creates something of
a shock to the system. So does being questioned by your ex-boyfriend. You break
up with a guy; you just never want to see his ugly face again." Terri took
a sip from her mug. "By the way, your current girlfriend stopped in. You
were supposed to take her to lunch. Do call her."
Moriah. He hadn't given her a single thought.
"I told her you were tied up taking a statement from our
witness," his partner said. "And Laure LeClare will be here in a few
minutes. I don't think she'll be too happy to hear you used to be sweethearts
with the girl her hubby was likely bopping on the side, do you?"
Before he could snap her head off, a uniform from the front desk
approached them. "Uh, Lieutenant Gamble? Captain wants you and Sergeant
Vincent downstairs now. Press is swarming."
"Thanks," Terri said, and waited until the officer
retreated before hunching her shoulders. "Damn it, I knew I should have
taken that vacation time this week."
"You go," J. D. told Terri. He was in no mood to deal
with the media. "Tell Cap I'm showing Sable some mug shots."
"That had better be the only thing you show her," his
partner warned as she tugged on her jacket and headed for the stairs.
He filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and added a spoon of sugar,
then took it with him to the interview room. Sable looked up as he came in and
then down at the phone.
"Did you get in touch with your family?" he asked as he
set the cup in front of her. She didn't touch it or answer him. "Black,
one sugar, the way you like it."
She shook her head a little and glanced at the window.
Dark thoughts had been humming inside his head since he'd seen her
at the fire rescue unit, but now they bloomed into something primal and
violent. She wouldn't speak to him; she wouldn't touch the coffee. She
rejected him now as completely as she had ten years ago.
J. D. didn't like it any more than he had then, but now it wasn't
about a stupid dance or slinging mud at some of his friends. Now her life was
on the line.
"Listen to me," he said, keeping his voice low and even.
"You hate me—that's fine. I'm not real fond of you, either. But I'm the
only friend you have here. Talk to me."
She met his gaze. Something had changed—the fear in her eyes was
gone, replaced by something darker and angrier. "I don't need your
help." Each word dripped with contempt.
She wasn't going to play him this way. Not this time.
"Wrong. There's nowhere for you to run. No place to
hide." His vision sharpened as he focused on her face and smiled.
"I've got you, baby, and you're not going anywhere."
She shoved back away from the table, out of reach. "Don't
touch me. I swear to God, I'll scream my head off."
His mouth thinned. "Then I'd have to shut you up." He
came around the table, pausing only to wedge a chair against the doorknob.
"Which I would enjoy. Please, be my guest."
Sable stumbled out of the chair, knocking it over as she
frantically looked for an avenue of escape. "I'll talk to the other
cop—that woman, your partner." Her teeth were almost chattering. "Not
you."
He hesitated, tilting his head to one side as he regarded her.
Yes, she was angry, and frightened of him—which was smart; he hadn't felt this
furious in years. But why would she choose Terri over him? Terri didn't
know her. He wanted to shake her; he wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort
her. "Why are you doing this?" He made his tone gentle and soothing.
"Let me help you."
"I don't need your help." She jammed herself between the
watercooler and the wall. "I don't need anything from you."
"Maybe you're right." He started advancing again.
"Marc LeClare and my family have been friends for years. He was a good,
decent man who wanted to make things better for everyone. You're just some girl
I dated in college." Which was a lie. She was the girl he'd loved, the
only girl he'd ever loved. He'd planned to ask her to marry him at the dance,
the night she'd run away from him. "Something happened in that
a shock to the system. So does being questioned by your ex-boyfriend. You break
up with a guy; you just never want to see his ugly face again." Terri took
a sip from her mug. "By the way, your current girlfriend stopped in. You
were supposed to take her to lunch. Do call her."
Moriah. He hadn't given her a single thought.
"I told her you were tied up taking a statement from our
witness," his partner said. "And Laure LeClare will be here in a few
minutes. I don't think she'll be too happy to hear you used to be sweethearts
with the girl her hubby was likely bopping on the side, do you?"
Before he could snap her head off, a uniform from the front desk
approached them. "Uh, Lieutenant Gamble? Captain wants you and Sergeant
Vincent downstairs now. Press is swarming."
"Thanks," Terri said, and waited until the officer
retreated before hunching her shoulders. "Damn it, I knew I should have
taken that vacation time this week."
"You go," J. D. told Terri. He was in no mood to deal
with the media. "Tell Cap I'm showing Sable some mug shots."
"That had better be the only thing you show her," his
partner warned as she tugged on her jacket and headed for the stairs.
He filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and added a spoon of sugar,
then took it with him to the interview room. Sable looked up as he came in and
then down at the phone.
"Did you get in touch with your family?" he asked as he
set the cup in front of her. She didn't touch it or answer him. "Black,
one sugar, the way you like it."
She shook her head a little and glanced at the window.
Dark thoughts had been humming inside his head since he'd seen her
at the fire rescue unit, but now they bloomed into something primal and
violent. She wouldn't speak to him; she wouldn't touch the coffee. She
rejected him now as completely as she had ten years ago.
J. D. didn't like it any more than he had then, but now it wasn't
about a stupid dance or slinging mud at some of his friends. Now her life was
on the line.
"Listen to me," he said, keeping his voice low and even.
"You hate me—that's fine. I'm not real fond of you, either. But I'm the
only friend you have here. Talk to me."
She met his gaze. Something had changed—the fear in her eyes was
gone, replaced by something darker and angrier. "I don't need your
help." Each word dripped with contempt.
She wasn't going to play him this way. Not this time.
"Wrong. There's nowhere for you to run. No place to
hide." His vision sharpened as he focused on her face and smiled.
"I've got you, baby, and you're not going anywhere."
She shoved back away from the table, out of reach. "Don't
touch me. I swear to God, I'll scream my head off."
His mouth thinned. "Then I'd have to shut you up." He
came around the table, pausing only to wedge a chair against the doorknob.
"Which I would enjoy. Please, be my guest."
Sable stumbled out of the chair, knocking it over as she
frantically looked for an avenue of escape. "I'll talk to the other
cop—that woman, your partner." Her teeth were almost chattering. "Not
you."
He hesitated, tilting his head to one side as he regarded her.
Yes, she was angry, and frightened of him—which was smart; he hadn't felt this
furious in years. But why would she choose Terri over him? Terri didn't
know her. He wanted to shake her; he wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort
her. "Why are you doing this?" He made his tone gentle and soothing.
"Let me help you."
"I don't need your help." She jammed herself between the
watercooler and the wall. "I don't need anything from you."
"Maybe you're right." He started advancing again.
"Marc LeClare and my family have been friends for years. He was a good,
decent man who wanted to make things better for everyone. You're just some girl
I dated in college." Which was a lie. She was the girl he'd loved, the
only girl he'd ever loved. He'd planned to ask her to marry him at the dance,
the night she'd run away from him. "Something happened in that
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