Читать книгу Carnal Innocence - Julie Miller - Страница 8

“GO HOME, Maddox. This case is washed up.”

Special Agent Sean Maddox took the letter from his partner, Thomas Hall, and angrily crushed it in his fist. “Two months of an airtight investigation shot to hell because one state court judge can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Even the high mucky-mucks of society are entitled to a vacation now and then.” Leave it to Thomas to try to reason this thing out.

“Is that what he called it? A vacation?” Sean spat out.

The whole case was slipping through his fingers, and Sean felt responsible. He’d promised Alicia Reyes he’d nail her kidnapper. She was just a kid—a sweet little thing the same age his sister had been when he’d started taking care of her all those years ago.

But the longer it took to get a judge’s ruling on critical evidence, the less likely it was they’d make their case against Marquez stick. And if that sleazebag walked…“Damn!” He wanted to say worse.

Special Agent Thomas Hall pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his reaction to the bad news as coolly reticent as Sean’s had been hot-tempered. “There’s no proof that Justice Rossini had an affair. His resignation letter states that the mere rumor of infidelity is enough to harm his family’s reputation. He’s resigning from the state bench effective immediately to keep the Rossini name out of the papers and go home to Roanoke to work on his marriage.”

“Did he honestly think an island getaway with his secretary tagging along to take notes wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows? We waited all last weekend for this guy to get back to Virginia. He’s been stonewalling us since Monday.” Sean shot the wad of paper onto the scattered files that littered his desktop. “He couldn’t have given us a ruling on that forensic evidence before he went on permanent vacation?”

But the rumors sounded all too familiar. Sean knew first-hand how gossip and separations and rampant libidos could tear a family apart. He’d watched his parents’ marriage go up in smoke when his British father’s military career kept him away from home for months at a time. Not even the unexpected arrival of Sean’s baby sister, Sabrina, could convince Admiral Roland Maddox to stay put in England.

Sean remembered encouraging his mother to move back across the Atlantic to her home in Nebraska—to be near her family while his father was abroad. He’d grown up thinking his mother was the one who was suffering. But Sean’s sympathy faded the day he discovered her trips to town for a college class had been to see the professor himself. In a hotel room.

As if that wasn’t enough, Sabrina had barely made it into third grade when a picture of the admiral with his female aide-de-camp had graced the London Times. Sean’s father hadn’t even bothered to deny the affair; the damage had been done. His mother had retaliated by announcing that she’d been discreet by comparison. The sparks flew. Sean had tucked Sabrina under his arm and faded into the background while their parents duked it out.

The divorce dragged on for two years. When those affairs ended, new partners quickly filled the empty spaces in their parents’ lives, but commitment was never part of the scenario. And the children were never more than an afterthought.

With that stellar example to learn from, Sean planned to do better. He’d found his most enduring relationship to be with the Bureau. But women were another matter altogether. Other than his relationship with his sister, whom he still called once a week at college, his longest relationship with a woman had been eight months, two weeks and a day.

It had taken him that long to notice Elise’s roving eye.

Elise had initially been turned on by the badge and the gun. She’d gotten a thrill from dating a real-life hero. But after the fun had worn off—about the time Sean was thinking about getting serious—he’d found her recent correspondence with her old college sweetheart. When he’d seen Elise and Frat Boy meet for dinner and had caught them kissing, Sean had known it was over with her.

Thank God he’d had the Bureau to return to the next morning. For eight years now, the job had never let him down.

Letting his shoulders expand and settle with a weary sigh, Sean picked up the goofy card that had come in the mail from his sister at Stanford University, and smiled. Sabrina might be the one woman he could count on in this world. Count on without question. Even if she did have the balls to razz him about his single status.

He had nothing against women, nothing against marriage.

He just wasn’t going to put his faith in either one of them.

“Something you want to share?” Thomas’s pointed question brought Sean back to the glassed-in confines of their tiny office.

“Nah. It’s just a note from Bree.” Sean smiled again, easily picturing Sabrina’s long wavy curls and mischievous grin. “Checking on me before she leaves the country for her next graduate studies project.”

Thomas adjusted his glasses. “You’re okay with that?”

Sean shrugged. He’d had a lot of years to get used to taking care of his little sister. He hadn’t had enough to get used to her being all grown up and gallivanting around the world to dig up buried treasures in pursuit of her Ph.D. in archaeology.

Another image, of a little girl with equally long hair—black instead of blond—filled his mind and pushed aside his sentimental thoughts. A simmering frustration tensed his muscles and pulled his mouth into a taut line. He tucked Sabrina’s card into his top drawer and looked across the desks to Thomas. “One thing I know I’m not okay with is Alicia Reyes’s kidnapper walking away because of a legal technicality.”

Sean swiped a hand over his jaw and scratched at his scraggly beard. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. He and Thomas had been too busy piecing together the facts of the young girl’s kidnapping. Alicia was home safe now, but her kidnapper would never stand trial if they couldn’t come up with more than circumstantial evidence to warrant an arraignment.

“We were that close to nailing Marquez. So what if we entered that house without a warrant?” Sean thumped his finger on the desk. “We had the warrant in our hands before we opened the closet and found the ropes with the hair samples.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Maddox.” Thomas stood and straightened his tie. By this time of the afternoon, Sean had no idea where he’d discarded his. “But without Rossini to give us the go-ahead on using that rope, Marquez is just a creepy guy who lives in the neighborhood.”

Thomas adjusted the holster he wore strapped around his shoulder, and picked up his suit coat from the rack beside their office door. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He tossed it to Sean. “Here. Do you even know it’s May 29?”

With easy reflexes, Sean caught the package. Closer inspection showed it to be a present.

“Happy birthday,” Thomas added.

Sabrina’s card had come early, before she took off for parts unknown. Since then, Sean had lost track of the days. Thomas, of course, never missed such details. “You shouldn’t have.” Sean dredged up a sly grin and ripped into the ribbon and paper. “What’s this supposed to be?” Thomas had given him a tiny, black, leather-bound book. He thumbed through the pages. Inside he found an assortment of names and phone numbers. “Noelle. Kris. Cassie. Sue. Sherry. Mary Ann.”

“Since Elise left, you don’t seem to have a little black book of your own, nor would you take the time to use one. So I thought I’d share some friends of mine.” Thomas walked over and tapped the book. “I put the names of six very nice ladies in there. They’re smart, they’re sexy, they’re available. And they’re willing to meet you, which is no small accomplishment on my part, I might add. Why don’t you call one of them and go celebrate your birthday tonight?” Thomas shoved aside a stack of files and sat on the corner of Sean’s desk. “What are you now? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two.”

“That’s almost over the hill, buddy. You’re good at your job, Sean. No one would ever argue that. But this stack of paperwork and that badge aren’t going to keep you warm at night.” Thomas shrugged, indicating the logic of his argument was irrefutable. “It’s not as if women don’t like you. You’re not bad-looking, you work out, you have that James Bond accent you inherited from your dad going for you.”

Sean leaned back in his chair and listened. As much as he might not want to hear it, he trusted Thomas’s opinion. No one could have predicted the two men would become such good friends. First of all, they were polar opposites in looks and personality. Thomas was tall and lanky. With his bookish demeanor and dark hair, he’d always reminded Sean of Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Sean wasn’t quite as tall, and he was more likely to be cast as Schwarzenegger’s stand-in in some action flick. His blond hair always seemed to be out of place, while Thomas was neat as a pin. Thomas was a thinker. Sean trusted his gut.

But they understood each other. Inside. Where it counted. A woman could never do that.

“I notice you’re not wearing a ring either, buddy,” Sean stated. “You’re thirty-two also.”

Thomas rose and headed for the door. “True. But I’ve got plans tonight. I can get the job done and keep the ladies happy.” He turned in the open doorway. “There’s not another thing we can do on the Marquez case except hope that legal gets a postponement until we can get a ruling from another judge on that rope.”

Sean refused to give up hope. Alicia Reyes had never given up hope while she’d been held hostage. He reached for the nearest file and opened it. “There’s got to be another angle we can work here.”

Thomas shook his head. “Go home. Get laid. Get some sleep, if that’s how you want to celebrate. But do something for yourself. The case will still be here in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Sean agreed to the logic of Thomas’s argument. He was battle weary. But the thought of going home to his empty apartment wasn’t making him feel any peppier. He tossed the file back onto his desk and stood. “You’re right. We can finish saving the world tomorrow.”

“If you want, I’ll take you out for a beer,” Thomas offered.

“I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I do. But I can give her a call.”

Sean wouldn’t be such a spoilsport. “Forget it. I’m a big boy. I’ll find some entertainment on my own.”

“Okay, hotshot.” Thomas put two fingers to his brow and saluted him. “I hope your mission goes well tonight. See you in the morning. I’ll be expecting a full report.”

“Get out of here.” Once his partner had left, Sean reached behind his neck and rubbed at the tension that seemed to hang like a perpetual burden across his shoulders.

He really should take Thomas’s advice. Spend some time with a pretty lady. Share a few laughs. Do some serious catching-up on his involuntary celibacy of the past months.

At the very least he could call one of those names in Thomas’s black book and introduce himself. Maybe he could convince one of them to share some birthday cake with him.

His sex-deprived body jumped at a hazy image of a sexy naked lady licking frosting off his fingers. But as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring the image into sharp focus, it faded in a puff of smoke. His eyes shot open and focused on the mounds of paperwork instead. Damn, his imagination stunk.

Maybe he’d do better to buy a six-pack and a Playboy and ease his frustrations that way.

With that much of a plan made, Sean rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He was crossing the room to get his jacket when the door burst open.

“Hall. Maddox.”

“Chief?” The only man in the building who worked longer hours than Sean himself was Deputy Chief John Dillon. And judging by the scowl that creased his mahogany skin, his long hours were just getting started. “What’s up?”

Chief Dillon scoped the office. “Hall leave already?”

“It is after five.”

“Then you take a look at this.” He thrust a fax into Sean’s hands and started pacing. “That just came off the wire. The ambassador from San Isidro, Ramon Vargas, was found dead in his Washington, D.C., hotel suite this morning.”

Sean scanned the report for pertinent facts. “The local cops suspect foul play?”

“The San Isidrans are already on the horn demanding answers. Supposedly, he drowned in his bathtub, but there are bruises on his forearms and the back of his neck that indicate a struggle.”

“Isn’t this a case for the locals or the embassy police to handle? Why bring it to our attention?” Then he read the last line in the second to last paragraph. “Son of a bitch. Is this information accurate?”

“From a reliable informer.” Chief Dillon was shaking his head when Sean looked up. “I don’t believe in coincidence, either.”

“Vargas just returned from vacation on Pleasure Cove Island?”

“Sound familiar?”

With the thrill of the chase on again, Sean circled behind his desk and leafed through the scattered pile of papers. “Bingo.” He pulled out Judge Rossini’s itinerary for the past two weeks and compared it to the dates on Dillon’s report. “They were both on Pleasure Cove Island last weekend.”

He set the papers down side by side and searched for another piece of evidence. He pulled out the photocopy of a high-class, lowbrow invitation and read it out loud.

“You are cordially invited for a weekend of fun and frolic on Pleasure Cove Island. Security guaranteed.

“Meet at the New Harbor dock at 5:00 p.m. to be ferried across Muscongus Bay to my island home.

“Leave your wildest fantasies to us.

“All will be discreetly provided for you.

“Your host,

“Douglas Fairchild.”

“It’s a perfect setup,” the chief said. “Word is, if you have the money and the power, you can go there and do the nasty however and to whomever you want. Fairchild promises anonymity. There are no telephone communications to the island. He’s never allowed the press there. For medical emergencies, there’s a nurse on the premises. No one goes in once the party’s started. No one comes out until it’s done.”

“A regular playground for the rich and self-indulgent. You think Fairchild is blackmailing his guests?”

“Or maybe the guest list isn’t as anonymous as Fairchild wants it to be.”

Adrenaline pumped through Sean’s veins. He wasn’t out of the Reyes kidnapping case yet. If he could find something to prove Judge Rossini had been coerced into resigning, he’d have a whole new angle to pursue to keep Marquez behind bars. “Can I go check it out?”

Dillon grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask. Take tomorrow off. Make it a three-day weekend. The ferry to the island leaves promptly at five o’clock.” He was already backing out the door. “I’ll finagle you an invitation and a high-profile cover so you can go in as a guest. You get yourself the date.”

The adrenaline burned out in Sean’s veins. “You’re not assigning a female agent?”

“You’ve got fewer than twenty-four hours, Maddox.” Dillon talked as if he thought Sean was too thickheaded to figure out the obvious. “Take a girlfriend. Tell her you won a free vacation. Tell her you’re celebrating your birthday. It’ll be easier to behave as a couple with someone you’re already familiar with. And since this is strictly a fact-finding mission, I don’t see it as high risk. Call your girl. I’ll fill in Hall tomorrow morning so he can monitor your progress. The clock is ticking.”

“Yes, sir,” he called out to Dillon’s back, but the chief was already striding down the hallway.

Sean stood for a moment alone in the silence.

Who the hell could he call to spend a weekend at a sexual playtime resort like Pleasure Cove? Elise was out of the picture. Maybe…what was her name? Or else that blonde? “Damn.”

This was a sad testament to his workaholic lifestyle.

And he couldn’t exactly go to a bar or the produce aisle and try to pick up someone for more than a get-acquainted date.

Fear of failure warred with duty.

As always, duty won.

Sean snatched up the black book Thomas had given him for his birthday. He’d said these women were willing to meet him.

Maybe one of them would be willing to do a little bit more.