The Wrong Girl

69

“I hate search warrants.”

Jake had to smile as DeLuca’s voice came over the cruiser’s speaker.

“No reason to wait to get those assholes. Crime scene cleanup, my ass. They’re the freaking criminals.”

“Yup, D. They’re in on something. And they sure as hell know where Leonard Perl is. But Supe insists we get a warrant before we hit them up. Judge Gallagher’s been sent the request affidavit. Hey. It’s law and order, right? We’re the law. We need her order.”

Jake checked his rearview, made sure Jane was following him. It was after midnight. She’d looked zonked and scared and exhausted, but she’d insisted on driving home herself. He shook his head, keeping an eye on her headlights. They’d compromised that she’d follow him, he’d see her safely inside. He held up a hand. Jane waved back. She was so…

“Talk about law and order.”

Even over the speaker, D’s voice oozed disdain.

“What about it?” Jake turned onto Beacon Street, Janey right behind him. The snow was over, but the streets were still slick.

“Well, the bad news is our Maggie Gunnison lawyered up. Guess she realized she was in deep shit. Kidnapping and murder being your basic life-in-prison deal,” DeLuca said. “So we’re hearing zip from her. She’s currently residing in the luxurious confines of the Suffolk lockup, probably calculating her options.”

“Which may include offering up the whereabouts of Leonard Perl,” Jake said. “Speaking of which, you ever get that Florida DMV photo?”

“You’re livin’ right,” DeLuca said. “It’s a fax, if you can believe it. Stone age. The quality’s not that great. But I’ll e-mail it to your cell. You never know.”

Jane pulled into a place in front of her building, behind the spot where Jake had just turned off the engine of his cruiser. She saw his interior lights blink on, saw his door open. So he was getting out, not just waiting for her to come to his window to say good-bye. Would he want to stay over? Would she want him to?

She clicked open her car door and got out, grateful to be home, grateful to be safe, grateful that Ella would live, would even be okay. She wished she could be mad at her.

Ella’s keys weighed heavy in her pocket. Tomorrow morning, she’d go feed the cat. Tomorrow morning, she’d try to figure out what to do with the piece of paper Ella had given her. The sky was brightening, the moon a fading memory in the dark blue sky. It was already morning.

Headlights glared around the corner, then stopped at the stop sign up the block.

“Hey, Officer.” Jane met Jake halfway on the sidewalk. Then took a step closer. “I’m good. I’m fine. Thanks for, ah, babysitting me. Always good to have a cop around.”

“Your tax dollars at work.” Jake glanced at her front door. Took a step closer to her. “Your tax dollars also allow me to see you inside. If you so desire. It’s our after-hours special.”

They stood, less than arm’s length away. Jane felt his force field, drawing her, in the murky light from the streetlights, and the thin whisper of the wind, and the gray clouds separating to show a glimmer of the winter stars. Jake. She remembered his touch, the urgency in his voice as he’d grabbed her from the fire. Why couldn’t she fall into his arms, grateful, needing him, giving in, forgetting all the rules of the world and caring about only their own rules? “Jake, I-”

Did they have to be careful, even here? Was the watcher in the brownstone seeing the two of them? What if he was the one who-She was too exhausted to think about it. About anything but Jake.

“You-we-” Jane took another step closer, reached out her hand, dared to brush an imaginary snowflake from Jake’s jacket. Maybe now they could-His phone beeped, and she warmed with reassurance when he ignored it. “It’s been quite a day.”

She heard a car’s engine shift, and looked up to see the headlights at the stop sign move closer.

“Yeah, it has. Quite a day. And now we both smell like fire.”

Jake had to leave, needed to leave, couldn’t possibly leave. He should be at Bethany Sibbach’s house at the crack of dawn, before Phillip got a look at baby Diane, and there was no way he could make it though another day on no sleep. Today’d been tough enough. Putting it mildly. Dolly Richards’ license plate list-including the gray van’s-were safely in his notes. But Jane. She’d been through so much. He didn’t even know why Ella had called her. “You were nuts to go into a burning building, hon-Jane.”

“You went in, too, you know.” Jane’s voice was a whisper. Her touch lingered on his jacket. “To get me. So you’re just as nuts. But I keep thinking what might have happened if you hadn’t.”

Headlights pulled into a parking space in front of the brownstone across the street. Jane pointed to the car.

“Your hotshot surveillance guy’s probably seeing him, you know,” she whispered. “And, more importantly, he’s seeing us. Don’t want him to report you, right? You here with me in the middle of the night. Standing like this. How’d you explain that?”

“Police business, ma’am.” Jake looped her arm through his, pulling her even closer. “All on the up and up. In fact, I won’t have done my duty until I go upstairs, check your whole apartment. Maybe-stay awhile. Make sure nothing untoward happens. Make sure you’re safe. Doing my sworn duty.”

Jane smiled that smile up at him. He could feel the weight of her body against his. He was exhausted, she was, too. If he went inside, they’d probably fall asleep instantly. Very romantic.

“Hec.” She was looking over his shoulder now, and her face had changed.

“Heck what?” Heck?

“No. H-e-c. Underhill. The Register freelancer. Getting out of that car across the street. In front of surveillance-guy’s building,” Jane said, her voice low. She shrugged. “Alex told me he lived in my neigh-”

“What?” Jake turned, following her gaze as she paused, mid-sentence. She was staring at the man across the street.

He felt her hand clutch his arm.

“Jake?” she whispered. “If you want to do your sworn duty, come with me.”