Sins of the Angels (25 page)

Alex took the flowers from him. The orchids were truly gorgeous. Huge, exotic-looking black blooms, they might have been just plucked from a tropical island somewhere. But for all their perfection, something about them made Alex's skin crawl. She shook her head.

“Thanks, but I'm not the flower type.” She dropped the flowers into the trash can alongside the broken vase and stared after Delaney. Marble white, the fraud detective disappeared down the corridor that led to the elevator and stairs.

Alex frowned. That girl was seriously twisted up about something. It occurred to her someone ought to go after the fraud detective and make sure she was all right, but Roberts's voice hailed from inside the room and, with a last look after Delaney, Alex turned back to the meeting.

 

CHRISTINE JABBED BLINDLY
at the elevator button. Missed. Tried again. Connected. She stared at the display over the doors and fought to control her breathing, the shaking in her chest that had begun when she'd heard Ward:
Arthur Stevens, age fifty-five, and his son Mitch—

A coincidence, she told herself harshly. It had to be a coincidence. The names weren't all that uncommon. They didn't have to be connected to the fraud file she'd brushed off so easily. The file that had led her to William.

Her stomach spasmed, forcing bile into her throat. No way could the two files be connected. William couldn't possibly be involved. It would be too bizarre for words. It would mean—She swallowed a bubble of hysteria.

It would mean she'd been dating a serial killer, for fuck's sake. That she'd been—she thought of her time with William and cringed. In only two days, she had explored facets of sexuality she had never even dreamed of, let alone imagined she would participate in. Surely to God she would have known if her lover was a killer. Surely she would have sensed something . . .

She shuddered, remembering the intensity behind William's touch as he took possession of her, the way she seemed to lose a little of herself to him each time. The emptiness that remained in her when they were done, never quite filled. An emptiness she saw reflected back at her in his eyes.

But a serial killer?

The elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside, made herself nod to the uniform already there, pushed the button for the parking level.

She thought of the file she'd opened in response to Arthur Stevens's complaint. A file that had sat untouched on her desk for the last two days while she screwed the alleged suspect. Even if William wasn't the killer, her negligence was bound to come to light at some point. Christine pressed her fist into her mouth and slumped against the elevator wall, ignoring the curious look from the uniform. Any way she looked at this, she was fucked.

She fought down the seethe of panic in her belly. There had to be some way to lessen the impact, something she could do or say. The elevator door hissed open on the second floor and the uniform exited, leaving her to continue her descent alone.

Jarvis. She could call Jarvis. Alex already knew about the fraud complaint, and about William, more or less. If Christine passed on what she knew, if she begged Jarvis not to tell anyone about the personal relationship between her and an alleged suspect—

The elevator jittered to a stop on the parking level and Christine pulled herself upright, reaching for her cell phone as the doors opened. She didn't have Alex's number, so she called dispatch, waiting impatiently for them to patch her through as she walked through the cavernous underground lot to her car. Swearing when the call went straight to voice mail.

“Shit—Alex, it's Christine Delaney. Look, I need to speak to you about something, so call me back when you get this, will you? It's—” Christine swallowed and leaned her elbow on the car roof. “I've really fucked up, Alex. It's urgent.” She gave her number, repeated it, and then flipped the phone closed and rested it against her forehead.

There. Now she just had to wait. If Jarvis found no connection between William and the killer, no one would ever need to know about Christine's personal involvement with him. She'd still face a reprimand for her sloppy investigative work, but that would be all.

But if there
was
a connection—

The scuff of a shoe on pavement broke through her agitation. She tucked the phone into a pocket and brushed her hair back from her face. Going to pieces in the parking lot would solve nothing. Better to get out of here, go for coffee somewhere, make notes of everything she needed to tell Jarvis, get her head straight. She turned, ready to smile at whoever approached and pretend that her career hadn't just taken a major dump.

William's cold eyes stared into hers.

 

ALEX SURVEYED HER
desktop with its neat stacks of completed files. Everything she knew about the case, committed to paper. Everything she'd rather not think about, safely tucked away in her mind where she wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. At least not after she'd seen Roberts in—she glanced at the clock on the wall—ten minutes.

She wondered what he would assign her to. With luck he'd keep her on the squad, maybe working other files no one else had time for. She hoped he wouldn't be pissed enough to transfer her out; she preferred to keep her job, knew she was good at it. Liked it.

From the desk abutting hers came the sound of Trent clearing his throat. Alex's heart gave an unwelcome thud.

Most
of the time she liked it, she corrected.

She looked at the clock again. Nine minutes. She wiped damp palms against her trousers. She'd avoided Trent the entire day, keeping her head bent over her desk, steadfastly crossing t's and dotting i's and even forgoing lunch so he wouldn't have a chance to speak to her.

Trent
ahemm
ed again, the sound reaching out to set off the now-familiar quiver in her belly.

Alex pulled the top file from the stack and flipped it open. She didn't need anything from it, and couldn't have read the words if she'd tried, but it gave her something to do. Something besides facing Jacob Trent. Or the sense of emptiness she'd battled in the last few hours at the idea of being without him.

She scowled at the papers in front of her. She'd wanted to be rid of the man since the moment she'd met him. Now was not a good time to be having second thoughts.

“Detective—” Trent began.

Alex cut across his words. “I'm taking myself off the case.” She didn't look up.

“No.”

Now she looked. And raised an eyebrow. Of all the responses she might have expected, that one wasn't even on the list. “Excuse me?”

“I told you I need your help.”

“There are others—”

“I'm not trying to protect
others
,” he growled. “I'm trying to protect you. And this hunt is damned difficult enough without you adding to my grief any more than you already have.”

Alex gaped at him. “
Your
grief?” she hissed, aware of the many people within hearing distance. “How in the hell have I added to
your
grief?”

Heat flashed through his gray eyes, reaching out to lick along her veins in a decidedly shocking manner, and then disappeared so fast that she had to have been wrong. Hoped to God she had been wrong, because matters were fucking complicated enough already.

“You refused Seth's company this morning.”

“I was capable of driving myself.”

“That's not the point, and you know it. I told you—”

“I know what you told me, Detective Trent. I told
you
I don't need your protection. Or Benjamin's. Once I take myself off the case, it will be a moot point anyway. I'll be out of your hair and you can focus on finding the killer instead of whatever it is you think you're doing for me.”

Trent's voice dropped to a harsh, angry snarl. “Do you really think you can sidestep him that easily? He doesn't give a damn about the case. The rest of these people mean nothing to him. I doubt he's even noticed them. It's you he wants, and leaving the case won't even slow him down.”

“And I'm just supposed to take your word for that? What about the other victims? If the killer is after me like you say, then why kill so many others?”

“To find you.”

“That doesn't make sense. He either knows me or he doesn't. You can't have it both ways.”

“He didn't know you at first. But once he saw you in the alley, he did. If I know him, he is stalking you even now.”

“Do you?” she asked. “Know him?”

The soul-deep anguish she had seen before was back, accompanied this time by a stark honesty. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Alex went still. Stared at her partner. Tipping point. If she continued asking questions, she would be caught up in whatever world Trent inhabited. Might never extricate herself. Might never have another chance to walk away.

“Jarvis! You want your five minutes or don't you?” Roberts's bellow reached across the office and thrust itself between them.

For a long second, Alex couldn't respond. Couldn't look away from the very man she most wanted—needed—to avoid. Roberts called her name again. Drawing on a strength she hadn't known she possessed, Alex forced herself to her feet and lifted her chin.

“I'm taking myself off the case,” she repeated and, turning her back on Trent, she made her way to her staff inspector's office.

No, said Roberts. He didn't look up from the papers he was signing.

Consternation shafted through Alex. Son of a bitch, she wished she'd seen this coming. In all her agonizing over the decision to remove herself from the case, it hadn't occurred to her that Roberts might say no—the same response Trent had given her.

She scowled. What was this, a bloody conspiracy?

“You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need this.”

“I do know that.” Roberts laid aside his pen. “And I wish I could do it, Alex. But this case is too big and I need you too badly. Without a medical certificate, I simply can't justify taking you off the file.”

“You want me to see a shrink?”

“If you're finding things this difficult, maybe you should.” Her staff inspector studied her, linking his fingers behind his head and leaning back. “You're sure you're telling me everything? This doesn't have something to do with Trent?”

Alex looked away from her staff inspector's too-perceptive eyes. It had everything to do with Trent, but she was damned if she'd say so. If Roberts thought she needed to see a shrink based on what she'd told him so far—that the case was dredging up too many memories and causing serious stress in her life—then she could just imagine what he'd think if she confessed the rest of it. One whisper of wings and otherworldly presences and he'd pull her off duty altogether and declare her unfit. Her career would never recover.

Worse, she'd have no choice but to seek the help he only suggested now. The kind of help that required delving into her past, reliving it, and facing each and every one of the demons she'd spent a lifetime denying. The fingernails of Alex's good hand drove so deep into her palm it was a wonder they didn't scrape bone.

“I'm sure,” she answered her staff inspector. “It's not about Trent.”

Roberts regarded her in tight-lipped silence for a long moment. Alex shifted in her seat.

“Then I have to ask, Detective: do you think you're a danger to yourself or anyone else?”

Alex glowered. “I'm not about to go postal or do myself in, if that's what you mean. I'm not that far gone.”

“Like I said, I have to ask.”

She put a hand to the back of her neck and kneaded the ache there. Gave her supervisor a weary nod. About to rise from her chair, she paused when he spoke again.

“Alex—” Roberts broke off, fiddling with a pen on his desk. A furrow settled between his eyebrows. “For what it's worth, you're not the only one struggling with this file. I think we've all figured out this isn't quite our ordinary, run-of-the-mill serial killer.”

He paused, seeming to expect a response, but Alex said nothing. Roberts shook his head. “I really do need all the help I can get on this thing. I'm sorry.” He sighed. “Bring me a medical certificate and I'll take you off the case. Until then—” He broke off as Bastion stuck his head into the office through the partially open door.

“Sorry to interrupt, Staff, but have either of you seen Delaney kicking around anywhere?”

“Not me.” Roberts raised an eyebrow at Alex.

She shook her head. “Not since she dropped the flowers this morning. She headed for the elevators right after that.”

“Something urgent?” Roberts asked.

“Nah. Just following up on something. I'll try her cell phone again.” About to withdraw, Bastion paused. “Oh, Jarvis, I'm supposed to tell you there's a call holding for you. Your sister, I think.”

The door closed.

Roberts returned his attention to Alex. “Look, I know it's not much, but if you think it might help, I can put you and Trent on the desk end of things. Maybe things won't get to you quite as much if you don't have to go out to the scenes.”

A lump settled into Alex's chest. That was it? She'd worked herself into a lather all night and most of the day for an offer of desk duty that included the partner she so desperately didn't want? Was there no way to rid herself of Jacob Trent?

She swallowed hard, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Face Trent across a desk all day, or sit beside him in a vehicle? View the murder scenes in person or go over the color photos in minute detail?