A confident, self-satisfied grin in place, he walked to her side of the car. “No problem.” Then he leaned down as if to say something more. The smug smile on his face fixed. A little off. In that millisecond, she felt a premonition of fear, that something wasn’t right. As if a ghost had breathed against the back of her neck. She reached for the gearshift and looked up to see him staring at her. His expression had turned blank, but his eyes ... oh, God, his eyes looked like pure evil. Ridiculous, right?
“I’d better get going,” she said, and before she could ram the car into reverse, he’d pulled his hand from his pocket. In a heartbeat, he jammed the cold electrodes of a stun gun against her neck.
What? No!
Suddenly desperate, she tried to jerk away, to hit the gas hard and back the hell over him, to get out of there fast!
Too late!
He pulled the trigger.
Chapter 22
Alvarez was awake most of the night.
She lay in her bed with O’Keefe at her side, Jane curled on the pillow at her head. While O’Keefe slept as if nearly dead, his soft snores and warm body the only indication he was alive, she had been too wired to sleep. She would have thought she
er exhaustion would have overcome her, but it didn’t. Though her body was tired, her mind was spinning. With her son. With Junior Green’s attack. With the fact that she’d broken through the intimacy barriers that had surrounded her for half her life. She lay on the bed, nestled next to a man she’d once loved, and wondered where it would all lead. She knew that it was a major breakthrough to be able to make love, and for that she was grateful, but to complicate her life by being sexually involved with O’Keefe: That might not be so smart.
Turning her head, she stared out the window. Sometime in the early morning hours, the snow had stopped falling and the moon had cast a silvery glimmer that reflected on the snow and shone through the window.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like? A warm male body, one arm thrust protectively across her breasts, the world serene, the house noiseless aside from the gentle sound of his breathing and the quiet hum of the furnace. Did couples wake up feeling totally isolated from the rest of the world, the union between them strong enough to fight whatever external forces were outside the walls and ready to try to rend them apart?
Could she rouse slowly, maybe kiss him on the forehead, then roll out of bed and throw on her robe before padding barefoot downstairs to start the coffee, read the newspaper or turn on her laptop with one ear cocked as she listened for him to awaken?
It was strange and new.
And the man beside her, now her lover, how would he feel this morning? How would he react?
How do you feel?
How are you reacting?
She couldn’t dissect this, was going to just let things happen and unfold naturally as she had the night before.
O’Keefe shifted, his hand moving across her body, and her breasts reacted, nipples puckering expectantly. He made a noise deep in his throat and she smiled. Don’t fight this. Just let things happen as they happen. It’s not your nature, but for once, just ...
From the nightstand, her cell phone shrilled.
O’Keefe groaned as she picked up. “Yeah?” she said, seeing that Pescoli was on the other end of the call.
“Rise and shine. Guess what was found up on Sawtell Road, near Keegan’s corner.”
“I couldn’t,” Alvarez said, tossing off the covers, her legs already swinging over the edge of the mattress.
“Lissa Parsons’s car.”
“Anyone in it?”
“First report, no, but the kids who were up there messing around with their four-wheel-drive trucks nearly hit it, looked inside and called it in. Had the presence of mind to give the make and model and plates. Looks like it’s the missing Chevy Impala. First deputy on the scene was Rule and he’s confirmed.”
“I’ll meet you at the station. I’m on my way,” Alvarez said, and finally noticed that O’Keefe was fully awake, sitting up, eavesdropping on the conversation. “We think we found the missing car of one of the victims,” she said as a way of explaining, and found her jeans left, as they never were, in a pile at the foot of the bed. She grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, then pulled on the jeans. O’Keefe was watching her and she was suddenly aware of her bare breasts. “This isn’t a reverse strip show, you know.”
“No?” His smile was an engaging bit of white against the beard that was starting to form on his face. “Depends upon your viewpoint.”
Finding her bra, she slid her arms through the straps and hooked it behind her deftly. “You’re such a pain.”
“And you love it.”