Читать книгу Death Calls - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 7

The alarm beeped furiously. Diana half turned and shut off the noise. She had been awake for some time.

Was it her imagination or could she still smell him on her pillow?

It was barely 6:00 a.m., but she tossed aside the covers and rolled out of bed. The barest hint of red in the morning sky promised a clear day ahead. She would have time for a quick run before work.

Work, where things over the last two weeks had become routine. Normal. As they had been before Ryder.

A load of cases waited for her to profile. Two others were actively being investigated. Later that day, she had a much-anticipated lunch date with her FBI partner. Afterward, if she didn’t get hung up too late with her active cases, she’d call Sylvia for a girl’s night. It had been too long since they’d had one. Their last lunch together had reminded her just how much she missed seeing her friend.

Just as having dinner the other night with her brother Sebastian and his wife, Melissa, had demonstrated how removed she had become from her family. For years she and Sebastian had shared an apartment and they had always been close. After the death of their father, grief had united them even more strongly. But Sebastian’s marriage to Melissa had complicated things, Melissa being Ryder’s keeper and all.

Their recent carefree dinner, however, made it clear that whatever happened between Diana and Ryder would have little impact on her relationship with her brother. She’d had a wonderful time and had even gotten to feel the baby move.

Now, she shifted her hand downward, laid it over the flat, almost concave plane of her abdomen. Imagined a baby within. Alive. Its tiny heart fluttering beneath the palm of her hand. Growing and being born. Suckling at her breast.

In her mind’s eye, the baby had Ryder’s dark eyes and hair, but she forced that impossible thought away. Instead she remembered how her little niece or nephew had rolled beneath her palm. Sebastian had smiled at her reaction, looking happier than she had ever seen him.

Things were working out for him. He was all right.

Just as she was beginning to believe everything would be all right for her one day. The weeks away from Ryder had been hard, but with each day that passed, with each day of a human routine, she felt her control returning.

Each day brought more lightness to her spirit, something she hadn’t felt in…forever.

She could imagine soon being back to a place where her life seemed in order. Where she could enjoy her friends and family. A good place.

Though more often then she cared to admit, Ryder slipped into her thoughts. Strange as it was, her life with him had in some ways made her believe anything was possible. But the unpredictability had kept her constantly on the edge. An edge that had grown difficult to walk.

Without him, however, a bit of emptiness existed that none of the routines of her day managed to fill. Routines that had, at one time, sustained her.

She told herself she just needed to relearn balance, the yin and yang of things. And that couldn’t happen in only a couple of weeks. It would take time. Something Ryder had plenty of, while she…Her time was finite. Unless she gave in to the call of the demon.

She drove that thought viciously away.

She knew how hard life was for Ryder and his vampire friends. How they battled to contain the demon’s desire for domination. How they suffered over and over again from the pain of who they had become, of losing those they loved.

Her father’s death had taught Diana what it was to live with that kind of pain. She couldn’t imagine living with it for eternity. She needed the everyday human world she had been struggling to reenter these past few weeks.

The cell phone on her nightstand vibrated. As she picked up the phone, the Caller ID indicated it was her friend, N.Y.P.D. Detective Peter Daly.

Whatever Peter had to say at this early hour couldn’t be good.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

The sound of her shoes on the hard tile of the police station hallway echoed as Peter escorted her to the interrogation room.

“Neighbors reported hearing a shot. Then we got Raul Rodriguez’s 9-1-1 call. When we arrived, he was incoherent. The gun was on the bed where he had supposedly been asleep. And his wife—”

“Stop.”

Raul’s wife was Sylvia, who Diana had been thinking about calling only a short time earlier. It was impossible to believe her friend was dead.

“Diana. I know you’re close to this—”

“She was one of my best friends. She asked me to be the godmother for their baby. Did you know that? Did you know she was pregnant?”

Peter had the grace to look chagrined. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry!” Unable to control herself any longer, she faced the wall and pounded the rough cinder block with her fist.

Peter pulled her into a tight embrace as if to keep her from hurting herself. “I can’t imagine how tough this is.”

She held on to him, needing his stability because of all she was tempted to do. Sylvia’s life—her normal, happy, human life—was gone. Destroyed by violence. Violence like that within Diana, so strong she didn’t know if she could hold it back. And if the killer turned out to be Raul…

Dios. She would give in to the darkness and kill the bastard herself.

“Di? You need to get a grip if you’re going to talk to him.”

With a deep shuddering breath, she pulled herself together. Stepping away from Peter, she wiped at her eyes. “Do we have any other leads?”

Frowning, Peter shook his head. “Everything we have points to the husband. Maybe he found out the baby wasn’t—”

Diana silenced him with a pointed slash of her hand. “Don’t go there. Sylvia didn’t mess around,” she said, then stalked down the hall to the interrogation room, Peter trailing behind her.

Raul sat at a Formica-topped table, jailbird-orange clothing hanging loosely on his hunched shoulders. His bloodstained pajamas had been taken as evidence. He was hollow-eyed and obviously still in shock. “Tell me what happened, Raul,” Diana said.

“No se. We had dinner out. Un poquito de vino, but not much wine since Sylvia…” He stopped as tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped at them with shaky hands and haltingly continued. “We went home. We were both really sleepy. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.” His hands tumbled in the air. “No se que paso. There was a sound. A loud sound. I started coming to, but everything was fuzzy…” He stopped once more, buried his head in his hands. The tears fell more furiously.

Diana laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is difficult, but you have to try to remember.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he replied brokenly, and held out his hands as if pleading with her. “De verdad que no se. When I woke up, Sylvia was bleeding. I tried to wake her. When she didn’t respond…I called 9-1-1. I held her. She was so still. Then I saw the gun.”

“Did you touch the gun, Raul?”

He shook his head and wiped at his runny nose. “I don’t remember touching it.”

“Forensics will be able to confirm whether you did or not, Mr. Rodriguez. You may as well tell us now.” Peter moved to the table.

Raul snarled at the detective, “I did not kill my wife. I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. She was my life. Mi vida.” He jabbed at a spot above his heart to emphasize the point.

The sincerity in his words convinced Diana. She touched Raul’s clenched fist. “I believe you.”

He slumped into his chair. “Gracias, Diana.”

She glared at Peter. “I want to see all the reports. Anything you have.”

“You’re not assigned to this case. If the suspect hadn’t asked for you—”

“I would have found out and—”

“You don’t have jurisdiction here.”

He was right. Taking a deep breath to control her anger and frustration, Diana nodded and followed Peter out of the room. Peter wouldn’t refuse if she asked. So she did. “Ask me to help. I need to know what happened to my friend.”

Peter gave her a long look. “Unofficially and…whatever I say goes on this one. I’m the lead.”

“You’re the boss, Detective Daly.”

Peter let out a soft chuckle. “Right, Reyes. As if that will ever happen with any man in your life.”

“May I see the evidence, Detective? Pretty please?”

Peter chuckled again and shook his head. “Cut the shit, Di. You don’t do submissive very well.”

No, she didn’t, come to think of it. Maybe that was part of the reason her situation with Ryder troubled her so much. What she felt for him made her weak, made her surrender a piece of herself. She wasn’t good about not being in charge.

“Okay, so I’m asking straight-up. Show me what you’ve got.”

He motioned down the hallway. “CSU is processing most of it. But we can head to the M.E.’s to see the body—”

“Don’t call Sylvia that.”

Peter sighed and dragged a hand through his ragged sun-bleached hair. “I’m sorry. But you need to get perspective.”

“I will deal with it. But if it were Samantha—”

“Low blow, Reyes,” he said, his tone filled with anger at the idea of harm coming to his lover—who had sired Ryder more than a century earlier.

Ryder.

Like the intertwined strands on a web, everything in her life inevitably led back to him. Could she ever be truly free of him? Or would she be forever ensnared in that web, trapped by what she felt for him?

Had once felt for him, she reminded herself. As for those emotions and anything connected to them…she had to put them aside and focus on what was most important now—avenging her friend’s death.

Diana let out an exasperated breath and laid a hand on Peter’s sleeve. “I’m sorry. I will try to handle it better. Let’s go see Sylvia. Por favor.”

She would do what needed to be done to find Sylvia’s killer. And when she located him…

Living with vampires for two years had shown her just what she was capable of—fierce, swift action with no hesitation. Justice without the complicated rules of the human world.

She pitied Sylvia’s killer when he, too, found that out.