She frowned at him and shook her head. “He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“Maybe not, but you know what? I don’t want to spend my last hour with you talking about Eddie Gillick or Ray Howard or Father Keller or anything to do with this case.”
He approached slowly, cautiously. She nervously pushed her hair away from her face. Tucked a stubborn strand behind her ear. The look in his eyes made the tremble invade her fingers again, and the nutter raced from her stomach to between her thighs.
He touched her face gently, holding her eyes with an intensity that made her feel as though she was the only woman in the world-at least, for the moment. She could easily have stopped the kiss, had meant to when he first leaned down. But when his lips brushed hers, all her energy focused on keeping her knees from buckling. When she didn’t protest, his mouth caught hers in a wet, soft kiss filled with so much urgency and emotion that she felt certain the room was spinning. Even after his mouth left hers, she kept her eyes closed, trying to steady her breathing, trying to stop the spinning.
“I love you, Maggie O’Dell.”
Her eyes flew open. His face was still close to hers, his eyes serious. She saw a bit of boyish apprehension and knew how hard those words had been to say. She pulled away, only now realizing that, other than his fingers on her face and his mouth on hers, he hadn’t touched her anywhere else. Which made her retreat disappointingly easy.
“Nick, we barely know each other.” It was still hard to breathe. How could one simple kiss take her breath so completely away?
“I’ve never felt this way before, Maggie. And it’s not just because you’re unavailable. It’s something I can’t even explain.”
“Nick…”
“Please, just let me finish.”
She waited, braced herself and leaned against the dresser. The same dresser she had clung to the night they had come so dangerously close to making love.
“I know it’s only been a week, but I can assure you, I’m not impulsive when it comes to…well, sex, yes, but not this…not love. I’ve never felt this way before. And I’ve certainly never told a woman I loved her before.”
It sounded like a line, but she knew from his eyes that it was true. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“I don’t expect anything I say to compromise your marriage. But I didn’t want you to leave without knowing, just in case it did make a difference. And I guess even if it doesn’t, I still want you to know that I…that I am madly, deeply, hopelessly, head over heels in love with you, Maggie O’Dell.”
It was his turn to wait. She couldn’t speak. Her fingers clawed at the dresser top, keeping her from going to him and wrapping her arms around him.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” His eyes told her he meant it.
“I obviously have feelings for you.” She struggled with the words. She hated the thought of never seeing him again. But what did she know about being in love? Hadn’t she been in love with Greg, once upon a time? Hadn’t she vowed to love him forever?
“Things are really complicated right now,” she heard herself say and wanted to kick herself. He had opened his heart to her, taken such a risk, and here she was being practical and rational.
“I know,” he said. “But maybe they won’t always be complicated.”
“It does make a difference, Nick,” she said, making a feeble attempt at correcting her ambiguity.
He seemed relieved by that simple revelation, as though it was more than he had ever hoped for.
“You know,” he said, sounding more comfortable while her heart screamed at her to tell him how she felt. “You’ve helped me see a lot of things about myself, about life. I’ve been following in these huge, deep footsteps my father keeps leaving behind and…and I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“You’re a good sheriff, Nick.” She ignored the tug at her heart. Maybe it was better this way.
“Thanks, but it’s not what I want,” he continued. “I admire how much your job means to you. Your dedication-your stubborn dedication, I might add. I never realized before how much I want something like that, something to believe in.”
“So what does Nick Morrelli want to be when he grows up?” she asked, smiling at him when she really wanted to touch him. “When I was in law school I worked at the Suffolk County district attorney’s office in Boston. They always said I was welcome to come back. It’s been a long time, but I think I might give them a call.”
Boston. So close, she couldn’t help thinking.
“That sounds great,” she said, already calculating the miles between Quantico and Boston.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said simply.
His words caught her off guard, just when she thought she was safe. He must have seen the panic in her eyes, because he quickly checked his watch.
“I should get you to the airport.”
“Right.” Their eyes met again. One last tug, one last chance to tell him. Or would there be plenty of chances?
She brushed past him and closed down the computer, unplugging cords, snapping the lid shut and shoving the computer into its case. He grabbed her suitcase. She grabbed her garment bag. They were at the door when the phone rang. At first, she thought about ignoring it. and leaving. Suddenly, she hurried back and grabbed the receiver.
“Maggie O’Dell.”
“O’Dell, I’m glad I caught you.”
It was Director Cunningham. She hadn’t talked to him in days. “I was just on my way out.”
“Good. Get back here as quickly as possible. I’m having Delaney and Turner meet you at the airport.”
“What’s going on?” She glanced at Nick, who came back into the room, his face filled with concern. “You make it sound like I need bodyguards,” she joked, then tensed when his silence lasted too long.
“I wanted you to know before you hear it on the news.”
“Hear what?”
“Albert Stucky has escaped. They were transferring him from Miami to a maximum-security facility in North Florida. Stucky ended up biting the ear off one guard and stabbing the other with-get this-a wooden crucifix. Then he blew both their heads off with their own service revolvers. Seems the day before, a Catholic priest visited Stucky in his cell. He had to be the one who left the crucifix. I don’t want you to worry, Maggie. We got the bastard before, we’ll get him again.”
But the only thing Maggie heard was, “Albert Stucky has escaped.”
Epilogue
One week later – Chiuchin, Chile
He couldn’t believe how glorious the sun felt. His bare feet maneuvered the rocky shore. The minor cuts and scrapes were a small price to pay for the feel of the warm waves lapping at his feet. The Pacific Ocean stretched forever, its water rejuvenating, its power overwhelming.
Behind him, the mountains of Chile isolated this paradise, where poor, struggling farmers were as starved for attention as they were for salvation. The tiny parish included fewer than fifty families. It was perfect. Since he’d arrived, he hardly noticed the throbbing in his head. Perhaps it was gone for good this time.
A group of brown-skinned boys, clad only in shorts, chased a ball while they raced toward him. Two of them recognized him from the morning’s mass. They waved and called out to him. He laughed at their mispronunciation of his name. When they gathered around him, he petted their black hair and smiled down at them. The one with the torn, blue shorts had such sad eyes, reminding him of himself.
“My name,” he instructed, “is Father Keller. Not Father Killer.”
