"Have You Seen Her?" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rose Karen)Chapter Fifteen "Now let me get this straight," Mike said, refilling Steven's empty jelly jar with iced tea he'd pulled from the refrigerator in the rectory. Steven scowled at the refrigerator. He'd never be able to look at a refrigerator the same way again. Dammit all to hell. "You kissed her," Mike said, sitting across from him and propping his chin on his folded hands. It was a very priestlike pose and should have completely quieted the lust that still throbbed in Steven's veins. Should have. Didn't. "She kissed you back, maybe did a few things that you probably won't confess." He lifted a black, bushy brow. "Am I on target?" But, nooo. He just And it had been more incredible than he'd imagined. Dammit, he was So, was he angry he'd kissed her? Hell, yes. Was he angry she'd kissed him back? She'd done a helluva lot more than kiss him back. But the fault was squarely his own. He'd started it. And dammit, he'd finished it, too. And with Furious with himself and with Mike for being so right, Steven drained his glass and set it back on the table. Hard. Mike picked up the glass and checked the bottom to make sure it wasn't broken, which just made Steven angrier. "Yes," Steven hissed. "Right on target, as usual, Father Leone." "Don't break my glassware," Mike cautioned. "Mrs. Hen-nesey gave me blackberry jam in that one and if I don't return the glass, I don't get any more jam." "Dammit, Mike," Steven gritted and Mike pursed his lips. "Mrs. Hennesey makes very good jam. And please don't swear." His lips twitched. "My son." Steven just glared and Mike laughed. "I don't see the problem, Steven. She's beautiful. And she seems to like you, which I personally don't understand, but a basic understanding of women is unfortunately not taught at seminary. She has to be smart to have a Ph.D., although book learning does not necessarily equate to wisdom, which goes back to my not understanding why she likes you. She seems compassionate and articulate and has a sense of humor. She wanted to take care of you, for heaven's sake." He shrugged. "So you let things get out of hand tonight. Understandable, I suppose. Just don't let it happen again." Steven looked away, focusing on the rosary that hung on the wall, wishing it would have the deflating effect he needed it to have. He'd been rock-hard since he'd stormed out of Jenna's apartment, an hour before, leaving her standing there shocked and openmouthed. And bare-breasted. God, she was beautiful. Beautiful and passionate and… His body throbbed painfully and he knew it was nothing less than he deserved. Steven blew out a frustrated breath. "You just don't understand." Mike spread his hands out wide, palms forward. "So enlighten me. Explain to me why you're so upset that a smart, pretty woman desires you. I may not have a Ph.D., but I do have wisdom, which, incidentally, Explain. How? How could he explain when he didn't even understand it himself? When he didn't understand why he was so angry. Why he'd left Jenna standing alone without a single word of explanation. She probably hated him by now and would never see him again, so he may have solved his problem by default. Not a particularly cheering thought. "I don't know, Mike." Steven slumped down in his chair and closed his eyes. "It's just too much. Too fast.'" "Meaning your relationship with Miss Marshall isn't molding itself into the little space you've made for it." Mike gestured with his hands, forming a box in the air. "'Not a tidy package. Can't put on the lid because it's a lousy fit. No ribbons or bows." Mike frowned. "You, Steven Thaicher, are a stupid control freak." Steven's eyes flew open. "I am "But you'll admit to stupid?" Steven ground his teeth. "Yes." "Well, that's some progress I suppose," Mike said thoughtfully. "You want my opinion?" Steven narrowed his eyes. "1 dnn't know " Mike shrugged. "Tough beans, you came here, tore me away from Steven folded his arms across his chest. "Okay," he said, his agreement sounding belligerent even to his own ears. He sounded like one of the boys, for God's sake. Mike rolled his eyes. "And I can see from your body language how Steven rolled his eyes and felt his cheeks heat. "Thank you, Dr. Watson. Now tell me who killed Professor Plum in the study?" Mike grinned. "Miss Peacock with the rope because she caught him cheating with Miss Scarlet in the study but that's not important now. Pay attention, Steven. You like her. A lot. She likes you. A lot. You want to get to know her better, so you ask her out to dinner. Just dinner, nothing else. You plan to work your way up to a physical relationship only a little at a time, because as soon as it gets physical, the floodgates open because it's been four years, and then you have to marry her. But you can't marry her until you prove to yourself that she's not another Melissa, but all this proving takes time. I bet you laid out a timetable that allowed you to kiss her when? Next month? On the fifteenth?" "This month," Steven muttered, then looked away. "On the fifteenth." Mike's laughter boomed. "Control freak. You always have been." Mike reached across the table and patted the table in front of Steven. "Look at me, Steven. I'm your best friend. I care about you." Steven looked at him and felt his heart squeeze. Gone was the laughter in Mike's dark eyes, replaced by a caring so fundamental… "I'm listening." Mike nodded. "Good. It's about time. Lose the timetable, Steven. Let life happen as it happens. Stop trying to make everything happen to your specification. Enjoy your life. Your children. The possibility of a woman who can complete you." Steven swallowed. "It sounds like you're telling me to marry her tonight." Mike sighed. "You know that's not true. Your problem… well, one of your many problems," he amended, "is that you only see life in black and white. Good, evil. Right, wrong." "I have to. That's my job." Steven glared. "I thought it was yours, too." Mike shook his head. "That's the point, Steven. Life is not black or white. One or two. Yes or no. On or off. Nothing is safe. Nothing is guaranteed. Only the essence of life itself is on or off. You either wake up in the morning or you don't. You're breathing or you're not. I feel sorry for you." Steven felt his gut tighten. "'Why?" "You've forgotten what love is about. You are so afraid of losing it that you push it away." Steven's eyes widened. "I do not." "Yes. You do. Melissa left you, hurt your ego, made you choose to lie to your children, so you set up every possible barrier to avoid being hurt again. It's not abnormal, Steven. It's human nature. But it won't make you happy." Steven picked up Mrs. Hennesey's jamjar and swished the melting ice around and around. "I don't even remember what that feels like," he murmured. Mike sat back in his chair. "What? Being happy?" Steven met his eyes and nodded. "Yeah." Mike thinned his lips. "Then get off your butt and do something about it. You have a chance for happiness stanng you in the face." Steven sighed. "Your point. This time." Mike looked amused. "My point every time, but sometimes I let you think it's yours." Steven took an ice cube from the jam jar and tossed it in Mike's face. "You're so full of it." He ducked when Mike returned the lob, then sobered. "I don't know if she'll see me again. I left kind of abruptly tonight." "Call her. The worst thing she can do is tell you what you deserve to hear." Steven didn't have a thing to say to that, so he stood up and shrugged into his coat. "I'll give you a call." Mike walked him to the door. "Steven, how close are you coming to catching the monster who stole our girls?" Steven shook his head. "How close are you to taking a wife?" Mike sighed. "I thought so. I'll pray." "We're going to check out the McDonald's, but I doubt we'll find anything. It's been too long." "If only Serena had come forward sooner," Mike said sadly. "Pray for her, too, Mike. She's got a hard row ahead of her for the next eighty years or so." They'd found out where he'd met Samantha. Dear, sweet Samantha. How pretty she'd been. He frowned thoughtfully. Until he'd shaved her head. Women were decidedly unattractive without hair. Just one more way men were different from women he supposed, sipping coffee from the McDonald's cup he'd just picked up at the drive-through. Men could get away with being bald. Women just looked revolting. He considered the two uniformed policemen standing next to the bright yellow police tape. They were bent over the tape, looking into the grass. The sun was just coming up and the police car had been there all night, guarding the "crime scene." Hell, it was no crime scene. Not Little slut. She'd deserved what she'd gotten. His only regret was that she'd… expired… before he was completely finished. Next time. He'd do all he'd planned next time. With the next one. He took another sip of coffee and grimaced. He hated coffee, but he hadn't wanted to call attention to himself by getting a Coke at six A.M. For now he was just another guy enjoying his cup of joe as the sun came up. Just another guy planning the next girl he'd lure from her bed. He hadn't yet figured out who she'd be, but he had a short list. He watched as another car drove up. Out hopped Detective Steven Thatcher, resident Columbo. Shame, that. The critters had eaten half of the perfectly good tattoo he'd applied himself. Thatcher strode over to the two uniformed cops and began pointing. The cops nodded and Thatcher stood back, arms crossed over his chest as another, younger man in a trenchcoat approached and ducked under the yellow tape, a black bag under his arm. He wasn't terribly worried. There would be no physical evidence linking him to this place. The cops might find Samantha's hair or some such, but nothing from him. He'd been careful. He'd been smart. Next time he'd be even smarter. "Now let me get this straight," Casey said, her lips turned down in a frown as they hurried from the parking lot to the school. "You were making him dinner and he was being boring and then all of a sudden he became Mr. Frantic Hands? And then he left you in the lurch?" Jenna nodded. She still felt numb. "He just…" She shrugged inside her jacket. "Walked away." Casey pushed the door open and led the way in. "How rude." Jenna's lips quirked up at the understatement. "That would be one word for it," she returned dryly. "I had a few others in mind." Casey snickered. "Go, girl." "But I of course didn't think of them until after he'd gone." "Typical," Casey agreed, then muttered, "Look out, fearless leader at two o'clock." Blackman. She couldn't take another brow-beating over Rudy Lutz this morning. "Maybe he didn't see me," Jenna whispered. But then he turned, met her eyes, and started walking toward her. "Shit. As if my life isn't already filled with too much fun." She stopped walking, Casey paused beside her as Blackman approached, his step faster than normal. "Dr. Marshall," he said tightly and Jenna saw his mouth frown under his prim mustache. "Dr. Blackman," she returned. She certainly wouldn't make it any easier for him. "There's been another incident in your classroom." Jenna sucked in her cheeks. "Now why does that not surprise me, Dr. Blackman?" she asked. Blackman glared a moment. "This time it's worse, Dr. Marshall." Jenna just looked at him. "How can it be worse? They've painted graffiti on every blackboard, white board, and blank wall, spray-painted my periodic table and my posters, and super-glued all the Erlenmeyer flasks to my lab tables. They've slashed my tires and poured water down my gas tank. What more can they possibly do?" "Come with me," was all he said before turning on his heel and walking crisply up the stairs. Jenna exchanged looks with Casey and followed him. Five or six of her students gathered around her classroom door, held back by Lucas who looked angry enough to… Jenna stared at him, her gut twisting. Mad enough to kill, as the saying went. "What is it, Lucas?" she murmured. "Don't touch anything." Lucas growled, then lifted his arm to let her through. Then held her shoulders to keep her upright. "Oh, God." Immediate terror clutched her heart. "Lucas." The last was little more than a whimper. She lifted her hand to her mouth and… stared. Up. To where the carcass of… something… swung from a rope tied to a hook mounted in the ceiling tiles, a grotesque piflata. Swinging. Swinging. It was almost hypnotic. She felt Casey's arm go around her waist as she swallowed back the breakfast that threatened to choke her. "What is it?" Jenna whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the horrific sight. The room swayed and Casey's arm tightened. "Come on, honey," Casey murmured. "Let's get you out of here." She let Casey turn her body around, but her eyes remained fixed to whatever the poor animal- had been, her head craned like an owl's until her body ran into Lucas's. She turned her gaze then, lifting it to Lucas's familiar black eyes. Focusing on them while the swaying room came to a gradual halt. He took her chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. "You will not pass that boy," he whispered fiercely through clenched teeth. "No matter what Blackman says. You will not let them win." Jenna shook her head, numb. "No, no I won't." She twisted, looking back at the swinging carcass over her shoulder. "Lucas-" He grasped her chin again, making her look at him. "I'll set your classes up in the auditorium today. The kids can have study time until we clean this up." He turned to Blackman who looked decidedly grim. "Keith, you will call the police this time, or I will call them myself." He narrowed his eyes. "Then I'll call the press." "I will call the police," Blackman responded evenly. "No need for threats, Lucas." "And you will bring disciplinary action against Rudy Lutz and "If the police find evidence of those responsible, I will take appropriate action." Jenna didn't blink. "That's a big if, Dr. Blackman. What happens when these boys take the game a notch higher?" He flinched. "I don't believe they'll take it that far," he said thinly and Jenna felt her cork pop. Pop and fly. She took a step toward him, pulling free of Casey's steadying arm. "'You don't believe," she said, her voice a low growl. " Blackman closed his mouth, pursed his lips. "You're out of line. Dr. Marshall. I'll forgive it this time because I understand you've had a shock, but-" Red lights flashed in front of her eyes. "Didn't you listen to anything I Lucas grabbed her arm and lowered it to her side. "This is not the time, Jen. Don't worry. I'll make sure he does the right thing." Blackman regarded the three of them, Jenna from her towering position and Lucas and Casey flanking her from behind. "We'll speak more on this topic later. I'll go and call the authorities." "Call Al Pullman, Investigative Division," Jenna said, her voice trembling. "He's the one who wrote the report on my tires." "If he's available," Blackman said crisply and turned on his heel. "Blackman." Jenna again felt steadying hands on her shoulders. Lucas's. And a hand smoothing her back. Casey's. Blackman stopped, but didn't turn around. "Call Pullman. I'll know if you don't." Blackman slowly turned his body, his face one big scowl. "Is that a threat, Dr. Marshall?" Jenna stared, unmoving, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the swinging carcass. "No. That is." Something flickered in his eyes and he looked over her shoulder at the… thing… before turning and leaving the room. Jenna took a breath and looked into the hallway, once again seeing the students gathered around, all thirty of them by this time. She'd forgotten all about them. She closed her eyes. They'd heard her call the principal a fucking moron. That was most probably against the rules in the teacher handbook. But he was a fucking moron. That really should come as no surprise to any of these kids. But still… She'd said it. No one said anything for a long moment. Then a pale Kelly Templeton said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Marshall. This isn't how the rest of us feel." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group and Lucas moved into the hall, herding the group toward the stairs. "Let's go, people. Let's give Dr. Marshall a chance to gather herself. You all get a break today. Miss Ryan, I'll get someone to cover your class this period so you can stay with Dr. Marshall until the police come." He took the lead, and one by one each teen followed him until the only one left was Josh Lutz. Josh, Rudy's quiet brother who sat on the back row of her first period class every day and took assiduous notes. Josh, who hadn't been able to meet her eyes since the vandalism had begun. Josh, whose face was paler than Kelly's had been. He looked down at his shoes, then back up. In his eyes she saw guilt mixed with mortification. "I'm sorry, too, Dr. Marshall," he said quietly. "I wish there was something I could do." Jenna made herself smile and tried not to wonder what life must be like for a gentle boy like Josh living with thugs like Rudy and their father. "Thanks, Josh. Just knowing you feel that way makes a difference." He looked like he would say something more, then changed his mind. Shouldering his backpack, he set off in a loping jog to catch up with the class. Casey tugged at her waist. "Come on, Jen. Let's go wait for Officer Pullman." Jenna took one look back and wished she hadn't, knowing for a long time she'd see that poor creature whenever she closed her eyes. Brad crept out of his bedroom. The coast was finally clear. Helen had gone shopping. Matt and Nicky were at school. His father wasn't home and hadn't been since the morning before. Brad stopped by his father's bedroom door and looked in, his lips curling in contempt. His father hadn't come home last night. His lips thinned. His father had taken Dr. Marshall to dinner. Dinner. What a joke. His father hadn't come home last night. Didn't take a Ph.D. to figure that one out. He'd thought more of Dr. Marshall than that. But his father… At this point he didn't know if there was anything his father wasn't capable of doing. Of saying. Anger pricked at him and he welcomed it. Nicky was up again last night, as he was every night, but his father was nowhere to be seen. Unavailable to soothe a little boy to sleep. Because he was catting around. Selfishly seeing to his own needs while his children went without. No, not money, not food. Not any of those material things. But they went without just the same. Nicky and Matt especially. He himself… He didn't need Special Agent Steven Thatcher. Not anymore. He- The front door slammed and a few seconds later he was staring at his father across a ten-foot expanse of second-floor hallway carpet. Might as well have been a damn ocean. His father narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?" "I'm skipping school," he answered evenly. "I won't ask you what you're doing here as it's obvious you didn't sleep in your bed last night and those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. I have to assume your dinner with Dr. Marshall took a very long time." He watched his father's eyes flash. "Brad, you cross the line. I was at work all night long." Brad chuckled. Mirthlessly. "You must be getting old, Dad. I didn't think any guy referred to it as 'work.' Although I have to say about five hundred guys at Roosevelt would have loved to have been 'working' with you last night." His father took a step forward, then another, until they were nose to nose. His father's eyes bored into him and a muscle twitched in his cheek. Brad's glance darted down to see fists at his father's sides and it occurred to him that he'd gone a step too far. "How dare you?" his father hissed and Brad dismissed the small frisson of alarm that sizzled down his back. His father was a big man. Bigger than he was. But his father wouldn't hit him. And if he did, he'd just hit him back. That's what he'd do. And God help the old man because he had a lot of anger stored up. That would go a fair distance in closing the size gap. "I call ' em like I see 'em," Brad said, preparing for the first blow. That of course never came. Because on top of being a damn liar, his father was a coward. "You can think what you like about me, Brad. But when you demean a woman like Jenna Marshall, you cross the line. I've tried to understand how to help you, but you've just shown me you're beyond my help. No son of mine would ever say anything like that about any woman." "Then I guess I'm no son of yours,'" Brad said, making his voice cold, steady. Steady. His father's chest heaved. Once, twice. "Get your books, you're going to school." "No, I'm not." His father took another step and towered over him and Brad felt another spear of fear. "Yes, you will. Because I am your father and I say you will go to school. Get. Your. Books." Brad took a step back. Fuming. Furious. Yeah, he'd get his books. He'd even go to school. Then he'd get the hell out of this house and everything that went with it. He looked at his father and smiled. "Yes, sir.'" |
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