I’m not frigid after all. The thought was so exhilarating that she laughed out loud.
Abe drew a rasping breath. „Now, if we ever got to the place where we actually made love, I would suggest you not laugh afterward.“ His tone was teasing and her heart rolled over in her chest „It’s very bad for my ego.“
She kissed the underside of his chin. „Your ego is safe. I’m happy. That’s all.“
He pulled her close in a hard hug. „That’s not all, Kristen. That’s everything.“
„You’re right.“ She lifted her head and looked down at their naked bodies. It was a sight she thought she would never see. Her naked with a man. That the man was Abe was… everything. She kissed his shoulder, then dropped her head back to rest on his arm. „Do you realize we’re naked on my kitchen floor with a squad car parked out on my curb?“
He scratched his nose. „Do you realize I’m about to sneeze from all this dust and I’m lying on a piece of dry-wall?“ he asked and she giggled. Giggled. She, Kristen Mayhew, formerly of frigid fame, was lying naked in a pile of plaster dust with a man who looked like Abe Reagan and giggling. He smiled and touched the tip of her nose. „You should laugh more often,“ he said. „And you’ve got plaster dust all over your nose.“
She stretched lazily, feeling better than wonderful. „A shower will fix that.“
„Hmm. The shower.“ There was laughter in his voice. „Do you want to know what I want to do in the shower?“
Chapter Nineteen
Wednesday, February 25,
8:30 p.m.
„Thanks.“ Zoe closed her cell phone with a snap. „Let’s go.“
Scott wearily put the minivan in gear. „Where?“
„County. She just went in with Detective Reagan.“ Scott sighed and pulled away from the curb where they’d been parked. „Let me guess. Another one of your sources?“
„Hospital lobby,“ Zoe said with satisfaction, opening her compact. „She got away earlier today, but we’ll catch her this time.“
„Oh joy,“ Scott muttered.
Zoe glared at him. „Just drive, Scott.“
Wednesday, February 25,
8:45 P.M.
Kristen stood outside the window to ICU watching Vincent’s body lying motionless in the hospital bed. She and Abe had set out from her house to grab dinner, but with-out her asking he’d driven straight to the hospital, which was so sweet of him.
„Thank you,“ she murmured.
„For what?“
She could feel the vibrations of his rumbling voice through her back as he held her tightly against him, partly possessive, mostly supportive. She leaned back into him, feeling her hair catch on the stubble of his beard. For the first time in years she’d actually left the house with her hair down, because he’d asked her to and she didn’t know if she could ever tell him no. „For coming up with me. I know you don’t like hospitals.“
„How could you tell?“
„I figured it out when you muttered in the elevator how much you hate hospitals.“
„Sorry. It’s… ingrained.“
„Still, thank you for bringing me to see him. It was thoughtful.“
She could feel him shrug. „I knew you were worried about Vincent.“
„And thanks for getting me in.“ At first they’d refused her entry because she wasn’t family, but Abe had gotten them in by flashing his badge. She sighed heavily, looking at Vincent just lying there. „I never thought of either of them as being old, but I guess they are.“
A nurse walked up. „Visiting hours are long since over, Detective. You’re going to need to go now.“ She raised a brow. „Unless you have any more questions.“
„No, you’ve told us there’s no change. No more questions,“ Kristen said quietly.
„Wait. I have a question. Has anyone been in to see him?“ Abe asked in his cop voice, and Kristen twisted to look at him over her shoulder in surprise.
„Two men, but neither of them were family,“ the nurse answered.
„Two men?“ Kristen frowned at the nurse in confusion. „One would have been Owen Madden, but who was the other?“
„He didn’t leave his name, and he was extremely distraught.“
„Can you describe him?“ Abe asked and the nurse’s eyes softened.
„Twenty-five-year-old Caucasian male with mild Down’s syndrome. Very functional. Said he’d heard about his friend on the news. I really wanted to let him in, but…“
Kristen sagged. „Timothy.“
Abe lifted her chin to look in her eyes. „You know him?“
„He worked for Owen up until a month ago, but quit when his grandmother got sick.“
Abe’s eyes narrowed. „When did he quit? Exactly, Kristen?“
„I don’t know. Mid-January maybe.“ His meaning struck her and she shook her head forcefully. „No way. There is no way Timothy could be involved in anything like what we’re dealing with. No way, Abe.“
„Mid-January, Kristen. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?“
The nurse considered them. „If you’re talking about your vigilante, I’m inclined to agree with Miss Mayhew. From everything I’ve read in the paper, the killer is highly intelligent, calculating. While this Timothy was highly functioning, we’re talking two different planes.“
Abe frowned. „I know. But I hate coincidences. If he comes back, will you call me?“
The nurse took his card. „Of course.“
Wednesday, February 25,
9:05 p.m.
The elevator dinged and there they were. Zoe narrowed her eyes when Reagan put his arm around Mayhew’s shoulders. She’d known there was more going on than Reagan just guarding Mayhew’s house. Now her mind scrambled as to how to make the most of it.
„Here they come,“ Zoe hissed. „Scott, are you ready?“
„Rolling,“ he said tersely and she stepped in front of the couple, gauging their reactions. Mayhew’s eyes flared and Reagan’s teeth clenched. Very, very good.
„Miss Mayhew, can you comment on the condition of Vincent Potremski?“
„No.“ She and Reagan started walking and Zoe sidestepped them.
„How do you respond to recent allegations of impropriety in John Alden’s office?“
Mayhew stopped dead and shot her a look of complete incredulity. She shook her head, sending her curls bounding. „No comment, Miss Richardson. Now if you’ll excuse us.“ They started walking again, but Zoe spied the telltale tremble in Mayhew’s hands that she’d come to look for in times of stress. Mayhew might look poised, but she wasn’t.
„Isn’t it true that your friend was nearly beaten to death because of you? That this is your fault? That he’ll probably be a vegetable for the rest of his life?“ she asked to Mayhew’s back and once again Mayhew stopped dead. But when she turned, there was no incredulity on her face, only rage. Zoe waited, senses tingling. She’d broken Mayhew’s control. Finally.
Mayhew advanced a step and Reagan tugged at her shoulder. „Kristen,“ he said quietly, but clearly enough to be heard. „She’s not worth it.“
For a moment it looked as though Reagan had won and Zoe felt the pang of disappointment. But then Mayhew took another trembling step forward. „First of all, Miss Richardson, the correct term is ‘persistent vegetative state,’ and I’m sure the families of those so afflicted would appreciate your consideration in this regard. Secondly, you wield a great deal of power with that microphone, Miss Richardson, and you, sir, with your camera. I’d hope that you’d use it to help bring justice to innocent victims rather than further fanning the flames.“ She walked away, Reagan’s arm around her again, his hold proprietary and Zoe saw Mayhew lean against him.
And for just a brief moment, Zoe wished for someone to lean on, too. Then the brief moment was annihilated by the fire of fury. Little pompous bitch. „Stop film,“ she snapped. Scott lowered his camera, his gaze still on Mayhew’s retreating back, his expression one of respect, making her even angrier. „Don’t say a damn word,“ she hissed and pushed past him.