes paramedics had come and gone with Mrs. Nelson in their care. Carrie had yet to stop crying. Rosemary looked close to following. Beth sat on the couch and tucked an arm around them. "What happens now?" Rosemary cuddled into her. "Who's gonna to take care of us?" "I will for now and we will manage just fine. I'll help your dad find someone else later." Beth kissed the top of her head. "For now, let's call in a pizza." Carrie turned her tear-streaked face up to Beth's. "When is my mommy coming home?" "I don't know, sweetheart. Whenever the doctors let her." Carrie nuzzled her head against Beth. "But I need her home now. I need her help." "Is there something I can help with?" Beth asked. Her head lifted once more. "Can you sew?" "A little. Why?" "We're havin' a play at school and the teacher picked me to be the bunny. It's a very important part. I have to have a costume. Mommy was supposed to get me a costume and now she can't." Beth winced. Hems, buttons, and seams she could handle, a costume was way out of her league. One look at Carrie's expectant face changed her mind. She could at least try. "We'll see what we can do." Carrie beamed a smile and threw her arms around Beth. "I love you, Beth." "I love you, too, sweetheart." "Aren't you going to call Daddy?" Rosemary asked. "Nah...he's got enough to do right now. We don't need to bother him at work." "Mama calls him all the time." Boy, didn't she know it. It drove Russ crazy. "Well, we'll do just fine. Let's order that pizza." They passed the evening, content with each other's company, until Carrie's eyes drooped. Beth tucked her in. The subject of their mother's paralysis was never brought up. Beth was relieved for the time being, but knew discussion was inevitable. She prayed the right words would come when she needed them. "Well, looks like it's just me and you," she said to Rosemary. "What should we do? Watch a movie? Play Monopoly?" Rosemary stared at her fingers. "Can I go to Melissa's?" Typical kid—playing one adult against the other. She probably did it all the time with her parents. Beth refused to play. "Your father already told you no, and I don't think he was being unreasonable." Rosemary snapped to her feet. "Fine. Then I'm goin' to bed." She stomped to her room to pout. With a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, Beth walked to the master bath. After replenishing the cold tub of water with a shot of bubble bath and hot water, Beth slipped into the liquid warmth. * * * * Russ shook his head over the list of items Beth had asked him to bring from her apartment. She'd certainly been thorough—clothes, magazines, personal items—he wondered if the place would have anything left by the time he was done packing it all. She'd even asked for her pillow and blanket—security, he supposed. As he lugged the stuff down to his car, he found himself hoping she'd feel safe at the house. After what she'd been through, that was very important to him. Being cooped up wasn't an ideal situation for anyone, but he didn't want her to feel like it was a prison. He glanced over the list to make sure he had everything, then plopped behind the wheel. His fingers caressed the small bouquet of spring flowers he'd bought at the grocery store. He imagined the smile on her face when he gave them to her and couldn't wait to get home. The living room lights still blazed when Russ pulled into his driveway. The idea she had waited up for him warmed his heart. Then he wondered if fear of being in the house at night without him there had kept her awake. He picked up the bouquet, inhaled its fragrance then walked to the house. He saw Beth peek out the window and expected her to open the door—she didn't. That worried him even more. * * * * Beth laced her fingers under her chin and held her breath. How was she going to explain this to Russ? Mrs. Nelson's heart attack was one thing and completely unavoidable. But losing track of his daughter was quite another. She closed her eyes when the door opened and willed her stomach to stop knotting. "Hi," she heard Russ say. "These are for you." Beth opened her eyes to find the flowers extended toward her. She wanted to cry. No one, not even Rick, had ever given her flowers before. He'd probably yank them back when he heard about Rosemary. "Russ, they're beautiful," she breathlessly exclaimed. She accepted them with shaking fingers, and the scent caressed her. "Thank you." Marianne truly didn't deserve him. "My pleasure. I felt bad you didn't get any in the hospital. This is my way of making up for it." "Oh, Russ, it's so sweet, but..." "But what?" Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. Her courage seemed to be failing now that he was here. "A couple of things have happened since you left." Russ' heart did double-time. Calvins had found her! He grabbed her shoulders, as if by doing so he could better protect her. "Rosemary ran off tonight while I was taking a bath," she spit out. "She did what?" Beth winced, but held her ground. "I didn't realize it until a few minutes ago. She asked me if she could go to Melissa's and when I told her no, she stormed to her room. I thought she was still there until Melissa's mother called. She overheard Rosemary telling the other girls how she'd snuck out. She's bringing her home right now." Russ' jaw clenched as he began to pace. "Russ, I'm sorry." "It's not your fault. I'm not mad at you. But there's one young lady who's in a world of shit." Beth didn't doubt that for a minute. She left him long enough to put the flowers in water. When she returned, he was at the open door waiting for Rosemary to walk in. Beth sat on the back of the sofa, pulling her robe tightly around her. It probably wasn't her place to interfere, but Rosemary had disobeyed her, and Beth had every intention of talking to her about it. But Beth hadn't reckoned on the extent of Russ' anger. He slammed the door and whirled around to face his daughter. "You've got ten seconds to come up with a good reason why I shouldn't turn you over my knee!" Beth thought he was bluffing, then he snagged the girl's arm. Her bottom lip quivered and tears spiked her lashes, but Rosemary still said nothing. Russ steered her toward the couch and sat her down. He hovered over her, waiting. Beth's heart hammered against her ribs. All she saw was the rage on Calvins' face as he beat her, the cold indifference of his clients as they did the same. Russ' nostrils flared as he pulled in a deep breath, then another. Rosemary sniffled. He jerked his arm toward the hall. "I'm too angry to deal with you right now. Go to your room. We'll discuss this in the morning." The girl hurried away before he could change his mind. Russ sank into the recliner-rocker. His hands shook as he rubbed his face. "She's never defied me before. All I could think about was that she was out on the street. Any pervert could have—" "But they didn't." Straddling his lap, she pressed her hands to his chest. "They didn't." Russ cradled her against him, rocking slowly while he combed his fingers through her hair. Holding her soothed him as nothing else ever had. She grounded him. With each second, she snuggled deeper into his arms, trusting him, supporting him. No one had ever understood him the way Beth had. No one. Every so often he'd brush a kiss across her forehead and wished it was his lips against hers. Hopefully, he'd know when the time was right. He couldn't stand to lose her.

Chapter 13

Beth drifted in and out of twilight sleep. The blanket was soft and warm around her. She'd fallen asleep in Russ' arms last night while he rocked her. At some point, he tucked her in on the sofa. She was reluctant to leave her cocoon. The murmur of conversation roused her. Russ and Rosemary were sitting nearby. Rosemary sniffled. Russ' tone was gently reprimanding as he pointed out the things she'd done wrong. Anything could have happened during her two-mile walk to Melissa's. Could she imagine how worried Beth had been? The words brought on more sniffles, wounding Rosemary more deeply than any spanking could. This was the Russ who Beth knew, the one who reminded her of her own father. The man last night was spurred by fear—a trait Beth also recognized as belonging to her father. Nothing really out of the ordinary had occurred last night. Beth had been frightened more by her own reaction to his anger than anything else and wondered if memories of abuse would haunt her forever. She listened to Russ set down Rosemary's punishment—grounded for two weeks. Rosemary quietly accepted it, apologized to him, told him she would do the same with Beth later, and then she returned to her room. It was fair treatment—something Beth probably would have done if she had children. If? What happened to when? Was this another thing lost because of her decision to go after Calvins? Tears stung her eyes and slipped out from under closed lids. She couldn't continue to live like this. She had to exorcise these memories before they dug any deeper. * * * * Russ watched, wondering if he should wake Beth from the dream that made her cry. If it was demons she battled in her sleep, he wanted to give her a chance to win. But if the dream was beating her, he didn't want her to have to deal with the fear. He went to the kitchen to get coffee for them. When he returned, Beth was awake and sitting up. "Sleep well?" He handed a mug her way as he sat beside her. Beth wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it to her nose to inhale the rich aroma. "Like a log." "What were you dreaming about?" "Dreaming?" "You were crying in your sleep." "Oh...that." She sipped her coffee and avoided eye contact. "I wasn't asleep. I heard you talking to Rosemary and got to thinking about kids. I used to look forward to the day I'd have one or two of my own. Now..." She leaned back and tucked her feet under her. He didn't know what to say. Time was the only cure for Beth's fear—that and a gentle, loving man. And, damn it, that man was going to be him. Russ looked up to find her silver-gray gaze fastened on his face. She looked like a vision that had stepped from the fog of a dream. Her brown hair was still tangled from sleep; wispy strands touched her cheeks and draped her neck. As if his hand had a will of its own, Russ brushed the tendrils back and combed his fingers through the strands. He was mesmerized by the play of light on the golden highlights and, once again, drew his hand through her hair. Then his gaze fell to her lips, softly parted and moist. A taste was all be wanted...just one taste. Beth longed to say no. To turn her head away. To pull away, but her heart wanted this too much. She did nothing to encourage him and nothing to dissuade. The mug in her hands was reality's link as Russ drew closer to her. Logic and circumstance said she should have been frightened, but their deep friendship kept her calm. That and the memory of what they'd already shared. She wanted him. With Russ, and only with Russ, could she recover the dignity and passion Calvins had stolen. He cupped the back of her neck. She needed to heal, to know everything would be all right between them. Beth closed her eyes to wait for his lips. "Hey, Daddy." Carrie skipped into the room. Russ pulled back so fast Beth's coffee sloshed onto her robe. Laughing lightly, they blotted the spot with the edge of the blanket while Carrie hopped onto the sofa with them. "Mrs. Nelson had a heart attack." Russ froze and questioned Beth with a lift of his eyebrow. "I called 9-1-1, then her daughter. She'll be fine," Beth said. "I'll call the agency and see if they can find someone else." He blotted at the coffee stain once more. Beth stilled his hand within her own, then wished she hadn't. The heat from the hand resting in her lap spread to other parts of her body. "Don't be in such a hurry to replace her," she somehow managed to say. "I'd be glad to take care of things here. When it's time for me to go, I'll help you find someone." "Beth's going to make me a bunny costume," Carrie said with a broad smile. "If you'll take us to the store for material and a pattern," Beth added. Russ smiled. "It would be my pleasure. In fact, I'll even treat us to breakfast out." Carrie clapped her hands, jumped up and down, then ran to the bedroom to tell her sister. Russ and Beth chuckled. "I put your things in the hall closet," he told her. "You can dress in my...Marianne's room if you like." Beth nodded, but neither of them moved. Russ turned his palm up and clasped her hand. "You have a lot to offer a man, Beth, and I'm not just talking physically. Your heart, your head, your love...I'd hate to see you lose out on life because of Calvins. You know real men aren't like that. I'm not. Rick wasn't." Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. "Rick's gone," she squeezed out. "But I'm not." Beth searched his face. How could she explain how much she needed to hear that? That only Russ would make her feel secure enough to erase the nightmare that plagued her. But another emotion was rapidly asserting itself. Before Beth accepted that it was love, she wanted to make damn sure it wasn't desperation...or, worse yet, pity for Marianne's indiscretion. "I'd better get dressed." She slipped away, gathered her clothes, and ducked into the bathroom. Once the door was closed, she slid to the cool tile floor and tried to rein her feelings in. * * * * Beth tried to do justice to the waffle, but the constant state of alert she'd placed herself in refused to let her eat. Her gaze darted wary looks at other customers, constantly watching for Calvins or one of his people. In the semi-circular booth where they sat, she could easily look around without being too obvious. If Russ noticed, he said nothing, but then with the girls present, what could he say? She studied people's faces as they walked in, searching for familiarity and praying she wouldn't find it. Then she saw a man she did recognize, one whose presence chased away fear and replaced it with disgust. She hoped Ted wouldn't see them, but it was clear from the way he scanned the tables, his sole purpose for coming into the place was to find them. He seemed to take special pleasure at the glares Beth shot his way. His smile stretched when he saw her. With that cocky sneer, he sauntered toward them. His gaze never left her, not even when Russ and the girls looked up find out what Beth was staring at. It was only when he reached the table that he finally looked their way. "Saw your car outside and thought I'd join you," he told his brother. "Do you mind?" "You can sit with me and Rosemary, Uncle Teddy." Carrie patted the cushioned booth between them. "Nothing would please me more than to sit between two lovely ladies," he said, and they giggled. "But I'll just squeeze in beside Beth." Beth shot him a glance that told him he'd better reconsider. Ted chuckled and sat beside Russ instead. "Obviously you prefer different company when you dine," Ted said. Beth ignored him, but the undercurrent of tension between them had to be obvious. "What's that supposed to mean?" Russ sounded like he was ready to shine a spotlight of interrogation on his brother. Ted smirked at Beth. "I went to her apartment bearing drink, food, and my sincere apology—" "And behaved in a manner which I presume is normal for you," Beth coldly responded. "I trust you found the item you left?" He placed a hand over his heart and gave a melodramatic sigh. "Right on the street where you so heartlessly threw it." "Too bad you weren't under it when I tossed it out the window." Russ snickered. Ted looked at him from the corner of his eye and motioned the waitress over for coffee. "I was really surprised to find you here. I thought you'd be with Marianne." The jab was meant to put Russ in his place, but he had a few sobering words of his own to shoot back. "It's hard to be optimistic and lend emotional support to someone who constantly rejects it. It's draining on me, too. I need a break or this will defeat me the way it has her." "She'll snap out of it." Ted gave the young waitress his most flirtatious smile. The girl blushed. Beth rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head. Ted laughed. "Jealous...good...I like that." Beth slammed her napkin to the table. "I'll wait in the car." Russ reached over the table and grabbed her arm. "Stay." He leveled an icy blue gaze at Ted. "I won't sit here and listen to any more of your smart-mouthed remarks. Leave." Ted looked from Russ to Beth and back again. "Well, I guess it's clear where your priorities lie." "You can bet they aren't with you," Russ quickly replied. "Or with someone else either, so it seems." Ted stood and brushed the wrinkles from his trousers. "Think I'll go visit Marianne." "And is that where your priorities lie?" Beth felt Russ warning her to be quiet by his gentle squeeze on her arm. While she kept her mouth shut, she kept a burning glare on Ted, willing him to know how much she despised him. There was a flash of recognition in those cold ocean blue eyes of his before he turned and walked away. Beth knew her message had been received. Russ settled back in his seat. He stared at his plate, then pushed it away. "Daddy, don't you like Uncle Teddy?" Carrie asked. After all the preaching he'd done over siblings getting along, Russ wasn't sure how to respond. He hated to lie, but the truth was worse, especially at their impressionable ages. He tried to remember a time he and Ted had gotten along, but it was nonexistent. As far back as Russ could recall, there had always been friction between them. No matter what Russ had or hadn't done, Ted wasn't content until he'd surpassed him. Russ could never understand it, and Ted's constant game of one-upmanship got on Russ' nerves. He supposed that was what Ted was attempting with Beth. Beth was a beautiful, intelligent woman and Russ' friend. Ted wouldn't be satisfied until he had gone one step further and made Beth his lover. "Daddy...don't you?" Carrie asked again. "Not when he acts like a jerk." Russ planted on a smile for the girls' benefit. "Come on and eat up so I can take you girls shopping." * * * * Marianne stared at the stethoscope dangling around Ted's neck, trying to pretend he was a pane of glass. His voice droned on, one word welding itself to the other. He was making carefully veiled innuendoes about Russ and Beth, probably in the hope jealousy would spur her legs to movement. Marianne let him go on. She knew the truth. Russ would never leave her. Not now. Her future was secure. All that was required of her was to exist and let Russ take care of her. Ted dug his fingers in her shoulder. "What the hell's the matter with you? Listen to me." Her vacant-eyed stare never wavered. "Leave me alone...please. I'm very tired." He released her and stood back, hands shoved in the pocket of his white lab coat. "Look at yourself. You look like shit." "People who are hit by trucks usually do." "I'm not talking about that. Look at your hair. It's nothing but a stringy mess. You could at least ask a nurse or an aide to help you brush it." "It's fine." "No, it isn't. You know how I like it freshly washed and shiny." He rummaged through the drawer in the small bedside stand then pulled out a brush. "Lean forward." He reached for a section of hair, and Marianne leaned away as best she could. "Leave me alone." Ted twined his hand into the limp, blonde strands and pulled her upright. "Don't pull away from me. Don't you ever pull away from me," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Is there a problem of some kind?" a matronly nurse challenged from the doorway. Ted dropped his hand and tossed the brush to Marianne's lap. Mrs. Swaine bustled into the room and plopped her work tray down. With a look borne of years of authority, she ordered Ted away from the bed. She pointed him to the door. "All the way. I've got bandages to change and a bath to give. I don't need you around to help." Ted looked down his nose at the woman. "I am a doctor." "Good. Go take care of your patients and leave Mrs. Salk's care to us." She pushed him through the door and shut it behind him before turning a smile on Marianne. "Thought you might want to clean up a bit before your husband gets here." Marianne shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much better you'll feel just by fixing up a little," Mrs. Swaine told her. Marianne didn't comment. She behaved like an automated robot, moving when Mrs. Swaine directed her to do so, but otherwise supplying no other assistance or conversation. Mrs. Swaine babbled on, talking about Marianne's children, her handsome husband, and the friends who visited and sent flowers. Marianne remained mute, wondering how much longer the woman could go on. When the bath and bandages were done, she stepped back and looked at Marianne's hair with squinty-eyed perusal. "We could wash it, but I don't think it'd be dry before your husband gets here. Maybe later. If you have a blow dryer at home, you could have him bring it. For now, let's try a French braid." Marianne pulled back when the woman reached for her hair. "What does it matter...really?" Her words signaled defeat in the older woman. "Nothing if you won't let it." Mrs. Swaine sighed and picked up her tray. "I'm beginning to understand Dr. Salk's earlier frustration." Marianne watched her walk to the door. "Wait." Mrs. Swaine stopped and turned, an expectant smile frozen on her face. "There is something you can do for me. See if you can catch my husband. I'd like him to bring my embroidery." Mrs. Swaine's smile doubled, if that were possible. "I'll phone him right away." * * * * It was wonderful news. The first sign Marianne was starting to fight this thing. It had taken him fifteen minutes to find her bag of embroidery, then another five to find her small scissors. It was worth the effort, such a small thing to pull her spirits up. He didn't question how she intended to work on the project with a broken arm. All that mattered now was her willingness to try. He walked into her room anticipating a visit with her instead of dreading it. Her expression still lacked life, but Russ was sure it was only a matter of time before that changed. Marianne reached for the plastic zipped bag in his hands. He watched her sift through the cloth and thread then lean back with a satisfied sigh, her hand still hidden within the bag. "Thank you." "No problem," he said as he sat beside her. "I'm glad Mrs. Swaine caught me before I left. But if she hadn't, I'd have gladly gone back for it." She forced a smile. "I know you would. There is something I'd like you to get for me." "What's that?" "I'd like some onion rings and a chocolate shake from Burger King." Russ stared at her in disbelief then burst out with a laugh. "You sure the nurse will let you get away with that?" "What she doesn't know won't hurt her." "She'll smell the onion rings a mile away." "Then tell her they're yours. Please, Russ, I'm so tired of hospital food." "I won't be long." Marianne pulled the scissors from the bag the second he cleared the door. She studied the blade for some time, slowly opening and closing the jaws for well over a minute before she raised them to her head. A snip close to the scalp and a length of golden hair slid down her shoulder to rest on her lap. She picked it up between two fingers and placed it on the table in front of her. * * * * Her favorite junk food—another good sign. She'd be back on her feet in no time. Russ knew he'd have a hard time explaining this contraband to the formidable Mrs. Swaine, but maybe, under the circumstances, they could bend the rules just this once. With his prize securely in hand, he breezed past the nurses' station and ducked into Marianne's room. One glance at her and he stopped mid-stride. Her silken mass of hair lay piled on the table. Her head looked like it had gotten caught in a blender. None of the hair that remained was even. Spiked tufts shared space with sections no longer than an inch; a few spaces showed scalp. Russ' jaw moved up and down while he struggled for some way to convey his shock. She stared back at him, eyes lifeless. "What the hell have you done?" he choked out. "I want to go home." Her reply was so soft, Russ had to strain to hear it. "And this is how you prove it?" He motioned to her head, then held up the Burger King bag. "Was this a goose chase so you could butcher your hair?" He chunked the bag into the trashcan. "Why, Marianne, why? It's something a spoiled child would do. What did you hope to accomplish? More sympathy? Isn't your psychosomatic paralysis enough? Now you've made yourself look like a...a..." He waved his hand at her head while he searched for the word. She frowned—the first emotion he'd seen since her paralysis. "What do you mean psychosomatic?" Russ leaned forward and braced his knuckles on the foot of her bed. "You know what I mean. There's not a damn thing wrong with you. It's all up here." He tapped his temple. Marianne straightened. "That's a lie. I really can't walk." "Because you don't want to." He emphasized each word by jabbing his finger onto the mattress. "It's guilt because you lost a baby you didn't want." "That's not true!" "Then why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "Because it wasn't yours! None of them are!" she screamed. Russ' gap-mouthed shock mirrored hers. The impact of her words hit her and she reached for him. Russ stumbled back. A thousand questions ran through his mind with no way to phrase them. He watched tears drift down her face, heard her sobs, and felt the pain in his own heart. Pain not only for her betrayal, but for his stalwart determination through the years to make their marriage work. His efforts had truly been one-sided. That's why they decided on divorce. But to discover...this. He should have ended this farce long ago. Hell, he never should have started it, never should have believed the lie she carried his child. He'd always thought the defective condom story was a little weak—possible, but weak. But he gave her the benefit of the doubt, even when she got pregnant with Carrie. He remembered how they laughed when she found out she was pregnant the second time. It was a big joke. Turned out the joke was on him. Rosemary. Carrie. Good God, they weren't even his! His heart twisted. His little girls...he loved them so much. And now? Circumstances trapped him. He couldn't divorce Marianne now without seeming like a heartless bastard. He was morally obligated to care for her for the rest of her life. If he didn't...the girls... And where the hell did that put him and Beth? "Who?" He clenched his fist in an effort to keep away the chortling demons that surrounded him. Marianne stared down at her lap. "Does it really matter? I'm being punished for it, isn't that enough?" Not nearly enough. "And was cutting off all your hair a further act of retribution?" "Call it what you want." "Why did you do it? I know things haven't always been great, but this...God, Marianne, another man?" She shrugged. "I was curious." "For ten...no, eleven years? How many, Marianne? How many others were there?" His rage didn't even make her blink. God, she's a cold-hearted bitch. "Haven't you ever been attracted to another woman?" She swiveled a look his way. "Not even Beth?" Russ jerked back. She continued to look at him from under her brows. "I know you are. I've seen the way you look at her when you think no one else is looking." "That may be so, but I never acted on it." "Never?" She sniffled. "Never! And you damn well know it!" "Not even now?" Russ narrowed his eyes. "So...Teddy's been by. Believe what you want. I don't care. We've been separated for three months. We're getting a divorce. I'm beginning to think we were never married in the first place. I don't owe you a damn thing." Marianne pulled her head up. "Yes, you do. Or I'll tell the girls." And there it was. The threat he'd been waiting for. "Bitch." He marched out the door and past the nurses' station, oblivious to the stares of the nurses standing there. If the situation had been different, Russ would have turned to his best friend to vent his feelings. But Beth was too close—his heart and mind had put her there. He plopped behind the wheel of his truck and slammed the door on his troubles, then he searched for a bar close to home to complete the effect. * * * * Beth paced between the kitchen and dining room. She'd made a good show of hiding her anxiety from the girls ever since Marianne's call twelve hours before. Once Rosemary and Carrie had settled down, Beth let worry consume her. As the clock edged toward midnight, she'd imagined all kinds of horrible fates for Russ. Finally, she'd sent John Evans to look for him. Marianne must have been out of her mind to let Russ know she'd had an affair. Then to admit it to Beth as nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather. The woman needed psychiatric care badly. Beth wondered how much longer it would be before Russ discovered Marianne's lover was Ted. The whole thing put her in the unenviable position of being in the middle. She wasn't supposed to take sides, but it was hard not to when she felt so strongly about this...about Russ. How could someone she'd known so long be such a stranger? No doubt Russ was asking himself that same question. She heard the key slide into the door and reached for it as it opened. John looked exasperated as he guided Russ inside. Beth could smell the alcohol from where she stood. He missed the step into the living room and stumbled. Beth and John grabbed an arm to steady him. "God, you're a mess," she scolded. "I've been worried sick about you." Russ tossed his arms around her and dragged her close. "She fucked around on me, Beth." Her heart went out to him. She soothed him like she would a child. "I know. I know. Come sit." He let her lead him to the sofa, then flopped down. John shook his head. "Need any help?" Beth studied Russ' prone figure. "No, I can manage." John tossed Russ' keys to the end table. "Car's outside. My wife's waiting in ours... If you're sure you can manage?" Beth nodded. "Thanks for bringing him home." Then she turned back to Russ and let John see himself out. Russ regarded her through bloodshot eyes as she sat on the coffee table in front of him. "How do you know? Did you always know?" His voice was accusing. Beth brushed her fingers through his hair. God, how she loved him! "No. She called me today after your visit." Russ caught her hand and held it against his cheek. "I don' unnerstan'. I always tried t'please her...always... even when things were bad. And they were bad a lot. If she wasn' happy, why didn't she say so?" "I don't know," Beth quietly replied. "I woulda let her go. All she had to do was tell me. She lied from the start. My girls. My little girls..." She wrapped her arms around him. The pain had to be killing him; it was Beth. He sighed against her hair. "You smell so nice. You always smell so nice. All these months I tried so hard not to want you. Tried hard to make you just my friend. I can't, Beth. I love you. I just plain, ole love you." Her heart pattered at his revelation. Was it the booze talking, or the booze letting him say how he truly felt? "I want to make love to you so bad. Would you let me do that tonight?" "No." Her voice was gentle. He opened bleary eyes to her. "Why? Because you're afraid?" Beth smiled. "Of you? Never." "Don't you find me desir'ble?" How could she not laugh at him? "More than you know." "Then why?" "Because...you're drunk." Russ grinned. "Pretty much...Good answer." Beth tugged him upright. "Let's get you to bed. I have a feeling you'll be sleeping this off for a while." He was unsteadier on his feet than when he got home. The booze was catching up with him fast. With some effort, she got him to the bedroom. At the edge of the bed, Russ teetered. He grabbed Beth to catch himself, and they tumbled onto the mattress. "Sorry," he said with a lopsided grin. "Hmm...now why do I doubt that?" Russ toed his shoes off, and flopped back onto the pillow, but kept a gentle hold on Beth's waist. "I jus' wanna hold you." He pushed himself to his elbow to look down at her. His fingers fanned across her ribs. "I hate what they did to you. I wanna make up for it so bad. I wanna love you so much. I have for so long." He traced his thumb the underside of her breast. Beth's pulse leaped in response. She was torn between encouraging him and asking him to stop. She longed to erase the nightmare of being with Calvins and, at the same time, fulfill her need, her love for Russ. As drunk as he was, she doubted he'd be a very effectual lover. She captured his face in her hands and drew his head toward hers. His lips covered hers, gently at first, then deeply probing as if he sought to memorize the velvet lining of her mouth. Their kiss was long, and Beth couldn't recall a time she'd been more thoroughly kissed, even by him. Russ nuzzled her neck while his hands drifted under her T-shirt. His fingers danced up to circle her breast, and Beth wiggled free of the garment. Russ inched his mouth lower until his lips surrounded one taut nipple. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. He gathered her close, resting his head in the valley of her breasts. Then he was still. Beth thought he'd changed his mind until a soft snore reached her ears. She sighed, raked her fingers through his mop of light brown hair, and enjoyed the pleasure of his nearness while sleep overcame her.

Chapter 14

Russ pried his eyes awake and grappled for the bedside clock. Nine—late for work. Mumbling curses, he struggled out of bed. A hot cup of coffee and a note were on the nightstand. He picked up both, drinking while he read Beth's note. Beth had called him in as sick. God love her for that. With mug in hand, he stumbled to the bathroom to shower and shave. He rarely got drunk and never to the point of being sick. In fact, it wasn't often he was ill. When he was, Marianne always left him to care for himself. Yet, Beth had been by his side since early the morning before, during the whole debacle of his post-binge. Each time he pulled his head out of the toilet, she bathed the sweat from his face and tucked him back in bed. He had to admit, he liked the special treatment, even if he was embarrassed by his stupidity. Russ stepped beneath a warm spray of water. Drunk as he'd been, he still remembered everything that had happened. He'd laid it all out; told her exactly how he felt. They'd kissed. Just thinking about it sent electricity zipping through him. They fell into bed in each other's arms. She'd been as willing as he. It was like he'd found home after being lost for a long time. He'd been so content, he'd used the cushion of her breasts as a pillow and promptly passed out. That was probably for the best. Beth deserved better than drunken clutches. She also deserved someone free. How could be become involved with her when he hadn't resolved what future obligations he had to Marianne? Blackmail tied him to her now—do what Marianne wanted or risk her taking the girls away from him permanently. In any event, Beth deserved better than having to sit on the sidelines waiting for him. Then he walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the table quietly scanning the morning paper while she sipped coffee. Her presence softened the garish, silver-toned kitchen. How could he not have her in his life? There had to be a solution. If they put their heads together, maybe they'd find it. * * * * Beth saw him from the periphery of her vision. With a smile, she put aside the paper to give him her full attention. She almost wished she hadn't. He looked gorgeously tempting in jeans and a blue pullover that hugged his chest like a second skin. She longed to bury her head against those chiseled lines. All it would take was his slightest indication he still wanted her, and she'd be in his arms a heartbeat later. "How are you feeling?" "Much better," he said. "Thanks for taking such good care of me. I'm not sure I deserve it." Beth gave a light-hearted laugh. "I'm not sure either." Russ chuckled. "I can't say I blame you... Girls in school?" He took a step toward her, and Beth's heart leaped to meet him. "Yes. We finished Carrie's bunny costume yesterday. It went quicker than I thought." She motioned to the back of the chair across from her where the white furry costume was draped. "Nice." He'd barely glanced at it. "It's not perfect, but at least she's got one." "Beth, about last night..." "Yes?" She held her breath, waiting for his next words. "Well...it's just that I know what you've been through. I can't think of a more horrible experience for a woman. I just hope last night I didn't do anything to scare you. I'd never hurt you." "I wasn't scared." He stared through the window to the backyard. Is he regretting what he'd said? Hell, drunk as he was he probably didn't remember. "I trust you with my life, Russ. I would never be afraid of you." His gaze clicked to hers with such intensity Beth had to look away. Unfortunately, she shifted to his crotch and a rapidly growing erection. How could she find the words to explain how much she needed him to help her heal? "Talk to me, Russ. I need to know what you're thinking." I need to know if you regret what you said. He slid out a chair and sat. "I feel trapped." Beth wanted to cover his hand with hers, but was afraid physical contact now would only lead to what they both seemed to be avoiding. "The girls," she said, hoping he didn't catch the tremor in her voice. "Yeah...She...wh—" "She threatened to tell them." Anger tightened his jaw. "I won't be blackmailed." This time she did take his hand, holding it between her own. "What about the girls?" "Damn it, those are my daughters!" he said through clenched teeth. "If it takes a DNA test to prove it, I'll do it. I'll hire a lawyer. No more do-it-yourself nice-nice divorce. Beth...I can see my parents in them. They are Salks." Yes, they were. She longed to tell Russ. Doing so, however, would cause him more pain and anger than Beth cared to deliver. If he was going to find out, let it be from some other source. "Calm down." Foolish advice when she was furious. "Let's just take this a step at a time. Telling the girls wouldn't benefit Marianne. Once she starts therapy—" "What about us? Damn it, Beth, I meant what I said last night." She forced herself to breathe. "Do you remember what you said last night?" "Yeah. I love you and I want you." Beth pulled back. No denying it now. She couldn't pass it off as a drunken stupor. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Russ caught her face between his hands. "Yeah, that's how I feel. I've felt that way for a long time. Do you know how hard it was to let you go undercover? Yeah...let. I couldn't stand the thought of you being used that way. God, Beth, look how they hurt you. It breaks my heart. All I want to do is fix it, make it better." He slipped his lips over hers, kissing her until she swore she'd weep from the feelings surging through her. The blast from telephone interrupted. Cursing, Russ stomped away. Beth looked back at the newspaper, her coffee mug clutched between shaking hands. The words swam before her eyes. She focused on Russ instead. With each word of the one-way conversation, his shoulders sagged a little more. More bad news? How much more could a man take? Finally, he punched the off key and set the phone aside. "That was Marianne's doctor. They're releasing her today against medical advice. She refuses therapy. She refuses counseling. As long as she won't cooperate, there's nothing they can do. He thought some time at home might change her attitude. Despite the fact she's whacked off all her hair—" "What?" He held up his hand. "All of it. Looks like she caught her head in a blender. But her doctor doesn't feel she's a danger to herself or others." "After all she's done the last twenty-four hours, I'd have to disagree." She pushed to her feet. "Maybe I should leave. I'll stay with Mack or Jolene or—" "No." He shook his head. "I need you here, Beth. I need you or I'll go crazy." He kissed her again, then scooped up his keys and walked slowly from the house. * * * * "What's that for?" Rosemary pointed to the hospital bed in a bright corner of the dining room. "It's for your mom," Beth said. "She's coming home today." "Is she better?" Beth smoothed the girl's hair and offered a smile she hoped looked genuine. "Not yet, but she's very homesick. The doctor says coming home will make her better faster. She and your dad should be here soon. Why don't you get your homework done so you can spend some time with her? I'm sure you've got a lot of catching up to do." Rosemary was happy to oblige, and obviously she was as excited as her sister had been to see her mother again. When Carrie had heard the news, she had bounced around the house until exhaustion pulled her into a nap. Now she was content with watching cartoons. A car door slammed. Russ and Marianne were home. The girls raced outside, ready for hugs and kisses. Tension made knots in Beth's muscles. Marianne's response to the children's greeting was token. They wanted hugs. She didn't even extend her arm. At the sight of their crestfallen faces, Beth felt like slapping some sense into the woman. She stepped forward and drew the girls aside. "You have to remember your mom's still not well and probably very tired from all this moving around." But while a glance from Russ thanked her for smoothing things over, it also told her Marianne had been nothing but difficult. Rosemary gasped softly. "Mama, your hair!" "I cut it," Marianne snapped. The ten-year-old's eyes puddled with tears. Beth draped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's get out of the way so your dad can get her inside." To Russ, she asked, "Need any help?" "Yes...hold the wheelchair in place while I get her out." It wasn't easy. With her arm in a cast and her legs immobile, Marianne was harder to move than a statue—and she did nothing to help them. After what seemed an eternity of maneuvering, Russ finally had as gentle a hold as he could manage on her. He carefully placed her in the wheelchair, then straightened. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He wiped them away with a flick of his hand. "Get the door, Beth, and I'll push her in." As he pulled Marianne up the three short steps to the porch, Beth held her breath, afraid the chair might topple. But Russ kept the metal beast tamed and Marianne secure. With one last sigh of exhaustion, he pulled her through the door and faced her toward the room. "What the hell is that doing in here?" She jerked her head toward the hospital bed. "The doctor said you'd be more comfortable in that while you heal," Russ said. "It's only a rental." "What's it doing in the dining room?" "It was kind of hard to move down the hallway," Beth said. "I thought you might not feel so lonely out here. It's bright and cheerful. You can see all the birds in the backyard. You can visit more easily. The TV's right across the room." Marianne didn't hear a word. "Move it." Russ' grip tightened on the handles of the wheelchair, but his voice didn't betray his rapidly mounting frustration. "Where to?" "My room. I don't need the world to see me." "Fine, but you'll have to be patient while we move things around. The bed has to come out before this one can go in." "I don't care. Just do it," she snapped. With a jerk of his head, Russ motioned Beth to the master bedroom. Holding his temper was a monumental feat at this point—moving furniture would give him the outlet he needed. It had taken him and Rick to wrestle the king-sized bed into the bedroom. But as angry as he was now, all he needed was Beth's help in guiding and he could take care of the rest. They dropped the mattress on the dining floor, stored the box springs and frame in the garage, then faced the dilemma of moving the hospital bed. Already Marianne's morbid presence clouded the atmosphere. Where once the girls would have been tumbling about on the mattress, they now sat staring at the stranger their mother had become. "How the hell do we move it?" Beth asked. "It's too wide to make the turn." "Lower it, put it on its side, and push it," Ted said from the doorway. They looked up to see him leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed as he surveyed the room. "What's going on? What the hell happened to your hair?" he asked Marianne. "She cut it to protest her hospital stay," Russ abruptly replied. "Make yourself useful. Help me get this thing to the bedroom. She wants her privacy." Beth was content to let the men handle the work. She looked for any sign of emotion on Marianne's face to Ted's presence, but found nothing. She was cool, Beth had to give her that. Then she reminded herself Marianne had been playing the game for eleven years. Beth was also bothered by the way Marianne acted toward her daughters. She'd always thought of her as a loving, attentive mother. Now she acted as if they didn't exist. The solemn looks they returned showed how hurt they were. Once Marianne's pouty presence—there was no other way to describe it—was removed from the room, Beth would find a way to make it up to them. "Okay," Ted strode into the room briskly rubbing his palms together, "that's done. Russ is fixing the sheets. Now for you." Good. Maybe her disposition will improve once she's settled. Ted had just rolled Marianne past her when Beth heard his low voice. "You can shave yourself bald and it won't change how much I want you." "Get away from me!" Marianne's voice was so shrill it pierced Beth's ears. Russ bolted into the room while the girls huddled together with wide, frightened eyes. "Get him out of here!" she screamed again. "I don't want him near me!" Ted looked ready to slap her while Russ seemed on the verge of exploding at what he must have seen as an irrational demand on her part. Beth grabbed Ted by the shirt and hauled him away. "What the hell's her problem?" he asked when they were out of the house. Beth crossed her arms and cocked her hip to one side. "I think you know the answer to that. We both do." With palms up and his most innocent look, Ted hiked his shoulders. "I don't know what you're taking about." "The picture of innocence," she said in the most sarcastic tone she could muster. "Marianne told us everything. Well, not quite. Only I was privileged enough to hear the gory details, you prick. Don't push your luck or she just might give you up. Don't push me or I will." She expected him to throw back one of his cocky remarks or maybe a flash of rage. Nothing surprised her more when he simply walked to his car and drove away. "Beth, get in here and talk to this woman before I lose my temper," Russ roared from inside. Sounded like it was already too late for that. With a sigh, she returned. Russ jerked a thumb toward the bedroom. "She's acting like a lunatic." Beth lifted an eyebrow. "And here you are...just as calm as you can be." Russ drew up short. "Yeah...well...I'll be outside mowing the lawn." "Fine. I'll call you when dinner's ready." Simultaneously, they pivoted and marched off in separate directions. Beth found Marianne close to hysterics, just as Russ had indicated she would be. At that point, though, sympathy was the farthest thing from Beth's mind. "Is he gone?" Marianne tearfully asked. "Yeah, now stop this," Beth snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?" "In case you haven't noticed—I'm paralyzed." "And instead of taking the help offered to you, you're making life harder for yourself and everyone around you. I can understand you rejecting Ted, but your daughters? Look how you treated them...your own daughters!" "And the daughters of that man." Marianne rolled her head to the side to avoid Beth's glare. "You don't understand." Beth jammed her hands on her hips. "You're damn right about that. There's a hell of a lot I don't understand...starting with what you did in the first place and what you're doing now. You made a big mistake, Marianne. How could you do that to Russ?" "You're very good at speeches." Marianne plucked at her sheet. "But you have no idea what marriage is like." "Maybe not, but I know what commitment is. Russ is a good man, a good husband. A man many women would die to have." "Including you?" The soft-spoken accusation took Beth unaware. Coming up with a response took longer than a true denial would have, and vehement indignation would be nothing short of melodramatic. "I can't believe you said that," Beth finally told her, and it was the truth. Marianne turned away. A single tear drifted toward her chin, following the tracks of those already dried. "Me either. I'm sorry. This has all been such a nightmare. I know my attitude is piss-poor, but I promise I'll try harder." Marianne's voice held conviction to back her words. Beth didn't acknowledge it aloud, hoping that if Marianne said the words often enough, she'd soon believe them. Beth left her alone. Already Marianne was shutting out the world again—Beth could tell by the resigned sigh she gave as she sank deeper into the pillows. Beth stepped into the hall, shutting the door quietly. Turning, she collided with Russ. He caught her upper arms in a gentle hold. "Mack's on the patio. A maid found another one of Calvins' hookers at a motel—dead. He wants to talk to us." * * * * Beth and Russ sat on the mattress and stared out the patio doors to the garden beyond. They'd turned out the light an hour ago, even managed to change into sleeping gear—T-shirt and panties for her, boxers for him. That's the closest they got to sleep. As Beth snapped the blanket into place on the sofa, she saw Russ silhouetted by the yard light next door. He sat there like "The Thinker" mulling over the new murder. And who could blame him? Not Beth. In fact, she joined him. The young prostitute had been dead for several days. The extent of her injuries was difficult to determine due to decomposition. From the pictures Mack showed them, she looked even worse than Christina Carson had. The official cause of death was still to be determined, but there seemed little doubt. She'd been bound, gagged, and methodically cut to death. And the thought most frightening? It could have just as easily been Beth. "I can't believe there isn't one drop of evidence against him," he said. "Not even a fragment." "As usual," she said. "The only way it seems we'll be able to nail Calvins is to catch him in the act." "I thought Mack and I were firm about that. You will not go back. Not after all you went through. And damn sure not after this." "Believe me, that was the furthest thing from my mind." Beth brushed her hand across his bare back—goosebumps rose in her wake. Shadow played in the bands of muscle. She traced the contours. "Good." He flexed against her touch, offering up his back for complete attention. Beth obliged. Perched behind him, she kneaded his tight muscles. "Every time I think of those pictures of that girl, I see you. I see every mark that bastard put on you." She froze. "You saw the photos Jolene took?" "Of course I saw the pictures. I had every right to see them." His claim made Beth feel as if he had branded her his. A small thrill zinged her heart. He truly did love her. "It tears me apart to think of what he did. How he hurt you. What he took from you... And all I want to do is hold you close and help you replace those nightmares with something good." Beth tucked her feet under her and rested her chin on his shoulder while she traced his ear with her thumb. "I'm still a little scared, Russ. I'm afraid the slightest touch would make me remember instead of forget...especially when you're inside. What if I freak out?" He turned to her, fingers girdling her waist. "I'd never hurt you. No matter how hard it would be, all you'd have to do was tell me to stop and I would." He leaned against the wall and pulled her astride his lap. Beth rested her forearms on his shoulders while her fingers drifted into his light brown hair. She felt the rigid heat of him mere inches away, despite the barrier of her panties and his boxers. "I need this, Russ. I need you to chase away the bad with something good. Tonight especially. When I think of that woman..." "I know, honey," he whispered, and brushed a kiss against her temple. "Make love to me, Russ. Show me there's good in the world. Please," she whispered back. He nodded as his hands drifted to her thighs, under her oversized T-shirt. He hooked the edges of the garment with his thumbs and dragged it slowly upward. She pressed her palm to his chest and felt his heart thud against it. The heavy beat echoed her own. Her shirt inched over her breasts. Nipples hardened with the kiss of air. She needed what he was offering—a chance to heal now with someone who understood what she'd been through, with someone she loved. As his hands circled her breasts, she nestled her lips over his. He drew in a sharp breath and moaned softly. Russ needed this, too—to banish the demons of Marianne's deception. Beth's heart swelled with love; while he healed her, she'd be doing the same for him. Russ deepened the caress, kneading her lips while his tongue lashed and turned with hers. He was afraid to let her go, afraid if he stopped for even a second, she'd change her mind. As desperately as he needed her, he'd stop if she asked him. He prayed he wouldn't have to prove his sincerity. Beth peeled her lips from his long enough to pull the T-shirt over her head. Then she captured his face in her hands and kissed him again. Russ cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer, until only cotton kept velvet from steel. He took his time savoring the feel of her mouth—its warmth, the satin sides, the nubs along her tongue. He finally dragged his mouth from hers and nipped at the corners. A soft gasp parted her lips. She tilted her head back for more while the peaks of her nipples poked fire into his bare chest. He dotted kisses down her throat, across her shoulders, then down to the swell of her breasts. Beth curled one hand against his head and drew it to her nipple. Muffling a groan, he suckled the taut bead. Beth fought a low groan and rubbed her crotch along his erection. He slipped his hands into her panties, urging her on while he pressed into her heat. She felt him shift to slip off his shorts. Her shaking fingers helped him shove them down and off his legs. His full, heavy erection surged into her hands. Her heart pattered with anticipation. She traced the underside down until she reached his testicles. They were as hard as the rest of him. She circled his penis with her thumb and forefinger. The digits barely met. Then she stroked him. Russ panted against her neck. He pulled her hand to his hip then reached between them. Beth gasped when he yanked aside the crotch of her panties. She felt him ease along her folds, gently searching for her entrance. Then he found it, pushing until he was firmly wedged inside. Beth convulsed around him and froze. Had he hurt her? Scared her? What? "Do you want me to stop?" he hoarsely asked against her ear. Beth shook her head, but made no move to continue. "Shit. I forgot a condom." He started to withdraw. She shook her head again. "No. No condom. I need you. All of you...to wash away everything. I'm willing to take my chances." "Am I hurting you, honey?" Beth hesitated then nodded, and Russ reluctantly lifted her from him. "I'm sorry, honey. I thought you were ready." "I am." She was glad for the dim light that hid her embarrassment. "You're just a bit...overwhelming." "Uhm...sorry. Well...not really." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "I didn't even think about it. Maybe a different position would help." He drew her down to the mattress. Beth lay down and watched, mesmerized, as he knelt before her. The light reflected off a body a Greek god would have killed to have. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slithered them off her body. Then he worked his way back up, kneading the flesh of her inner thighs until she lay panting and open to him. His fingers plunged deeper, readying her for his possession while his thumb danced over the hooded guardian. Beth closed her eyes, oblivious to all else but the heat that pulsated in her pelvis. Russ moved closer, nipping at her breasts. Slowly he pulled out then gently replaced his finger with an erection so hard it hurt. "In," Beth softly cried out, and arched her hips to his. Russ seated himself in a careful thrust that sent shivers through them both. "Again...More." Beth wrapped her legs around his waist. Instead he ground against her, touching places inside and out Beth had forgotten about. She dug her heels into his buttocks and rocked against him. A climax welled up from deep within. Beth bit her knuckle to keep from crying out. Russ captured her lips in a penetrating kiss, his tongue mimicking the action below. She clutched him in a grip so tight it threatened to weld them together. His mouth absorbed and echoed her muted cries as her body released itself in a quake of passion. Undulations turned to thrusts that heightened Beth's orgasm, taking her on a dizzying ride she never wanted to end. He tensed, thrusting deep. Lips quivered on hers as pleasure took him in a searing finish that eternally bound his soul to hers. It was a long time until they were able to catch their breath. When they did, they started all over again.

Chapter 15

Beth didn't want to get out of bed this morning. Russ had loved her twice the night before and once more at dawn. And very thoroughly at that. Yet, he'd been extremely gentle, treating her as if she were as delicate as fine china, banishing the horrible memories. Neither had spoken of a future—how could they with Marianne's threat looming over them? Beth would never understand how she could use her daughters as pawns. Hopefully, Russ could find a way out of this without them being hurt. Until then, Beth would take whatever time they had. Last night, he'd shown her what it was like to be cherished and adored. The love that had fully captured her was a treasure her heart would have to keep to itself. Russ didn't need the complication in his life right now. But she'd return that devotion however she could. Marianne's attitude hadn't improved with a night of rest. While Beth helped the girls get off to school, Russ saw to Marianne's morning needs—help Marianne accepted only because she had no choice. Beth looked up from the dishes when she heard Russ walk into the kitchen, Marianne's untouched breakfast held before him like a sacrifice. "Didn't she eat any of it?" "Nope. Not a nibble." He set the tray on the counter. "She makes one hell of a martyr, doesn't she?" "I'll try to get her to eat something after you go to work," Beth said. "I hope you have better luck than I did," he said. "We can't keep on like this. I'm going to have to see if I can't find a nurse to care for her—at least until that cast comes off. Hell, a nurse, a housekeeper, a lawyer. When's it going to end?" "I don't know," Beth said softly. "Is it all that crucial to hire someone immediately? I really don't mind helping out." "I appreciate it more than you know, but that's not fair to you. You'll eventually have to go back to work. I need to find permanent help." Doubt flared. Permanent help? Did that make her a temporary diversion? She hated herself for what she felt. Russ was acting as he always had—responsibly. If he had changed because of her, Beth knew she would have lost some amount of respect for him. "Do you mind?" he asked, and Beth realized he'd been talking to her. "I'm sorry. My mind was somewhere else." "If I can get the employment agency to send some women over, would you mind interviewing them for me?" he asked again. "Oh...no...not at all." Her gaze was fixed on the bow of his lips. She twisted her hands together in an effort to keep from touching him. Russ caught them, then kissed the underside of her wrists. "I wish I didn't have to go to work. I hate leaving you here with this mess. Hell, I hate leaving you. We need to sit down tonight and talk about a few things." Beth averted her eyes and nodded. Russ tilted her chin up on the tips of his fingers. "Last night meant a lot to me, more than I could possibly say, and I hope it did to you." Beth swallowed hard. "It did." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips then left for the station. Beth was in more turmoil than if nothing had been said. He must want her gone from the house as soon as possible. Why else the sudden rush to hire someone? There was no need for him to stumble over explanations later. She was all too aware of how things were—the unrelenting passion and growing love. Discretion wasn't going to be possible, not this close to each other. Marianne was unstable enough as it was. She might suspect a relationship between them had developed, but they didn't need to place the proof in her hands. With Marianne placated, at least there was hope Russ could reason with her as some point in the future, or at least catch her off guard while he worked on a solution. It was best for Beth to leave now and hope they could continue to explore their love in a more private environment. She picked up Marianne's breakfast tray. The bagel had grown cold, the orange juice warm. Beth poured a fresh cup of coffee, then carried it to the bedroom. Maybe she could talk some sense into the woman. Marianne rolled her head to the door when Beth walked in. It seemed that was all she had the energy to do. "What are you trying to do, starve yourself to death?" Beth set the tray over Marianne's lap. "Yes, I am," she sadly replied. "Then you're a fool," Beth said through clenched teeth. "What about your family?" "You don't understand." Beth snapped her arms over her chest. "Then you explain it." "He'll never leave me alone. No matter what I do, he'll always be after me." "Who? Ted?" Marianne nodded. "All you have to do is say no." She gave a humorless snort. "Teddy doesn't settle for no. He never has. He takes what he wants." "You mean he rapes you?" All these years? Why hadn't she said something? A flush crept across Marianne's cheeks. "Good God, Marianne, why the hell didn't you tell someone? How could you let this go on?" "Because I enjoyed it." Beth jerked back, not quite sure she'd heard her right. "Don't look at me like that," Marianne snapped. "So I like rough sex. Is that a crime?" Beth didn't know how to answer, and her silence seemed to anger Marianne all the more. "Russ is gentle and sweet and considerate and boring in bed," she shouted. "Teddy's like a hot magnetic. I've always been drawn to him. I remember the first time like it was yesterday. He knew Russ had taken my virginity. He wanted to know how good it was. He wanted to show me how it felt to be with another man. When I said yes, he took me to a motel, ripped my clothes off, and fucked my brains out. He showed me the dark side of sex that night...things you probably couldn't begin to imagine. And I've craved it ever since." Beth swallowed her nausea. "If that's what you wanted, why didn't you talk to Russ?" Another humorless snort. "Can you imagine Russ tying up a woman and beating her to orgasm?" "Marianne!" This woman truly was a stranger. "It's the truth. It's the goddamn truth! Teddy ruined me for anyone but him. You don't know how many times I was with Russ and fantasizing about Teddy. Every time. You don't know how many times I've hidden my body or avoided Russ so he couldn't see the marks Teddy left on me. Don't you think I'm ashamed?" Tears fell unrestrained. "And the hell of it is...if Ted walked in that door right now, I'd let him do whatever he wanted to me." "How the hell did you manage to get away with all this in a motel room?" "We almost got caught a few times. That made it all the more exciting. Then Teddy found us a private place to go. A place designed for people having affairs. People like...us." Marianne blinked away the tears, and slipped back into her apathetic state. All her spunk and anger disappeared like a switch had turned it off. "I've tried to stop. I've tried to get Teddy to leave me alone, to get interested in someone else. Nothing works. He won't stay away and I can't keep from him when he's around. So, yes, death is preferable to living this way." "And what about your daughters? And Russ?" Beth asked her. Marianne gave that long sigh Beth was beginning to hate. "Russ will take care of the girls. As for Russ...now that he knows I've been having an affair, how much longer do you think he'll want to be married to me? He only wants me well so he can get me gone. With or without my legs, though, I can't manage on my own." Then what was the purpose in threatening to take the girls from him? Hadn't she done enough damage? "Russ isn't that cold-hearted," Beth said. "He'd always take care of you...no matter what." "I know that and I've been depending on it. But yesterday...Teddy...I'll be in this trap until the day I die." Beth snatched up the tray. "This martyr routine of yours is making me sick. Why don't you do something to fix this mess you're in instead of feeling sorry for yourself? Go ahead and starve yourself. I'm sure you'll enjoy the attention. You get hungry enough and you'll eat. If you don't, I can bet Russ will make sure you do." Beth was still shaking from their discussion when the first interviewee arrived an hour later. After talking with the woman for a few minutes, she calmed down and set her mind to finding the best possible person for Russ and the girls. She dismissed one woman after the other with a polite, "Thank you. We'll let you know." By the end of the day, she began to wonder if she hadn't been too critical. She tried to tell herself she was being reasonable in her rejections by looking at age, qualifications, references, and demeanor. But, in reality, she'd refused each woman because she didn't have a good feeling about her. Then she wondered if she was subconsciously eliminating them because hiring one would give her no reason to stay. She tossed that notion aside, telling herself it was really in Russ' best interest to hire the best. Beth opened the door to the last interviewee, glad it was almost over for the day. Marianne was still sullen, Rosemary and Carrie were fighting, and Beth's head pounded. She took one look at Lucille Bates and felt her heart warm to the woman. Her rounded face exuded charm. She was a little on the chubby side, somewhat older than Beth's mother. And if Beth could have come up with a composite of her mother and grandmother, the result would be Lucille Bates—a younger, spryer version of Mrs. Nelson. "Please, come in, Mrs. Bates," Beth said with a smile, rubbing her aching head. "Lucille...please." She tapped the furrows between Beth's eyebrows. "Headache?" "A killer," Beth said. "Would you like me to come back tomorrow?" "No. I'll be fine. Please, sit." She motioned her to the sofa. Lucille sat and folded her hands on her lap. Arguing from Rosemary's room reached their ears. Beth tried to ignore it. She offered an apologetic smile. Lucille sniffed the air. "Is that something burning?" "Oh, no, my cake!" Beth ran to the kitchen. The chocolate cake was ruined. It seemed the last straw in a rotten day. With no regard to Lucille's presence, she began to cry. Almost instantly she found herself in the woman's arms. "There, there," she soothed. "We'll salvage what we can and tell everyone it's frosted brownies." The girls dragged their shouting match into the kitchen and up to the suddenly imposing Lucille. She turned a scolding face their way. "Stop this now or you'll be standing with your noses against the wall until suppertime." Their mouths clamped shut and their eyes widened. "Now one of you get a washrag. Your mother needs to lay down with a cold compress over her eyes." "She's not our mom," Carrie quickly answered. "She's Beth. Daddy's partner. They're cops." Beth briefly explained the circumstances even while Lucille led her back to the sofa to lie down. "You just rest and let me see to supper. Mr. Salk can interview me when he gets home." "But—" Lucille pressed a compress over her eyes and forehead. "Rest." Grateful, Beth did as she was told. At some point, she must have dozed off. The next thing she heard was Russ walking in the door. "Dinner smells good. You okay?" Before she could answer, Lucille hustled into the room wiping her hands on an apron. She introduced herself with a firm handshake. "Dinner's just about ready. I'll take a plate to Mrs. Salk while the rest of you eat." "She won't eat," Beth told her. "We've tried." Lucille patted her arm. "Let me try." She walked away with a cheerful bounce that was hers alone. "Good choice," Russ said. "I didn't hire her. You should know I wouldn't do that without talking it over with you. I had a few setbacks and she kind of took over. She's waiting for you to interview her." Russ shrugged and walked to the table with Beth and the girls. Spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread waited for them. Once they were settled, Lucille carried a tray back to Marianne. They expected her to be rebuffed as they had been. They were surprised when she returned at the end of the meal with the food half gone. Russ and Beth looked at each other and shrugged. Before Lucille could delve into the dishes, they drew her back to the table to sit. "How did you get her to eat?" Beth asked. "Oh, she gave me that hogwash about wanting to be dead," Lucille said, with a wave of her hand. "I told her she could do what she wanted, but the doctors would just shove a tube down her throat and feed her that way. She decided my way was better." Russ and Beth exchanged a smile. He leaned back. "So, Lucille, tell us about yourself." She was a tailored-made gift who could only be meant for the Salk family. A widow for two months, she'd spent her life raising four children and caring for an invalid husband after a stroke had disabled him years before. Her children were grown with children of their own and insistent Lucille needed to leave her home and have them take care of her. Lucille was equally intent on being self-sufficient. She didn't need money, but needed to keep busy. Red Cross work and volunteering at local hospitals filled the void somewhat, but she longed to be back in a family environment. She could live-in when necessary and be at the house with a moment's notice. A list of personal references—family, friends, doctors, nurses, ministers—were all ready to vouch for her. Russ nodded his approval. "When can you start?" Lucille smiled. "I already have." He chuckled. "Then you're hired." Lucille clasped her hands. "Bless you. Until we get Mrs. Salk back on her feet, I think it best I stay the night. Just to be with her should she need something. I should be in her room, if you don't mind." "Not at all. Rosemary has a trundle bed in her room. We'll just move it." "Fine. I'll run home for my things and be back quick as you can bat an eye." "And by the time you get back, I should be ready to go," Beth said. "Go where?" Russ asked. Beth's heart skipped. He actually looked upset. "Home." "Excuse us, Lucille." He grabbed Beth by the wrist, pulled her onto the patio, and whacked the sliding glass door shut. "Have you gone crazy?" "I thought you wanted me gone." "While some guy's out looking for you?" He waved his hand to the world. Beth pursed her lips and set her hands on her waist. "You and Mack said you didn't want me back under." "That doesn't mean Calvins isn't going to try to hunt you down and drag you back." He pointed a finger in her face. "You're the one who told us how paranoid he is about his girls taking off. You stay here until this is over. I will not risk your life." "If making love to me made you this overprotective, then maybe we'd better get new partners." It killed her to say that. "We both know how dangerous it is out there. I can't have you so busy worrying about my life that you don't watch out for yours." "Last night didn't make me feel this way. Meeting you two years ago did." His voice held such intensity Beth could scarcely breathe. For her own peace of mind or torment, she had to know exactly what he meant. "Why?" "I already told you." He caught her shoulders and pulled her closer, until she could feel his body's heat. "Because...I love you." Beth looked up into eyes that glimmered with the truth. "You've been my best friend from the day we met. I'd protect you with my life. I was happy you had Rick. I wanted the two of you to have the kind of marriage I always wanted. When he died, it killed me to see you hurting. These last months, my love changed to something more...something my heart can't deny. I've been married long enough to know what love isn't. It's not constant bickering, shutting away emotions and thoughts, a constant barrage of excuses to avoid sex. Love is sharing all the joy, hurt, and frustration that comes with life. It's being there to lean on. It's being friends as well as lovers." He molded his body to hers, devouring her lips in a kiss that branded her soul. Demanding. Possessive. Beth pressed closer, letting her body say the words she couldn't. The door slid open and they jerked apart. Lucille seemed not to notice. "Telephone, Mr. Salk." Beth eased into the nearest chair. She fought nerves, tears, and embarrassment. Then she realized Lucille was still there. "Would you like a glass of water?" "No." Beth rubbed her stomach to ease the butterflies darting about. "You look ready to pass out. Come inside so you'll at least land on carpet instead of concrete." "I'll be fine...really." Lucille shrugged and ducked back inside, colliding with Russ in the process. He caught her to keep from falling, but his gaze went straight to Beth. "They found another one about an hour ago. Calvins' prints are all over the place. They're bringing him in now. Wanna watch Mack and I question him?" Beth stood so fast the chair tipped over. "I wouldn't miss this for all the money in the world."

Chapter 16

From the other side of a two-way mirror, Beth watched Russ and Mack hover over Calvins. She'd never seen Russ so angry before. He looked like a wild animal ready to rip out his prey's throat. Only minutes ago, Calvins had been cocky. Then, one at a time, Russ tossed pictures of the murdered women before him: Christina Carson and her daughter, Susie; Janet Nugent; Joslyn Reynolds. Calvins' face went pale when he realized this was no mere pandering charge. To double his discomfort, Mack refused to let him smoke. Beth enjoyed seeing him squirm. "Recognize any of these women?" Russ growled. "I didn't kill them," he mumbled. "He didn't ask you that," Mack said. "He asked if you recognized them." Calvins stared blankly at the pictures. Russ tapped the most recent one. "How 'bout this one? Know her?" He shook his head. "Then how do you explain the fact your fingerprints are all over her room?" Mack asked. Calvins propped his elbows on the table and leaned his head into his hands. For a moment Beth thought he was going to cry. "Come on, man, don't be stupid," Russ told him. "The coroner's checking her out right now. The lab boys are combing the room. You know we'll find enough to put you in that room. We know she was one of your girls. And we know what a hard-handed pimp you are!" Mack leaned close to his face. "We know you beat your girls and like it. We know your clientele likes it, too. Young girls...virgins. They're easy to break, aren't they? They're fun to beat. Just like little girls. Just like Susie Carson." "What happened, Calvins?" Russ went on. "Did Joslyn fight you? Did she try to run away? You got mad so you showed her who was master. You beat her. When she fought, you tied her up. When she screamed, you gagged her. Then you cut her. Over and over again. Then raped her and cut her again until she was dead. Only this time you weren't as careful. The manager saw you. You left evidence. Isn't that what happened?" Calvins shook his head. Tears glistened in his eyes. "I didn't kill Joslyn. I swear it." "Come on, Calvins. You went to the motel," Mack said. "Yeah. I did. To meet her. To pick up my cut. Joslyn was always good about that. She was one of my best girls. She didn't like to have a lot of cash on her when she did a job, so she'd call me." "You were there at least an hour," Russ said. "Like I said...she was a favorite. We had sex." "Got a little rough, didn't it?" Russ asked. He glared up at them. "I didn't do it!" "Quit playing games," Mack told him. "We know how badly you beat your girls. The proof is right behind that mirror." He pointed toward Beth. Calvins squinted, but could see nothing. "It's a lie. My girls would never give me up." "Why? Because you'd kill them if they did?" Russ looked at the mirror. "You can come in now." A few seconds later, Beth walked into the interrogation room. Calvins' eyes widened, then narrowed. "I never saw this bitch in my life." "Shall we test it by having her describe your apartment?" Mack asked. "Maybe go to your client in the Hollywood Hills? Garrett Caruthers, isn't it?" "Detective Manning went through physical and emotional hell to get the information on you," Russ said. "You can bet we won't let it go to waste." "Detective?" Again Calvins fastened a glare on Beth. "Fuckin' bitch! Goddamn fuckin' bitch!" Beth's insides quivered, but she held her ground. "They know all about you now, Randy. You might as well give it up. Pimping, rape, assault, kidnapping. I'm sure once Alicia and the other girls know you're behind bars, they can help fill in the client list." He looked from one to the other and knew he was trapped. "I didn't kill those girls." "Ah, but you do admit knowing them," Russ said. "These two." He tapped Joslyn's and Janet's pictures. "The kid and the other girl I've never seen in my life." "Then how do you explain your prints in Joslyn's room?" Mack asked. "I already told you. I picked up money and had sex with her before her next job." "And what about Janet?" Russ asked. "I didn't know she was dead. I thought she ran off. They do that sometimes...especially when they start to get too old. Frankly, I'm glad to see them go. It saves me the hassle of having to cut them loose. They can get clingy." Beth snorted. "Yeah, murder is pretty much of a hassle." Calvins smacked the table with his palms. "I'm telling you I didn't do it! Yeah, I get a little rough..." "A little rough?" Russ roared, pointing at Beth. "She still has bruises on her." Calvins smirked. "Hey, hazards of the police profession." "Why you..." Russ grabbed his shirt with one hand and hauled him to his feet. Mack snatched Russ' fist before he could follow through. "Outside...both of you." Russ slammed Calvins back into his seat and followed Beth. Mack shut the door quietly. "I think we need a break. Let's have some coffee in my office." Considering how much on edge they were, coffee was probably the last thing they needed. But it looked like it was going to be a long night and the stimulation would help them through it. "Do you suppose he's telling the truth?" Mack asked while they nursed their first cups. Russ sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "It's hard to say. The only other person who could have done it is this client Calvins keeps talking about." "Then why aren't there anyone else's fingerprints?" Beth asked. "Because the killer was more careful than Calvins? It would explain why Calvins' prints are suddenly all over the murder scene." "Call the lab and see if the coroner has come up with any semen samples," Russ told Mack. "She's a hooker," he scoffed. "What do you think?" Beth cleared her throat. "Calvins makes his girls douche between jobs. Even though they use condoms, the clients like them fresh." Mack picked up the phone, mumbling something about a long shot. Ten minutes later he was more humble. "Lab found a disposable douche kit in the trash. No DNA except hers. Not even a hair. No prints on the bottle either, which is odd considering Calvins' prints are everywhere else. Forensics found one semen spot on the toilet where he dripped. It doesn't match Calvins." Looked like they had the wrong man in custody. "Shit, now what?" Russ growled. "We've just screwed up our whole case." Beth nodded. "From the beginning...Instead of getting a description from Christina Carson, I assumed the Randy she met was the one we were after." "You're saying someone's trying to frame him?" Mack asked. She shrugged. "Maybe a disgruntled client. Maybe even Christina." "Well, let's go back and see if he knows who Joslyn was meeting." Confident in his innocence, Calvins was his old cocky self by the time Beth, Russ, and Mack trooped into the interrogation room. He rocked on the back legs of his chair, hands laced behind his head, feet propped on the table. "Well? Can I go now?" "You still have those other charges facing you," Mack told him. Calvins set the chair down with a thud. "And you know we can make them stick," Russ added. Mack tossed Calvins a pack of cigarettes. "Give us a little cooperation and we'll let the DA know about it." "And if I don't?" Mack shrugged. Calvins snatched up a cigarette, lit it, and took a long draw. "Okay, what do you want?" "Who's the killer?" Russ asked. "I don't know." "Who'd Joslyn meet that day?" "Beats me," he said. "Like I said, she was one of my best girls. I let them do a little side work. She set up an appointment with some guy she met at a costume store a few blocks from my place." "This costume store wouldn't happen to be a front for a sex hideaway, would it?" Russ asked. "Yeah. My girls go there from time to time. Meet married guys. Guys pay big bucks to screw 'lonely housewives.'" He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "The manager and I split the money then I split with the girl. Video tapes are made on every couple and sold on the internet." "And you have no idea who this guy is Joslyn met?" Russ asked. "None. Alicia might. She goes there a lot. She does some doctor." "Let's round her up," Mack said. * * * * Alicia steadfastly insisted she had no knowledge of Randy Calvins, his alleged activities, or the private brothel until Calvins was brought in to give his consent. Mack led him back to his own room, and Alicia relaxed. "I don't want to go back," she told Beth. "Can you make sure I don't have to?" "You're free to leave and go wherever, just as soon as you've helped us," Beth replied. "I don't want to go to jail," she said. "Under the circumstances, you probably won't," Russ said. "That's the best we can offer you. Will you help?" Alicia thought about it for a few seconds then nodded. Russ handed her the photographs of the victims. "Do you know any of these people?" She slowly flipped through them then placed them on the table before her and began to cry. "Yes, these two." She pointed to Janet and Joslyn. "I've never seen the kid or the other woman. Did Randy do this?" "No, but we think you may know who did," Beth said. "We'll start with Janet Nugent. She was killed sometime on Saturday. When was the last time you saw her?" Alicia brought her hand to her mouth as if she were about to be ill. "Saturday was her escape date. She was going to get away. Doc was going to help her. I kept Randy busy so he wouldn't realize she was gone." "Who's Doc?" Beth asked. "That doctor I told you was going to help me when it was my time to go." "Where did you meet him?" Russ asked. "At the costume store. He's a regular." "Did Joslyn Reynolds know him?" he asked. "We all did from the store. He always helps us when it's time to leave." "Do you know his real name?" She shook her head. "All I know is he's a doctor." Russ motioned Beth to the hallway then summoned Mack. While another officer worked with Alicia to create a composite drawing, they discussed their options. "So we have our link," Mack said. "A doctor who frequents a sex shop." "If he's that big a customer, he'll show up on those video tapes," Beth said. "We've got to go real easy on this one," Mack said. "Just in case Calvins and the girl are feeding us a line. I want a search warrant on something more than their word." Russ caught Beth's gaze. She nodded to his unasked question. "We'll see if Calvins can get Beth and me in." "To do what?" Mack measured each word. "Beth will be my mistress. We'll pay the guy, let him videotape us, then go in later with a warrant. We'll shut down the place and have pictures of our man...maybe even a name." Mack sputtered. "You mean the two of you are going to—" "Catch a killer," Beth said. "You were ready to have me do this with strangers. Why is there a problem now?" He clamped his mouth shut, sufficiently subdued, but still not pleased with the turn of events. "Fine," he growled. "Let's talk to Calvins." * * * * "Yeah, I'll set it up," Calvins told him. "If this bastard is using my name, I want him taken out. Give me a phone and I'll do it now." They escorted him to Mack's office and fifteen minutes later, a time was set for eleven the next morning. "You'll need about a thousand," Calvins told them. "And make it look good. The more exciting, the more tapes they'll make and it'll hit the internet within a day once the boss approves it." "You and Alicia will have to stay here until this is over," Mack told him. "And, of course, there are those other charges." Calvins shrugged, smirked, and held out his wrists. "Take me away." Mack gestured to the officer standing by and they were relieved of Calvins' presence. The conceptual artist approached them, shaking his head. "She says she'd recognize him if she saw him again, but she sure is poor on description. This is the best we could do. She says it's still not right." He handed them the drawing. Russ glanced at it and gave a humorless chuckle. "Looks like my brother." He hooked Beth's elbow. "Let's get home and try to get some sleep." Beth walked beside him in stunned silence. Her stomach knotted with the coincidences that suddenly leaped before her. Back at Russ' house, she was still in a daze. Lucille had settled herself in during their absence and now fussed over their return and the lateness of the hour. She wanted to feed them, to have them rest. Beth let Russ placate her while she went to the master bathroom on the pretext of retrieving her things. She walked straight to Marianne and shook her awake. "What...what is it?" "Shh," Beth told her. "Where have you been meeting Ted?" "You woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me that?" "Just answer the question," she snapped. "A costume store down the street from that café. Why?" "I was just curious. I couldn't sleep 'til I found out. Go back to sleep." Before closing her eyes, Marianne gave Beth a last dirty look. Beth's insides churned as she scooped up her toiletries. She heard movement behind her and spun around. "I didn't mean to scare you," Russ said. "I just came in to get my things so we can get back to your place." "Oh...yeah...good." She had to tell him. Maybe by the time they got to her apartment, she'd find the right words.

Chapter 17

Even if it was dusty and the air stale, it was good to be back in her own home. It felt like forever since Beth had been here. Had it really been just a little over two weeks? While Russ put away the sack of groceries she'd just bought, Beth unpacked her suitcase. She needed these routine tasks while she struggled for the courage to tell Russ things no one should have to hear. "Hungry?" Beth looked at his reflection in the dresser mirror. "No. You?" "Only for you." His smile was adorably sexy as he caught her elbow and pulled her to him. "Russ, we need to talk." "Later." His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that washed away all of Beth's carefully constructed story. He pushed her toward the bed, his lips never leaving hers until she sank to the mattress. "I've wanted you so much for so long. You don't know how hard it was for me to take my time last night. All I wanted was to tear your clothes off and sink myself into you." He drew a line down her front from breastbone to pelvis. Beth shivered. "Do it," she whispered, wanting the full, unbridled measure of his love. She half-expected him to verify her words by asking if she meant it. Instead, he jerked apart the zipper on her jeans. Beth sucked in a breath as he knelt before her and bared her lower body. She'd never been undressed so quickly before in her life. He peeled her socks away and kneaded his fingers back up her legs. He nipped the tender flesh behind each knee, and Beth yelped with the thrill of his upward exploration. "Yes, honey, let me hear you." His voice was husky with emotion. He moved higher to tease her thighs. "Oh," she gasped, instinctively trying to close her legs. Russ dug his thumbs into her flesh, kneading higher and higher until he was a feather's touch from her center. "Don't hide yourself from me," he asked. "I know what you like. I know what drives you crazy. Let me please you." With a soft exhale he blew a circle above the tender spot. Beth groaned and opened herself to his questing lips. His tongue traced areas too long unloved, and Beth felt she would surely die from the throbbing ache. But the loving torment had only begun. Just when Beth was certain she could endure the taunting no more, his fingers plunged deep into her body. He pulled out slowly then plunged in again and again, giving her a forewarning of what he planned for later. Beth's guttural cries urged him onward, and he suckled her tiny nub between his lips. She bolted upright with the first spasms that ripped through her, then collapsed to let him carry her away. Beth twitched against him as the moment passed, too sensitive to want continued attention, too excited to ask him to stop. Russ brought her back to the very edge of completion. She loved the glaze of passion in his blue eyes. She whimpered when he stopped, and begged for more. He stood long enough to remove his clothes, his ragged breaths moving in time to Beth's heaving chest. Her gaze followed the descent of his trousers. She licked her lips at the first sight of his protruding erection. Like a sleek feline, she slunk forward and drew him into her mouth. Russ' knees buckled with his groan. He cupped her head to him while he struggled for control, but Beth was as determined to please him as he had been to please her. Her nails raked his buttocks, jerking him forward. She tickled the cleft there, searching for extra-sensitive spots. Russ tried to pull back. Beth dug her nails deeper, forcing him to stay. He cupped her head, holding her in place while he indulged himself with gentle thrusts into her greedy mouth. As the tension mounted, he pulled her away. Beth narrowed her eyes then chuckled. She pushed back onto the bed, bared her chest and reached for him. Russ knelt between her legs and stripped off his shirt. He gathered her close as he settled more comfortably. "No mercy for you, you little tease." Before Beth could toss back a sassy remark, Russ seated his body into hers. She cried out and clamped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his butt cheeks. Russ lifted her hips higher, thrusting even deeper. A rippling explosion shuddered through her and it was several seconds before she realized the cry she heard was his, as well as hers. They clutched each other as the final moments possessed them, then relaxed. Russ rolled to his back, taking her with him. With tender kisses and caresses, they built themselves up once more and then collapsed, sated in the wonder of the union. Russ whipped the rumpled bedcovers over them and cradled Beth to his chest. "I know our future looks a little uncertain right now but, God knows, I love you, Beth." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. Beth should have rejoiced. Instead, it made it more difficult to tell him about Ted and Marianne. She was afraid to hurt him with the full extent of Marianne's treachery. Still, he had to know Ted was the suspect they sought. That revelation alone would force out all the other information. "Russ?" "Hmm?" his voice was drowsy. "I just wanted to tell you something." "What?" Beth bit the inside of her bottom lip. "I love you, too." He gave a deep sigh. "Don't worry. We'll get all this figured out soon. I promise." She snuggled in the crook of his arm, cursing her cowardice. As his breathing deepened with sleep, she let its hypnotic effect draw her into slumber. * * * * It was Beth's absence from bed that woke Russ early the next morning. The empty place beside him was cold. She'd apparently left the bed sometime ago. It was just dawn outside and, although the last thing he wanted was to get up, Russ wondered where she'd gone. He pulled on his jeans and went looking. Beth sat at the kitchen table. Her back was to the door, but Russ could tell by her sniffles she was crying. He never should have suggested they go undercover. He was asking her to share their intimacy with others. How could he degrade her and what they had like that? Beth heard him walk up behind her, but didn't turn around. She had to tell him, and the hurt he was going to feel tore her apart. The warmth of his hands permeated her skin through her robe as he curled his fingers over her collarbones. "Don't cry...please," he asked. "I have to talk to you." "I'm sorry, honey. We'll get him another way. We won't go under." "Russ, please. I have something to tell you. Please, let me say it...Sit down." He helped himself to some coffee, freshened hers, then sat beside her. "All right, tell me." She'd start slowly, telling him only what was necessary, answering questions briefly, hoping to spare him as much pain as possible. "The reason the composite drawing looks like Ted is because it is Ted," she spit out. "What?" That single word matched the bafflement on his face. "It is Ted." She could see Russ didn't believe it. "How do you know?" Beth took a deep breath. "Because...Marianne told me." "How in the hell..." Then the realization hit him. His face clouded. "How long?" Beth squeezed back fresh tears. "Sometime after the first time you slept with her." "Tell me...tell me everything you know," he asked in a strained whisper. "Everything." As difficult as it was, Beth did as he asked. When she was through, his face was like marble—cold, impassive, hard. It frightened her more than a raging fit would. "Russ?" "Why didn't you tell me all this when we saw the drawing?" "I wanted to be sure. I asked Marianne last night." "What about afterward?" "I was making love with you and didn't want to stop." "Out of pity?" he asked. "Don't pull that on me, Salk. You know better." He downed his coffee in a single gulp. "We'd better get down to the station. Do you want to shower first or shall I?" Beth raised her chin a determined notch. "You shower with me. I don't trust you out of my sight." Russ tilted his head and gave a single nod. "You're a smart woman, Beth. But don't worry. I'm not going to run out and do something stupid. I'll confront Marianne after the bust." Then those sky blue eyes of his zeroed in on hers. His teeth gnashed together. "How could you keep something like this from me?" "I'd do it to save your life. Why wouldn't I do it to protect your heart? Can you imagine how torn I've been? Can't I love you as much as you say you love me? Now, get your ass in that bathroom or I'll take you down and drag you in there." Cursing a blue streak, he clutched her wrist and dragged her to the shower. "Well, you'd better lose the robe unless you want to get it wet." He twisted on the water and stepped beneath the warm spray, pulling her with him as her robe hit the floor. The needles of liquid bounced off Beth's back as she stared up at him. He looked like a menacing giant. After what seemed like hours, his expression softened. He cupped her neck and kissed her gently. "I'd like to see you try to take me down." "A challenge. I like it." But their attempts to lighten their mood went down the drain with the water. Russ butted his head to hers. "I feel so cheated. I tried so hard. For nothing. I was so relieved when it was done. I could finally move on. And she still jerked me around while she screwed him. Now I'll leave her and look like a jerk." Beth raised her lips to his. "Not when the truth comes out. And you know it will once Ted is caught." "This is gonna kill Mom and Dad. He's always been intensely competitive with me. Always jealous. Always had to be reassured he was just as good as me. But this...this is crazy." "Do we tell Mack?" "We have to." "He might not let you continue with the case." "Then it's up to us to convince him I have to," Russ said. "I need to know... If he wasn't a suspect, would you have ever told me?" She didn't hesitate. "No." He pulled her close. "Thanks for not lying about it." All she could do was hold him. He needed healing as much as she did. Thank God they had each other. * * * * Beth let Russ tell Mack what their suspicions were and why. It helped Russ deal with the emotional pain he tried to tamp down. She'd offered to leave the two alone, but Russ insisted she stay. As her best friend, partner, and now her lover, he needed her quiet support. Mack had been against this new phase of the operation from the start, but now he looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. He tactfully waited for Russ to finish, then leaned over his desk to give his opinions. "I'm sorry, Russ, but I'll have to take you off the case. Your objectivity is screwed." "I disagree," Beth cut in. "Russ is a professional...all the way." Mack questioned him with a lift of his eyebrows. "I have no problem arresting my brother." "Can you shoot him if he fires at you? Can you hold back hitting him if he baits you?" Russ didn't hesitate. "Yes, without a doubt." Mack hung his head as he shook it. "All right, then bring him in for questioning." "Not just yet," Russ said. "I'd like a little more than speculation before we do that. If that costume shop has videos of its customers, then we ought to be able to at least tie him to the murdered women. If the owner is cornered, he might give us even more information." Mack chopped his hand toward them. "Look...I don't like the idea of two of my detectives going under this way." Russ propped his knuckles on the edge of the desk and tipped forward. "That's the most hypocritical statement I've ever heard. You were perfectly willing to send Beth under to be raped by strangers. In fact, it was your idea. Why are you against this?" "Because it was my idea and it was a bad one," he calmly replied. "I'm not going to hurt her. She knows that." Mack looked her way. "How do you really feel about this?" "I don't like the idea of someone videotaping Russ and me together, but I want this place closed and I want this guy caught. We've come this far. We can't stop now." "We're doing this with or without your okay, Captain," Russ told him. Mack shook his head as he looked away. "Have either one of you thought about how this intimacy will affect your relationship?" "That's no one's concern but ours," Russ said. "Just make sure that any video of us gets into my hands and no one else's. We don't need the whole station seeing it." "All right." He leaned back in his chair and motioned to their attire as he tried to smile. "I've never seen the two of you look so good. What's your cover?" Russ was decked out in a gray-pinstriped suit with matching vest and tie. Beth was just as impeccably dressed in navy blue skirt and jacket with killer heels. She loved how hot they made her legs look. Apparently, Russ did too, since she'd caught him staring more than once. "Banker and loan processor," Russ said. Mack nodded his approval. "You look the part. Be careful. Maybe by the end of the day, we'll be able to wrap this up." "That's what it's all about." Russ cupped Beth's elbow and led her to the door. As he opened it, his hand dropped to the small of her back. Beth had never felt more protected. That small gesture said more than him guarding her with weapon drawn. * * * * "Ready to go?" Beth asked. Russ patted the money tucked away in his jacket—one thousand dollars in marked bills. "Yeah, let's get this over with." They had been eyeing the costume shop for at least fifteen minutes while they waited for the clock to edge closer to their appointment time. One couple had come out and another was there to replace them. Information gleaned from Calvins and Alicia told them there were at least ten private rooms inside the structure. They left the car and started toward the building. Any nervousness now could ruin them. A tinkling bell announced their entrance. A birdlike man darted forward to greet them. "How may I help you today?" A fake European accent clipped his speech. "My assistant and I have an eleven o'clock appointment," Russ said. "An associate of ours arranged it. He said you had a collection of turn of the century costumes that might interest us." The man's beak-like nose curved over his smile. "Yes, we've been expecting you. You understand there's a security deposit required before we allow you to see the costumes?" "I have it right here." Russ pulled the envelope from his pocket and put it on the counter. The man slid it in a drawer under the counter with the tip of his pen. Clever. No fingerprints. "Very good. Come this way." He led them up a steep staircase whose only light came from a dim bulb in a frosted wall lamp halfway up the stairs. The soft yellow light did little to disguise the water-stained wallpaper. The stairs opened onto a hallway of red—red carpet, red velvet wallpaper, and black lacquered doors. In the dimness, the hallway seemed to go on forever. It looked like Marianne had decorated the place. Considering her long involvement with Ted, maybe she had. Or maybe she'd designed her house to spark memories of her liaisons. "Room four will do nicely, I think," the man said. "We can speak more freely up here. Less chance of regular customers hearing us." He opened the fourth door and waved them inside. A massive four-poster bed dominated the room. A red velvet loveseat and wing chair matched the bedspread. The white carpet and walls saved the room from being too overwhelming, but lewd paintings of various sexual positions took away from this redeeming feature. A black lacquered cabinet with gold Chinese designs was centered against the far wall. "Will you be wanting any costumes? Some of our clients like to play dress-up." "No." Russ' answer was abrupt. "Clothes are nothing more than a hindrance. The sooner she's naked, the happier I'll be." "I understand." He passed a lascivious gaze down Beth that made her want to puke. Russ stepped into the man's line of sight, cutting off his view. The man snapped his gaze away. "We prefer our clients to bring their own toys, but we do have a few specialty items in the cabinet. Help yourself. An alarm will sound fifteen minutes before your two hours are up. The room is sound proof so..." He smiled. "Enjoy yourselves." Russ slid the bolt in place the second the man left. Beth rubbed a nonexistent chill from her arms. Where was the camera? Was there more than one? And microphones? They were really going to have to be in tune with each other to get through this. Russ wrapped his arms around her. Beth leaned into him. "How can anyone enjoy themselves in this gaudy room? It looks like a bordello." "I believe that's what it is." He nipped at her neck. "Yeah...what do you suppose is in the cabinet?" "Let's take a look." He brushed his hand over her bottom and walked to the cabinet. Beth peered over his shoulder as he bent and opened the doors. The shelves were littered with devices to please those with sadomasochistic tendencies—nipple clamps, leather collars and whips, gags, black velvet bindings. She shuddered and turned away. "Interesting." Russ clicked the doors shut and pulled her against him once more. Beth was rigid in his arms. Even him nibbling her ear and neck couldn't take her mind off where they were and why. Beth let him undress her, then guarded her body as best she could with her arms. She was all too aware of the electronic eye capturing their every move. Russ watched her shifting eyes while he undressed. So far he'd been able to hide his unease. Just the beginnings of lovemaking aroused him enough to confidently shed his clothes. Yet nothing he'd done so far could sway Beth to relax and enjoy the moment. He'd never seen her so tense. She covered her body like a virginal bride, with no hint of the fire he knew she really possessed. He had to do something to take her mind off that damn camera. His gaze returned to the cabinet. Not everything it contained was designed to hurt. Beth's eyes widened when she saw Russ return to the Chinese cabinet. Her trust in him was implicit, but her memories of being beaten were still too fresh. He pulled black velvet bindings off a shelf and stalked toward her. "I didn't pay all that money to watch you hide that beautiful body of yours." Beth swallowed, but couldn't speak. He was telling her she was blowing the moment. She forced her arms to her sides then stood quivering before him. Russ shook his head. She acted like a frightened fawn. "I'm afraid that's not good enough." As gently as possible, he bound her wrists together, grateful she didn't fight him. "In bed." "Russ..." she choked out. "Now." Without waiting for her to comply, he scooped her up and tossed her into the middle of the bed. Beth was too scared to move. Time with Calvins had taught her not to struggle. She lay like a statue while he tied her arms to the head posts. Her eyes squeezed shut and she held her breath in anticipation of the first burning cut into her flesh. She felt the heat of his body as he pressed against her. His breath tickled her ear. "Relax," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know that, honey. Just lay here and enjoy it." He raised above her and Beth saw the sincerity in his sparkling blue eyes. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be too weak to walk." He scooted lower, dotting oral caresses along the way. Beth opened to him and, with that first tender lap, she sighed and let her worries drift away. * * * * Ted walked into the back door of the costume shop in the same foul mood he'd been in for weeks. He'd gotten used to Marianne's mood swings through the years—an afternoon with a belt across her backside was usually enough to straighten her out. This latest act was getting out of hand, though. The phony blackmail scheme was designed to make her cling to him. The coincidental accident with the truck was supposed to help him achieve that objective. Instead, everything had backfired. He'd give her bones time to mend before he dealt with her, but he'd be damned if he lost her now. Although his frustration with Marianne wasn't what set him off lately. His current rages were caused by a silver-eyed bitch who seemed impervious to his charms. A day alone with her in his private room upstairs was all he asked. Then she'd be screaming a different turn—literally. He longed to break her as he had Marianne all those years ago. It was a challenge he loved, showing women the exquisite joys of pleasure and pain. Once they were hooked, there was usually no thrill in it for him. Marianne was the exception. The fact that she was his brother's wife made her an obsession he couldn't resist. He was sure that was also a major factor in his desire for Beth Manning. She was Russ' friend, Russ was protective of her, and Ted was determined to make her his—at whatever the cost. Ted walked into his private office and studied that day's appointments. The schedule was filled with Smiths and Does. His side business was more lucrative than he could have ever hoped. He loved it not only for the money, but for the many ways it satisfied his prurient interests. If one couldn't do, one might as well watch. He closed the book and headed up to the video room, where his manager oversaw the latest recording. "How's it going, Charley?" The man didn't bother to turn around. "Pretty good." "Schedule's booked. I like that. What has you so engrossed?" "New couple. Been at it for a little over an hour. He's on his third time. Won't let up on her. Must've come a dozen times. She's loving every minute of it." Ted peered at the screen. His body perked to life at the sensuous sight of Beth tied and writhing on the bed. "God, it makes you want to run right up there and help him out," Charley said. Ted glanced at Beth's partner and all the jealousies of a lifetime slammed into him. It was always Russ, the favored older child. Russ who played ball first, who drove first, who went fishing first...all these first and honored privileges that Ted was forced to wait for until a far away birthdate on a calendar. He'd even taken Marianne first when Ted wanted her. Now this, a women he longed to break, and Russ had beaten him to it. It took several minutes for Ted to realize the true significance behind Russ and Beth's presence in his building. He should have known it would come to this the moment he saw that picture in Beth's apartment. But the year since Rick Miller's death had made him careless. "I'll take that tape now," he told Charley. The other man's head snapped around. "Before they're finished?" "Yeah, I've got plans for this one."

Chapter 18

Marianne didn't have to look up to know Lucille was back in the room. She could hear her standing in the doorway and knew she was wiping her hands on her apron. The woman had more aprons than Marianne had seen in her whole life. Her presence was a constant annoyance. If she thought it would do any good, she would have raved at her to leave. But Lucille was as unmovable as a block wall and just as deaf when she chose to be. She refused to let Marianne sulk and always looked for things to keep her occupied. Lucille had wasted no time installing herself in Marianne's room, even going as far as bringing a portable TV/VCR combination from her own house. Marianne tried not to show interest, but each titter of laughter from the small screen drew her head up. Lucille had also cleverly put the remote control within Marianne's reach. "What now?" Her surliness didn't faze the other woman. "The school just called. Little Carrie is sick. They need her picked up," Lucille said. "Headache? Flu? Fever?" Marianne demanded to know. "Upset stomach. I'll just get her and be right back. You'll be okay while I'm gone?" "Yes, but make sure she isn't faking. This is a common ploy for her." At least someone else could deal with it besides her. "With her play coming up tomorrow night, I doubt she'd be faking now. I won't be long." Marianne wished she could throw something at the retreating woman. She hated the constant manipulation. With muttered curses, she clutched the remote control, longing to throw it, but afraid of breaking her lifeline to the television. The front door opened and closed. Marianne smacked the control back on the table. After a few minutes, the door opened and closed again. She propped her good arm against her cast and maintained a defensive posture while she waited to see what Lucille had forgotten. Ted rounded the doorway. She stared, mouth as wide as her eyes while he sauntered closer. "Want to scream for someone to get rid of me? Go ahead...there's no one but me and you." He slipped his belt from its loops and danced the tip across her lap. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "You want it, don't you?" he whispered. Marianne eyes teared. "Yes," she gasped. Ted whipped back the covers and raised her gown. "Then show me you can walk." He slapped her thigh. A red welt blazoned the trail. Marianne felt that old ache well up inside her. He hit her again, harder. Her legs jerked and she groaned for more. "Then open them." He struck her again and again until she parted the way for him. Then he wedged himself between her thighs. Finished, he pulled free and hauled up his trousers. "Good girl. I knew you could do it. Now, I have another treat for you." Using the edge of the sheet, Ted pulled the videocassette from the plastic bag he carried. "You told Beth where we go, didn't you?" "Yes." "That was very bad and I promise you'll pay for it soon," he said. "But first...look at what she did with the information." He slid in the cassette and left. As Marianne heard the front door open and close again, the first images flickered before her. * * * * Mack paced the worn track of carpet in front of his desk. The pile was long gone. It was a common habit borne of worry. Russ had seen him do it at least a couple hundred times through the years. He couldn't count the number of times the carpet had been replaced. Mack claimed he thought better on his feet. Russ knew better. Mack paced out of frustration waiting for word on a case or his officers. Waiting wasn't one of Mack's strong suits. It was probably why he became so directly involved when Beth went under. That everything still went wrong for her had to be eating him up inside. He snapped to a halt when Russ and Beth walked in, searching their faces for some indication of how things had gone. "Well?" The demand for information came out like the screech of a raven. "The place is exactly what Calvins said it was." Russ guided Beth to the nearest chair. She stifled a yawn. Russ didn't blame her—he was ready for a nap, too. Mack shifted a troubled gaze between them. "Did the two of you..." "Yes." Russ dared him to say something about it. "And the video is ours to destroy. I mean it." "You've got it." Mack nodded. "We'll have the warrants by dinner. We'll go in then. You know this is going to be a long night." "As long as it ends this, I'll stay up for days," Beth said. There was a tap on the door and John Evans poked his head in. "Sorry to bust in. Russ, your housekeeper just called. Marianne's hysterical and she can't control her. She said she was stomping all over the house throwing things." "Stomping?" Russ' voice rose with his eyebrows. John nodded. "As in walking." Russ' laugh held no trace of humor. "I wonder what miracle caused that?" Beth straightened her skirt as she stood. "If she's in a rage, there seems only one explanation. Ted paid a visit. Remember how she was the last time?" "I'm coming with you." Mack was out the door before Russ and Beth could move toward it. Russ wouldn't dream of standing in a determined man's way. Besides, if Marianne was that out of control, it could very well take two strong men to control her. Considering their divorce issues, Russ didn't want to run the risk of being accused of abuse. He'd take all the witnesses he could get. * * * * Lucille ran out to meet them. Wisps of her gray hair drifted from their pins. The pocket on her yellow apron was torn. Yet she was still here. Russ admired the woman's stalwartness. "Oh, Mr. Salk, she's in a terrible rage. I got a call to get Carrie from school, but when I got to the school, they said they'd never called. I came back and Mrs. Salk was flying in all directions. Called me, you, and Miss Beth horrible names. Started throwing anything she could get her hands on. The place is a mess. Mercy me, I'm so glad the children aren't here." She clutched her hands under her chin. Russ patted her shoulder. "We'll handle it, Lucille. Thanks. Watch for the girls. If we don't have things calmed down by the time they get off the bus, take them to the park for a while, please." He marched to the house with Beth and Mack close behind. They stopped inside the door. It looked like every book in the house had been hurled to the floor. Vases and pictures lay shattered beyond repair. For someone crippled that morning, Marianne was doing a remarkable job of destroying the place. She whirled around at their entrance, her eyes wild. "Bastard!" she spit at Russ. "And you!" She pointed a finger at Beth. "You home-wrecking, little bitch! The two of you haven't even bothered to change your clothes!" "What the hell are you talking about?" Russ picked his way through the rubble. Marianne grabbed the video from its resting place on the back of the couch. "This!" She hurled it toward them. Beth ducked the projectile. It hit the wall behind her and fell to the floor. "You fucked the bitch! I bet you couldn't wait to get him alone! How long has this been going on?" Mack whipped out a rubber glove and gingerly picked up the cassette. Russ took a deep breath to keep his rapidly mounting temper in check. "I already know the answer to this question, but I'm going to give you the opportunity to tell me the truth for once in your life. How did you get that tape?" "None of your goddamn business!" He clenched his fist. "I'd slap you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it." She turned wide, accusing eyes to Beth. "You'd do anything to get him into bed with you, wouldn't you? I should've known. All these years so sweet, so friendly, so fucking innocent. Pretending to be my friend, so you could get to my husband!" "And you've been pretending to be my wife so you could fuck my goddamn brother," Russ roared. "Deny it, Marianne! Go ahead! I dare you!" "And what about you and her and that?" she demanded to know, pointing at the tape in Mack's hand. "Police work," Mack replied. "And evidence...unfortunately. I'm sorry, Russ...Beth. Ted's removing it is one more thing to tie him to the place." Russ couldn't look at Beth. He'd promised her no one would see the tape and now... "If he was there today, he must suspect what we're trying to do. We'd better have someone watch the place and see if we can't hurry up those warrants." He curled his fingers over Beth's shoulder. "I'm sorry." She gave a quick nod. "It's just more evidence against him. I'll stay here and make sure she doesn't try to warn him." Russ leveled a hateful glare Marianne's way. For a moment she wilted under that penetrating look, then she pointed her chin northward with all the righteous piety of a religious fanatic. "I'll be hiring a lawyer within the week. I want that divorce," he told her. "To marry her!" Her finger shook in Beth's direction. "To get rid of you and this farce we've been calling a marriage. You'd best call your mother or sister and make plans to live with one of them. The girls and the house are mine. Don't even think about fighting me or you'll regret it." He left with Mack before she could recover from her shock. Beth and Marianne stared at each other like cats squaring off for a brawl. "How long has this been going on?" Marianne asked. Beth saw no point in lying. "Not long. And certainly not while the two of you were together." Her lip lifted in a sneer reminiscent of Ted. "Was it good for you?" "Best sex I've ever had in my life." "Shut up," she hissed. "Don't you say that." "It's the truth. It's a shame you never gave Russ a chance. You've only cheated yourself. Face it, Marianne. You deserve what's about to happen to you." "Ted will take care of me." Beth felt sorry for her. Surely, Marianne knew that would never happen. "He's going to have a hell of a time doing that from behind bars." "What are you talking about?" She narrowed her eyes. "Marianne, this has nothing to do with you or that costume shop. We're after a killer." "Ted? A killer?" She gave a short cackle. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." "For Russ' sake...and yours...I hope we're wrong." Beth bent down to start picking up the mess. "Did he call my name when he was with you?" she asked cruelly. Beth didn't bother to look at her. "No. There were only two people in bed when Russ and I made love. Too bad you can't say the same thing about the times you and Russ were together." * * * * It was a good, solid bust. Russ and Mack could be proud of that, even if Ted eluded them. Five couples and the manager were escorted to the station, and mounds of evidence had been confiscated. Now came the painstaking task of marking the evidence. Hundreds of videos waited to be screened, a job necessary to tie Ted with the murdered women. Russ dreaded it. Not only would those tapes hand them a suspect, they would also display the full extent of Ted's affair with Marianne. For that reason, he asked that no one help with the tapes except for Mack. He wasn't even sure he wanted Beth to see, and was glad she had remained at the house to watch things there. "Ready?" Mack asked. "Yeah," Russ replied. "Can I ask you a question first?" Russ hiked a shoulder. "What's really going on between you and Beth? I looked at the tape. The two of you went far beyond the line of duty. Once would have been enough, but you two..." "It's going to take long enough to look at these. We'd better get started." Russ popped the first tape into the VCR. "Russ, it's me." He fanned his fingers across his chest. "What's going on?" "Let it go." "Have you been having an affair?" "Mack, I'm telling you—" "Do you love her?" Russ let silence answer for him. "I saw how you touched her when you left here. How long?" "Not long at all. Just shortly before she went undercover. We realized...I... Oh, hell, can't we drop it?" Mack sighed. "You know I'll have to split you up for your own good." "Yeah, I know." There was no other choice according to regulations. Russ didn't know how he could work out there without Beth at his back and he, hers. They might just try to fight the system together. But not now. There was still too much to do. They still had a mountain of evidence to process. Russ sank into his chair and started the tape. They watched no more than a minute or two of each one—long enough to identify the participants. After ten tapes, Russ was hoping he wouldn't find any that showed Ted and Marianne together. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing them together. Mack popped in another tape while Russ rubbed his already weary eyes. "Good Lord, it's Rick," Mack exclaimed. Russ dropped his hand. There on the screen before him was Rick Miller having sex with Christina Carson. The date and time in the corner of the screen was twelve hours before his body was discovered in that alley. Russ ejected the tape. He felt sick inside. Rick was a good cop doing all he could to catch a criminal, but all Russ could see was Rick had betrayed Beth. He set the tape aside while Mack put in another. "I think we've got him." Russ looked up. "Yep, that's him all right." Smirk and all. He forced himself to look at Ted's partner. "And there's Christina Carson...again." "Let's get Alicia in here to ID him." An hour later Alicia sat before the television. The second Ted's image appeared on the screen, she jumped forward. "That's him! That's Doc!" "Do you recognize the girl?" Mack asked. "Never saw her before." "Okay, Alicia, you can go, but let us know where we can find you." Russ led her to the policeman waiting in the hallway. "Bring Calvins down," he told the man. Calvins took one look at the screen, then refused to say anything more without an attorney present. * * * * Waiting had been hell for Beth, but Russ' haggard features told her working had been just as rough. They'd only had a few moments alone that morning before Lucille awoke and started bustling around. But there had been time enough for him to tell her they'd found evidence Ted knew each of the murdered women. They were looking for him now to question him. Beth was curious about the other tapes. It seemed a callous invasion of his privacy to ask Russ if he'd seen any of Marianne and Ted. She trusted him to tell her when he was ready. He looked so tired, so beaten, it was all Beth could do to keep from putting her arms around him. Even massaging the tension from his neck and shoulders, a gesture of friendship they'd often shared, was now forbidden by the presence of Lucille and Marianne. Considering the new depths of their relationship, even a pat on the arm could be misconstrued as too intimate. The last thing they wanted was another blow-up from Marianne. Beth watched him fight a half-hearted battle against sleep. Finally, after her gentle urging and assurances she could hear anything else later, he stretched out on the couch. In less than a minute, he was asleep. "Once the girls are off to school, why don't you take one of their beds and sleep for a while," Lucille said. Beth stretched the kinks out of her back. "I'd love to, but someone needs to keep an eye on things." "I don't know what's going on around here." She raised her palms before her. "And I don't want to know. But if it's important to the police, I can make sure Mrs. Salk stays off the phone." Beth thought about it for a few seconds. Lucille looked as determined as an Army general. But if she were going to rest, she preferred to do it in her own bed. She thanked Lucille, then called a taxi, intending to pick up her car at the station. Curiosity pulled her in a different direction. * * * * In the privacy of a semi-dark room, Beth shifted through the videotapes and cried for the injustice done to Russ. "It's a hell of a thing for a man to have to deal with," Mack said from the doorway. "His brother...his wife." Beth swiped away her tears as Mack shut the door and sat beside her. "I thought you'd be home catching some sleep," she said. "I couldn't sleep. Kept thinking that any minute I'd get a call he'd been picked up," he said. "What about you? You look like you could use a few hours." "I was heading that way, but I had to see for myself if it was as bad as I pictured." "And?" "It is. Funny, I've known her all these years and..." She shook her head. "Imagine how Russ feels." "Yeah, I know." "Is that what yesterday was all about?" Mack asked. "Your way of making up for what Marianne's done?" Beth's face warmed, but she looked him squarely in the eyes, her gaze never wavering. "Yesterday was about love. Mine for him and his for me. Neither of us knows where it'll go from here. There's too much going on right now to think about that. But we know we have that love. Does that answer all your questions, Mack?" "Pretty much." He scuffed the carpet with the toe of his shoe. "We have evidence that puts Rick at the costume shop with Christina Carson twelve hours before he was killed." Beth felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. "A video...like these?" Mack nodded. "No," she whispered. "Rick wouldn't do that to me." Then she remembered his sullenness from the day he set out to catch Calvins. He stayed to himself, refusing to make love to her, becoming irritable each time she tried to discuss the wedding. "Do you want to see it?" Mack asked. Beth slowly shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted. "Rick loved you like crazy. There isn't a soul here who would argue that. Things happen when you go under, Beth. You know that now. You do what it takes to stay alive, to catch the prep. Rick probably didn't have a choice." True. Very true. "Thanks, Mack." He patted her hand. "No problem... Since neither of us intends to get any sleep, want to see if we can find this guy ourselves?" Beth shook away her apathy and jumped to her feet, snatching up her purse as she did so. "You bet I do. Just don't let me lose track of the time. Carrie Salk's play is tonight and I promised her I'd go." "We'd better stop at your place so you can change shoes." Mack pointed at her feet. "If we have to chase, those heels of yours are gonna kill you." "I've got sneakers in my car." She noticed him staring and started to laugh. "Do the heels unnerve you, Mack?" He jerked up and hid his embarrassment behind a lopsided smile. "Sorry. I just never noticed your legs before." "Do I have warts on them or something?" His color deepened. "No...they're very...nice." "Mack Kinsey, I'm telling your wife." He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Please don't. She'll tease me unmercifully." "Your secret's safe with me then. Come on, let's round this bastard up." * * * * It could have been called a waste of time if it weren't for the fact it kept them busy. They haunted Ted's apartment building for an hour, then moved on to the hospital where he worked. No one had seen him since the day before. He wasn't hanging around the costume shop or at the café where Marianne had met him. For the time being, Ted Salk had managed to hide himself. In an area as large as Los Angeles, that wasn't hard to do. Since he obviously knew the web was closing around him, he'd be extra cautious. It might be years before he surfaced, and it could be here or any other city across the country. Beth was counting on his obsession with Marianne to keep him close. It was Mack who suggested they quit for the night. Disillusionment showed in the weary lines of his face. As they parted at the station, Beth wondered if he'd be able to make it home without falling asleep at the wheel. She'd never seen him so tired, but as she drove to her apartment, Beth realized she was just as pooped. It would take a few slugs of hot coffee to get her charged up for Carrie's play. Exhaustion wouldn't make her disappoint the child. At her apartment building, she opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping a little exercise would rev her up. It only tired her more. Grateful to have reached the fourth floor, she yanked open the exit door and discovered they'd been searching for Ted in all the wrong places. His calling card lay in front of her door—a pizza and a six-pack of beer. Beth was surprised someone hadn't stolen it by now. Not knowing if he was hovering in the hallway, Beth eased the door shut then ran downstairs to phone Mack. * * * * "Where's Beth? She promised," Carrie wailed. "This is the worst night ever. First, Mommy won't go and now Beth. I hate this play. I wish I was never in it." "Now you know you don't mean that," Russ said as he helped her into her bunny costume. "Feet in...Arms in...and zip up the front." He gave her a broad smile. "You're about the cutest bunny I've ever seen." "But I don't have my whiskers. I need my makeup. Where's Beth?" Russ rubbed his aching neck. Were all actresses this temperamental? He saw her bottom lip quiver and knew alligator tears were about to follow. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Daddy'll call Beth right now." "No need...I'm here," Beth said in a rush of breath. She yanked her makeup case out of her purse then tossed it aside as she knelt before Carrie. "Sorry I'm late. I didn't mean to make you worry." Carrie's face brightened. "I knew you'd make it." Beth kissed her then started the makeup job. Her hands shook while she worked, and Russ noticed she still hadn't changed from the day before. Her hair looked like she'd lost her brush. Her own makeup was nonexistent. "What's going on?" he asked. "I'll tell you later." "You'll tell me now." He jammed his finger toward the floor to emphasize his point. Beth spun around, ready to fire angry words his way. His expression stopped her—a combination of concern and love. It made her want to hug him tight. She squatted back down and chose her words carefully to protect Carrie. "Mack and I have been looking for that suspect all day with no luck. Then I went back to my place and discovered the suspect had been there." "Geez!" He started to pace. "Fortunately, there's no sign of entry. The guys are watching my place in case he returns. You'd better finish getting ready or we'll be late. See what you can do to get Marianne to go." * * * * Russ left her to finish with Carrie. What the hell kind of game was Ted playing? He knew they wanted him; he had to. Was going to Beth's a way of taunting them, or was there a deeper meaning there? A threat against Beth? A claim of some kind? Thinking about Ted and his sick motives would only ruin his evening. Carrie deserved at least one parent's undivided attention. He walked into the bedroom and saw Marianne mindlessly watching television. He snatched the remote away and slammed it on top of the nightstand. "Hurry up or you'll be late." "I told you. I'm not going." She tucked the covers around her. "How can you hurt Carrie like this?" "The same way you can hurt us all by pursuing this divorce." "If you think I'm staying married to you after all this, you're crazy." She glared up at him. "And if you think I'm going to let you take my children and my home, you're crazy. My children, Russ. Mine. Not yours. Mine and Teddy's." Russ tried to turn away, but her harshly flung words yanked him back. He grabbed a lamp from the dresser and smashed it into the wall. Marianne screamed and clutched the sheet to her throat. He braced himself on the bed, hovering above her as he ground his teeth together. "Was that rough enough for you? Or do you want me to slap you around a little bit? Maybe a little recreational spanking? Oh, wait...I forgot...that's still too tame for you." Marianne sank into the pillow. "I want a divorce and I intend to have it. I can make it just as ugly as you want. Do you really want your parents to know what you've done?" When she didn't answer, Russ slapped the remote back in her hand and got ready to leave. He paused at the door before going. "Carrie wants Lucille there, too. You can get on the phone all you want. I'm sure Teddy knows by now we're looking for him." He walked out the door, slamming it as hard as he could. Beth was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, hip cocked to the side. "What was that all about?" He caught her elbow and led her away. "An argument that got out of control. It won't happen again." * * * * Even with the television blaring, Marianne could sense how quiet the empty house was. It was the precursor of what her life would soon be. She wasn't sure when Russ would hire his lawyer, but knew he wouldn't wait long. Within the year, she'd be on her own. Russ would make some provisions for her, she was sure, but the security, the sanctuary of her life would be gone. She clicked off the set to listen. The silence was deafening. Unbidden, tears rolled down her cheeks. Sobs followed, heart-rending ones that ripped from her throat. Everything she cherished was lost—everything but Teddy. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the bedroom door open. "Teddy," she cried, and reached for him. He stepped into her embrace and hugged her gently. "He's really going through with the divorce. He knows all about us. They're looking for you. They think you killed some women. What are we going to do? What?" He rubbed her back. "Hush now. Hush. I've got everything under control." She pulled up to look at him. He wiped her cheeks clean. Marianne jerked back. "Why are you wearing rubber gloves?" "You'll see, love. You'll see."

Chapter 19

"So that's where you went." Beth smiled at the small bouquet of lilac tea roses in Russ' hand. He slipped into his aisle seat. "Every star needs an admirer after the play." "What a dad." This was one of the reasons she loved him. As the audience quieted for the performance, she whispered those words in his ear. Russ smiled, whispered, "Love you, too," patted her knee, then turned his full attention to the stage. It was a cute little story about two bunnies lost in the woods and how the forest flora and fauna helped them find their way home. Carrie was confident in her role. An actress born, Lucille said. And Russ was the doting father, snapping picture after picture. Beth struggled to keep laughter away—Carrie instinctively turned toward the camera each time. She was going to have to buy him a camcorder. At the end of the play, after bows were taken, Russ approached the stage. Like a knight playing homage to his princess, he presented his flowers. Carrie was less regal. A squeal, a hug, and she cradled them in her arms to show her cast members. Beth noted several other fathers had made similar presentations. She felt sorry for those dads who hadn't thought of it. She bet they wouldn't make that mistake twice. When the children were finally free to leave and Carrie ran to Russ' arms, Beth choked with emotion. The child part of herself was remembering the love of Daddy's hugs. Homesickness overwhelmed her as it never had before. She made a promise to herself that once this case was settled she'd go home for a visit. "You were wonderful, sweetheart," Russ told his daughter. "Let's celebrate with a big banana split." "Chocolate sundae with bananas," Rosemary said. He chuckled and hugged her, too. "Whatever you two want. And you two, too," he added to Beth and Lucille with a grin. Beth's mouth was watering while her mind conjured up strange combinations of ice creams and toppings. By the time they arrived at Baskin-Robbins, she could hardly wait to put her order in. Finally, the girl behind the counter smiled her way. "Banana split with a scoop of pistachio, lemon, and...peanut butter fudge with...strawberry topping." The girl visibly shuddered, but filled the order. "And put some chocolate sprinkles on it," Beth added. "You want whipped cream, too?" Beth screwed up her face. "That sounds disgusting." The girl handed her the cup. "No more than it already is." Beth felt the heat of Russ' body behind her. "Boy, that does look like a nasty concoction. You're really going to eat that?" Beth laughed at his wrinkled nose. "Every bite." To further torment him, she carved out a scoop and plopped it in her mouth. "Mmmm." "God, Beth, give me a break." Beth giggled. "You need to spend some time with my family. My brother, sister, and I used to have contests to see which ice cream combinations would gross Daddy out the most. But we never could beat out Mom." "And what horror did she create?" "Rainbow sherbet and tutti fruity with hot fudge and butterscotch topped with crushed peppermint. Yum, yum." Beth would swear Russ turned green. The girls clutched their sides in fits of laughter while Lucille smiled and shook her head. "Okay, you clowns, eat up," he told them. "There's still school in the morning." * * * * Russ watched the ladies. Beth was enjoying herself as much as Rosemary and Carrie. He found himself wondering about the Manning family. His introduction to them at Rick's funeral had been brief. From the things Beth had mentioned, they were obviously a fun-loving bunch of people. Every vacation and major holiday, she'd go down to San Diego to see them. Russ liked them without ever having really met them. He wondered if they would feel the same about him. It was very important to him that they did. He wanted to be a part of her life forever. "Aren't you having any?" Beth asked. "After looking at that mess, I don't think I'll ever want ice cream again." He gave her a wink and a smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll have mine soon." It didn't take long for Beth to see what he meant. For all her talk, Carrie got full after eating less than one-third of her banana split. She turned sorrowful eyes toward Russ, and he finished it for her. It was then that all the excitement caught up with the little girl. Yawns and droopy eyes overcame her. By the time they were finished eating, Carrie's head was edging for the table. Rosemary wasn't far behind. Russ and Beth each carried a child, while Lucille hurried ahead of them to open car doors. Beth envied them. Once she got back to her apartment, she planned to become intimately reacquainted with sleep. During the drive back to Russ', she let the car rock her to sleep. A curse word muttered under his breath snapped her awake. Russ turned into the driveway. The house was ablaze with lights. Mack's car and two vehicles he recognized as unmarked police cars were on the street. The front door opened as Russ pulled to a stop. Mack hurried out to meet them—Jolene and John were close behind. Russ opened the car door, careful not to alarm his daughters. "What's wrong? Was he here?" Mack kept his voice low. "The paramedics took Marianne back to the hospital a little while ago. You put the kids to bed and we'll talk. And...stay out of the master bedroom. I've got the lab boys finishing up in there." Russ would have pressed him for more information, but with the girls within earshot he thought it best to do as Mack asked. Jolene tagged along with him and Beth while they took the children to bed. Obviously, something was more than wrong or they wouldn't have been monitored. When they returned to the living room, John had already taken Lucille to the kitchen to speak with her. Jolene escorted Beth to the patio. Russ was left alone with Mack. "What's this all about? What happened to Marianne?" "Someone tried to kill her. She's unconscious." "Ted." "I wish it was that cut and dry. You'd better tell me everything you've been doing since I last saw you. Take your time and don't leave anything out. If we have to, we'll go over it a hundred times 'til every minute is accounted for." As the information was pieced together, even Russ could see it didn't look good for him. He and Marianne had exchanged words. He'd thrown a lamp to the floor. He'd spent five minutes alone in the room with her, then had another twenty minutes virtually unaccounted for when he'd purchased Carrie's flowers. At least the florist could verify he'd been there. He hoped it would be enough. But Beth and Lucille hadn't seen or spoken to Marianne since he'd walked into the bedroom to get ready for the play. The only fingerprints found in the bedroom belonged to Beth and those who lived in the house. "This is ridiculous. Why would I want her dead?" "All any jury would have to do was look at those videos of her and Ted to find a reason," Mack said. "Quite a few husbands have killed for less. And I do recall she wasn't agreeable to a divorce. And there is this little matter of your affair with Beth." Russ opened his mouth to protest. Mack held up his hand. Russ' lips thinned to a line. "So what? I'm entitled to a little happiness." "Not when it leads to attempted murder." "I didn't do it." "I'm not saying you did. I'm trying to help prove you didn't." Mack let the others back into the room. Lucille wrung her hands. Russ wouldn't be surprised if she quit before morning. Beth's arms were parked over her chest. She looked ready to explode. At least he had someone on his side. Unfortunately, Beth was supposed to be one of his motives. "Look, Mack, you know I'm not the kind of person to shoot someone in cold blood." "She wasn't shot," he said. "It was a drug overdose." Beth jumped in front of him. "There you are then. We all know she hasn't been right. She's been on one hell of a guilt trip. She's been saying she wants to die. Now she tried to kill herself." "Nice try, but I don't think so," Mack said. "The drugs were administered rectally. I doubt she could manage that with a broken arm." "Have you checked her for fingerprints?" Russ angrily demanded to know. "We're checking everything. Semen stains were found on her sheets." "Well, I can tell you right now, it doesn't belong to me. You want a sample from me to prove it?" "Russ, calm down." "Calm down?" Beth edged closer to Mack. "You're accusing him of attempted murder." "How did you manage to find out about all this?" Russ asked. "Apparently she was able to crawl to the phone in here and dial 9-1-1. She passed out before she could say anything." Russ threw up his hands and snapped to his feet. "Now I've heard everything. A broken arm, filled with drugs and she still managed to crawl from that high hospital bed all the way to this sunken living room. Then she hauled herself up to the table, dialed the number, and collapsed. Give me a break, Mack, and use your fucking head." "I'm going to forget I heard that, Detective," Mack replied. "We'll call it a night for now and pick this up in the morning once the lab reports are back." John and Jolene gave him sympathetic looks then followed Mack. Beth slammed the door behind them. "The nerve!" "Yeah, tell me about it," Russ said. "Let's straighten out the bedroom. You know they probably left it a mess. Lucille, I'll understand if you want to quit." She mulled it over for a few seconds then lifted her head a notch. "I'll admit it's been a very interesting couple of days around here. I'd be a fool and a liar if I said I wasn't having my doubts. But my job is to take care of this house and those dear little girls, not to stick my nose in anything else. I'll stay because I don't want those girls to suffer for my leaving." "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I'm afraid you haven't caught us at our best." That was an understatement. "You just relax," Beth told Lucille. "Russ and I will take care of that bedroom." "If you don't mind, since Mrs. Salk isn't here, I'll spend the night in my own home. I'll be back by breakfast." Russ saw her to the door, thanking her once more for deciding to stay with them. "Think we'll ever see her again?" he asked Beth. "A woman like that is as good as her word. Besides, her things are still here," she said. "True. Well, let's get to work." The bedroom wasn't as trashed as they'd expected it to be. Marianne's hospital bed had been stripped and the linen confiscated. Drawers were closed and the contents only slightly rumpled. Fingerprint dust was the biggest mess. It dotted every piece of furniture, each lamp, and every knickknack. Even Lucille's possessions hadn't been sacrosanct. Russ and Beth spent an hour cleaning it and the attached bathroom. Vacuuming could wait until morning when Rosemary and Carrie were awake. By the time they were done, Beth was ready once more for home and bed. Her loyalty to Russ kept her there. He stretched out on his mattress, covering his eyes with his arm. Beth slipped off his shoes and massaged the tension from his feet and calves. "God, that feels good," he told her. "Roll over and I'll do the rest of you." He stripped to his briefs and let her fingers work their magic. "I didn't do it, Beth." "I know that," she said, her voice gently scolding. "He's messing with us. He makes sure we're watching for him in one place then he hits in another." "Shh, try to relax and not think about it for now. It'll still be there in the morning." "Problems usually are," he murmured. "I love you, honey." "I love you, too. Probably more than you'll ever realize. Now...relax," she finished in a whisper. Russ was content to let her mold him. A delicious drowsiness overcame him as she coaxed his muscles into submission. Beth continued long after sleep took him. When she finally stopped, his breathing was deep and regular. She stretched out beside him, curling her body to his. The first fingers of sleep drifted to her, yet her mind still puzzled on where Ted might be. She was on the edge—in that gray area of twilight sleep. He was never where you looked and always where you didn't expect him to be. The least place you expected. Beth jerked upright, then glanced down to make sure she hadn't woke Russ. He stirred, but that was all. As quietly as possible she slipped on her shoes and left to check the last place anyone would ever expect to find Ted Salk. It was hard not to speed, harder still not to break into a run when she reached the jail. The officer on duty looked bored when she flashed her badge in front of him. "Manning, Homicide. I want to see Randy Calvins." "He's gone," the man said through a mouth of apple. "When?" "Some time this afternoon." "Where?" "How the hell should I know? I wasn't even on duty. His attorney paid his bail and they left." "And I don't suppose you know who his attorney was either," Beth said sarcastically. "That I do know. It was a bit of a shock, actually...someone like Calvins having such a big-wig attorney." Beth was having a hard time holding her temper. "Well? Who was it?" "Garrett Caruthers." Now that Calvins was caught, she'd figured the attorney would want to distance himself from Calvins as far as possible. Rich attorneys usually didn't want the public to know they used the services of a pimp. Caruthers especially should want to keep his deviant sexual preferences a secret. So why get him out? "What did this man look like?" Beth asked. "How the hell should I know? I told you I wasn't here," he snapped. "The guy I took over for said it was Caruthers. He oughta know. Caruthers has been here more than once." "Was anyone else with him?" He opened his mouth and Beth held up her hand. "I know, I know. You weren't here." She shoved her badge back into her purse and turned away. "Thanks ever so much for your help." As she walked away, she doubted the man even realized he'd been insulted. Beth pulled out of the parking lot, wondering if her instincts were wrong. No, she decided. Caruthers' involvement was just another stick in the spokes. Calvins had been totally cooperative until he had to identify Ted. Then he'd demanded to see a lawyer. There had to be some connection among the three men. A stoplight gave her a chance to think about her next move. Changing clothes was probably a good idea. She turned into the corner 7-Eleven and grabbed her tote bag to change in the restroom. Jeans, shirt, and Reeboks; it felt good. Beth slid her badge and wallet in her back pockets, slipped on her shoulder holster, and topped it off with her dark blue windbreaker. She was ready for work. Back in the car, she drove up to the Hollywood Hills and Garrett Caruthers' house. Several cars lined the circular driveway. None of them belonged to Ted or Calvins. Beth refused to let this lack of evidence sway her confidence. After parking a few blocks away, she crept back to the house. No guard or dog blocked her entry. The fence still was gated and easily breached. A single lighted room on the first floor drew her forward. It seemed odd that, in a house with so many guests, there would only be one room occupied. Then she recalled the house had been similarly vacant when Calvins had brought her here. She crept closer, her footsteps silent on the flagstone patio. Draperies shrouded the French doors, impeding her view. Beth tried the handle. It turned. She held her breath. There was no breeze to stir the drapes, but sneaking in behind them could draw unnecessary attention her way. She pulled the door open far enough to hook the bottom of the damask cloth with her finger. Then she drew the material forward and secured it in the door. It gave her a nice peephole even if it was low to the ground. Beth flattened herself on the patio. The chill of the flagstones shot through her, and she had to adjust her windbreaker to be comfortable. When she looked in, Beth didn't know whether to cheer or be sick. Ted was there, cocky as always. He leaned against the far wall, cleaning his nails with a pocketknife. Calvins was there, too—tied, spread-eagle, bent over a bench of some kind. Lash marks covered him from shoulder to ankle. And the other eight men in the room took turns with him while Ted looked on. A small part of her rejoiced in the fact Calvins was getting a taste of what he had dished out. The rest of her conscience was repulsed any person could treat another that way. When the last man finished with Calvins, Ted walked up to him. For a moment Beth thought he was going to slit Calvins' throat, then she realized he only meant to cut him loose. Calvins slumped to the floor. "Get dressed." Ted shoved him with the toe of his shoe. Calvins crawled to his pile of clothes and did as he was told. Beth strained to hear as Ted faced the eight men. "We'll start the bidding at ten thousand." A pasty-faced man flicked a hand. "I have ten. Do I have twenty?" Beth watched the silent process and five minutes later Calvins had been sold for a quarter of a million dollars to a swarthy gentleman of Middle Eastern persuasion. Money exchanged hands and the man herded Calvins from the room. "Refreshments are at the buffet, gentlemen," Ted told them. "Help yourselves while our associate leaves with his new acquisition. You all know the rules. In an hour, you may leave." Beth scrambled to her feet and ran to the front door in time to see Calvins shoved into the front seat of a black Mercedes sedan. He was too weak to try to escape. She sprinted to the end of the driveway. By the time she called for back up, they could be miles from here. She waited until he stopped at the end of the driveway to turn onto the street, then she jumped in front of the car, weapon drawn. The man's dark eyes widened with fear. "Hands where I can see them," she ordered, and he plopped them on the dash. Beth eased to the driver's side, opened the back door, and climbed in. She shoved the barrel behind his ear. "You drive where I tell you or what brains you have will be all over your pretty car. Understand?" He gave a shaky nod. "Good. Turn left...You gonna be okay?" she asked Calvins. "I'll make it. Never thought I'd be this glad to see a cop." His voice was strained from his ordeal. "Just remember that at question and answer time." She snapped out directions to the driver, leading him to the doors of the station. "Now get out. Face down on the ground. Put your hands behind your back. Palms together." The man shook as he followed her instructions. Beth had no sympathy for him. She snapped the cuffs over his wrists and helped him to his feet. "Inside, buster. Randy, you, too." Beth didn't have time to wait for him. She knew he'd follow. He was too afraid of Ted to leave her protection. "Hey there, Beth. Whatcha got? Where's Russ?" the desk sergeant asked when she walked in. "Russ is at home, Ed. He doesn't know I'm out. I caught this guy buying himself a slave. The victim's right behind me. Make him comfortable while I take care of this guy. And Ed..." "Yeah?" "Don't call Russ." He sheepishly moved his hand away from the phone. "Put the victim in one of the interrogation rooms 'til I get back." Beth steered her collar down the hall and took her time booking him. She had to admit she enjoyed watching him fidget. By the time she joined Calvins in the interrogation room, he'd fallen asleep belly down on the floor. Compassion tugged at her heart, even though she wasn't sure he deserved it. She squatted beside him and gently shook his wrist. "Wake up, Randy." He opened bleary eyes. "You want to go to the hospital?" "No." "Home?" "Not until I know he's caught." He struggled to sit. Beth would have helped him if she didn't think it would hurt him more. "Thanks for saving me," he told her. "That's part of my job. Maybe now you'll know what it feels like to be unmercifully beaten." He flashed her a dirty look. "I'm used to it. My mother used to beat me all the time." That certainly explained a lot about why Calvins did the things he did. "I'm sorry you had to live that way. And even sorrier you wanted to make others live that way. Are you ready to answer a few questions? Or do you want you lawyer present?" "Don't get smart-assed with me," he said. "Ask away. I'll tell you anything you want to know and more."

Chapter 20

Russ was surprised to find Beth's car already at the station the next morning. For the last two hours he'd been trying to squelch his injured feelings that she wasn't by his side when he woke up. Finding her here only confused him more. Why would she sneak off to work without at least leaving a note? It was personal feelings getting in the way of work—his personal feelings. After all this time together, he couldn't strip her of her independence just because they were in love. He knew putting a chokehold on her freedom would only destroy the foundation on which their relationship was built. He took a deep breath before he walked inside. It wouldn't do for her to see him with an attitude. He tried to act like it was any other day. Like he wasn't miffed. Like he didn't crave her. But his heart skipped ahead of him, anxious to see her. Russ stopped short when he saw Mack lounging at Beth's desk in the open squad room. "Good. You're here." Mack tossed a file to Russ' desk. "Your partner's had one hell of a busy night." "Where is she?" "Asleep in my office. Believe me, she deserves it. Grab some coffee and read that. Very, very interesting." Russ skipped the coffee and opened the file as he sat down. Just filling out the paperwork must have taken her two hours. He picked up Calvins' statement and began to read. The information was stuff he could have lived without knowing. By helping the police shut down the costume shop and close in on a killer, Calvins had unknowingly put himself on the line. He didn't realize his mistake until he was asked to identify Ted on the videotape. A call to his lawyer, Garrett Caruthers, got him out on bail where Calvins was sure he'd be safe from a constant barrage of questions from the police. Calvins had counted on his long-standing business dealings with the attorney to make Caruthers keep him safe. Caruthers and his partner, Ted, had other ideas. Afraid that if cornered Calvins would tell all he knew about their dealings in the white slavery trade, Caruthers and Ted decided to eliminate him. It was this auction Beth had seen. Buys occurred at Caruthers' home once a quarter. That was how Calvins got rid of troublesome girls. It was also how the girls managed to "get free." Calvins hooked Ted up with girls who'd grown too old to be of any further service to him. Ted earned their trust, then sold them and gave Calvins a cut. Calvins was aware Ted owned and frequented the costume shop. Most of the buyers were wealthy foreigners. Purchased slaves were shipped out by private boat or airplane. Another buy was scheduled for sometime in the future. Two ladies would be offered—Alicia and Beth. Alicia because she was a potential witness. Beth because Ted had a personal grudge against her. "Pretty risky kidnapping a police officer," Russ said. Mack flipped the page for him. "Read on." Russ did. Beth would go with Ted of her own free will. He would make sure of that by offering to trade someone else for Beth. Calvins had no idea who, but figured it was someone Beth would never refuse to protect. In the report, Beth didn't speculate who it might be. "Shit, who the hell could that be?" Russ asked, more to himself than to Mack. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me." "Is Calvins still here?" "He's at a hotel with a guard. Man's petrified to be without protection. After his statement last night, we went to Caruthers' house. We got Caruthers, but Ted was already gone. Naturally, Caruthers says he has no idea what's going on. Says he never heard of Ted Salk or Randy Calvins." "Then how does he explain the fact he bailed Calvins out?" "Says it wasn't him. Claims it was mistaken identity and that he's being set up. He can provide an alibi if we want." "What about Alicia?" Russ asked. "We're still looking for her. She gave her building manager notice, but hadn't moved out yet. For all we know, he could already have her." "With Caruthers' place under surveillance, he has to find another place to hold his auction." "Yeah, I know. We're checking records to see if he owns any other businesses or houses. But since he used an alias on the costume shop, this is really a long shot," Mack said. Russ read the remainder of the report then tossed the folder aside. Beth had had a full night. She'd done a damn fine job, too. "Makes you kinda proud of her, doesn't it?" Mack said. Russ smiled. "Yeah. Real proud." "Vice asked me to approach her." Russ nodded. What more could he do? It was a good opportunity for her. Since they were going to have to be separated, he'd much rather be in different departments than to have to watch her with another partner. "Thought you'd also want to know that we got the results back on those semen stains in Marianne's bed," Mack told him. "It matches that spot on the toilet at the last victim's place." "Marianne!" Russ jumped up, shooting his chair to the next desk. "That's who he's going to trade for Beth." Mack grabbed the phone. "I'll send some men down there." "I'm going, too. We've got to take this carefully." Russ hoped his presence would be enough to rattle Ted. With any luck, he could use that to their advantage, reason with him, and convince Ted to turn himself in. It was a long shot, but he had to take a chance. * * * * A muscle cramp yanked Beth awake. Still groggy, she was momentarily disoriented while she massaged the ache away. She shook the cobwebs out of her head and sat up. Mack popped in as if he'd been waiting for her to wake up. "Sleep well?" Beth combed out her tangled hair with her fingers. "Sleep of the dead, I swear. What time is it?" "Noon." "Geez...What's been going on?" "Russ read the file. He and two officers are at the hospital." "Why?" "To keep Ted from taking Marianne. Russ figured that's who Ted would use to get you to come to him." She frowned. It sounded reasonable. But it wasn't a sure bet. Ted wouldn't want to take chances. The real targets slammed into her head, waking her fully. She jumped up, cursing herself for not realizing it sooner. Beth dashed for the door. "It isn't Marianne he'll trade for. It's Rosemary and Carrie!" Mack had to hurry to catch up to her. "I'll call the hospital." "Screw the hospital. Call the school. It may already be too late." She grabbed her purse and kept going. "Where the hell do you think you're going, Manning?" he shouted. "To the school!" she tossed over her shoulder. "Not alone." He ran after her, dispensing orders to Jolene as he went. "Call Kaiser. Find out from Russ which school it is then call it." * * * * Ted didn't foresee any problems with the school. He was counting on his heart-rending tale to gain possession of Rosemary and Carrie. No one would have the heart to question a well-meaning uncle during a family tragedy. It helped that the young woman on duty was alone, over-worked, flustered, and inexperienced. The office had a half dozen students there, all with complaints of illness that couldn't wait until school let out. All three lines blinked on the phone. The secretary's response was to put each caller abruptly on hold. She looked up at Ted, glad for an adult face and hopeful he'd take a child off her hands. "May I help you?" "I'm Dr. Theodore Salk." He showed her his driver's license. "My nieces, Rosemary and Carrie, attend school here. There's been an accident." He choked up for her benefit. "Their parents were killed in a car accident a few hours ago. I've come to take the girls home. I want them to hear this from me, not from the parent of a friend." The woman gasped. "Oh, no. I'll have the girls brought to you right away." She hustled about finding teacher assignments and sent a student aide to fetch the girls. Then she devoted her time and sympathy to Ted. He returned the consideration by wishing he could choke her into silence. When she pressed him for details of the accident, he put her off by telling her he was too upset to discuss it. She changed her tactics to wanting information about the funeral services. Ted was saved by the arrival of his nieces. Their delighted expressions were genuine as he hugged them. "I thought it would be a nice treat if we spent the rest of the day together," he told them. "Does Daddy know?" Rosemary asked. The secretary choked back a sob. Ted cupped Rosemary's head. "Of course he knows. Come on, girls, we have a busy day planned." With each of their hands in his, they walked to his car. * * * * Beth saw them as Mack pulled in front of the school. Without giving the captain a chance to fully stop, she wrenched open the car door and sprinted toward the trio. Her pounding footsteps on the sidewalk drew their heads her way. "Hey, look! It's Beth!" Carrie pointed at her with a wide smile. Ted tightened his grip on their hands. "Stop this, Ted," Beth said as she neared. "Leave them out of this. If it's me you want, you can have me." "I thought as much." His gaze shifted to Mack behind her. He pulled Rosemary in front of him. "Make it clear to him you're willing." Beth whirled around to Mack. "Stay back. I go willingly." Mack muttered a curse under his breath, but stopped. "Good." Ted motioned to the chain link fence surrounding the school. "Handcuff his right hand up high to the fence and put the key in his right back pocket. And hurry up. I don't have all day." Beth did so, taking as much time as she could. "Now..." Ted grinned. "I'll take his revolver and yours." Beth pursed her lips and smacked both in his open palm. Ted shoved them in the waistband of his trousers and chuckled. "Well, girls, looks like we'll have to plan our afternoon for another time. In the car, Beth, and don't try anything funny." "I said I'd go with you willingly. I didn't say I'd stay," Beth said. He leaned close as he pushed her into the car. "But I'm looking forward to making sure you do." Beth knew only too well what he meant. She swallowed her fear. The last thing she saw as he drove them away was Rosemary and Carrie crying in each other's arms, and Mack trying desperately to comfort them. * * * * Beth knew Ted was clever, but she was amazed at how thoroughly he'd planned his capture of her. He parked his car near a used car dealer then walked Beth through back alleys to a porno theater, urging her forward with her police revolver shoved against her ribs. In the darkened interior that smelled of urine and only God knew what else, Ted made her sit through hours of X-rated movies while he laid out in great detail all he wanted to do to her. Never once did he drop the weapon. By midnight, he was tired of the game and ready to move on. He laced his hand through hers, shoved her pistol against her ribs once more as a warning, and led her down the side streets once more. Since he had to hide her somewhere and couldn't take her to Caruthers to auction her off, his options were limited. The last place anyone would think to look for him was the costume shop. The police would think Ted would think they had the place guarded. They didn't reckon on Ted's deductive reasoning. Beth knew better; she prayed Russ did, too. The costume shop was deserted and quiet, and he needed both those qualities to do whatever he planned to her. Beth suppressed a shudder. It was going to be horrible...she'd already accepted that. Her time under Calvins had been a tutorial for what was to come with Ted. The costume shop loomed ahead in the streetlights. Dark, foreboding, mocking. Beth would rather have been facing an armed robber than this. Ted took her through the back door and up a flight of stairs. He must have had the eyes of a cat to find his way without falling. Beth stumbled at least a dozen times, but his tight grip on her arm kept her upright. At the top of the stairs, he shoved her into a room and slammed the door shut before flooding it with light. Beth blinked several times to adjust her eyes. A room of black velvet and white satin surrounded her. Ted tossed a white satin teddy to her. "Take off your clothes and put this on." She hesitated as she stared at the barrel of the gun, trying to measure the odds of disarming him before he could get off a round. He picked up the whip lying at the foot of the bed with his free hand. Beth focused her gaze forward while she disrobed. There was no other choice. She knew his gaze raked each garment away and prayed he wouldn't touch her with anything other than those demonic eyes of his. If she could distract him enough, she could kick the weapon from his fingers. He circled her, studying her from every angle until Beth was able to cover herself with the teddy. He draped the whip around her neck, took both ends in his hands, and pulled her closer, shoving the revolver barrel under her chin. "Do you want me now?" "No." "But you want my brother." Beth drew a shaky breath. "Is that what this is all about? I want Russ, but not you?" "Why? What's he got that I don't?" "Russ is kind, tender, considerate." Ted chuckled. "Who do you think you're fooling? I saw the video. I know you like it rough." "You misunderstood what you saw." "Hmm...I don't think so. The fading bruises on your body say different. Did your fiancé do that to you? He liked it rough, too, didn't he?" "Calvins did that. I was undercover." "What did he tell you?" "Who?" "Your fiancé. Did you hope by waiting you'd catch me off guard?" "Rick left no clues." "Now who do you think you're fooling?" He bent to kiss her. Beth turned her face away. Ted stepped back and slashed the whip across her breasts. Beth cried out and covered herself. "I should've known what to expect the minute I saw his picture in your apartment, but I wanted you too much. And you shoved your haughty little nose in the air at me. Well, that love tap I just gave you is only a taste of what I'm going to give you. I killed because of you. You frustrated the hell out of me. Well, now, little darlin', you're all mine. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for me and this whip...just like Marianne." "You can beat me to death and it'll never make me want to have sex with you." "We'll see about that. You'll change your mind. Everyone always does. I've gotten very good with this." He dangled the whip before him. "I'll never break the skin, but the bruises I leave will make you think I have." His expression turned from a smile to a grimace as he whacked the leather strand over her shoulder. Beth gasped from the pain, yet refused to cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry in pain and fear. She shut her mind away as the leather smacked across her back, buttocks, and legs time after time. Her only defense was to cover her head with her arms and sink to the carpeted floor. Ted beat her until Beth was cowering in the corner. She wouldn't give in. She preferred death to sex with Ted Salk. He might as well pull the trigger now and end this. She knew he wouldn't—that would spoil his fun. "Stubborn, little bitch, aren't you?" He yanked her hands behind her back until Beth groaned from the pain between her shoulders. He bound her wrists with twine and dragged her to a small closet in the far wall. "On your knees." He shoved her down. Ted snapped a studded collar around her neck and secured it by a chain dangling from a rod above. Then he tied her ankles to a short rope around her thighs so she couldn't stand. His final act of cruelty was to blindfold her before he slammed her inside. "We'll see how agreeable you are after a few hours in there." Beth strained to hear if he'd left. Hysterics threatened to overcome her and she struggled to keep them away. He meant to break her spirit and mind. She couldn't let him—those were only hers to possess—hers and Russ'. The thought of Russ brought on tears. Beth shook them back. She couldn't cry. Crying would make her nose run and she couldn't blow it. The irony of the situation was almost funny. Here she was bound and beaten, and she was concerned about a runny nose. Gotta keep your head, girl, she told herself. Think of something else. Anything. A song from childhood came to mind. She started to sing, softly so no one else could hear. * * * * Russ hurled a full cup of coffee across the room. It sailed out through Mack's open door, splattering the contents on desks and people three yards away. Few heads turned his way. He didn't care about the whispers behind his back. All he wanted was to find Beth alive and safe. Discovering Ted's abandoned Porsche and no leads to his or Beth's whereabouts was driving him crazy. "He's got to be somewhere! It's been twelve hours. Where the hell is Calvins hidden? He knows something. I know he's holding back." "He's got no reason to." Mack paced in front of him. "He wants this guy in jail as bad as we do." "No one wants him more than me." Russ smacked a fist into his palm. "No one." Mack stopped in mid-stride. "Want to go with me to check out Alicia's apartment again?" "For what? We've got men waiting outside for her. They'll let us know if she shows." "I've got a search warrant for Ted's apartment. Want to go with me?" Russ whirled around; his eyes accused Mack of betrayal. "I thought so." Neither man spoke during the drive. Russ kept seeing the mutilated bodies of the murder victims and praying Beth wouldn't be the next one. The manager at Ted's apartment building grumbled about being woke up. After slapping the master key in Mack's hand, he shuffled back to bed and left them on their own. It was the first time Russ had been in his brother's apartment. He was amazed at the lack of color in the place. All furniture and decorations were black or white. Everything appeared orderly. Nothing out of place. While Mack checked the kitchen, Russ wandered to the bedroom. Again only black and white, but this time color photos adorned the walls—photos of Rosemary, Carrie, and Susie Carson. He felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He started searching through drawers, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, but believing he'd know when he found it. In the closet, he came across a box of pictures: Marianne and the girls at different ages; Christina and Susie Carson. "Find anything?" Mack asked. "Yeah, but I'm not sure what." He pointed to the pictures. Mack scratched the stubble on his face. "Christina Carson looks a lot like Marianne when she was younger." "Yeah, I noticed." "Guy gets around." "Yeah, he's always where you never expect him to be," Russ said, echoing the words he'd once said to Beth. He and Mack looked at each other. "So where haven't we looked?" Mack asked. "The costume shop." "We checked there when he first took her. He never showed. Our men stayed there for hours waiting before we realized he wasn't going to use the place." "He was killing time somewhere else. He's at that damn costume shop. I'd bet my badge on it." Russ tossed aside the pictures and raced Mack to the car. * * * * Ted stormed out of the costume shop in the murderous rage he always felt when dealing with Beth Manning. Two more beatings had done little to change her mind. It really seemed like she was willing to die rather than submit to him. He stopped short of granting her wish, shutting her back in the closet before he took what he wanted. He refused to let her ruin his pleasure. He'd have her begging him soon enough. Until then, he had to practice patience. Another target for his lust would have to do. He stomped to the Honda Accord parked in the alley behind the shop. With a jerk of his wrist, he opened the trunk. Alicia's pale blue eyes squinted up at him. "Play time, honey." Ted grabbed the rope around her wrists and hauled her out. He paused for a second then tossed her over his shoulder. "Put her down, Teddy," he heard Russ say. Ted dropped her to the asphalt then wrapped his hand in her hair to yank her back to her feet. A smile spread across his face as he drew Beth's revolver from his waistband. Russ and the older man with him did the same. "Like playing gunfighters, isn't it, big brother?" He clicked off the safety and jammed the barrel to Alicia's head. "Go away or I'll shoot the saloon girl." "Don't do it, Teddy. I mean it." Ted laughed. "You can't bluff me. I know you won't risk her life just to get me. Put your gun on the ground." * * * * Russ and Mack exchanged stares with Ted for what seemed an eternity. It was clear Ted had no intention of relinquishing his hold on the girl. He had no fear of them and knew he was in charge. "Put it down, Russ," Mack told him. Arguments ran around in Russ' head. They'd lose their suspect, they ran the risk of losing the girl, they wouldn't find Beth, and they might even lose their lives. "Russ..." He shot Mack a glare out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing else he could do. Together, he and Mack held out their revolvers. "Put them in there and shut the lid." Ted jerked his head toward the trunk of the Honda. For emphasis, he nudged the pistol deeper into Alicia's temple. They did as he asked. "You follow orders real well. Now stay put or I'll kill her." They helplessly watched him back away, dragging Alicia with him. When he reached the end of the alleyway, he shoved her into a row of trashcans lined against the wall. Their clattering barely covered up the shot he fired in her direction. Russ and Mack ran forward as Ted slipped into the night. While Mack bent to help Alicia, Russ hurried after Ted. He'd disappeared. The rabbit warren of passageways were obviously like home to him. Russ returned to Alicia and Mack. A red patch of blood seeped from her side. "I think the bullet went through, but I can't be sure," Mack said. "I'll radio for the paramedics." Alicia staggered when she tried to follow Mack to the car. Russ caught her before she could fall. "You okay? You want me to carry you?" Russ asked. "I'm fine. Really. I can't even feel any pain in my side. I think he just grazed me. My legs are just a little stiff." He looked her up and down. Even with that the hole in her side, being dirty, and having rope burns on her wrists and ankles, she managed just fine. If they had arrived a few minutes later, that might not have been the case. "Do you know where he has Beth?" Russ asked. Alicia shook her head back and combed shaking fingers through her blonde hair. She looked ready to cry. Under the circumstances, Russ couldn't blame her. "I haven't seen her. I've been in that damn trunk since last night." "Let's check out the costume shop," Mack said from the car. Again Russ turned to Alicia for help. "I noticed from the videotapes he has one special room he always uses. It's all black and white. Do you know which one it is?" Alicia nodded. "Number one. Top of the stairs and to your right." Russ left her to Mack's care and ran inside. After fumbling for a light switch, he took the stairs two at a time. He tore open the door to the first room. No Beth. Teddy had taken her some place else. He turned away and was about to leave when he heard singing. He strained his ears and moved closer. The closet! The voice was coming from the closet! His footsteps thundered on the carpet as he hurried forward. The singing stopped. Russ eased open the door, afraid of what he might see. "Oh, my God!" He gasped and fell to his knees. Bruises and welts on her arms, legs, and body showed beatings one hundred times worse than anything Calvins had delivered. "Honey, it's me," he said as tears filled his eyes. While he fumbled for his pocketknife with one hand, he pulled off the blindfold with the other. Beth blinked, but there was no recognition of him in her eyes. Russ felt his heart break as Beth droned out, "Mary Had A Little Lamb." It's shock, he kept telling himself. She'd be all right once he got her out of here. His hands shook while he cut her free. Beth never budged, even once she was free of the collar. With loving care, he draped his jacket around her and lifted her in his arms. "I love you, honey." Beth sang louder. Russ blinked back his tears and carried her outside where paramedics were treating Alicia. Mack hurried to them. "Good God!" Beth looked his way then back up at Russ, her gray eyes wide with wonder. "It is you. It's really you." A tear rolled down his cheek to hers. "Yes, honey, it really is. I love you, Beth. I love you so much." "Oh, Russ, I love you, too. Can I cry now? I want to cry." "As hard and long as you want." "I didn't let him touch me. I swear I didn't. I'd rather die first." Then she started to cry, softly at first then long, mournful wails. Russ held her in the backseat of Mack's car, comforting her as best he could despite the fact he cried with her. Beth refused the paramedics and, when they tried to force the issue, Mack had to intervene before Russ started throwing punches. He drove them to the hospital himself. Even there, Beth refused to be parted from him. Finally, the doctor relented and allowed Russ to stay. Mack shook his head and left them alone to start filling out reports. Hours later, when the doctors had done all they could for Beth, she was finally allowed to rest. With a look that dared the nurse to deny him, Russ kicked off his shoes and crawled in bed beside her. Taking care not to disturb the IV in her arm, he wrapped her in an embrace. The nurse wagged her head and turned off the light. "Noooo!" Beth screamed. "Turn the light back on, you idiot," Russ yelled. Light flooded the room. "Get out." The nurse tossed up her hands and walked away. Russ cuddled Beth while her whimpers faded. "I don't like the dark," she said. "Don't let them leave me in the dark." "Never, love. I swear it." "Never leave me, Russ. Please. Love me always." "Always. Always and forever. Sleep now. I'll be right here all night." Beth slowly relaxed, and while she slept, Russ' stomach churned with anxiety that Ted was still free. In the hours that ticked by, he worked on plans to capture him.

Chapter 21

For what seemed like the hundredth time, movement in the room disturbed Beth's sleep. Probably another nurse to check her vital signs—again. She couldn't wait until she could check out and go home for some real rest. Russ stirred beside her. He couldn't be comfortable, yet he'd stayed with her all night. "Russ," Mack whispered, and she opened her eyes to him. He looked like he could do with some sleep himself. Russ sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah, what is it?" "Marianne's conscious. Thought you'd want to be there when I question her." "Has Ted been found yet?" he asked. "No. I was hoping she might be able to help us there, too. Since he tried to kill her, she might not be so loyal anymore." Beth saw Russ' hesitation. He didn't want to leave her alone if it was going to make her afraid. If the truth were known, she would be afraid without him. But there had to come a time when she was by herself. "It's okay. I'll be fine." She hoped her voice didn't betray her true feelings. "I won't be long." Russ kissed her forehead and left with Mack. She settled back down. There wasn't much sense in trying to fall asleep. Soon the morning nurse would be in to check her, then breakfast, then bathing. Maybe she could even get the IV out. That would be nice. Although she tried not to think about it, Ted's elusiveness came to mind. The man had to have nine lives. To have been so close to nailing him, then have him slip away...it had to be the most frustrating, if not the most personally frightening, case Beth had ever worked. Beth still couldn't believe he was Russ' brother. A part of her was glad Rick had died quickly and not suffered the same humiliation Calvins had. Since Ted obviously liked to play with his victims, Rick's profession had probably made it imperative he be eliminated as soon as possible. Ted's obsession with Beth kept her from that same fate, she figured. There wasn't a part of her body that didn't hurt. Ted had been very thorough. With each beating, he'd gotten more violent, determined to make her give in to his sexual demands. He could have taken her at any time, but he'd refused. He'd wanted her to beg him to stop hitting her and give in willingly. Beth wouldn't do it. Where is he now? In the one place they'd never expect him to be. Beth puzzled over that. Every hangout was covered by now. Both his obsessions were safe within the confines of the hospital, guarded heavily. Even he wouldn't chance coming here. Or would he? By his own admission, he had killed because of Beth. She was a challenge, a roadblock to his manhood. Without her complete submission to him, he'd be a failure. Yes, he would come after her again, to kill her or to have her. He had to—it was essential to his self-image. Beth needed to be ready for him. She needed a solid plan that would ensure he wouldn't get away this time. The morning nurse walked in with a cheery good morning smile. It was infectious. "Keep that positive attitude up and you'll be out of here in no time," the nurse said. Beth gave a light laugh. "That's what I'm counting on." * * * * Marianne was already dressed in her martyr robes when Russ and Mack walked in. Her pathetic demeanor grated on Russ' nerves. This time he wouldn't put up with it. "You can cut out the poor waif look, Marianne. I'm not in the mood for it." "We've got a few questions and would appreciate any help you could give us," Mack said. "Let's start with your overdose. Who did it?" Russ asked. Marianne's apathy didn't fade. "It was Ted. He said if you didn't want me anymore, neither did he. He said I still had my uses, though. I thought he was only trying to have sex with me again. After I started getting drowsy, he told me what he'd done. The last thing I remember is him kissing me and saying goodbye." "When did you last have intercourse with him?" "Before he put those things in me." Mack placed pictures of Christina and Susie Carson on her lap. "Do you recognize these people?" Marianne shook her head. "We found these in Ted's apartment," he told her. "The child's picture was on the wall beside pictures of Rosemary and Carrie." Marianne sighed. "Teddy told me once I wasn't as special as I thought. He kind of hinted around he had another daughter somewhere. I thought he was just taunting me, but maybe not." "We'd have to do DNA testing to be sure," Mack said to Russ. "It could take weeks, but it might be worth it, if it gives him a motive for murder." "These people are dead?" Marianne asked. "Yes. We're pretty sure Teddy's responsible," Russ said. Marianne shook her head. "No matter how sadistic he is, Teddy would never harm a child. He really loves kids. As for the woman..." She shrugged. "Maybe, but I'll bet it was an accident. Teddy would never intentionally kill someone." Russ stared at her in disbelief. "And what do you suppose his intentions were when he shoved those barbiturates up your ass?" She blinked back tears as his words hit her. "You've picked a real winner," Russ told her. "You want Teddy so bad? You can have him. I'm sure it'll make his stay in prison that much more enjoyable to know you're waiting for his release." "Teddy's been caught?" she choked out. "Not yet," Mack said. "And Beth paid dearly to save your daughters and try to catch him. He nearly beat her to death." "We've got work to do," Russ told her. "You might as well call your sister to come get you once the doctor says you can leave. I don't want you back at the house." Without a backward glance, he and Mack walked out. * * * * "What's this?" Russ pointed to the small suitcase at the foot of Beth's bed. "That's a silly question. What does it look like?" Russ looked exasperated. "Okay, let's try it this way. Where did it come from?" "Jolene stopped by. I gave her my key and asked her to pick up a few things from my apartment." "Oh. Well, I'll put them away for you." "No!" Beth jerked up too fast and winced from the pain. He crossed his arms. "What's in here you don't want me to see?" "Nothing. Now give it here." Beth tried to reach for it, but her muscles wouldn't cooperate. Russ zipped open the top. There, nestled among the nightgowns and toiletries, was the brown leather gun case. He didn't have to open it to know what was inside. He held it up and gently shook it at her. "Why is this necessary in a hospital?" Beth knew now how the girls felt when he was reprimanding them. "I'm afraid to be alone." "You don't have to be. I'll be here with you." "You weren't here this afternoon. You and Mack went down to the station." He gestured toward the door. "But John was right outside the whole time." "I'm going to have to be alone some time. I just want to be prepared, like at night." Russ tossed the gun case back into the suitcase. "You're never going to be alone. Someone will always be with you. At night, I'll stay like I did last night." She sighed and stared down at her hands. "No. I don't want you here." "You just said you didn't want to be alone. Now you do. Make up my mind for me, honey." "You don't understand." "You're damn right about that. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it." Calm and rational. Tears now would only show him how really scared she was. She looked up with all the determination she could muster. "He's going to come after me, you know that." Russ nodded. "That's why we're taking every precaution to guard you." "That's only going to chase him away. He's very clever or he wouldn't have gotten away with this all this time. He'll be watching for a time when I'm by myself. If he doesn't get that time, then he'll just wait. I don't want to wait. I want this over now." Russ braced his hands on his hips. "And what do you propose?" "Leave. All of you. I'll take it from there." "In your condition?" he shouted. "You can barely move!" "I'll do what I have to do. Now give me that .38. I want it close." There was no point in arguing with her. Russ had learned that from experience. "I'll let Mack know what's going on." He placed the gun case on her lap and left. Beth waited until she was sure he wasn't coming right back. Then she ruffled through the contents of her suitcase until she found the item she was looking for—a pink, lacy nighty Rick had once bought her. Beth had always hated it because it made her feel cheap. Now it was going to help her catch a killer. She took the .38 out of its protective case and slipped it into her purse along with the nighty. When Ted showed up, she'd be ready. Beth steeled herself for arguments when Russ walked back into the room with Mack. She didn't care whether she had their approval or not; she was keeping the pistol and confronting Ted in her own way. Nothing surprised her more than to find they grudgingly agreed with her. She listened without comment while they discussed options and possibilities she'd already considered. They said they were ready to hear her plan. Beth doubted that, but at least she had their attention. "It's simple really," she told them. "We've got to make sure his first target is me. To do that, we have to make sure I'm accessible to him." She saw Russ' jaw tighten. He definitely wasn't going to like this. "I'll check out of the hospital today and go home." Beth thought about shoving her fingers in her ears to shut out Russ' impending explosion. His response was remarkably calm. "He knows how I feel about you. He'd never believe I'd let you go home by yourself." "He would if we have an argument in front of the hospital." Russ tilted his head and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it could work. But I refuse to let you go without a wire. If he's going to take you somewhere, I want to know where." "A wire won't work," Mack said. "But I have another idea." * * * * Beth studied the flesh-colored patch on the inside of her upper arm. It was noticeable only because she knew it was there. If Ted should happen to spot it, she would simply tell him it was a medication patch. He'd never suspect an electronic bug was hidden underneath. Only her doctor knew the true reasons for checking out of the hospital, and it had taken over an hour to convince him to go along with their plan. Only Beth's promise to return to the hospital after this was done swayed him to agree. "Ready?" Russ asked. Beth looked up at him. She wished it hadn't come to this, wished there was another way to ensure Ted's capture. Already her body ached from movement. It really isn't so bad, she tried to lie to herself. It was merely a matter of finding a comfortable position. After a little walking around, she'd be fine. "Let's get this over with." She let Russ lead her to the parking lot. They were ten feet from her car when Beth jerked her arm away. "Get your hands off of me! I told you I don't want or need your help." "You're being stupid," Russ shouted back. "What's gotten into you? First, you demand to be released against doctor's orders. Now, you don't want anyone's help." "I'm tired of being treated like porcelain. Just leave me alone. Ever since we first slept together, all you do is hover over me. Give it a rest. When I want to see you again, I'll call you." Beth marched to her car, climbed in, and then sped away. Russ strode back inside where Mack waited in the doctor's office. "Well?" he asked. Russ shook his head. "I'm not sure how convincing an argument it was, but maybe he'll fall for it." "I'll tell you one thing though." "What's that?" "She's got to be the most determined cop I've ever seen." "Either that or she's lost her freakin' mind," Russ grumbled. * * * * Beth collapsed onto the comfort of her bed. It would be a while before Ted showed up, if that was his intention. He'd want to be certain she was alone. There was time for some rest before that happened. Time to replenish some of her body's energy before her performance. She crawled beneath the covers. They still carried Russ' scent. It gave her the sense of him being with her. She'd draw her strength from that. With her body curled to the pillow he'd slept on, Beth fell into a deep sleep. Hours later, she awoke with a jerk. Two in the morning. Had he come by and she hadn't heard the doorbell? Was he in her apartment waiting? She pushed herself out of bed to check. Nothing. And she was still stiff and sore. A hot soak in the tub might help alleviate some of that, but she didn't want to be caught naked if Ted should somehow manage to get into her apartment. "This is ridiculous. I could be here for days waiting for this guy. This shit's gonna end tonight." Beth pulled her purse over her shoulder and left. She tried not to look at the van parked across the street, but it did give her some amount of comfort to know Russ and Mack weren't far away. As she walked toward her car, she thought she detected movement in the building's shadows. She stopped and turned around. Someone was definitely there—either Ted or a mugger. Whoever it was, she'd never be more ready than she was now. "Teddy? Is that you?" she asked. "Please, let it be you." The figure moved forward. "Do you want it to be me?" More than you realize. "Oh, Teddy, it is you." Beth forced herself to hurry to him, tossing her arms around his neck when she actually felt like shooting a hole straight through that annoying smirk of his. Ted grabbed her by the waist and pushed her back. "Well, this is a remarkable change of tune." "Not so remarkable. I thought you knew how I felt about you. Isn't that what last night was all about? We were playing so fine. I was so excited. I couldn't believe how restrained you were. Why didn't you take me? Why did you let Russ come and take me away? Don't you want me?" "More than ever." He crushed his mouth to hers. "Why didn't you do that last night?" Beth dropped her eyes so he couldn't see the revulsion in them. "I thought that was part of the game. I resist, you punish me, then you make love to me. Only you never did. Why?" Ted smiled. "I guess I didn't realize you played that hard." "Shall we finish where we left off?" She drew a line down his chest with her index finger. "Only this time, not so rough. I'm still a little sore from last night. Sore enough to make me so excited I can hardly wait." "Where? Here?" "Is it safe to go back to the costume shop? There we can be as uninhibited as we like." She sealed her request with a tonsil-tickling kiss. Ted squeezed her buttocks and rubbed his erection against her belly. Beth gasped from pain. "That excited, huh? Did you have sex with Russ in your bed?" "Yes, but—" "Then that's where I want to have you. I want you to remember me, not him." He caught her elbow and steered her back inside. Beth trusted Russ and Mack to follow, but hoped they wouldn't be too quick about it. She had a few plans of her own for Ted. Back in her apartment, she secured the door with all four locks—chain, dead bolt, sliding bolt, and doorknob. Then she turned a sexy smile Ted's way. "Let's go to my room. I have a special treat for you." She pulled the pink nighty out of her purse and waved it in front of his face. "Lead the way and you can rip it off me." Beth came up to him, tickled her breasts against his chest, then turned him toward the bedroom. "You want it?" "Yeah," he gasped. She grabbed his hands, pulled them behind him, and rubbed them into her crotch. "You sure?" "Oh, baby, yes." Beth writhed against him, keeping his mind on her body. With a snap, she secured his wrists in her handcuffs. Ted whirled around. "What the hell?" Beth grinned. "What the matter, lover? I thought you liked to play. You're pretty good at dishing it out, but can you take it as well?" She jerked his trousers open, and slid them to the floor with his briefs, tangling his ankles among the material. "Play time, little man." Beth pushed, and Ted toppled to the floor. He struggled to his feet. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said. He looked up to find the .38 pointed at his chest. "Ever play Russian roulette?" she asked with a grin. "Interesting game. One bullet in the chamber, but you never know where it is or when it'll show up." She squeezed the trigger. Ted jumped at the empty click. "I'm glad you understand how the game is played. We're going to have such a good time. That was number one. Only five more chances left, but which chance will be the last one?" She heard Russ wiggle the doorknob. "Police! Open up!" Ted darted frightful eyes to the door. "Help me! She's gonna kill me!" "Goddamn it... Beth, open the door," Russ shouted. "Open it yourself. You've got keys." She pointed the pistol toward Ted's stomach. The sound of the hammer on the empty chamber was muffled by Russ pounding on the door. "That's two." She raised it to his head and squeezed. Ted jumped. Beth grinned. "That's three." "Help me!" Russ threw his weight against the door. The locks were open, but the chain still held. The wood started to splinter at the jamb. Beth aimed for Ted's throat. Another empty chamber. "That's four." Ted started to cry. "Scaredy-cat," she taunted and squeezed another empty chamber off. "That's five." "Beth, don't do it!" The front door began to give way. She didn't bother to look around. "I have to, don't you see? No one deserves this more than him. Think of those women he killed. Of Rick. Of Marianne. Of what he did to me." She lowered the barrel toward Ted's crotch. He crawled against the wall, trying to hide himself as best he could. Beth squeezed the trigger. The click reverberated throughout the room. "What kind of an idiot do you take me for, Ted?" she asked. "You deserve to die, but you're not worth going to prison for. The pistol was never loaded." The door crashed back on its hinges. "Russ, Mack, he's all yours," she said as they rushed in. Mack hauled him to his feet, yanked up his trousers, and read him his rights as he led him away. Russ stood before Beth, his eyes spewing anger. He raised his finger and shook it in her face, but words wouldn't come. Finally, he took her in his arms and hugged her. "You scared the living hell out of me," he told her. "Sorry, but I had to do it. Now, if you don't mind, that hospital is looking mighty good to me right now." "I'm sure Dr. Jennings would feel much better having you back, too. Let's go, honey." "Are we going to have a fight about this?" "Oh, yeah, but only when you're in better condition." "Good. That'll give me lots of time to work on my excuses." * * * * Russ stared down at Marianne, wondering how he could have ever forced himself to care for her. She was a pathetically weak-willed woman, whose whining dependence sucked the life out of people. He was glad the farce was over. "You wanted to see me?" Marianne picked at the blanket over her lap. "It's about this divorce business—" "It should make you particularly happy now. Ted's in jail where he belongs. You can freely visit him." "Ted's in jail?" Tears well up. Relief? Regret? He didn't give a damn. "Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's been another long night and I still have a lot of work to do." * * * * Marianne stared in shocked disbelief. He was really serious about this. It wasn't fair. Now that Ted was most surely out of their lives, she deserved a second chance. She couldn't be alone. How would she survive? It was Beth. She had to be the obstacle to their happiness. If she could just talk to her...make her realize she was interfering where she shouldn't. The nurse walked in. Marianne's reputation as a difficult patient must have spread. The woman didn't bother to smile. Marianne let her take her vitals then, as she was preparing to leave, summoned the nicest voice she could. "I think you may have a friend of mine here. Beth Manning?" "Down the hall," the nurse replied. "Is she allowed visitors? I want to see her." "Yes. Need help getting down there?" she asked. "No. I can manage." * * * * Beth still reeled from the doctor's news. How could Russ and Mack expect her to pay attention to what they were saying? Ted and Caruthers were behind bars. Evidence linked Ted to the murder victims. Calvins was spilling everything he knew, but Caruthers and Calvins' "owner" were mute. "I don't think she's heard a word we said," Russ told Mack. Beth looked up and laughed. "Of course I have. I'm just a little tired." She knew she should tell Russ, but wanted a little more time to get used to the idea herself. "We'll let you rest while we see what we can get out of Ted," Mack said. Beth thanked them, smiling when Russ kissed her goodbye. Then she leaned into her pillows to daydream about future wonders. She heard the door open, but didn't bother to turn around until she saw Marianne out of the corner of her eye. "I heard about Teddy," Marianne hesitantly said. "How're you feeling?" "Just peachy," Beth replied sarcastically. "I was being sincere." "So was I." Marianne studied the floor. "I want to talk to you about Russ." Beth tensed. The last thing she needed right now was a heated confrontation. "What about him?" Marianne looked up. "I've come to ask you to slip out of the picture. I know I haven't been a very good wife to him, and I'm not going to make excuses for what I've done. But now that Ted's in jail, I think I deserve a chance to make up for what I've done. Russ and I have all those years behind us. And the girls—to have their home split up." She sadly shook her head and dredged up a few tears. "Russ will work at it if I will, but we'll never have that chance if you're in the picture. Please, Beth. If you don't, you know you're conscience will always bother you. You'll always be asking yourself what might've happened if you'd just walked away. Please, Beth. Please." Marianne glided out of the room as quietly as she had entered. Beth felt as if someone had yanked a rug from beneath her. The hell of it was, Marianne was right. Beth could never live with herself if she thought she had interfered in a reconciliation between the two. No matter what the emotional cost, Beth had to leave before other circumstances prevented her from doing so.

Chapter 22

Russ stared across the table at his brother. For the first time in a long time, Ted didn't act so cocky. Maybe it was learning Russ had told their parents exactly what he was, or maybe his conscience was finally bothering him. Russ didn't care which it was. He had a job to do and was intent on carrying it out. What Ted didn't realize was that their parents sat on the other side of the two-way mirror. They'd wanted to hear for themselves what their son had to say. "Okay, Teddy, you've waived your right to speak to an attorney. Now it's time to answer a few questions," Russ said. Ted refused to look at him or to speak. "Tell us about it, Ted," Mack said. "We already know you were with those women before they died. If you didn't kill them, help us find who did." "I hate you." Ted's statement could only be directed at one person. "All my life I've had to sit back and watch you be first." "Let's keep our personal lives out of this," Russ said. "That's what this is all about though, isn't it? Your personal vendetta against me because of Marianne." Mack slid two pictures in front of him. Both were of Susie Carson—in life and death. Ted shoved the pictures away. "She was your daughter, wasn't she?" Russ softly asked. Ted rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you kill her?" His head popped up. "No! I loved her! I'd no more hurt her than I would..." "Rosemary and Carrie?" Russ finished for him. Ted buried his head in his hands. "What happened?" Mack asked. "Bitch. Goddamned bitch." His voice was strained and Russ realized he was crying. "Who? Christina?" Ted nodded. "She got pregnant. I didn't want to be tied down, so she married Tommy. I caught up with her after Susie was born and we picked up where we'd left off. She knew she had to share me. I don't know what her problem was. She got her cut of the action, but she wanted more. We argued. "After I left, she took it out on my baby girl. Said she was crying and wouldn't shut up. She just kept hitting her and hitting her... Then tossed her away like trash! When I found out, I wanted her to hurt like she had hurt Susie." "Why did Christina use Calvins' name?" Ted looked at them in astonishment. "Because she loved me. She wanted me back. She didn't want me to know what she had done. She tried to turn the blame his way. His girls would then fall in our stable completely." "What about Rick Miller?" "That cop?" Russ nodded. "It was business—nothing personal." "And the other women—Janet Nugent and Joslyn Reynolds?" "I never had a woman turn me down before her." His eyes glared with hatred, his teeth ground together. "Never. I just wanted Beth to pay. I wanted her to beg for it. Every time they'd strain against those ropes, I'd see Beth and then I'd realize it wasn't, so I hurt them again." "Until they were dead," Mack said. "A slight error in judgment." Russ gave a humorless chuckle. "Just like the costume shop, dealing in pornography, kidnapping, and white slavery. You've got quite a list of errors here." "You'll never be able to prove any of it. Not even the murders." "Don't count on that," Russ said. "But I am. You see, I'm certifiably insane." "Give me a break," Russ groaned. "What sane man would do what I've done? What man in his right mind would talk to the police without an attorney present?" A demonic grin spread slowly on Ted's face, and Russ couldn't be sure if what Ted had just claimed wasn't true. He left him with Mack and went to the adjacent room to comfort his parents. Seeing his mother crying in his father's arms ripped apart any well-meaning speech he could come up with. He walked up to them and draped his arms around their shoulders. A few hours later, Russ wished he could find a similar approach to Beth. She seemed distant as he and Mack told her about the interview with Ted. Russ suspected her withdrawal was because of all she'd been through. Time and reaffirmation of their love would heal her. Russ would see to that. "I don't want you to worry about rushing back to work," Mack was telling her. "Take as much time as you need to get back on your feet. But there's something you need to think about while you're recuperating. Vice would like you to come work with them." "They were very impressed with you on this case," Russ added. "Well...I'm flattered but...the thing is...I'll be resigning," she said. "After all that's happened, I just don't want to do police work anymore." "Under the circumstances, I understand," Mack said. "I'll keep that in mind, but don't be hasty. Use your convalescence to think about it. Maybe get out of the city for a while." Beth couldn't look at Russ. One glance at those endearing blue eyes and she'd lose her courage to do this. "That's something else," she said. "The doctor says I can go home tomorrow. I'll be going down to San Diego to spend some time with my family...alone." It was quiet for so long Beth wondered if they'd ever say anything. Then she heard a long sigh from Russ. "I'll miss you, but I understand why you might need time to yourself. I'll drive you down and take a flight back to L.A." Beth nodded. If she looked up now, he'd only see the tears in her eyes. How could she possibly explain she was doing what was best for all of them? * * * * The silent ride to San Diego reminded Russ of the night he drove Beth to Bakersfield. Now, as then, he wasn't sure what they faced. He did know letting her go this way was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Toward the end of the drive, she directed him to her family home and they finally arrived at a two-story pink house that looked more suited to Florida than California. The front door burst open. They'd been expected. An older couple hurried forward. They were suntanned, slightly rounded at the edges with a moderate amount of gray in their hair. Russ remembered them from Rick's funeral. Beth's brother and sister, younger, more slender versions of their parents, hurried up behind them. In seconds, a circle of warmth surrounded Beth. They were careful with their hugs. Obviously, Beth had mentioned she'd been hurt. Introductions were cordial, yet awkward. Russ helped with the luggage then called for a cab to take him to the airport. Only on its arrival did he do what he'd been longing to do. Uncaring of who was present, he drew her close for a lingering kiss. "I love you, Beth." "I love you, too." That's why this is killing me. She held back her tears until he was out of sight. Her father's gentle touch at her waist was her undoing. "Sweetheart, what in the world is going on?" Beth buried her head against his chest. "Oh, Daddy, why does doing the right thing have to hurt so damn bad?" * * * * Russ should have known Marianne would clutch and stoop to game playing. Today, his first day without Beth in his life, he wasn't in the mood for it. At her summons, he came to the hospital. He intended it to be the last time he'd be at her beck and call. He walked into her room expecting her to be laid out in bed. Instead, she was sitting in a chair by the window, dressed and ready to leave. She smiled when he walked in. He pulled away when she tried to take his hand. "You wanted something?" "I'm ready to go home," she said. "I told you to call your sister or your parents." Marianne gave a nervous giggle. "I didn't really think you were serious." "Very." "It's Beth, isn't it?" "You don't get it, do you?" Russ shook his head in disbelief. "I want a divorce. This has nothing to do with Beth. It has to do with you and me." "I don't believe you. She's talked you into this," she said with a pout. "No, she didn't. She's gone." Marianne turned pleading eyes up at him. "Beth's gone. Ted's gone. It's a sign we need to put things back together." "Things were never together. I want a divorce. I saw my attorney before I came here. You should be getting the papers soon." Marianne stiffened her spine. "If you do this, I'll kill myself. I swear I will!" Russ let loose a weary sigh. "I'll make sure the nurse is aware of your intent." "You're serious about leaving me," she said. What couldn't she understand? "And nothing you can say or do will change my mind." He turned toward the door. "Russ, no!" She launched herself toward him, and crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap. "My legs! My legs! I can't walk." Russ poked his head back in the room. "Give it a rest, will you?" He walked away while Marianne continued to scream at the top of her lungs. A nurse passing by gave him a weary look on her way to see what the problem was this time. A perfect start to a perfectly lousy day. His mood soured when he got to the station and saw John Evans sitting at Beth's desk. "What're you doing here?" "I'm your new partner." "Nothing like walking on her grave," Russ grumbled. John jerked a thumb toward Mack's office. "You got a bitch, go to him." Russ looked through the glass partition and saw Beth's brother talking with Mack. "What the hell..." In two strides he was at the door, jerking it open so hard the glass rattled. Mack looked up, folded the letter he was reading, returned it to its envelope, and locked it in his top drawer. "What the hell's going on?" Russ demanded to know. Joe Manning cleared his throat. "Beth asked me to bring Mack her resignation." "But she didn't give it any time. You didn't accept it, did you?" Mack folded his hands before him. "I did. She had some valid reasons for quitting." Russ braced his hands on his hips. "Like what?" "I'm sure when she's ready to tell you, she will." "We'll see about that." Joe grabbed his arm before he could storm away. "My baby sister's a little mixed up right now. After all she's been through, I'm sure you can understand that. My dad and I will be down to close out her apartment next weekend. She wanted this hand-delivered today." Russ pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "I don't understand any of this." "Frankly, neither do we," Joe said. "But we owe her time to get her head together." "And in the meantime?" Joe shook his head. "I didn't say it would be easy." After Joe left, Russ sank to the tiny couch. Heartbreak smacked into his gut like a sledgehammer. "What are you going to do?" Mack asked. Russ held up his palms. "What can I do? I love her." "Enough to let her go if she'd be happier somewhere else?" Russ looked at him. "Yes. Even though it would kill me." "You've got to trust that somehow things will work out." Russ nodded. "You've got plenty to keep you busy in the meantime. Like a new partner who looks like his feelings are wounded." "At least you don't have to worry about me falling in love with this one." Russ returned to his desk to make amends. The two shook hands. Two minutes later, he was on his way to San Diego. * * * * Russ reached the Manning home in record time, screeching his car to a halt behind the her brother's Cherokee. She could do what she wanted with her life. Stay away forever, if that's what she wanted to do. But he refused to let her go until he told her exactly how he felt. He ran up to the door and leaned on the bell. Joe Manning opened the door with a welcoming smile. "Do you love her or are you just pissed?" "That's a stupid question to ask." "Is it? Did your captain tell you why she resigned?" "No. I'm here because I want to talk to her." Joe's grin deepened. "Interesting, this love thing, isn't it? She's out back. She hasn't stopped crying since you left her here yesterday." Russ followed him, wishing the man would move just a little faster. Finally he slid open the patio doors. "Company." All heads turned their way, but only one face held Russ' attention. Beth sat on a lounge chair, looking at him as if she couldn't believe her red-rimmed eyes. "I believe you have something that belongs to me," Russ said. "And what would that be?" Joe asked for them all. Russ' eyes never left Beth. "My heart." Beth couldn't help it—she cried again. The last twenty-four hours had been a living hell without him. A time when she kept telling herself she'd done the right thing, yet ached to pick up the phone and tell him she'd changed her mind. Mesmerized by the sight of him, she lifted her arms. Russ pulled her close, then sat down with her on his lap. Her family was sensitive enough to leave them alone. "Mack told you about the resignation, didn't he?" she cried. "He told me you resigned. Said you had good reasons. Beth, you've got to hear me out first before you decide to leave forever. Honey, I just want to love you, to make you happy, to help you through this. I don't understand why you're shutting me out." Beth looked up and sniffled. "Marianne asked me to leave so the two of you could work on a reconciliation." "What?" He jumped up. Beth eased back into the chair while he dealt with his anger. "You left because of her?" "Yes," she replied softly. Russ knelt before her. "Honey, I hired an attorney this morning. It's over." He cupped her hand in his. "I want you in my life. I'm not saying it'll be easy. Marianne's not going to give up without a fight, and she'll always be around to make our lives...interesting. I've got the girls to care for and all." Beth rested her free palm against his cheek. "What are you trying to say, sweetheart?" "I love you, Beth. I want you to marry me. Help me raise the girls. Maybe one day start a family of our own." A giggle tickled Beth's stomach, erupting into a titter of laughter. "We already have." "Have what?" Beth took his hand and placed it over her belly. Russ looked from her eyes to her stomach and back again. His jaw worked, but words wouldn't come for a long moment. "Does this mean you'll marry me?" he finally asked. Beth's reply was to kiss him. The patio door slid open. "Come on, you two," Joe said. "Mom wants to go for ice cream." Russ shuddered as he sealed their kiss. Beth laughed and kissed him again. * * * * Ted was crazy all right. Crazy like a fox. That was the opinion of the three psychiatrists who had evaluated him. It had taken nine months from the date of his arrest to bring him to trial. Beth had been looking forward to this date. She hoped she wouldn't have to miss one minute of it. Already she was pushing her due date. Their son could be born at any time. Beth privately asked him to wait a little longer. She stole a glance at Marianne seated on the other side of the courtroom. She hadn't made the last nine months easy on them. Once she discovered Beth had returned, she miraculously lifted herself from her wheelchair and made every excuse to be at the house. When she learned Beth was pregnant, she held up the divorce proceedings as long as she could, delaying the finalization until only the month before. In a last ditch effort to get even, Marianne had played her trump card. DNA blew her out of the water. Rosemary and Carrie were actually Russ'. He got full custody. It was smooth sailing after that—and Russ' divorce final, they got married. Beth was a little embarrassed to be married in such an advanced state of pregnancy, but nothing would stop her from becoming Russ' wife. The sad part in all of this was, Marianne didn't spend any time with Rosemary and Carrie. When asked why, Marianne's sister simply told them that she wanted nothing to do with the children of the man who had caused her all this trouble. No matter what DNA said, Marianne still believed they were Ted's. Beth knew it hurt the girls. She and Russ tried their best to make up for it, until the day would come when they were old enough to have the situation more fully explained. Beth waited patiently for the trial to run its course while a small legion of family and friends hovered nearby watching for the first sign of labor. Now she knew how a science experiment felt. Even normally calm Lucille had a severe case of mother-henning. Beth loved it all, especially the tender expressions on Russ' face when he looked at her. She'd kept busy these last months starting her own interior design business. Russ supported her every step of the way. She missed working with him, but they still had their nights—those wonderful nights. The first contraction hit Beth at the most inopportune time—as the jury adjourned for deliberation. She grabbed her stomach then had to keep from laughing when half the courtroom jumped to their feet. Beth motioned everyone back down. She'd waited too long for this moment. She had to know what the outcome was. "Stubborn-ass woman," Russ whispered, and checked his watch to monitor the contractions. It wasn't hard to tell when she had one with her white-knuckled grip on the arm of the chair. Thirty minutes apart. Good, they had a while to go. Still, the hours passed and, unfortunately, their son had a mind of his own. Russ' panic grew as the contractions came closer together. "Boil water," he muttered. "What?" John whispered. "Nothing. Just going nuts." Finally, a decision was reached. Everyone filtered back into the courtroom. Russ stared at his brother. Ted lifted his head, as if by doing so he made himself superior to all those around him. "We, the jury, find the defendant guilty on all counts," the foreman read. Ted spun around to face Russ, his eyes flooded with rage. "This is all your fault! I hate you! You always win! Always, always, always!" He blubbered the words over and over again while the guard escorted him from the courtroom. Sentencing would come later. Beth touched Russ' thigh. He covered her hand with his and squeezed. Beth squeezed back, gradually cutting off his blood supply as another contraction assaulted her. "Can we go to the hospital now?" he asked with a grin. "You bet. Now I know why they call it labor. This really hurts. I'm scared." "You'll do just fine." Beth smiled up at him. "You think so?" "I know so. Come on. Let's bring young Robert into the world. The quicker we do, the sooner we can have our honeymoon." Beth laughed and rubbed her belly. "I'd say we had that quite some time ago." Russ smiled. "So we did. Ready to go, partner?" Beth cupped his cheek. "I do love the sound of that word." He bent close so only she could hear. "You're the best one I've ever had. I'm glad I took a chance with you." "No more so than I."

Catherine Snodgrass

Anything Is Possible! That's Catherine Snodgrass's motto. Blessed (or cursed) with a vivid imagination, Catherine has learned to turn that "talent" inward. She grew up reading Victoria Holt, Phyllis Whitney, and others, and loves to "go places" in her writing. Readers should expect different locales and deep emotions in Catherine's books. She also believes that life is to be lived not watched, and has done some inner exploring of her own—hiking a new path, learning a new skill, and even conquering a life-long fear of singing in public to take a turn or two on the stage of the local community theater. Her work as a paralegal in family and tax law has helped her tune in to the emotions of others and further deepen that aspect of her writing. Having set her children off in the world to explore their own paths, Catherine lives in the beautiful desert of Southern California with her husband (a genealogist) and the animals she loves. Catherine's popularity is definitely on the rise, not only with fans of Historical Romance, but fans of Paranormal Romance and Romantic Suspense, due to her diverse writing talents and her perfectionist attitude when it comes to her chosen craft. Ms. Snodgrass currently has more than a dozen titles completed, various sequels to her other titles, and several romantic suspense novels penned with co-author Bryndis Rubin. Additionally, Catherine stretches her writing muscles in the erotica genre, sometimes writing singularly, and sometimes collaborating on various projects with award-winning author Paris Dixon under the pen name Caitlyn Willows. Certainly no one can accuse Ms. Snodgrass of a limited imagination, let alone energy! To find out more about Catherine, you can visit her website: http://www.catherinesnodgrass.com
* * * *
Don't miss Dreams, by Catherine Snodgrass, available now, from Amber Quill Press, LLC Despite her mother's warnings, Jenny Matley—accompanied by her father's representative, Jared Russell—returns to her birth town to meet the father she didn't know existed. Joy turns to terror for both Jenny and Jared as the memory of a twenty-seven-year-old event struggles to the surface. Its revelation could cost Jenny her life and destroy the love Jared and Jenny have found in each other...

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"Snodgrass, Catherine -- The Chance You Take (AmberQuill)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Snordgrass Catherine)

THE CHANCE YOU TAKE

by CATHERINE SNODGRASS

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Catherine Snodgrass

Amber Quill Press, LLC

THE CHANCE YOU TAKE

by CATHERINE SNODGRASS

Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Catherine Snodgrass

Amber Quill Press, LLC

by

CATHERINE SNODGRASS

Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com

by

CATHERINE SNODGRASS

Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com