Читать книгу The Protector - Jule Mcbride - Страница 9

The Present…

SITTING IN the underground parking garage, not wanting to leave her city-issue car for the sweltering August heat, Judith glanced at the blue suit jacket she’d folded beside her on the passenger seat, then stared murderously toward a glassed-in attendant’s booth and a fire door leading from the garage into Sullivan Steele’s workplace.

“The Great Protector,” she muttered, turning off the ignition. “Yeah, right.”

If Sullivan Steele had any urges to protect his fellow man, it was probably because he anticipated having those people cover for him if he ever got into trouble himself. Not that the Steeles didn’t have stellar reputations. Around New York precincts, the men were legendary. The father had been in law enforcement for years, and all the sons were cops. Nevertheless, Judith had noted that good reputations often put a glossy finish on far less savory realities.

It was amazing what people got away with. Stable-looking homes with white picket fences often hid a world of trouble. That was the case, Judith supposed, with the Steeles. Sullivan had risen up through the ranks—with suspicious ease, in her opinion—to become the youngest precinct captain in Manhattan, so swiftly that it was rumored he was going to wind up in city government, maybe even mayor.

Oh, he was good at his job, but it was Judith’s responsibility to make sure he hadn’t greased any palms on his relentless climb. And while she had to admit he’d earned his position on merit, the family connections had to have helped. Somebody probably owed somebody a favor….

It was how these things worked. Still, she grudgingly had to admit that his men seemed to trust him. Why? she wondered, when it was so obvious he was protecting his father. She shook her head angrily. It took so little to make New York cops turn and look the other way. In fact, most people could be coerced to overlook wrongdoing.

No one wanted to snitch. The public moral code was to mind your own business. She sighed. At least the media wasn’t making much of Augustus’s theft—yet.

Vaguely, she wondered if Sullivan was right about her being too cold. But if she was suspicious, she had good reasons.

And she had called Sullivan practically every day during her stay on Seduction Island, as well as visited him during her overnights in Manhattan, hadn’t she? Despite her show of goodwill, he hadn’t been the least appreciative. As far as she could tell, it never had occurred to Sullivan that she’d phone him instead of using her scant free time to explore the peaceful idyllic island. But she shook her head. Given how close a clan the Steeles were, Judith wouldn’t be surprised if he never talked. Whatever had happened, she was fairly sure he believed in his father’s innocence. That, or Sullivan Steele was an accomplished liar, which, of course, some men were.

She cursed softly under her breath. Every time she thought of Sullivan, she felt tied up in knots. She wanted to believe he knew nothing about his father’s disappearance, but she also knew she was on a case and couldn’t trust him….

The middle brother, Rex, hadn’t been any help, either. Her first day on Seduction Island, she’d threatened to prosecute if he continued interfering with the investigation. Then she hadn’t seen him again until yesterday, when she was preparing to come back to Manhattan. Even though he’d pretended otherwise, she was sure Rex had remained on the island, searching for his father. Had Augustus been there? Had Rex found him? At some point, had the missing money been hidden on the island, as Judith now suspected?

She shot a rueful smile through the windshield, as if it were a crystal ball. Well, even if the money had been on the island, it no longer was. She hadn’t told anyone, not even her boss, Joe Gregory, but she’d finally found it.

Her best guess was that Sullivan’s father had withdrawn the money, then hidden it on Seduction Island. After a few weeks, Augustus had gotten paranoid, as criminals always did. Fearing the money would be discovered, he’d retrieved it and returned it to Manhattan. Judith had found it tucked away in a Manhattan savings and loan—in Augustus’s wife’s name, no less. Possibly, Augustus had blown up the Destiny himself, so people would think he was dead. That way, no one would look for him.

Complicated, yes. But like any knotted thing, the trail could be untangled. Over the past few weeks, Judith had slowly, painstakingly been working at the slippery strands. Now she was beginning to think Augustus Steele really was dead—not that she’d tell Sullivan that. But Augustus had been aboard a boat that exploded, after all, and then he’d simply vanished. What if he’d meant to fake his death, but had actually died in the process?

“Unbelievable,” she whispered now. Her head was starting to ache from thinking too much. Apparently Augustus had stolen far more than seven million, since the account in Sheila Steele’s name had recently swollen to more than double the sum missing from the Citizens Action Committee fund.

“Fifteen million dollars,” Judith whispered.

Who knew how long Augustus had been skimming public money off the top? “A hundred grand here, a hundred grand there,” she murmured. All nicely invested over the years—until Augustus’s retirement neared and he decided to make a final heist and grab seven big ones—and more.

All this time, Judith’s boss, Joe Gregory, had been suggesting she explore more intricate ways Augustus might have hidden the money. The idea that he’d simply rebanked it in his wife’s name had never been considered. No law enforcement officer would do something so stupid.

Which was why it had worked.

It had taken Judith a month to figure it out. “The Steeles sure live dangerously,” she whispered. Especially Sullivan. At least he looked like the type. Her gut tightened as she thought of his imposing frame. Square-jawed, tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like a rich frat boy, except for his eyes. Too probing and intelligent, they set him apart from the macho cops who’d taken the job for their ego, because they liked carrying guns.

Sullivan was another breed. He reeked tenacity and competency, and yet Judith knew she’d be a fool to trust him. He aroused her curiosity, though, and even she could admit that the interest wasn’t entirely case-related. Sometimes, in his office, she’d catch her eyes drifting over him, taking in the tapering V of his upper body, the flat belly beneath his shirt, and how the drape of his trousers accentuated long, well-muscled legs. A sudden shudder would ripple through her.

Well, today, no matter how his imposing physicality and challenging attitude tempted her, she wasn’t going to tell him she’d found fifteen million dollars in his mother’s account. No, Judith would patiently await the court order she’d filed, since it might allow her to delve more deeply, connecting the money in Sheila’s account to that stolen from the Citizens Action Committee fund.

And presto, she thought. Her case would be solved.

Unfortunately, as her hand curled over the door handle, she felt a stab of unwanted guilt as she thought of the amber fire burning in Sullivan Steele’s eyes. At times, she was utterly convinced he thought his father was innocent. If so, she was going to have to shatter his trust in a man he loved. She swallowed hard, since she knew better than anyone what shattered trust could do.

“Let’s do it,” she said grimly. The sooner she started, the sooner this would be over. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her jacket, groaning as she shrugged into it. Leave it to Sullivan to force her to wear a jacket in this heat. But she simply couldn’t go into his office without it. After all, he always wore one, even in public buildings, which were kept at temperatures approaching the boiling point.

As she lifted her shoulder bag, she realized it was unclasped, and a soft smile curled her lips as she impulsively plucked out an envelope. Suddenly, her heart missed a beat, skipping with excitement as she thought back to the day she’d found the bottle.

She’d been on the Perry Street pier, where she’d taken a walk after a predictably rocky encounter with Sullivan, when she’d first noticed the pale amber bottle caught in an eddy against the Hudson shore, kept in place by rocks and driftwood. Seeing paper rolled inside, Judith had gingerly made her way down the hilly embankment, despite the high heels she’d been wearing, and had lifted the bottle from the water.

She would never forget the magical rush of elation she’d felt when she read the letter inside. “Dear Lady of my Dreams,” were the opening words, and the sender was like no man she’d ever known. He sounded sensitive, kind and passionate. Before writing him, Judith had put a trace on his P.O. box, of course, but she’d come up empty-handed, something she’d decided was good. Of course, if she really had to, she could flash her badge at the post office and get the information. She was just glad that, like her, the sender was cautious and self-protective, which meant he was a realist. She, too, had an untraceable box, though she didn’t usually use it for love letters, but so that officers could report confidential information about their precincts.

This letter had been in her box today. Her eyes trailed over the words.

Lady, can we meet? When I tossed the bottle into the Hudson, I imagined it being found years from now, by a woman in another country. I never guessed it might simply wash up on shore, and be answered by someone in New York, or that we’d start corresponding. Of course, we haven’t gotten specific about the details of our lives—what we do professionally, or where we live….

Judith had intentionally withheld those details, and she suspected her pen pal had done so also, since details would make it easy to figure out their identities. Neither of them, it seemed, were very inclined to take risks.

Was she ready to do so now?

Her heart ached. After all these years, was a man about to come into her life? She’d never have sought that out; she’d been running too long from a background she wanted to keep buried in the past. But now…

No. Judith shook her head. She didn’t dare agree to meet him. Pushing the envelope into her bag, she fastened the clasp, slung the strap over her shoulder, then stepped into the stifling heat. “I’m here to see Captain Steele,” she announced when she reached the attendant’s booth and pressed her badge against the glass window.

As he picked up a telephone, the attendant said, “I’ll let him know you’re here, Ms. Hunt.” And then he buzzed her inside.

SULLY BARELY MANAGED to shrug into his jacket before Judith swept into his office, and having to put it on solely for her benefit was seriously worsening his already dark mood, if that was possible.

“You look cheerful,” Judith remarked without preliminaries, her eyes traveling over the blue jacket he’d put on, as if noting it was the exact color as hers. Difference was, Sully thought, that the blue, while doing little for him, brought out the intense color of her eyes.

Telling himself not to notice, he said dryly, “Do I?”

“Just like one of those smiley faces,” Judith assured him. “In fact, if they ever do a smiley face movie, Steele, you could be a body double.”

“I’ll have McFee issue a filming permit immediately.”

“Really,” she continued, “you don’t look so hot.”

“Quite the opposite.”

The heat wave had turned his precinct into a madhouse, tempers all over the city were burning out of control, and he’d been putting out fires all day—quite literally, due to an arson case. It had been the wrong moment to hear that Judith was about to float through the squad room on those endless legs. Since he’d received a heads-up call from the parking lot, Sully had at least been somewhat prepared—as prepared as he ever could be for Judith Hunt—so had taken his time in studying her easy, unencumbered stroll across the squad room. By the time she breezed into his office, he felt like a member of the angry mob outside, not an officer trained to subdue them.

He shot her a sweet smile. “Well, Ms. Hunt, we can’t all be blessed with your chipper demeanor, you know.”

“Ah,” she replied, her smile just as saccharine, the awareness sparking in her eyes making him wonder if she wasn’t secretly enjoying the repartee, “wouldn’t the world be a better place if everyone had my sunny disposition?”

That would be the day. At least she knew she was a control freak. What other kind of person would wear a jacket when the mercury shot over a hundred? “Have a nice time on your desert island?” He hadn’t bothered to rise from his seat behind his desk—secretly, Sully was thinking he might faint from heatstroke if he did—and now he nodded toward a chair. “Care for a seat?”

“Thanks,” she said, but didn’t take it. “It wasn’t exactly a vacation, Steele.”

No, she’d been down there looking for his father. “Well,” Sully conceded, “it didn’t exactly turn out to be the most productive month for you, either.” His brother Rex had fared better on Seduction Island, finding out their father was definitely alive. But Sully figured he’d keep that to himself.

Her chin reset defensively. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t found my father,” he returned, wishing she’d sit. Every second she remained standing, insisting on towering over him, he was tempted to rise, and since he was sweltering, he’d much prefer to stay seated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a seat?” he prompted again. “Believe me, I suggest it solely for my own benefit. If I have to keep staring up at you, Judith, I might get whiplash.”

She almost smiled at that. Even worse, he almost instinctively smiled back. “So sue me.”

“Maybe I will. Can I retire on a whiplash settlement?”

“How would I know?”

“You’re a lawyer. I thought you all took that class in school—Whiplash 101.” She still looked as though she was fighting a smile, and he was surprised to discover he liked the idea of that—Judith Hunt smiling. Had it ever happened?

“Bad hair day?” she finally guessed.

“Something like that,” he said, rifling his fingers through the sweat-dampened strands.

She clucked her tongue, and for a second, his eyes were mesmerized by the crimson mouth. Even in this heat, her lip liner hadn’t melted. “Poor baby,” she commiserated, her mouth quirking. “Now that you mention it, Steele, I can actually see the gray.”

“Better than a receding hairline,” he retorted a bit defensively.

“You’ve got a point there.”

He sighed, getting down to business. “I hear you gave Rex a hard time on the island.”

Now that they were back on topic, she gaped at him, her bottom lip edging over the top, where sweat was starting to bead. It was Sully’s only consolation. Apparently, in her ridiculously dressy jacket, she was as miserable as he. “Your brother was interfering in my investigation. I warned you before I left that if he—”

“He was looking for our father,” Sully interjected. “Somebody had to do it.”

“I was doing it,” she shot back. “And if your brother found out anything, he didn’t share the information.”

“Information moves on a two-way street.” It wasn’t the first time Sully had said it.

“I called you. And I’m standing in your office right now. How much more goodwill do you want?” She blew out a short breath. “What have you found out since we last spoke?”

“Not a thing,” he replied lightly, though he knew his father was alive. Sully wanted a chance to speak with him before he was found by Internal Affairs. “You?”

Looking as if the heat wasn’t doing wonders for her disposition, either, she crossed her arms over her chest. “So, that’s the way you’re going to play today?”

“I’m not playing.” Suddenly rising to his feet, he circled the desk, moving lithely for a man of his size, and then leaned against it. “You want the truth, Judith?”

Her eyes turned hungry. “Yes.”

She thought he was going to divulge information about his father. Instead, Sully said, “The truth is, it’s been a helluva week. I’m hot and tired, and while it wouldn’t be apparent to anyone on Seduction Island, the wheels of justice in Manhattan have ground to a halt because everybody’s on summer vacation. I can’t get warrants, and I’m battling a heat wave that’s doubling the number of complaint calls.”

“The whole city’s having a heat wave, not just you, Steele. I’m trying to get courts orders, too. And if it bothers you so much—” she nodded toward his chest “—why don’t you take off the jacket?”

Because she was wearing one. No doubt, this was Judith’s way of finagling how to take off hers without losing face. “As a precinct captain,” he said, shooting her a quick smile, “I have a certain image to project.” Image? he thought. Of what? A sweating pig? Every man in the squad room knew Sully never wore a jacket unless the parking attendant called to say Judith was on her way up.

“Isn’t it substance we need to concern ourselves with?”

“I guess, if you feel a lack of it.”

“Which brings me to your father.”

“Nice segue.”

“Thanks.” With a sudden sharp inhalation, Judith took him by surprise and did the unthinkable: she shrugged out of her jacket. When Sully saw the airy white, short-sleeved blouse beneath, he suddenly felt much more amiable. It was nearly transparent, and the white lace of a bra was visible beneath. The temperature in the room, already boiling, seemed to crank up another few notches, not that Sully minded now.

“That’s why I came up to see you, Steele,” she reminded him. “Your father.”

He wished she had some news. Rex had found a man on the island who’d talked to their pop after the Destiny exploded, but nevertheless, Sheila was beside herself. Trying to keep emotion from his voice, Sully said, “Honestly, have you found something out, Judith?”

“Not really. After withdrawing the money from People’s National, your father went to Seduction Island.”

Sully’s gaze drifted over her, as if seeking to pinpoint a chink in her armor, while she continued, “I traced the boat to the mob. The Destiny was owned by Tommy the Jaw. He was part of the Genovese crime family before he went legit.” After a heartbeat, she added, “Supposedly.”

“You don’t believe he did?”

She shook her head. “Once dirty, always dirty,” she pronounced.

His jaw clenched. “Just like Pop, huh?”

Her steady gaze seemed to confirm that that was her point of view. “Your father would have known Tommy from the old days,” she continued. “Apparently, Tommy the Jaw loaned your father the boat.”

“Or maybe my father’s working with the mob,” Sully suggested, his tone dripping irony.

Unfortunately, she actually considered that. “It’s not far-fetched.”

“Oh, please,” Sully said, groaning.

She shrugged. “I found an abandoned estate on the island. The locals call it Castle O’Lannaise, after a pirate named Jacques O’Lannaise, who supposedly haunts it. I’ve got requests in for court orders also…” She shot him a brief look of sympathy. “I’m having trouble getting paperwork through, too. So it’ll take me a couple more days to find out who holds the title. For some unknown reason, the information’s protected.”

Sully knew exactly how her mind worked: deviously. He never knew whether to be angry or impressed. Especially since his brain worked in the exact same way, putting them on the same wavelength. “You’re thinking that, in addition to the boat, the property belongs to Tommy the Jaw and that Pop went to the island to hide out?”

“You’re quick.”

“If I’m ever worried about my IQ,” Sully assured her dryly, “I’ll know where to turn for an ego boost.”

“Oh, not to worry,” she replied. “If in doubt, just start with mine and count down a few notches.”

“That’s what I like, Judith. Your mature, seasoned wit.”

She merely shrugged. “Castle O’Lannaise has been owned by a number of famous people in the past.” The expression in her eyes turned serious. “The property’s handled by a law firm, and even the Realtor, Pansy Hanley, doesn’t know who owns it. It’s been up for sale for a while, and now Ms. Hanley’s got a buyer. The place is expensive, worth millions.”

Somewhere in the neighborhood of four-point-five, according to Rex. Sully wasn’t about to share the information with Judith, but it was Sully’s brother who was doing the nibbling. While looking for Augustus on Seduction Island, Rex had fallen in love with Pansy Hanley and proposed. Once they were married, Rex intended to leave Manhattan, move to the island and use his part of the lottery money to restore Castle O’Lannaise.

Which meant, in addition to everything else plaguing Sully’s life, the pressure was on for him to find a bride. How had his little brothers—two men with absolutely no prospects—gone from committed bachelors to being engaged in just a matter of months?

His mind straying even further afield, Sully thought of the letters he’d been exchanging with his mystery woman. Who would have imagined a local woman would find the bottle he’d tossed into the Hudson? Maybe this really was destiny. Maybe she’d be the one. The woman who was writing to him sounded so alive and passionate, and in his last letter, Sully had asked her to consider meeting him.

“Steele?”

He realized Judith was peering at him with uncharacteristic concern. “Hmm?”

“Are you paying attention?”

He refocused his attention on her. “Absolutely. I figure the money’s hidden somewhere on Seduction Island,” he speculated. “I figure that’s why Pop went there, but your idea that he’s in cahoots with the mob is ridiculous.”

She hesitated. “I don’t think the money’s on the island.”

She definitely knew something. “Why not?”

She hesitated so long that he felt sure she’d found some hard evidence against his father. Or at least something that appeared to be evidence. Judith wouldn’t be this confident unless she’d found something she could use against the Steeles in a court of law. “What do you know, Judith?”

She shrugged, a lift of one delicate shoulder that shifted the sexy lace beneath her blouse. “Nothing.”

Either the heat was getting to him or the lies were. “I think Pop hid the money on the island,” he persisted, “to keep it safe.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t have expected something so fanciful from an old cynic like you.”

An old cynic? Was that what Judith thought of him? “You don’t know anything about me,” Sully found himself saying. His family was worried sick, and this woman was withholding information, playing games. “You see a suit and tie. What I look like behind a desk. Or when I give orders.”

Her dark blue eyes were suddenly boring into his, vivid against the unbelievably creamy, pale skin of her oval face. “I see,” she said dryly. “You’re saying that Sullivan Steele—the man, not the cop—is different?”

It was exactly what he was saying. But how had they wound up in this conversation? Before he could ask, she said, “Your father’s guilty, Steele. If you know that, but aren’t telling me, then you’ll wind up prosecuted. And if you don’t know it, and can’t accept it, I understand.” He could swear her hard, crimson mouth actually softened, and for the briefest second, it looked kissable. “It’s…difficult when people you love do something wrong.”

The last thing he wanted was sympathy. “I want proof, Judith,” he said, thinking she definitely wouldn’t be this confident unless she’d found something. “Tell me,” he demanded. “Why are you so sure he’s guilty?”

“The videos that show your father taking the money aside?” she asked. “My sixth sense.”

“Well, your sixth sense about the Steeles is wrong.”

Challenge sparked in her eyes. “On that matter,” she retorted, echoing his words, “I want proof.”

There was only one way. “Fine.”

She looked stunned. “You have proof your father’s innocent?”

“Come over for dinner.”

It was the last thing she expected. “To your house?” Laughter bubbled between her lips, and she gaped at him incredulously. “Dinner? Are you serious, Steele?”

It was the only way to convince her of his family’s integrity. “Aren’t you curious?” Unable to stop himself, he stalked closer, his voice lowering seductively as he edged in front of her. “Don’t you want to observe the criminals at home?” he prodded, an almost playful smile tilting his lips. “See what we eat? How we interact?”

The interest in her eyes shouldn’t have intrigued him, and when it did, Sully admitted that he sometimes wished Judith Hunt would express the sort of interest his mystery lady had. But with Judith, it was always the case. She’d phoned him from Seduction Island, and yet she’d never ventured anything personal—not even once. Didn’t she have any human curiosity?

“You’re inviting me into the den of iniquity, huh?” Her eyes locked with his. Maybe he shouldn’t have felt quite so breathless when she said, “You’re on, Steele. Name your time.”

“Sunday dinner. We always have it at my folks’ place.” Everybody loved Sheila. This particular weekend Pansy Hanley was coming in from Seduction Island to see Rex, her fiancé, and meet and support Sheila. Truman and his fiancée, Trudy, would be there also. Sully gave the address. “Should I write it down?”

Judith shook her head. “I have excellent recall.”

“Funny,” he said. “Because you don’t seem to be recalling whatever new information you’ve found out about my father.”

The guilt crossing her features further convinced him she was withholding something. Given how he felt about that, Sully had no idea what compelled him to say, “Maybe I should just pick you up?”

“We’ll see.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“Sure. One way or another, I’ll see you Sunday, Steele.”

As usual, he watched her go, this time mulling over how little they’d accomplished during this particular visit. Shrugging out of the oppressive jacket he’d felt compelled to don, he replayed everything that had just occurred. Judith definitely knew something, which meant he needed bargaining power. Sully hated to fight dirty, especially with such a beautiful woman, but this time it was necessary. He called to Nat, his desk sergeant.

“I want you to do some research on Ms. Hunt,” Sully said when he appeared in the doorway.

Nat’s lips parted in surprise, and he thrust a hand worriedly through the shock of wavy black hair that matched his sparkling eyes. “What are you looking for?”

“Anything I can use if I have to,” Sully said simply. “She knows something about Pop, and I need to know what it is.”

“But we’re so busy around here—”

“No rush. Whenever you’ve got a minute.”

“I’ll see what I can turn up.”

Good. Maybe by the time Judith came for dinner, Sully would know more about her. A vision of her blouse came back to him—open at the throat, fluttering against creamy skin. At one point, just beneath it, he’d glimpsed the cup of her bra, and like some horny teenager, he’d actually felt himself starting to get hard. He wasn’t proud of it, but the moment had made him think of seduction. After all, Sully was extremely good at seduction…and seduction was another way of getting information from a woman.

“DINNER WITH Sullivan Steele,” Judith murmured that night as she stepped from a cool bath. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the aromatic mist of her scented bath oil, as well as the fresh flowers she’d placed on the edge of the tub, using the amber genie bottle as a vase. “Have I lost my mind?”

Slipping into a white silk robe, she knotted it around her waist and headed for the living room, stepping on what had to be the greatest sin in Manhattan—a white carpet. Quite the luxury in a city where everything became dirty so easily. Vaguely, Judith wondered what Sullivan Steele would think if he ever saw it. It was tempting to bring him here, if only to shock him, since he obviously thought she was such a prude.

Trouble was, he was right, she thought, heat flooding her cheeks. Besides, because she didn’t socialize much outside work, her nerves would be frazzled if he ever came here. Her correspondent, by contrast, wouldn’t be nearly as unsettling a houseguest. The man who’d sent the message in a bottle seemed so kind and accepting, so willing to slowly build trust.

But now she’d been invited into the Steeles’ world. Because Sullivan had invited her, it was a good guess that he didn’t know his mother’s bank balance had recently swollen to the unbelievable sum of fifteen million dollars. But then, this could be a ploy to make Judith think he didn’t know his mother was probably involved in the Citizens Action Committee theft. Why else would she have so much money in the bank?

What if he really had no knowledge, though?

Guilt gnawing at her, Judith tried to imagine how Sullivan would feel if he discovered those closest to him were criminals. He’d be crushed. Fortunately, spending an evening with the Steeles would clarify things.

Passing a brocade sofa strewn with pillows, Judith sat at a desk and withdrew the letter from her handbag once more. Her eyes trailed over the words.

Lady, can we meet? When I tossed the bottle into the Hudson, I imagined it being found years from now, by a woman in another country.

The man sounded so heartfelt, so emotional. She sighed. So unlike Sullivan Steele. She got out a sheet of stationery, then merely sat there, pen poised over the paper, wondering how to reply. Searching for inspiration, she stared through a window at the busy street below and felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the milling crowds and honking horns.

Judith couldn’t stand the quiet. Only Manhattan, with its noisy throngs, made her feel safe. There were always people here. A barely conscious voice played beneath her thoughts. Always people to turn to for help.

She’d come so far. She was thousands of miles from the farm in the Midwest where she’d grown up. Even now she felt a slight jolt of panic when she recalled the long road leading to the farmhouse, the isolation, how dark it looked at night with no other visible house lights.

She shuddered. For a second, the years between her and that house seemed to vanish, and she quickly reminded herself that she’d lost her accent, put herself through college and a law degree, and started over in this city of strangers. Outside, the countless lights—white headlights, red taillights and the cozy yellow glow from inside apartments—came together in a wash of warm color. Only then did Judith register that her vision was blurry because tears had filled her eyes. She blinked them back. She hadn’t seen her mother or stepfather for years. Was she ready to risk betrayal and bring love into her life?

Pushing aside the question, she focused on two lovers below the window, happily holding hands as they walked along the crowded sidewalk. Her next thought was that Sheila Steele lived just around the corner. No doubt Sullivan lived nearby, too, since most officers, especially captains, lived in or near their precincts. In this city, he could have lived in the same building with Judith for years and she might never have realized it.

Sighing, she thought about Sullivan. He was thirty-seven. She knew because she’d checked his records, and judging by the hard glint in his knowing eyes, he was cynical and not getting any younger. Gray wisps painted the tips of the honey strands of his hair, and crow’s-feet were visible at the corners of his eyes, giving his face a rugged, weathered look. He was sexy, too—sexy as sin.

But she wondered if she looked as cynical as he. Her eyes drifted to the letter again. There was a seemingly nice man out there who liked how her personality sounded in the letters she’d written to him. Was she ready to meet him?

At the thought, abrupt, unexpected pain seared through her. For an instant, all the trauma of her past came racing back, and she felt alone, betrayed and broken. So alone, she thought. As if the whole world had been hollowed out and she’d been left in the emptiness. Every time she started to hope someone might love her, she was filled with pain—because with the hope of that came the fear of loss. It was so hard to admit how much she needed love….

She hadn’t mentioned her past to her correspondent, of course. She never would. But maybe she could open up to him just a little. If she didn’t start making an effort, she was going to wind up like Sullivan Steele, unmarried and hardened by a cop’s life. Guilt niggled at her again. Was her investigation going to shatter his trust in his parents? The way her own trust had been shattered?

She stared down at the letter again. If she agreed to meet her mystery man, at least she knew she’d be physically safe. She was well-trained in tai kwon doe, not to mention good old-fashioned street fighting. She also carried a gun.

Picking up a pen, she began to write.

Dear Mr. X,

I hope you don’t mind the name, but I never know what to call you. Maybe you’ll share your real name with me soon when we meet? Yes, I’ve given it some thought and think we should.

Pausing, Judith mulled over a date and place.

She wanted her next encounter with Sullivan Steele out of the way first, and because she was consumed with searching for his father, she’d be preoccupied the following week.

If I don’t hear from you, I’ll meet you on the Saturday after this coming one. At five-thirty in the evening, I’ll be in Central Park, on the bridge in front of Bethesda Fountain, overlooking the boathouse. I’m tall, with dark hair, and I’ll be wearing a red silk scarf, so you’ll know who I am.

And then, her heart pounding, Judith quickly sealed and stamped the letter before she could change her mind. It was time to move on from her past. She’d learned how to survive. How to make a good living. She was at the top of her profession.

Now she had to acknowledge that love was out there in the world, just waiting for her. The magical experience of finding a message in a bottle had started to convince her of that. What an unlikely thing to have happen!

Judith could only hope she’d be able to meet her mystery man with an open heart.