Dead Run

CHAPTER 32

Sunday, November 18

6:45 p.m.

Liz took one look at Rick and knew that something was wrong. “What’s happened.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

She swung the door wider. He stepped through, turned and faced her. “There’s another victim. A woman named Naomi Pearson.”

“Naomi Pears-” Then she remembered. The woman from the bank, the one linked to the man who had killed himself. The one who had been involved with fraud. She had read about it in the Key West Citizen. Liz brought a hand to her mouth. “How-”

“I don’t know any details except that it appeared she was killed in the same fashion as Tara.”

Liz felt ill. Wordlessly, she turned and crossed to the stairs. She sat heavily.

After a moment, she lifted her gaze to his. “Where did they find her?”

He paused. “A beach.”

“That means the killer dumped her body into the ocean.” Liz balled her hands into fists, fighting the helplessness threatening to swamp her. “I thought this guy didn’t conceal his handiwork?”

Her crossed to her. “This doesn’t prove Rachel’s dead. It doesn’t prove she fell victim to this madma-”

“Don’t patronize me, Rick. Until now, the police believed Naomi Pearson had run off. Just the way they believed my sister had run off.”

“Not quite. They had a good reason to believe she’d split.”

“And in their estimation, they have a good reason to believe Rachel did the same.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say…anything. I-” She doubled over, her hands to her face. She had known all along that her sister was dead. But to have died like…that…it was too horrible.

“Have you heard from Mark?”

She shook her head but didn’t look at him.

“Val was waiting for me at the Hideaway. I told him everything.”

Still, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t bear to look at him. If she did, she would burst into tears.

“Liz, I have to ask you something.”

His tone brought her gaze to his. Her vision swam. “What?”

“Val told me…he told me you’d recently suffered a nervous breakdown. Is that true?”

It took a moment for his question, why he had asked it, to register. When it did, a cry slipped past her lips. She had known this would get out. That it would color everyone’s opinion of her.

She wished she could have kept it from Rick. She hated the way he was looking at her, with suspicion and disappointment.

She tipped her chin up. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I have? We don’t even know each other.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Do I?” She balled her hands into fists. “What would you have had me tell you? That I was hanging on by an emotional thread? That I took one too many blows this year and completely lost it? That you shouldn’t have a thing to do with me because I’m a brick short of an emotional load? Is that what I should have told you?”

“It would have been honest.”

She laughed, the sound brittle to her own ears. “If I had, you would have thought I was a brick short of a load. I can just imagine. Hi,” she mocked, “I’m Liz Ames, I had a nervous breakdown this year. Want to hear about it?”

He didn’t reply and she stood, facing him dead on. “What are you trying to say, Rick Wells? That nothing I have said or will say is credible? Is that it?”

He didn’t answer. His silence hurt.

She tipped her chin up a fraction more. “If you want to walk out that door now, go on. No harm done.”

“No. It’s just that-Damn.” He looked at the ceiling. “I wanted to believe you. I want to believe in you.”

“You still can.”

He returned his gaze to hers, expression naked with pain. A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to breathe past it. “Why, Rick? Why did you want to believe in me?”

He didn’t answer and she waited, chest tight. Aching for him.

He turned away and crossed to the door. He rested his hand on the wooden frame. “I know what it’s like to lose…everything,” he said finally, not looking at her. “I know what that feels like. I know what it can do to you.”

His voice thickened. “Three years ago I had everything,” he murmured. “A wife and son, both of whom I adored. A career I loved.”

The woman and boy from the photographs, Liz realized.

“I lost her first,” he continued. “Ovarian cancer. Then Sam…he-”

Rick choked on the words. Liz remained silent, giving him time to collect himself, his thoughts. He needed her to listen.

“After Jill died, we moved back here. Val gave me a job on his team at the KWPD. It was hard but we-” Rick looked over his shoulder at her. She saw that his eyes were red. “We had to go on, right? Me and Sam. We were going to be okay. We had each other.”

Liz hugged herself, knowing what was coming next. Not the details, of course, but the essence. She wished with all her heart that she could change his next words, though such wishes were futile.

“We hadn’t been here that long. One night two coked-up thugs broke in. They had guns…I slept with my service weapon under my pillow. Shots broke out.

“Sam was five. He woke up. He was frightened. I heard him call out for…her. Even though she had been gone a while, when he was really scared, he cried out for her. Sometimes at night…I still wake up and hear him. He-”

His voice broke. Liz went to him. She took him in her arms and held him. He bent his head to hers. He trembled.

Seconds ticked past. His trembling ceased. He met her gaze.

“I shot him, Liz. My bullet. Ballistics proved it was my bullet that killed him.”

Liz squeezed her eyes shut, aching for him. How did one rebound from that? How did one pick up the pieces and move on?

“It should have been me. I wish it had been.”

She brought a hand to his mouth. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.” His eyes filled with tears. “I loved him so much.”

Liz cupped his face in her palms and brought his mouth to hers. She kissed him softly at first, offering the only real comfort she could. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his mouth. “So very sorry.”

She moved her mouth to his cheeks, his eyelids, his chin and neck. With a soft moan, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her closer, fitting himself to her.

Their mouths met again, this time deeply. His tongue found hers. She felt his growing response to her touch. A thread of fear wound its way through her. She hadn’t intended for this to happen. It wasn’t smart. Or cautious. She didn’t know if she was ready.

She hadn’t been with anyone since Jared.

And he had betrayed her.

Liz shut her mind to the fear. Smart or not, she wanted to be with this man.

Liz broke the kiss and met his eyes. “Come with me.”

She caught his right hand and led him upstairs to her bedroom. There, wordlessly, they undressed one another and sank to the bed. Their mouths met first and for long moments they kissed, not touching in any other way.

Soon, the pressure of their mouths alone wasn’t enough and Liz became bolder. She ran her hands over his shoulders, then chest. She liked his body, the feel of it under her palms-the swell of muscles, the texture of his skin, the subtle angles.

Liz skimmed her hands over his hips and abdomen, then lower. He sucked in a swift breath as she found and held him.

She would have liked to show restraint. To have held back and let him lead. But that wasn’t the way she felt. She wasn’t a game player, never had been. She saw a flaw, she pointed it out. She saw inequality, she worked to fix it. She wanted something, she went after it. Those weren’t ladylike qualities. They didn’t make her mysterious. During their divorce, her ex-husband had thrown those up at her as a reason he had strayed.

But she couldn’t change who she was.

So it was she who straddled him. She who drew him inside her. And she who increased the pace to a heated frenzy.

But it was Rick who, as their passion peaked, took charge. Rick who, with a final, deep thrust, claimed her for his.

For long moments, they lay quietly, unmoving as their hearts and breath slowed, as their flesh cooled. As the seconds ticked past, their silence became heavy, awkward.

He broke it first. “I don’t know quite what to say.”

She swallowed hard, understanding, feeling the same. How could she explain that he had comforted her as much as she had him? That his passion had revived her. That his sounds of pleasure had restored her confidence in her ability to please a lover. She felt alive again. Desirable. Totally female.

She’d thought Jared had killed her ability to feel those things.

Her lips curved up, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. “I’m not sorry, you know. I refuse to be.”

“Did I say I was?” Chuckling, he rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. “What kind of man do you think I am? Mind-blowing sex never goes in that category. It doesn’t work that way.”

They fell silent again, though this time without the awkwardness of earlier. After a time, Liz met his eyes. “What did Lopez say when you told him about the Horned Flower?”

Rick didn’t answer immediately, and she knew. “Your friend thinks Mark did it. Right?”

“He thinks there’s more than probable cause there, yes.”

“Of course, he’s the same one who thought Naomi Pearson ran off,” she said softly, but with an edge of bitterness.

“I owe Val my life, Liz. After Sam’s death I wanted to give up. Without Val, I would have.” He looked away, then back. “He’s my oldest friend. And he’s a good cop.”

“A good cop? Really? You could have fooled me. He hasn’t called one right yet.” He remained silent and she pressed on. “What about the Horned Flower, Rick? What about my sister’s drawing and Tara’s tattoo?”

“What about them?” he retorted, voice tight. “As Val pointed out, Tara could have shown your sister the tattoo and then your sister sketched it in her notes. Tara could have gotten the tattoo during the time she was in your sister’s care and-”

“But none of that explains what the symbol represents…I think it represents this group Mark told us about. I think my sister was scared of them. I think the Horned Flower is the group she mentioned in her phone message.”

“That’s all well and good, Liz. But what proof do you have?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. “It may represent some underground group here on the island. But there’s a second victim now, Liz. And I have a hard time believing this group of teenagers is responsible for killing not only Tara, but Naomi Pearson, too.”

Eyes burning, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t know what or who to believe. Rick made a lot of sense. She had worked out the scenario of why the Horned Flower had killed Tara, but why Naomi Pearson? It didn’t make sense.

But she believed in Mark. She believed in her sister. Rachel had uncovered a conspiracy. She had been afraid for her life.

“What if you’re wrong, Liz?” Rick asked. “What if there’s no Horned Flower and no conspiracy? What if Mark is guilty?”

She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, then turned her face to his. “But what if I’m not?”