Deceiver Read online

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. She wasn’t where we thought she was. I’ll tell you all about it tonight. We’re still on. Right?”

  No! “Yes. Of course. Six o’clock?” I shake my head, cursing myself for being so weak.

  “I’m counting the hours,” he says in a way that prompts me to squeeze my thighs together. “I can’t wait because I have even bigger news to share with you.”

  Oh, no. He knows. “Tell me now.”

  “Well, I was going to save it for tonight, but I’m afraid you might see it on the news before then, anyway. So brace yourself. We found a second body there, too.”

  “A second body?”

  “Yep. Sick bastard. All we know right now is that it’s a female. Looks like she’s been there for at least twenty years.”

  “Oh, my God. Do you think there are more?”

  “That’s all we’ve found so far, but we’re questioning him now. They’ll keep digging, and with any luck, he’ll confess. Or, at least, tell us who the one girl is. Otherwise, it could take forever to figure out. I’m not holding my breath, though. I’ll tell you all about it tonight. Listen, I gotta run. I have another interview to do.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tonight, I guess. Congratulations, Dan.”

  “Thanks. And, baby…”

  Baby? I smile, goosebumps running down my arms. “Yes?”

  “I can’t wait.” His words hang in the air, dripping with promise.

  “Me, too.”

  I hang up, rubbing my forehead with my palm, still sweating bullets. I need to come clean with someone. Definitely not Dan. He’d have to arrest me, and all the other girls, too. I can’t tell Billie. She’ll disown me, along with all the other girls. Sheesh.

  I decide to take the coward’s way out. In situations where you don’t know what to do, doing nothing is often your best option. This whole thing will play itself out eventually. Who knows? Maybe Dan and I don’t work out and we’ll never see each other again after tonight. Or, maybe, the case cracks wide open, and I wind up riding the lightning with Billie and the others. I’m not sure which thought depresses me most.

  I wrestle with my conscience all the way to the grocery store, up the cereal aisle, through the produce section, and most of the way back home. I only say “most” because there were a few minutes when my mind drifted back to last night. When I thought about Dan’s kiss, his warm, curious tongue exploring, my fingers massaging his broad chest, his rock-hard cock… I have to stop because I begin to overheat again.

  My phone rings as soon as I step into the house. Racing over to the bar, I drop the groceries on the counter, fishing it out of my purse.

  “Hello?”

  “Candice?”

  Oh, no. There’s only one person in the entire world who calls me Candice. Don’t say Hatchet. Don’t say Hatchet. “Nurse Ratchet! How nice to hear from you.”

  “No, it’s not, dear. But, don’t worry. I’ll be brief. We have a schedule change. Nurse Fleenor has the flu. So, I need you to start tomorrow at six instead of eight.”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “No problem. I hope she feels—”

  She hangs up on me. Rude bitch.

  I drop my phone on the bar and start emptying out the bags. As I put away the groceries, I think about work. I’ll have to get up at four to be there by six. Ugh. I’ll need to get to bed at a decent hour so I’m not a zombie all day, and that might cut into my time with Dan. That sucks. Still, I really do love my job. I think about the doctors and the other nurses I work with, all my patients, especially my favorites. I wonder how Mr. Donovan is doing?

  Suddenly, I freeze, paralyzed. A jar of peanut butter slides through my fingers and lands with a thud on the floor. “Holy shit! Mr. Donovan’s daughter!”

  Chapter Nine

  By five-thirty, I’m a total wreck, not to mention exhausted, my brain and my heart having battled all day on how to handle my feelings for Dan.

  What are my feelings toward Dan?

  Somehow, I finished putting away all the groceries and even managed to do a little bit of ironing. I grabbed another shower, fixed my hair, and found time to put on a little makeup. I’m also sporting a brand new outfit that I’ve been dying to wear and, even in my distressed state, I have to admit, I’m actually rocking it. Still, I cannot seem to shake this feeling of doom.

  Whether it’s the whole Derek investigation that has me on edge or Mr. Donovan’s daughter or just the thought of the beautiful, hot hunk of gorgeous who’s about to ring my doorbell, I don’t know for sure. I feel like I’m carrying around a boulder on my back. Something’s got to give.

  A knock on the door drags me back to reality, and I take a deep breath, giving my head a good shake as I make my way to the door. It’s probably Mrs. Gilmore again.

  Tentatively, I open the door and peek out, almost losing my breath at the sight of Dan. Billie’s right. This man is simply too hot.

  “Hi. Am I too early?”

  Why? Do I look like I’m not ready? “Um… no. Not at all. Come on in.”

  I straighten my shirt and pat my hair, just to make sure everything is in its rightful place and right-side out. Seems okay to me.

  “Here.” He steps inside and hands me a beautiful bouquet of roses. “I couldn’t find anything that would do you justice. So, I had to settle on these.”

  I close the door and take the roses from him, sinking my face into the soft petals. “Oh, Dan. They’re beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you, but I’m glad you like them.” He smiles.

  “I love them.” I stretch forward, planting a light kiss on his lips. “Have a seat while I put them in some water.”

  I haven’t gotten flowers from a man in years. I float into the kitchen to look for a vase, not even sure if I still have one.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he calls after me. “I made us a reservation at Belle Arti’s.”

  “Mm. That sounds great! I’ve always wanted to go there, but for some reason, I just never have.”

  Maybe because I could almost make a mortgage payment with what it costs to eat dinner there? I find a vase buried beneath the sink and arrange the flowers inside before returning to the living room. “Yes, I am hungry, but I need to tell you something before we go.” I put the vase on the table, smiling as I admire them.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  I sit down next to him on the sofa, my eyes measuring him closely.

  “Dan…” I pause. “I know who the other body is.”

  His gaze turns into a cold, unrelenting stare.

  “I mean, I think I know who the other body is,” I correct myself nervously. “Well, I know I know who the other body is.”

  “Tell me, then. Who is it?” He asks, his voice not giving away any particular emotion.

  “It’s Juliet Donovan.” A sigh makes it out. “I think it’s Juliet Donovan. She was thirteen years old when she disappeared about twenty-five or thirty years ago. I can’t remember exactly how long ago now. She lived next door to the Stratfords.”

  “And, how do you know it’s her?”

  I shake my head. “Well, I don’t know for sure. Her father, Frank Donovan, is a patient of mine. He’s old and he’s sick, dying, actually. He told me the other day that she ran away when she was just thirteen and that no one has ever heard from her since. He said she used to play with Mr. Stratford, when they were kids. I’m sure you could find the records. I know it’s her, Dan. I feel it.”

  His steely eyes linger on mine for a moment longer, and then they soften. “Okay. Let’s go with your gut. It’s certainly worth a try, anyway.”

  I close my eyes, relieved. “Thank you,” I whisper, and then suddenly, they pop back open like a pair of cheap shudders. “Oh, no!”

  I cause Dan to start. “What?”

  “Rufus!”

  He looks at me, confused. “Pardon?”

  “Mr. Donovan’s dog, Rufus. Did you see him
today?”

  Dan shakes his head. “No. I don’t recall seeing any dogs at all.”

  “Mr. Stratford was supposed to be taking care of Mr. Donovan’s dog while he’s in the hospital, and when he… you know… passes, Mr. Stratford was supposed to take him. If he’s not there, that means there’s no one feeding him. Poor thing.”

  “Oh.” Dan scratches his chin.

  I fret now. “With Mr. Stratford out of the picture, I don’t know anyone else who can help. I guess I’m going to have to take him. I suppose I can go pick him up when I get off work tomorrow night, but that’s an awful long time to be hungry.”

  I can’t just leave him there. Maybe his son will take him back to live with him when he comes? If he comes…

  “It’s okay.” Dan takes my hands in his. “Let’s go check on him. I’ll cancel our reservation, and we’ll just stop and grab a cheeseburger or something on our way. How does that sound?”

  I stare at him, apologetically. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “No. I don’t mind at all. I can tell you wouldn’t enjoy dinner now, anyway. You’d be worried about the dog the entire time. What’s his name? Rufus?”

  I nod, smiling.

  “Just let me call in and get the ball rolling on that ID. Then, we’ll go check on Rufus. We can stop and grab some Scooby Snacks on the way. Okay?” He smiles reassuringly and digs his phone out of his jacket.

  “Thank you. I’ll make it up to you.” I rub his arm lightly, and he cuts his eyes at me, grinning dangerously.

  “I will let you.”

  I return to the kitchen looking for a little bowl or something to put some dog food in. I’m sure the poor little thing is probably confused, with Mr. Donovan being gone so long, not to mention scared and starving to death. I find an old Tupperware bowl in the back of the cabinet that is perfect for our cause.

  “Yeah, Julie or Juliet.” Dan scribbles on a notepad as he talks to his office on the phone. “So, it would have been reported about twenty-five or thirty years ago, I guess. Try… uh… hang on…” He calls over his shoulder to me, “Did you say Frank? Frank Donovan?”

  “Yes,” I reply, stuffing the little bowl into my purse.

  “Yeah. Frank Donovan. See what you can find and let me know. Thanks.”

  Dan stuffs his phone back into his pocket and stands up. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” I smile, slipping into my jacket.

  Less than an hour later, we’ve stopped by the store to purchase some food for Rufus, and we’re on our way to Mr. Donovan’s house. I decide to see if I can find anything out about Derek or Billie. It’s risky. But, dammit, I need to know.

  “So, is Mr. Stratford’s case the only one you’re working on?”

  He glances at me, surprised, I guess, by the question, then returns his attention to the road. “No. I have a few cases that I’m working on at the moment.”

  “Oh, really?” I try to act like I’m just making casual conversation, totally aware that I’m playing with fire. “Anything else this big? Or, are they just robberies and stuff?”

  “I only work homicides, but no, nothing else on this scale right now.”

  I’m disappointed in his answer, but that’s the best I can do. I certainly can’t ask him straight out.

  “Although, I am working on one where the victim was a police officer. You may have heard about it on the news last month. Derek Hines?”

  Bingo! “Yeah. I did hear about that. That’s you? You’re investigating that one?”

  “Yeah.” He shakes his head. “It’s a weird one. Really strange.”

  “Oh? How so.”

  “Well, for starters, he was dirty. It’s amazing all the shit I’ve uncovered on him. I can’t believe the bastard got away with everything he did, but it’s not so much that as it’s the way he died. There was a shooting, but that’s not what killed him. It looks like someone capped him in the leg, and then once he was down, bashed in his skull with a weight.”

  That’s close, but not exactly how it happened. “Ew. Really?”

  “Yeah. There was definitely more than one gun used. We pulled a thirty-eight slug out of his leg and a stray forty-five out of a garbage dumpster in the alley. It happened over by that gym on Roosevelt. The shooter had to have been a good ways off. Maybe across the street?”

  “Fascinating. And that’s strange why?”

  “Well, for a couple of reasons. First off, who bashed his head in, then? Also, there’s the fact that we didn’t find a gun on him, and we found blood at the scene that isn’t his, but we can’t seem to match.”

  “Maybe someone took his gun?”

  “Maybe, but it wasn’t his service weapon. We recovered that. It kind of looks like maybe there was a struggle and Hines might have got in a punch or two. There was no blood or bruising on his hands, though. I guess it’s possible that during a short struggle, he got a lick in before the attacker killed him. I don’t know. We do know there was definitely more than one attacker involved.”

  “Any suspects?” My heart is doing the cha-cha in my chest.

  He nods, deep in thought. “A few.”

  Unfortunately, that’s all he volunteers. I decide to drop it for now.

  We finally arrive at Mr. Donovan’s house, and Dan pulls into the dark driveway.

  “Well, this is it,” he says, grabbing the new bag of dog food we just bought and ripping it open.

  “Here.” I wiggle the little bowl out of my purse and hold it out. “You can put it in here.”

  He tips the bag of kibbles and pours a handful in the bowl. Then, he takes the bowl from me and reaches beneath his seat to produce a flashlight. With his hand on the door handle, he looks at me, smiling. “Alright. Let’s go find Rufus.”

  I step out of the truck and close the door behind me. Glancing up at the sky, I’m thankful for the bright half-moon and the blanket of stars.

  “Stay with me,” Dan orders, holding out his arm for me to take.

  We walk slowly toward the little house, the pebbles in the drive crunching beneath our feet. “Rufus!” I whisper-shout. “Come here, baby. Come on. Rufus!”

  Dan shines the light in front of us. “Come here, little fella’”

  Suddenly, I hear a low, growling noise, and I glance at Dan. “What the hell is that?” The growling gets louder. “A bear?”

  “Uh…” Dan stops. “Did Mr. Donovan happen to say what kind of dog Rufus was?”

  “No. I just assumed…”

  “I think we’d better—” Straightaway, the growling turns into a roar, and then an ominous howling bark that gets closer and closer. “Run!”

  Dan throws the bowl in the air, and it rains kibbles as we turn around and peel out back to the truck, Cujo on our heels, baying like crazy.

  “Jump!” Dan grabs my waist and practically tosses me onto the hood of the truck, leaping beside me, and drawing a gun that was apparently hidden in his pant leg.

  I stare at the gun, unsure what is freaking me out the most now, the rabid dog or the fact that he brought a gun on our date.

  Dan sees me eyeing the gun and shrugs. “Sorry. Job hazard. I don’t leave home without it.”

  “Yeah, I’m the same way with my American Express.”

  The dog sounds as though it’s sitting on top of us, howling now.

  “What the hell?” I pant, looking around for the dog that I can certainly hear, but not yet see.

  I hear Dan chuckle and then begin to laugh.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Look.” He points toward the front of the truck, shining the light on a small, pissed-off beagle.

  “That’s the bear?” I ask, amazed that something that little could make such a ferocious noise.

  “Apparently so.” Dan laughs, holstering his gun. “Stay right here for a second.”

  I nod, watching him closely as he jumps down from the hood of the truck and lands with a thud beside Rufus. The dog backs up, still barking like crazy at Dan.

  “
Aw, come on now.” Dan squats down, reaching out his fisted hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. Come here.”

  “Careful,” I warn.

  “He’s not going to bite me,” Dan says confidently, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me, himself, or Rufus. “He’s just doing his job.”

  Rufus finally stops barking and approaches Dan skittishly, his tail tucked neatly behind him.

  “That’s it. Come here,” Dan coaxes.

  Before I know it, Dan is petting him, stroking his long, shiny ears, and Rufus is practically in his lap, whimpering.

  “Can you grab some more of that food and bring it here?” he asks as he strokes poor Rufus.

  “Okay, but keep him over there.” I slide slowly down the side of the truck, away from Dan and Rufus, and then trot back up toward the house looking for the bowl again. Once I find it and have it refilled, I walk up slowly behind Dan.

  “Here.” I hold out the bowl of kibbles as Rufus looks at me, unsure.

  Dan takes the bowl and puts it in front of the dog. It takes about five seconds for Rufus to gobble it up. I hand Dan the bag, and he refills the bowl.

  “We should have gotten a bigger bag.” He chuckles. “Why don’t you pet him?”

  “No, thanks.” I shake my head as I watch him make the second bowl of food disappear.

  “How are you going to take him if you’re too scared to pet him?”

  “Well, I’m having second thoughts about taking him,” I admit. “He doesn’t seem the friendliest of beasts, at least not to me.”

  Dan stands and wraps his arm around my waist. “How about I take him, then?”

  “Seriously? You would do that?”

  Dan chuckles. “Yeah. I kind of like him.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.” I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. “I can let Mr. Donovan know that at least his dog is going to be well-taken care of.”

  “So, you’re going to tell him about Stratford?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I consider. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want him to make a connection to Juliet. Like I did.”

  “Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

  “Probably, but he’s dying, Dan. I don’t want to tell him something like that when he’s so ill.”