Harper Allen - Protector With A Past

There was a heartbeat of silence after her words, and then her appalled gaze found and held Julia’s. Her color rose under the smooth tan of her cheeks.

“God—sorry, Julia. I didn’t intend to—I mean, I know it’s probably something you’d rather…” She raked her hair back, her expression contrite and her words trailing away. “Me and my big mouth,” she mumbled.

Great, Julia thought dully. Her only consolation these last two years had been that at least the people she’d once worked with had no idea of how completely her life had disintegrated. Now it seemed that her personal problems and weaknesses had been common knowledge right from the start. It was humiliating, and shameful, and…

…and strangely liberating, she thought with a slight sense of shock. She wouldn’t have to watch what she said or concoct any elaborate excuses—make that lies, she told herself—in the event that she found herself in a social situation. It felt as if a weighty load had been lifted from her shoulders—a weight that she never would have had the nerve to shrug off without Cindy’s faux pas.

Although she had been able to tell Cord, she realized, surprised.

“Please don’t think that Paul violated any confidences—” Cindy stammered, but Julia cut across her apologies.

“I know he didn’t. I thought it was such a terrible secret that I didn’t tell anyone about it.”

Seeing the stricken look in the expressive brown eyes watching her, she laid her hand tentatively on Lopez’s arm. The disconcerting thought came to her that it had been a long time since she’d reached out to comfort another person.

“Cindy—it’s okay. I’m not upset.” She attempted a grin. “I’m certainly not about to run off to the nearest bar and knock back a dozen tequila shooters because of this.”

It was time to change the topic, she thought, wishing all of a sudden that she was back at the lake, alone in the big house with no one but King to intrude upon her solitude. But the German shepherd was with Lizbet at Mary Whitefield’s house, where he would stay until all danger to the child had passed.

“You must have your own theory as to who targeted Paul and Sheila.” She directed her comment to Lopez, but she was conscious of Cord beside her. “I know neither of us has any official standing in this matter, but maybe the very fact that we aren’t as close to the investigation as you are might help us see a pattern here.”

“I think I see the pattern,” Lopez began, but then she broke off, darting a quick glance over her shoulder at a cluster of overall-clad workers standing by the discreet, foot-high chain that surrounded the rectangles of fresh earth a few dozen yards away. Julia followed her glance. Just beyond the two new graves the rolling landscape took a slight rise, and from somewhere out of sight she could hear the rumbling noise of a piece of machinery idling. It sounded like construction equipment, more suited to the side of a highway than to this pastoral setting.

Cord had heard it, too. Julia saw the pain that flashed across his features without understanding the reason for it. A second later she understood.

“I think we’re holding up their work.” His hand moved as if to touch her, but then he checked himself. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “They want to fill in the graves.”

“Oh.”

The startled exclamation that escaped Cindy’s lips made her suddenly sound much more vulnerable than her tough exterior suggested. Erica, taking in the situation at a glance, laid a hand on her back, shepherding her gently toward the gates that led out of the cemetery.

“You said you thought you saw a pattern?” Cord’s question was a timely diversion. Erica shot him a grateful look. Julia heard Cindy take in a deep, shuddering breath and saw her square her shoulders.

“Yeah. And I think we were supposed to see it.” She frowned at the velvety turf underfoot, and Julia realized that the dark-haired woman beside her was back in the unassumingly comfortable suburban house that she’d visited so often before as a guest, but that now had turned nightmarishly into a crime scene, with her partner and his wife as the victims.

“It was the way Paul was killed, of course,” Lopez said haltingly.

Julia knew she was reliving the moment when, after getting the call at home and racing to the scene, she must have run up the pebbled walkway to Paul’s house, her badge held wordlessly out to the phalanx of uniformed officers. She would have had to put away all personal feelings at the time, Julia thought with aching compassion, and it couldn’t be done. She knew that from her own experience. But Lopez, with her cigarettes, her nervous mannerisms and her obvious stress, was tearing herself apart trying. Julia only hoped that Erica would be there for her when the inevitable emotional crash came.

“The shot to the head killed him, and the killer would have known that. Anyone would have known that, just—” her throat worked convulsively “—just by looking at him. It was bad. Real bad.”

Her eyes were luminous with sadness. As they passed through the iron gates and headed toward the private road, now almost empty of cars, she continued with an obvious effort. “So the stabbing had to be some kind of sign. Its only purpose was symbolic, and once we accepted that, it was obvious what it was meant to symbolize.”

“You and Paul had been trying to destroy the heart of the DiMarco organization.” Cord’s statement was matter-of-fact. “The authorities were being warned off the mob investigation, and killing Paul that way was a brutal example of the retaliation in store if the case continued.”

“Yeah. You’re good, Detective Hunter.” Lopez shot him a twisted smile. “That’s the way I read it, too. We’d targeted Vince DiMarco’s chain of Laundromats because we knew there was more getting washed in them than just clothes.” She gave a short laugh. “Now that heroin’s trendy again, thanks to a couple of irresponsible movies that impressed the hell out of a whole new generation of kids, DiMarco—ever the savvy businessman—has gotten into it in a big way. Which means big money. Big dirty money that he’s passing through his legit operations, including the Laundromats, so it loses that unpleasant smell of dead junkies and ruined lives.”

This time Erica’s comforting touch couldn’t stop the shaking. Her hair falling like dark brown silk around her face, Lopez stood stock-still at the edge of the drive, fists clenched at her sides, her head bowed. Julia looked up at Cord helplessly. He met her stricken gaze and this time she welcomed the brief moment of closeness. Then he stepped away, facing Lopez and gripping her shoulders.

“You had a cousin. She died of an overdose, didn’t she?” His words were gentle and barely audible, but at them Lopez’s tearstained face jerked up.

“How did you know that? Nobody knows that!”

“Before I left for California I needed to be sure that whoever was replacing me as Paul’s partner was someone I could trust. I won’t apologize for investigating you, Lopez. If you’d been in my position you’d have done the same. We both cared too much for Paul to leave anything to chance where his partner was concerned.”

The woman in front of him nodded slowly. Julia felt some of the tension of the moment ease, and beside her Erica let out a pent-up breath.

“Tina and I were as close as sisters. She was a few years younger than me, but the difference in our ages didn’t seem to matter. We did everything together. But at the time I decided to become a cop she was dating this guy that no one in the family liked, especially me. I knew he was bad news and I couldn’t see what she saw in him.” She shrugged, her eyes clouded with memory. “Well, you two know how consumed your life becomes when you’re in training. Then, after I found out I’d made the cut and took my first rookie position, I seemed to have even less of a personal life. I was working crazy shifts, pulling doubles a lot of the time, taking more training…” Her voice broke. “I should have made time for her. The day I made my first arrest I came home to tell my family. My mother was just hanging up the phone when I walked into the house. She told me Tina was dead. She was only seventeen, and when I saw her body at the funeral home I thought I was looking at an old lady.”

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