Eyewitness. Part 10

This time it was "Song Sung Blue," a Neil Diamond standard. She began it soft and slow, with a whispery sweetness in her voice, like a very young girl, but picking up tempo, volume and richness as she went along. By the time Doug got to the kitchen door she was belting it out with the full-throated confidence of a stage performer with a whole orchestra behind her. Her back was toward him but he could tell she was holding something in her hand, pretending it was a microphone. She was wearing a man's s.h.i.+rt-one of his, he suspected-and apparently not much else. Her feet and legs were bare, and the tails of the s.h.i.+rt brushed the backs of her thighs as she swayed and danced to the rhythms of her own making.

When she finished the song she threw her arms out and her head back and held the pose as if she were listening to the rising swell of applause. Doug wished he could have provided it for her, but the best he could manage was a soft and heartfelt, " " Wow. "

Oh my. She uttered a single sibilant swear word-obviously out of pure shock-and whirled around, eyes wild and bright, chest heaving, cheeks flushed. He'd never in his life seen anything so beautiful. So pa.s.sionate. so s.e.xy. His belly churned with a surge of pure, primal l.u.s.t.

Then he saw what she was holding in her hand, and the l.u.s.t got tangled up with so many other emotions he felt as if he'd been turned wrong-side out, upside down, tied in knots. Tenderness and pride, wonder and fear. other things he didn't dare name.

"Joy," he said, his voice soft and quivering with laughter , "what in the world have you got there?"

She looked at the thing in her hand, her erstwhile " " mike," and burst into a bright cackle of laughter, a starburst of delight that was colored only slightly with embarra.s.sment. She crowed, " "It's a Salad Shooter I can't believe you've actually got a Salad Shooter "Actually, my mother gave it to me," he said. "Christmas , I think-no, it was my birthday." He wanted to go to her, take the thing out of her hand, and. but he couldn't seem to move from his spot in the doorway. "" Birthday? Oh-when? " " "May."

"Ah-a Taurus," she said, as if it explained something.

A Taurus, Mary thought. Yes, of course. He makes me feel safe. Taureans were rock-solid dependable, fiercely loyal. Slow to anger, slow to love, but when they did. " " Um. do you actually use it? " Her voice was hushed and b.u.mpy with laughter; everything inside her felt loose and shaken, like pebbles in a tumbler.

He lifted one shoulder. " " Yeah, I did for a while. I was. : He coughed in that discomfited way she found so appealing'I was trying to lose some weight. I thought maybe becoming a vegetarian would help, but. "

But I like you this way, Mary thought. I like the way you feel when I put my arms around you-so big and broad and solid.

But she couldn't say that. So instead she said, "Tiegetarian ?" on ripples of wondering laughter.

He shrugged again. "Yeah, well, it didn't last. Apparently I'm a confirmed carnivore. " He nodded toward her , his eyes gleaming. " What were you doing with it? " " " Me? " she gulped. " " I was. I was looking for something to eat. Yeah. I was just going to fix some lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like me to fix you something? "

She knew she wasn't answering the question he'd really asked. She was somehow hoping if she kept talking fast and long enough she could keep him from pursuing it. She didn't quite know why, but she couldn't talk about what had just happened-not to him. Not yet. It was too much, too private All the emotions. so close to the surface now, yet connected to the innermost part of her being, the part she'd never shared with anyone before, except, in a way, through her singing. Oh, she thought, but to share that part of herself would be such an act of intimacy, much more than simply taking off her clothes, or even sharing her body in the act of lovemaking. It would be like. like stripping away all the layers of her person, and sharing her naked soul. " " I didn't expect you back so soon. I hope it's all right. I mean, I don't want you to think. " She kept talking because he wasn't doing anything to stop her, d.a.m.n him. Oh how she hated it when he did that-just stood there looking at her with those eyes that seemed to see everything inside her head, so that she felt compelled to babble on and on, throwing up words like a smoke screen. " I wasn't snooping, in case you were wondering. I was, um, looking for a frying pan, actually, because I was going to maybe make some scrambled eggs, or. something. " She waved the Salad Shooter vaguely, then put it down on the countertop.

That was when she noticed the sleeve of the s.h.i.+rt she was wearing. She gave a little gasp and s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back, rolled the sleeve a couple more times, shoved it above her elbow and folded both arms across her waist. " " I, uh. " she said, then stopped and cleared her throat not knowing where on earth to look. For goodness sake, she was wearing his s.h.i.+rt, and nothing but panties underneath. She'd only meant to borrow it. She hadn't expected him until much later. What must he think of her?

"I'm sorry... I hope you don't think.. my only clean jeans had a hole in them. I put the others in your was.h.i.+ng machine. I found this in a pile in the guest room. It had a couple b.u.t.tons missing, so I thought-"

"Looks good on you," MacDougal said, absolutely deadpan.

She felt a panicky little catch in her breathing as he moved out of the doorway, finally, and came straight toward her.

The s.h.i.+rt suddenly felt transparent to her; her nipples cringed against the smooth, soft fabric. But it was the refrigerator he was heading for, and she had to sidestep out of his way, suddenly clumsy and off balance.

He didn't even look at her. She noticed that his eyes no longer had that penetrating gleam, and that his expression seemed guarded. But not his cop-look, she thought. It was more as if he was protecting private places of his own.

"Why don't I fix us both something?" he said evenly as he opened the door of his refrigerator. From its depths, after a few scuffling noises, came the m.u.f.fled question, " " Okay. chicken or shrimp? "

"Oh-gee, anything: She shrugged in a bemused, thoroughly fascinated way; her nerves were still jangling because of his unexpected appearance, plus she'd never had a man fix a meal for her before. The idea was curiously exciting She caught her lower lip in her teeth and murmured, " Uh. chicken's fine. " Besides, she knew very well that shrimp was hideously expensive. " " Chicken it is: He took a package of boneless b.r.e.a.s.t.s out of the freezer and put them in the microwave. While they were defrosting he turned on the oven, got a brow nand -serve sourdough baguette from the freezer and slapped it on a cookie sheet, and then began a.s.sembling an a.s.sortment of condiments and spices, utensils and bowls.

"I'm impressed," Mary murmured. She was reading the label on a jar of French mustard. "You really do cook. "

MacDougal glanced up from what he was doing, which was chopping the tops off a bunch of green onions. "What did you expect? I'm single."

"So am I, but I mostly just defrost: She unscrewed the lid of the mustard jar, took a tiny bit on her finger and popped it into her mouth. After a moment she shrugged judiciously and said, " Hmm. : then replaced the lid, put the jar back on the counter and dusted her hands. "I don't know, I just think most single people probably don't go to this much trouble."

He shrugged without looking up. "I guess it depends."

" " On what? " wanted to put anybody I cared about through that kind of " On whether you think of being single as a permanent q h.e.l.l. " condition or not " "The microwave beeped; he swooped upon That was punctuated by the sizzle of meat dropping into it with the efficiency of long practice. q a hot b.u.t.tered frying pan. Mary waited until he'd removed the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s from q Mary didn't say anything. While the chicken was brown their disposable package and arranged them on his cutting q ing she watched MacDougal throw together a salad of but board before she ventured, " And you doter lettuce, water chestnuts, mandarin orange sections and Now he did look at her, a brief flash from those dark eyes, slivered almonds, and top it off with poppy-seed dressing. like a searchlight in the night. "Yeah," he said,"I do." E After that he added green onions, parsley, freshly ground "How come? You seem like a-" she coughed and fin- q pepper and mustard to the b.u.t.ter in the frying pan to make ished carefully "-a presentable-enough guy."

" a sauce that smelled 11kc pure heaven. And all the while she , " Thanks-I think. " He smiled wryly and picked up a watched, she wondered whether she d be able to eat a bite mallet. Then he shrugged and said," I'm a cop: of it. There was a lump in her stomach that felt l1kc lead, " " at? C q q and she couldn't for the life of her explain why. So wh ops get married, have families. y g " " Yeah, I know: He began pounding the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s W11 should she care whether MacDou al ever married or "q not? It had nothing whatever to do with her. Why should the methodically, efficiently, first one side, then the other. My ; loneliness she'd glimpsed in his eyes make her ache so? Grandad was a cop. " until a couple of days ago she'd considered her own single state She watched his hands, frowning. But oh, I see. i pretty much a permanent one, and she'd accepted that. Or Your parents-it didn't work out, is that ause of his , job? Or. oh, G.o.d, you said was. He didn't-" she thought she had. Why now was she suddenly so acutely " "Nah-he was wounded a couple of times, but managed aware of her own aloneness? Dammit, of course she wanted to live to enjoy his retirement." He was still smiling, but a home, someone to love . babies. Shedid. Oh, G.o.d . yes, even in profile, Mary could see that there wasn't any q she did. And now, when for the first time in ten years it ! seemed the chance to have those thingq might be given back amus.e.m.e.nt in it. Just something dark and ironic. " " These " to her, why didn't she feel hopeful... happy ? days he fishes and makes furniture. He and my mom will , A little while ago, in this same kitchen, she had felt happy. have been married... let's see, forty-three years, I guess it Now she felt... bleak. is. Next month."

At least, Doug thought, the exercise of cooking, doing "But then I don't understand why-" q something creat1ve with his hands, was helping him regain " " I saw what my mother went through. " He put down the a measure of control over his rampaging 11bido. With that mallet and gathered up the flattened pieces of chicken, then accomp11shed, and as long as he didn't let himself look at looked at Mary and said very quietly, " Every day of my life, Joy too long or too often, he figured he should be able to when I was growing up, I saw how much she suffered, worried- restore his priorities to their proper order. That was imporrying about my dad. He got shot once. So did my part- q tant. He could not forget his reason for being here-which ner-took a bullet that should have been mine, as a matter was hard when there was an unbelievably gorgeous, long of fact. I remember what it was like, sitting with Jim's wife legged woman dancing in his kitchen, wearing nothing but in the emergency room, watching what she went through: one of his s.h.i.+rts with a couple of b.u.t.tons missing He shook his head and turned away. " " I never wanted to be Whew. The problem was, she was just so d.a.m.ned cute. anything else but a cop like my dad, but I also knew I never i Scrubbed, tousled and barefooted, there was a hoydenish quality about her that made him feel young and irresponsible It made him want to laugh. It made him want to spend the day doing carefree things with her-like tossing a ball on the beach in the rain, picking flowers from someone else's garden, making love in all sorts of playful and sensual ways. cuddling, tickling, romping together like kittens He had until tomorrow to get some answers out of her, or he was going to lose her. He didn't know why he was so sure about that, but he was. He had to get Joy to talk now-tonight That realization made him feel grim and edgy, the way he used to feel on a stakeout, just before all h.e.l.l broke loose.

While they were eating he told her more about his family , especially his mom and dad back home in Ferodale, Michigan, hoping that might loosen her up some, get her to feeling relaxed, trusting him more. But for some reason he couldn't for the life of him figure out, it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Okay, so she listened and made interested noises, but her face was fragile and transparent as blown gla.s.s, her eyes had that lost waif look again, and carefully avoided meeting his.

He was so frustrated by his own lack of success, finally, that he s.h.i.+fted gears rather more suddenly than he'd intended to. He put down his fork, picked up his coffee cup, hunched forward and said a little too brusquely, "Okay, Mary Jo, your turo. Where're you from? You have a family back home somewhere? "

It was clumsy, and she responded to it that way. Her head jerked up and her eyes went wide and startled. A look of such exquisite pain flickered across her face that he instantly wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

She said, "My... my family?" Her mouth looked swollen and bruised. He saw her throat move convulsively, as if her last bite of food had gotten stuck there.

He hardened his resolve, and the effort it cost him rasped " y in his voice. Yeah-family. You know, mother, father, sisters, brothers-stuff like that."

She gave her head a small, quick shake. Her eyes slid away, in that way she had that told him she was lying. "No-no family. I'm, uh.. " She shrugged. "There's just me."

"Okay," he persisted grimly, "so where are you from? You weren't boro in Hollywood: He'd heard something in her voice, not much, and not often, but sometimes. Just a hint, he thought, of the South.

Again she shrugged, refusing to look at him. "Just a small town. No pl are you'd know. The kind of place nearly everybody leaves, sooner or later." And then there was silence , complete and impenetrable.

Doug sat very still, staring at the wall she'd thrown up between them, until he felt his temper begin to roil and swell. Then he got up, carefully picked up his plate and hers, and carried them to the sink. When he came back to the table he placed one hand on its surface and the other on the back of Joy's chair, leaned close to her and said very softly, "Mary Jo, I don't normally come home for lunch, did you know that?"

She flashed him one brief, alarmed look and shook her head.

"I didn't come home today because I felt hungry. Do you know why I came home?" She didn't move, didn't look at him, didn't answer. "I came home because I have to get some answers from you. And I have to get them now. " He turoed her chair with a loud sc.r.a.ping sound and growled, "Do you understand?"

Her eyes were clinging to his now, so full of anguish and appeal he almost wished she'd look away again. He felt like a s.a.d.i.s.t, and that made him angry. He felt a childish desire to break something, bite through nails, swear. The last of those he could do, at least, and did, putting Maurice to shame. And it did help, a little.

He straightened, finally, with along exhalation, rubbing at the back of his neck. The most frustrating thing was, he had a feeling she really wanted to tell him. It was almost as if she didn't know how. She was just so. bottled up, he thought-the way she'd been yesterday down at the club, up there on that stage, wanting so badly to let the music out. And today she was singing. Joyfully, unrestrainedly singing. He had a feeling that if he gave her enough time she'd find a way to let go of the secrets she'd been keeping lccked up inside her for so long, just as she had the music. Trouble was, he couldn't give her that time. He had to find a way to break through her barricades somehow. He had to find something He turned back suddenly, bending over her as he had before Only this time his voice was gentle, almost intimate.

"Joy... I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this. I hate like h.e.l.l to have to do this." He touched her arm. her shoulder. her hair, then murmured, " " Come with me okay? I want to show you something. "

Chapter 10.

He took her hand. But Mary knew it was nothing like the other times, when his hand had seemed to swallow up hers, wrap it around with warmth, security, safety. She felt as if she were standing too close to a forest fire. Her skin burned; she felt buffeted, half suffocated.

"C'mon." He tugged her to her feet, encouraging her with a casual jerk of his head.

As soon as she was upright she pulled her hand from his grasp, but then gave him a nod of reluctant acquiescence even as she hesitated still, rubbing both hands mechanically on the long tails of her borrowed s.h.i.+rt.

Why am I doing this? she wondered. She'd already made up her mind to tell him. Why, then, was it so hard?

She had that stage fright again; her belly felt hollow, her legs like rubber. On those precarious legs she followed him through the living room, then down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. To his bedroom.

The first thing she noticed was that his bed wasn't mad eat least, not very well. A dark maroon comforter had been carelessly thrown over a jumble of sheets and pillows. She caught a glimpse of a masculine print-wild geese, or perhaps ducks.

She noticed those things and so many others while she stood just inside the bedroom door, s.h.i.+vering in the borrowed s.h.i.+rt, with her crossed arms clutched tightly against her middle. She noticed them in spite-or perhaps because-of the fact that she was teetering on the brink of an emotional precipice. She'd been peering over the edge of that precipice for ten years now, in utter terror of the shadowy unknown that lay at the bottom. Well, here she was, finally, about to jump-or be pushed-over the edge, and her mind was filling up with details, inconsequential, everyday things, anything to distract her from what was coming Wild geese, rumpled comforters. the room was wholly masculine and typically untidy. There were clothes, of course-clean underwear and socks that had been folded but not put away, s.h.i.+rts and slacks that had been taken off and carelessly dropped across the back of a chair, on the foot of the bed, the floor. And there were pictures-family photographs-on the walls and dresser top, and on the whitqpainted mantelpiece above an old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden fireplace that unexpectedly graced the far end of the room.

The fireplace elicited an exclamation of surprise and appreciation from her, which she stifled instantly. MacDougal looked up from the box he was rummaging through just long enough to give her a distracted frown, which left her feeling as though she'd committed some grave indiscretion , like giggling at a wake.

Jittery and ill at ease, she ventured farther into the room, pausing now and then to examine a particular photograph more closely. She recognized MacDougal's parents easily, and several family groupings that could only have been brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. He had a large family, she realized. Which made it even harder to fathom his being the way he was. The way he'd apparently made up his mind to be. Alone. "Joy."

MacDougal's voice had a rasp in it that acted like sandpaper on her exposed nerves. She started and turned so abruptly she dropped the framed photograph she'd just picked up.

"Oh, G.o.d," she gasped, dropping to her knees, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. Forget it." He seemed edgy, almost impatient He came around the bed and bent down to take her elbow and lift her to her feet, but she shook him off and picked up the photo and frame, babbling breathlessly, "I think it's okay. It's not really broken, it's just come apart. See?" She looked at it herself and saw that it was a color snapshot of four men in ski gear, standing in front of a snow-covered mountain cabin. One of the men was MacDougal ; two she didn't know. The third "Leave it," said MacDougal. "I'll fix it-don't worry about it. Here.. : He removed the snapshot and the pieces of its frame from her fingers. She heard him mutter, " My G.o.d, your hands are like ice. " And then he said urgently: " Joy? "

"What?" She stared at him for the s.p.a.ce of a few painful heartbeats without any comprehension at all.

"I said, it's okay. Come on, it's only a photograph: '

She blinked him into focus, surprised to find that he was on her level, balanced on the ball of one foot, and that he was holding both of her hands, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across her knuckles, chafing warmth into them.

"Come on-leave it," he said suddenly, gruffly. "I want you to look at something." Once more he raised her to her feet, then roughly turned her, holding her by her upper arms. " " There-look, dammit: The rasp in his voice made it more like a growl. "Take a good... long... look: '

More photographs. A half dozen or so, she saw, maybe more, all in vivid color. He'd spread them out across the bed, on the comforter, giving them a background of deep maroon. Like dried blood. Reality teetered, s.h.i.+vered, dissolved. It was her dream, her waking dream. These were the frozen frames from the movie. They were all there-the body, the flowing hair that had lapped across the toe of her shoe. the smeared lipstick . the one white breast, so shockingly exposed. the slash of crimson across the pale throat, glittering with diamonds Mary's whole world seemed to tilt, and she felt herself sliding helplessly, inexorably, toward that precipice. She put out a hand, groping desperately for something to hold on to. But there was nothing. Nothing to stop her from going over the edge.

"You were there that night, weren't you?" There was no gentleness in MacDougal's voice now. It was hard and strained, as though he'd forced his words through tight clenched teeth. "You saw her... Belle.. just like that. Didn't you? Isn't that what you saw?" He gave her a quick, hard shake, full of barely restrained violence. His fingers were like steel bands around her arms. "Tell me, dammit."

She nodded rapidly, desperately. One stricken little sob escaped before she could stop it; the others she kept back the only way she could-by holding her breath.

Doug thought it was possibly the worst thing he'd ever done. He knew for d.a.m.n sure it was the hardest. To be holding her like that, so cruelly, ruthlessly, when all he really wanted to do was simply. hold her. Every instinct, every desire in him, demanded that he pull her back against him, wrap her in his arms and s.h.i.+eld her eyes from the horrors spread out on the bed before her. It took all his strength to fight the demand; his whole body quivered with the strain.

Dear G.o.d, he thought suddenly, with the shock of someone confronting divine revelation. I love this woman. What in the world am I going to do?

"Joy-Mary.. : He said it gently now, pleading with her with everything he had. Because he felt suddenly that so much more was riding on this than just a ten-year-old murder case. Without stopping to think about it or to a.n.a.lyze why he felt that way, it seemed to him to have become a matter of life and death-his life, Joy's life. And maybe just maybe... his future, too.

"Something happened that night." He eased his hold on her arms, rubbing the places where he knew his fingers must have bruised her. "Something terrible. Something ugly. I t ink you know what happened. I think you've kept that inside you all these years. What I want to know is why. I want you to tell me why, Joy. I want-I need you to tell me what happened."

"I want to." Her voice was faint and airless. He bent his head low in order to hear it better and felt the cool brush of her hair on his cheek. like a child's sweet, impulsive kiss.

"I just don't know if-"

She stopped there, as if she'd bitten off the rest. He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"You can, " he said fervently, finis.h.i.+ng what he thought she'd wanted to say. But she shook her head and mumbled something he couldn't quite hear. Something about. his not belieqnng her.

Fear clutched at his insides, the cold, sick feeling that accompanies unthinkable thoughts. What is she hiding?

G.o.d=drd she do it after all? She was strong enough, tall enough. at least five-eight. Belle had been tiny, all of five two. No. The answer slammed home with the finality of absolute qrtainty. Joy could never kill anyone. She was protecting someone. That had to be the answer. And he had to know who it was.

Still holding her by the arms, he turned her to face him.

But she kept her face averted and stubbornly refused to look at him. So he moved his hands upward, feeling the soft-crisp fabric of his cast-off s.h.i.+rt slip and slide over her shoulders.

When he got to the collar he pushed away the cloth and slipped his hands inside next to her skin, next to the warm, slender column of her neck. His thumbs lay along the undqides of her j aw. he could feel the flutter of her pulse against his palms.

"You were singing that night," he said softly. "Weren't you? At the club-at Caesar's. You went on for Belle."

She nodded. " " Second show. " Her voice was uneven, like a motor trying to start on a cold morning. She cleared her throat, and it got better. " "Belle said she... she had something she wanted to do. She was going to meet someone."

"Someone?" Doug prompted. "She didn't say who? Or what it was about? Was it business? Or do you mean like a date?"

" " I don't think-not business. She was. she seemed. excited. Happy. " Her voice broke, became a whisper. " She had that look, you know? She'd had it for several days. I remember thinking, Uh-oh, Belle's in love! But she never would tell me who it was, and I never saw her with anybody , you know, around the club. Whoever it was, she was keeping it a secret, even from me. She didn't want anyone to know. : Her throat muscles contracted under the heels of his hands. " " Tell me what happened after the show," he urged her gently, bending closer, creating an intimacy between them. " The manager said you left almost as soon as you finished singing. Did you go home? "

She nodded. Once more he felt her swallow, and his own throat ached in sympathy. "I wanted to tell Belle." Her lashes quivered and finally lifted, unveiling eyes that burned with a fierce and joyous anguish. "The most wonderful thing had happened. q'here was this producer in the audience -he'd come to see Belle, and instead.. anyway, he gave me his card and told me to come and audition for him. I couldn't believe it. It was like, my most perfect dream, and it was coming true. I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to tell Belle. It was late-after midnight-and I thought she might be home... "

It was a moment or two before he realized she'd stopped speaking; somehow he'd become lost in her eyes. They were clinging to his, it seemed, with a kind of desperate faith, as if he held the rope to which she clung, dangling over the side of a cliff. It was that small, painful convulsion in her throat that alerted him to her silence. In response his hands moved slightly, unconsciously kneading, trying, in the only way he knew, to ease her pain.

"You went home...." He spoke so softly, and yet it to loud. Suspense was a pulse in his head, like the ticking of a clock. "And then?"

"I had my key out like I always do, but then... the door wasn't locked. I was so glad, I thought-Belle's home! I couldn't wait to tell her. I opened the door, and.. : She grabbed desperately for a breath. " I heard this. sound. I don't remember exactly. where I was when I. she fell. . She just sort of. fell. As if somebody had. dropped her. q Right at my feet. Her hair was. on my shoe. Her lipstick was all smeared, and her. dress was twisted around so it didn't. cover her. Her eyes were looking up at me. And thece was. there was this. thing around her neck. It q;q,: was . cutting into her neck. At first I thought it was blood, but it wasn't. It had-" she paused, then finished it in a eq' . horror stricken whisper " "diamonds on it: '

"Rhinestones," Doug murmured. She nodded, her eyes alowly closing, displacing quivering beads of moisture. His "mind raced on, past the horror, past her pain, and ran headon into the incredible truth. And it was as he'd suspected all " alqg-as he'd hoped. "My G.o.d-he was there. The killer is still there. Wasn't he? You saw who killed her?"

She was shaking her head-that rapid little shudder, the ; "way she did when she knew denial was futile. " "No. I didn't. q'I ran. I... didn't even think. I didn't see"

"He saw you," Doug said slowly. Gradually the door was Iqpening, kttmg in the light. " " That's what this is about, isn't it? " You saw him, and he saw you. Isn't that right, Joy ?"

" He gave her head a shake, jarring loose one sharp, tormented gasp, and his muscles cramped and quivered with :q q effort it took for him not to haul her straight into his arms and cradle her head against his shoulder, gabbling 'vows and promises. But it wasn't over yet, dammit. She qqadn't finished. She hadn't answered the most important qqtstion, and until she did, he couldn't let her go. He "Joy?" He left one hand cradling the side of her neck and with the other raised her chin so that she had no choice but look at him. G.o.d-her head, her neck, felt so fragile, so vulnerable; her eyes were so full of pain and fear, and yet in a strange way, trusting.

He was suddenly reminded of a time during his street patrol days, when he'd stopped a speeding car and ended up delivering a baby in its back seat. How vividly he remembered the look in that woman's eyes, the way they'd clung to him-just the way Joy's were clinging to his, right now. And he thought, with a grim, inner smile, that in a way, what he was doing here wasn't all that much different. He remembered feeling strong and scared to death, back then, both at the same time. He remembered how he'd fought to keep his voice calm. "Joy, I know you saw this guy-it was a guy, right?" She sniffed, then nodded. Yes, he thought. Yes-now we're getting somewhere. "Did you know him?"

She shook her head. "No. Not then.. "

"Not then?" Doug pounced on that, while a little current of excitement went zapping through his nerves. the primitive thrill of the hunter. "But later? You saw this man later and recognized him, is that it?" Tell me, Joy. For G.o.d's sake, get it over with. Just. tell me.

Her lips parted; words hovered achingly on the tip of her tongue. He could almost see them there, quivering. the suspense like an audible hum in the air between them. But no sound came out of her mouth.

Doug's muscles tensed; he drew breath to exhort her. And that was when he saw the shutter fall across her face. She said in a flat, final voice, "No. I didn't recognize him. I've no idea who he was."

She was lying-he knew she was. He gave her head a small, restrained shake, and heard the tiny sound she made as she caught her breath, and then nipped her lower lip between her teeth. He didn't know which he wanted to do more, throttle her or kiss her. It was impossible to look at her mouth, remember the way it had tasted in the night, the salt-sweet taste of it, moist with her tears, and not want to kiss her. But there was too much frustration in him right now, too much violence, and he knew that if he kissed her now he might not. Ah. d.a.m.n. Later, he promised himself When this is all over. "Ah.. jeez, " he groaned. " " Joy. " There had to be a way to get it out of her-there had to. If only he could figure out what it was.

It shocked him, suddenly, to realize that what he felt more than anything was disappointment. It hurt more than he'd thought possible that she didn't trust him enough to tell him what she knew. He wanted her to trust him completely, believe in him unreservedly, have absolute faith in his ability to keep her from harm. Which was unfair of him he knew.

She d known him. what. two da s Plus he was a cop, and she obviously didn t have a very good opinion of cops. h.e.l.l, if she wasn t so d.a.m.ned scared, she probably wouldn't be tolerating his company at all.

And yet, last night. Last night she'd wanted him to stay.

Sure, he reminded himself, but last night she was scared to death. It was just comfort she'd wanted. A warm body to hQld on to.