Читать книгу All the Hidden Sins - Marian Lanouette - Страница 8

Chapter 4

“I’ll see you in the morning, Dina. Thanks again for the invite.”

“Take care. I’ll want details tomorrow,” Dina whispered into Kyra’s ear.

“Good night, Dina.” Jake kissed her cheek.

“Be good.” Dina smiled.

“Why? That’s no fun.”

Jake walked Kyra to her car. “I’ll meet you there,” Kyra said.

“You don’t want to take one car?”

“No, it’s wise to take both.” In case I want to do something foolish and go home with you. He tapped her roof. “Lock your door.”

“Thanks, copper.”

Climbing into her car, she watched him in the rearview mirror as he walked away laughing. She pulled out of Dina’s condo parking lot.

What the hell are you doing, Kyra? He’s a cop…a freaking cop, for God’s sake. How did I come from talking to… What do I call you, Joe—a hood, a criminal, the mob—to talking to a cop? Not talking, but going out for a drink with him. What kind of stupid has come over me?

Laughter bubbled out as tears poured down her face. She pulled into the bar’s parking lot. Tilting the rearview mirror down, she wiped away her tears and checked her makeup. I don’t look good. She reapplied her lipstick. If I was smart I’d go home. This is going to cause trouble in the long run. But…how much can one drink hurt?

A yelp escaped her lips as she jumped toward the center of the car at a knock on her window. She took a deep breath in and released it when she realized it was Jake.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t you see me pull in?” Jake offered her his hand to help her out of the car.

“No.”

“Were you crying?” he asked.

“I told you—nerves. We should do this some other time?” Cripes, what was she doing here? What was she, nuts? He’s a freakin cop.

“You’ll find I’m a good listener, if you need an ear.”

Wish I’d met him last week. “I’m fine. Sometimes the pressures of the job, the divorce, life, gets to me. See? Whack-job. Run for your life.” She laughed without mirth.

“Not running. Do you still want a drink?”

“I guess I do.” Pretending everything was fine, she laced her arm through his as they walked into the bar.

* * * *

He didn’t understand what provoked her tears, but she wasn’t fine. Kyra had piqued his curiosity. Call it his cop intuition but something was off with her. He enjoyed a good puzzle. Kyra seemed stretched. No, more than that. She seemed afraid. Of him? No, not him.

“What do you want to drink?” He pulled out a barstool for her.

“A Cosmopolitan sounds good.”

“Hey, Jake, how’s it shaking?” the bartender asked. Walking down the bar to them, he stuck out his hand to Jake.

“Good, Pat. How’s the family?”

“Everyone’s good. Do I get an introduction?”

“Kyra, Pat Brennan, retired WPD.”

“Kyra, an Irish name. And your surname?”

“Russell.”

“Ah, nice, lass. Well, your first drink is on the house in this Italian bar.” He winked.

“Thank you.” Kyra smiled.

* * * *

After Pat served them, he moved down the bar, out of earshot. She should’ve stuck with the rum and coke, instead of mixing alcohols. Kyra sipped her drink, not wanting to let it go to her head. She was too close to the edge tonight. The booze might loosen her tongue. What would be her answer on Thursday? She hadn’t come up with a counteroffer to get her out of the situation. Were they going to kill her? She knew in her heart she’d never be able to pick either one of the choices presented to her. Joe had to be crazy to ask. Kyra looked around the bar as if seeing it for the first time. Thursday night was a long way off. She’d put the decision away for later.

Tuesday nights were quiet here. At the other end of the bar, talking to Pat, sat a man downing shot after shot like this was a speakeasy and prohibition was in effect again. I wonder what troubles he wants to drown? Who cares? His problems can’t be bigger than mine.

“Hey, where’d you go?” His hand on her arm brought her back to the conversation.

“I must have zoned out. What did you say?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“I’m sorry.” A big guy like him sulking. Who needs this crap? “I had a shitty day.”

“I asked how you got into your line of work.”

“Oh, I was the secretary at the cemetery for six years. We built the crematory. I took the course, along with my boss at the time, to be a backup to him. A year later, he fell down on the job, died on the spot of a massive heart attack. I got the job by default.”

“Ah, a rags-to-riches story,” Jake joked.

“Yes, ask my creditors, they’ll agree,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re one tough cookie, Kyra.” He stared into her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me. Good or bad?” She looked up at him. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her as he leaned an elbow on the bar, his body facing her.

“I don’t know. I’ll need to do some homework, study the subject.” The boyish grin he flashed melted her heart. Who knew a simple smile had that much power.

“Well, there’ll be an open-book test after,” she joked back.

“There’s nothing open about you.” Geez, the guy turns from joking to serious on a dime. Give me a freakin’ break.

“Instinct or guessing?”

“A little of both.”

“Well, shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’ll be fun getting to know you.”

She watched him down his drink as she continued to sip hers. “Time will tell.”

She liked him though he seemed as wound up as she was. Job or personal problems…which one, Jake?

“Would you like another drink?”

“No, I’m still working on this one.”

“Why?”

“Funny, ’cause I’m a cheap drunk and I’d like to keep my wits about me tonight.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Trying to take advantage of me?”

“No, hoping you’ll take advantage of me.” Looks like he knows the power of that grin he flashes all the time.

“It might still happen, the evening’s young.” She tossed him a flirtatious smile. It was time to test her wiles. She raised her glass and saluted him.

“Ah, a tease.”

“Oh yes.”

She discovered they had a lot in common, but he sent vibes he was still hung up, involved with someone else. She worked up the nerve to ask.

“Do you plan on getting back with the woman you broke up with?”

“I did in the beginning…now…?” He shrugged as he looked into his empty glass instead of at her.

Well, that shut down her line of questions and him.

“Can I ask why?” In his eyes the pain was evident.

“You can ask. I definitely have. I still don’t understand why we’re not together.”

She lifted her drink, sipped and wished her own problems were relationship-related.

“I don’t mean to unload on you, but I’m still in love with Mia. Before we move forward you should be aware of that.”

“Thanks. I’m not looking for a relationship. My life’s too complicated right now. I will tell you this—if you love her, go after her. Fix it. Love doesn’t come around often.”

“She doesn’t want to be involved with me. I’m overprotective. Her words, not mine.”

He looked miserable. She searched around for the right answer. “Did you overreact to something to make her accuse you of it?” Oh shit, that wasn’t it.

“I can’t talk about it, Kyra. You want another drink?”

“No, it’s time to head home. I have an early day tomorrow.” She stood, took her purse from the back of the barstool. “Thanks for the drink, Jake.”

“I’d like to see you again. Do you want to go out to dinner Friday night?”

She reached into her purse, pulled out her business card. “The number on the bottom right’s my cell number. Dinner sounds good. Call with the time.”

“Good night,” Jake said.

“Good night, Jake. Thanks for the drink and the company.” She liked that he didn’t try to kiss her. She waved to Pat, started to leave the bar. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not letting you walk to your car alone.”

“Yeah, you might be a little overprotective,” she said, smirking.

“All part of the service.”

Together they stopped in front of her car, and she hit the remote. “This is me.”

He reached around her. He’s going to kiss me after all. She was disappointed when he opened the door to let her in. Make up your mind, woman, do you want the kiss or not?

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“See ya.” She closed the door, hit the lock button and drove out of the parking lot.

* * * *

Jake watched Kyra drive off. After spending an hour with her his opinion of her had changed from jumpy to cagey. She had issues bubbling under the surface. Oh hell, who was he to judge? He had issues too. We both need a friend—that’s all this is. Plus her snarky sense of humor entertained him. It was good she wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. What happened with Mia might not be able to be fixed, but he had no desire to put his emotions through the wringer again. Though in his heart—Mia was the one. He shouldn’t call Kyra. Why start something I’m not ready to finish? And, I’m not going to talk about Mia to her or anyone else. He started walking back to the bar, stopped at the door, then decided to go home. Before he got to the car his cell phone rang.

“Carrington here.”

“Lieutenant, it’s dispatch. We have a body at East Main Street and Meriden Road.”

“I’m not on call tonight. Where’s the officer in charge?”

“He’s tied up on another call, Lieutenant. It’s been a busy night.”

“Okay, what’s the address?”

“That’s the address the caller gave us.”

“Contact Sergeant Romanelli, and have the first officers on scene stand by. My ETA is about ten minutes.”

* * * *

A block from the bar she pulled to the curb. “Idiot!” Slumped over her steering wheel, she hugged it tight to her chest. This wasn’t the part of town a person wanted their car to break down in, never mind pulling over to cry. Right this minute, she didn’t care.

She clutched at her chest as a piercing pain cut off her next breath. Panic tightened her muscles, making the shooting spasms worse.

Oh my God! I’m having a freaking heart attack.

Kyra merged into traffic, but had to pull over immediately when what looked like Jake’s car flew by with sirens blasting. In less than five minutes she turned her car into the hospital emergency-room parking area. She sat there as she inhaled. Disappointment filled her when her breathing went back to normal as the pain dissipated. Not heart, but a panic attack. “No such luck, Kyra. You’re not getting off that easy.”

The hospital guard started walking over to her car. She slammed it back in gear, pulled out to head home. I don’t want to talk to anyone now.

At the condo she climbed right into bed. Fifteen minutes later she got up and paced around her living room. Rocked with fear, she curled up on the couch with a blanket and turned on the television to clear her mind of Joe’s horrific proposal. Surfing through the channels, she stopped on the one that played old soap operas. Nothing held her interest for more than a minute. She threw the remote, missing the television by inches, and went to the kitchen to retrieve her laptop.

She settled back onto the sofa with the computer and flipped it open. She had intended to catch up with the paperwork on today’s cremations, but found she had no ambition. Instead she opened a new spreadsheet and listed all her bills and her loan balance in the left column. In the right column she listed her salary, her sole income. If she got a second job, it might help—but doing what? She had no skills expect for administrative ones. What kind of money did a part-time job pay? Minimum wage? She’d cashed in her savings bonds, her savings account, and part of her 401k. Tommy’s compassion and forgiveness had gone away with the last withdrawal from the 401k. He forgave her for the withdrawal from Trevor’s college fund. They had time to build it up again Tom said, but blowing their retirement ended their marriage. Tom was looking out for his own ass.

No matter how she arranged the numbers, the debt won over the income. Even with raises calculated into the equation, it would take her fifty years to pay everything off, including the interest. Her throat went dry. Her gut tightened, and her head pounded as she pushed her computer aside. There was no way out for her except to accept Joe’s offer. It was hopeless. She did again what she’d done all night—she cried.

* * * *

Jake pulled to the curb and noted Louie hadn’t arrived yet. As he climbed out of the car, he spotted the uniform. Kudos to Russo. He’d cordoned off the scene and had the bystanders pushed back. Frank Russo, a twenty-year veteran, understood his job. At five-eight, the guy packed a solid punch. Jake knew. A few times he and Frankie had sparred in the gym.

“How many people trampled my scene, Frankie?” Jake asked, surveying the body and surrounding area.

“No one, I got here before the EMTs, Lieutenant. When I arrived I found the body, not the caller. Nothing’s been touched. It was obvious he was dead awhile. I didn’t let the EMTs near him.” Jake nodded for Russo to continue. “At first, with all his track marks, it looked like an overdose, but the head wound—”

“Give me a minute,” Jake said, cutting off Russo before he gave his opinion of the scene. He wanted to form his own impressions before the uniform gave his. He walked over to the body, leaned down and studied it. Russo was right. The wound on the head wasn’t created by his fall. Someone had whacked the poor kid hard on the noggin.

Louie sidled up to him with a coffee in his hand.

Damn, that coffee smells good. “You got one for me?” Jake asked.

“No, but I’ll share. What have we got?” Louie asked as he took a sip.

The medical examiner pulled up behind Louie’s car.

“How’d we get the top dog on an O.D. victim?” Jake asked.

A tall, lanky man of Chinese and American descent, Chen Lang always looked in need of a meal. The Doc carried his one hundred and eighty pounds on a six-foot-four frame. His skin gave off a translucent glow, the same color as the corpses he worked with. Short on staff, Lang spent many hours attending the dead and didn’t seem to care if he saw daylight or not.

“Been a wild night, Jake, the team’s spread all over the state,” Lang said.

Jake stepped away from the body. Louie stood by his side. “After Doc Lang finishes up, I’ll look for cash, needles, or his stash. But I’m betting it’s gone,” Louie said.

“I hope they left his I.D.”

“What the hell have you been drinking? You stink of booze. Where are you coming from?” Louie asked.

“I was out. Is it that bad?” Jake blew his breath into his hand. He hadn’t been on call tonight and it was nobody’s business if he’d wanted a drink. Dispatch had called him in when the lieutenant on duty was tied up on another homicide.

“Yeah, I better take the lead on this one. We don’t want any questions when the case goes to court,” Louie said.

Jake nodded.

The department was a political landmine at the moment. He stepped away from the scene. At his car, Jake wrote down his impressions. Diagrammed the angle of the body, and proceeded to make notes about the wound and the location of the needle marks. He’d compare them to Louie’s and the crime scene team’s tomorrow.