“Thank you.” But Lucy had watched and listened to the doctor and medic, and by the time they put Tony on the helicopter, they couldn’t find his pulse.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
New York City
“You didn’t show.” Joe DeLucca filled Suzanne’s doorway, all six feet, two inches of solid Italian muscle.
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
He made a move to enter, but she blocked him, her hand on the doorjamb.
Don’t let him inside.
He raised an eyebrow, giving Suzanne his sexy half-smile that used to melt her, but she held firm. She was crabby and tired from too little sleep and too many questions. “I didn’t want to be dragged into this case, DeLucca.”
“I didn’t want to hear that your agent buddy leaked information to Banker at the Times without consulting with me first.”
“I called and told you.”
“Left a message.” He made another move to enter, and she didn’t budge.
“I wasn’t going to chase you all over town.”
“Do you think he’s right?”
Suzanne had waffled on Tony Presidio’s theory all evening, but in the end she admitted it was a smart play. “Let’s just hope the place our guy pawns the ring has security cameras.”
“I sent out another notice about the ring, just to keep it fresh. Told the brokers to handle it as they normally would, write down everything, call me immediately.”
“Good.” She nodded curtly. “Good-bye.”
“I also brought you a copy of the final autopsy report.” He held it out, a carrot that she couldn’t resist. She let go of the doorjamb to grab the file and Joe weaseled his way inside.
She rolled her eyes. “Come on in.”
She closed the door and tried to ignore Joe’s smug grin of victory. She crossed her small, fifth-floor loft apartment and stood by the window, putting distance between herself and Joe. Stand firm, she told herself. She could withstand his charm and sex appeal.
You have to. Remember what happened last year.
With new resolve to focus only on the case, she read the coroner’s findings.
Weber was stabbed with a narrow metal stiletto six inches long. The killer had at least some knowledge of anatomy, because the blade went in below the sternum, through the lung, and pierced her heart. Death was nearly instantaneous. No hesitation marks, no second stabbing. Marks on the victim’s right biceps indicated that the killer was facing her, grabbed her with his left hand, stabbed her with his right. He withdrew the weapon, let her fall to the ground after she was already dead. Confirmed everything the prelim had said, with some added details about the possible weapon. Tox reports showed Weber had a BAC of.03, well under the legal limit, and confirmed her sister’s report that she’d had wine before leaving for Citi Field.
“So we’re looking for a medic of sorts, someone with training-EMT, paramedic, pre-med maybe. Nothing we didn’t already know. You didn’t need to bring me this.”
Joe walked over to her kitchen table and spread out the crime scene photos.
“Make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically. She look at the photos.
“Thanks.” He opened her refrigerator and grabbed two beers, handing her one. “See anything?”
“Other than an annoying ex-boyfriend?”
Joe looked over his shoulder. “Where?”
She hit him in the arm and stared at the crime scene photos. She used the findings in the autopsy report to re-create the scene in her head. The victim was found between her car and the vehicle next to her-owned by the people who found her body.
“She was dragged from here”-Suzanne pointed to the blood pool in front of Weber’s car-“approximately four feet to here.”
“Correct, we knew that-but what does that tell you?”
“That she’d just left her car and was meeting someone.”
“That’s what I thought as well, but her prints were on the hood of her car, so-”
“-so you think she was leaning against her car while she was waiting for someone.”
“Bingo.”
“She knew her killer. We’ve been over this, Joe.”
“Or thought she did. What else?”
“No trail.”
“And no weapon found at the scene. The M.E. said the killer’s hand would have been drenched in blood, up to his wrist. He wore gloves-powder common in latex gloves was found on the victim.”
“He came prepared.” Good detail. She glanced down at the autopsy report again. She’d missed it the first time because Joe was making her nervous. She could just see what was going to happen. She’d get involved again, his ex-wife would threaten to take him to court for full custody, and she’d be waiting and waiting and waiting. She didn’t want to go through that again.
“Could have bundled up the blade, the gloves, maybe even external clothing, and dumped it anywhere.”
“Did you canvass?”
He glared at her. “I’ve been on the job five years longer than you, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m going with you on the bundling, but I don’t think he dumped it at Citi Field. Too much chance of us finding it. More likely he took it with him, or he dumped it in the Bay.”
They looked at each other. “Bay,” they said together.
“Except the stiletto,” Suzanne said.
“Why?”
“Because it can be traced. At least, in theory. He planned this-gloves, location, the element of surprise, no defensive wounds, no blood trail. He isn’t going to be stupid and dump anything that could lead back to him. I’ll bet if we recover the clothing it’ll be generic from a major store. Salt water would destroy any forensic evidence.”
“I have uniforms looking along the shoreline, going with the tide, to see if anything washed up. But he could have weighted it down and tossed it anywhere.”
“That’s what I would do,” Suzanne said.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“You’re already there.”
Joe stared at her. “Why can’t you forgive me?”
“Who says I haven’t?”
He looked into his beer bottle. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“Of course not. Stephanie won’t allow it.”
“Why do you always have to bring her up?”
“Because your ex-wife is part of any relationship you have. It’s a threesome, and not the fun kind.”
“Fuck.” Joe ran a hand through his brown hair, leaving it messy and sexy, just the way she liked to see him. She turned away. She couldn’t give in to temptation, because it would only lead to where it led before: heartbreak.
“Joe-look, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t blame you. Hell, there’s no one to blame. Tyler is your son. He’s eight years old and he needs his dad. I get that. I like the kid; he’s going to grow up and be just like you. But the games that Stephanie plays to keep you from being happy, I can’t do that. And I can’t stand between you and Tyler. I won’t.” Her chest heaved and she wished they hadn’t had this conversation. Damn, she cared about Joe and she liked his son. But she wanted something that wasn’t possible.
Joe put his empty beer bottle down and stared at her. His dark Italian eyes read her, and she forced herself to withstand the visual assault. She stared back, kept her expression blank, kept her mouth closed.
Do not give in. Do not give in.
He leaned forward and kissed her. She should have turned her head. She’d planned to.
But she didn’t.
As soon as his lips touched her, the slow boil that had been simmering since she’d seen Joe yesterday morning bubbled over. She grabbed him and held on as he pushed her against the counter, his mouth open on hers, one hand tangled in her hair, the other on her back, under her shirt, clutching her. Flashes of hot, fast, hard sex ripped through her thoughts and she gasped as his mouth moved down her neck and his hands moved everywhere. Joe’s thigh pressed between her legs, and she returned the favor, rubbing his dick as it pushed to escape.