Eyewitness. Part 4

Doug propped an elbow on one knee and let his forehead drop into the support of his hand. He pressed hard on his temples, ma.s.saging slowly. "" Doug? "

"Yeah." He took a deep breath, feeling as if he were walking a beat through a rough neighborhood in a pea-soup fog. "Jim, I don't like what's going on down here. Something doesn't feel right. Remember how it was before with this d.a.m.n case? Seemed like somebody was always just one friggin' jump ahead of us? Well, it's like it's happening all over again." His voice had started to rise, and he hastily lowered it. "It's taken me too d.a.m.n long to find this girl, and I'm for d.a.m.n sure not ready to let her slip out of my hands again."

"So what are we talking about?" His former partner's voice had gone soft, too. Soft and wary. "Stas.h.i.+ng her someplace?"

He hesitated. Beyond the living room doorway he was acutely conscious of another presence, intently listening, He cupped a hand around the receiver, the decision sliding firmly into his mind even as the words took shape on his lips. "Look-Jim. You've got a lot at stake right now. If I tell you what I'm up to, either you're going to have to try and stop me, or you're going to put your whole future on the line."

"Don't worry about it. What are friends for?" "

" Don't joke partner: '

"Who's joking? Doug, you know you can trust me. You always could."

Memory rolled over Doug like a cold ocean wave. qrbulence and confusion, darkness and brilliance, the roar of traffic, shouts, gunshots, the shock of a body hurtling through s.p.a.ce, knocking him to the ground. The heavy weight of that body on top of him, the sticky warmth of blood that wasn't his.

He laughed softly, painfully. "Forget it. How's it going to look for the new chief of L.A 's finest if he's implicated in a conspiracy to withhold evidence in a homicide investigation ? Look.. " He spoke rapidly now, urgently, rolling over Shannon's protests. " " Right now I just need to get her out of here-fast. I'll keep you posted. The minute I find out anything, believe me, you'll be the first to know: '

He hung up on the tinny squawks of protest, just as Mary Joy Donnelly stepped through the doorway and into the light. She came that far and no farther, leaned against the door frame and folded her arms upon her chest. He regarded her with hard eyes and clenched jaw, knowing how important it was to maintain absolute control of the situation and trying hard to hold on to his purpose and resolve. But G.o.d, it was hard, when her mouth had that waif look again, vulnerable but defiant. When her hair was tousled, completely artless, so that she looked like a little kid just waking from a nap. When her eyes were so huge and hurt, and accusing. Looking at her made something strange happen inside him, something painful and, in a vague sort of way, frightening.

"So," she said, just a shade too loudly, "are you going to arrest me, or what? Aren't you supposed to read me my rights or something?"

"Probably," said Doug. He rubbed a hand over his face, noting with surprise the length of the beard stubble on his jaw. He leaned back, laced his hands behind his head and studied the woman in the doorway thoughtfully. "What is it I'm supposed to arrest you for, Joy?"

Her chin came up one brave notch, but she couldn't quite manage to hide the tremor in her voice. "For murdering my roommate. That's what you think I did, isn't it? You think I killed Belle."

He was glad that at least she'd stopped denying she was who she was. " " Did you? " he asked softly.

Her head jerked, as if her whole being was expressing the denial she could only whisper. " " No. "

"But you know who did, don't you?" He fired that right back at her, giving her no change to recover her composure This time her denial was much more emphatic-and as far as Doug was concerned, a lot less believable. Her mouth snapped shut-the spring trap, again-and she turned her head deliberately to one side, remmding him of nothing so much as an obstinate child.

"I could still arrest you," he said mildly. "For withholding information in a murder case."

"Yeah, so why don't you?" It was sheer bravado. He could see that she was dangerously pale, and he had an idea that there was a good reason why she was leaning against the wall like that.

It was no time to feel sympathy, and an even worse time for the urge he suddenly had to put his arms around her and invite her to lean against him instead of the d.a.m.n wall. Taking care to keep both emotions out of his voice, he said, " " Is that what you want me to do? "

He could have sworn he heard her swallow, even from clear across the room. She looked past him and whispered, "I don't know anything: " " So what do you want? Want me to leave? " He jerked his head in the general direction of the bullet-pocked wall. "I.et whoever did that come back and finish the job?"

She didn't answer. After a moment Doug got up and crossed the room in an unhurried stroll. He stood looking down at her, hands in his pockets, in the manner of an elementary school princ.i.p.al zeroing in on a stubborn miscreant'L,ook, Joy. The way I see it you've got two choices. " " "Mary Jo. " " " Pardon? "

She gave her head a little toss. "My name's Mary Jo, not Joy. I wish you wouldn't keep calling me that: '

"You called yourself that," he said softly. "Once upon a time. Didn't you?"

Her eyes seemed to flicker, like guttering candle flames, then went cold and dark, disappearing behind the curtain of hastily dropped lashes. "It was along time ago."

It occurred to him suddenly, irrelevantly, that what gave her mouth that bruised, vulnerable look was the fact that the upper lip had very little indentation. And then for one wild moment he had the panicky feeling that he'd completely lost the thread of the conversation.

He cleared his throat and said in a hard voice, tossing it off as if it wasn't of any consequence to him one way or the other, "Okay, Mary Jo, then. Mary Jo, did you ever hear the expression, " between a rock and a hard place'? Now, on the one hand, you've got jail-that's the hard place. On the other hand, there's somebody that seems to want you dead-that's the rock. Between, you got me. That's where you are right now. You follow me? "

She was silent, still steadfastly refusing to look at him.

In a kinder voice he said, "Look, it seems to me I'm about the best option you've got right now. Maybe it's about time you accepted that and trusted me a little."

If he thought he had her cowed, he'd underestimated her again. Her eyes flew open, striking at him like hurled pebbles , and she fairly spat the words, "Why should I?"

"Why should you?" She'd surprised him so much he hardly knew what to say, except, "Whyshouldn't you?"

Again something flickered in her eyes, but this time, although s.h.i.+elded, their gaze remained steady. "Think about it, MacDougal. qvo things happenerl to me today, right out of the blue. Number one, you shaw up. And number two, somebody tries to kill me. Am I really supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"

Chapter 5.

There was a brief period when qerything in him struggled to deny it. But that was it, of course, the thing that had been bothering him all night, starting from the minute he'd driven onto a quiet, middle-cla.s.s residential street in San Diego and heard the unmistakable sounds of automatic weapons fire. Coincidence?

He dragged a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes which seemed roughly the size and texture of tennis b.a.l.l.s. It had been along time since he'd slept.

"Truth?" he said finally, frowning in his effort to bring her face back into focus. "I don't know what to think. And most of what I am thinking I don't like very much: '

He put the blame for what he did next on the fact that he was very, very tired; he didn't like using physical intimidation , especially on a woman. Especially this woman. In spite of that he felt himself s.h.i.+fting his weight, leaning toward Joy and bracing one hand on the wall above her head. With his other hand he captured and imprisoned her face, fingers on one cheekbone, thumb on the other. He spoke very softly.

"Problem is, I'm a detective, so I don't like coincidences They make me suspicious. But I'll tell you this much. Whether your name is Joy Donnelly or Mary Jo Delinsky , or Mary Mary Quite Contrary, the fact is I've been looking for you for ten years-ten years, dammit. I've been looking for you because I have some questions I'm pretty sure you know the answers to. And if you think for one minute I'm going to let you out of my sight until I get those answers..."

The muscles in his jaws hurt; he made a conscious effort to unclench his teeth. He could hear the harshness in his voice, though he kept it reined in and just above a whisper.

"We have to talk, Mary Jo. You understand me?" He gave her face a little waggle of encouragement and waited for her barely perceptible nod. Then he took his hand away from her face and let go of the breath he'd been holding. "But not here. I don't want to take a chance on those guys coming back. Let's go. Get your things."

"Where..." She cleared her throat with a small, cautious sound. "Where are you taking me?"

He could see the pale imprint of his fingers on her flushed cheek, and it made him feel mean and slightly queasy. The velvety feel of her skin still vibrated on his nerve endings, aftenhocks of the sensory jolt that had just sent a wave of heat right through him.

He looked around distractedly. "Never mind where." He found that he was rubbing his fingertips against the heel of his hand, and made himself stop it. " " Come on, get what you need and let's-"

"I'm not going." "

" Pardon? "

"I said I'm not going. I can't. I won't."

Now what ? d.a.m.n the woman. But there was a look in her eye he was beginning to recognize.

Doug's temper was a well-kept secret. Very few people were aware that he even had one because he seldom lost it, a good thing, too, as close family members could have testified When he did lose it, it was an awesome thing to behold But while he was an extremely patient man, he did have his flashpoint, and thanks to a combination of hunger fatigue and frustration, he was dangerously near that point now.

Slowly, enunciating carefully, he said, "What do you mean, you won't go? You don't seem to understand, I'm not giving you a choice."

Her mouth had an implacable look that was contradicted by her eyes, which were liquid and s.h.i.+ny, like warm maple syrup. She fixed those eyes on him and said, "I'm not leaving without Moki."

It suddenly occurred to Doug that he was not in control of the situation any longer. If he ever had been. Which is not a feeling any cop likes to have, and Doug was no exception. He felt unarmed and unarmored, which he found frightening He felt frail and human, which he found intolerable.

The truth was, he hadn't really felt in control since the first moment he'd set eyes on Joy Donnelly. He'd been so blown away by the miracle of finding her that he'd committed the cardinal-and potentially fatal-sin of letting his guard down. And he knew he couldn't-could not-let that happen again. Because, whether she was a murderer or not, if she had that kind of effect on him she was dangerous. A lot more dangerous than he'd antic.i.p.ated.

He made himself take a step back, both physically and emotionally, and folded his arms on his chest, consciously barricading himself against her. "Moki," he said, pleased to hear that his voice sounded calm, quiet, firm. "That would be..."

"Mycat." "

She pushed herself away from the wall and toward him, and folded her arms over her chest in a parody of his own stance that he was pretty sure wasn't intentional. It occurred to Doug that they must look like a couple of mismatched bookends, faced off like that.

She cleared her throat and said unevenly, "I can't very well just go away and leave him. Especially since he probably saved my life."

" A cat. saved your life. "

"Well, yeah. He jumped out of my arms and I was trying to catch him, and that's when the shooting started. And, um, I guess I lost my balance." She gave an ironic little shrug as she slipped past him. "Anyway, that's how come I landed in the bushes. So I guess if he hadn't jumped, I'd probably be dead right now, huh?"

Doug said something under his breath which his mother, a devout Roman Catholic, would probably have considered blasphemous. Joy threw him a look, a wry little half smile.

"Yeah, funny isn't it, the way things happen?" She suddenly clapped a hand across her mouth and exclaimed, "OmiG.o.d-I just thought of something. I bet he knew those guys were out there. I thought he was just mad because I wouldn't let him out." She had the front door half open before he realized what she was up to.

He lunged for the door and straight-armed it shut. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Let... me... out, dammit: She was tugging furiously at the doork.n.o.b. " I have to find-" " "The h.e.l.l you do." He caught her by the shoulder and yanked her back from the door, ignoring a hiss of pain that reminded him belatedly, and with a guilty pang, of her scratches.

"Yeah, but.. but I know where he probably is. He must be terrified. I can't just leave him here. Please let me look for him. It'll only take me a minute. Please-I can't.. " And suddenly she was crying.

Doug was no stranger to women's tears. In his business he saw a lot of them, both the real and the crocodile variety, but he couldn't remember any ever affecting him the way hers did. Then there was the fact that she was so obviously dismayed by her own tears-horrified, almost-which made them all the more gut-wrenching.

The way they made him feel reminded him suddenly and vividly of a scene from his childhood-a cold, gray drizzle, and a crowd gathered around an open grave. the sound of rain drip-dripping from the edges of an umbrella, the crack of rifles fired in salute. a flag folded into a tight, triangular bundle, and his father's rugged face, contorted and wet with what Doug had understood even then wasn't rain. back by that time. well, he'd cross that bridge when he He remembered the way he'd felt inside, watching his father weep for his friend and partner, killed in the line of He didn't say anything to Joy, though. He simply didn't duty. He remembered the cold, upside-down feeling that was q qt himself to speak. fear. Mary was busy in reflections of her own. I don't under " " Hey," he croaked and, before he knew what he was go stand , she thought. How can this feel so good? This man ing to do, turned Joy Donnelly into his arms. ) was a cop and a stranger. But his arms were so strong At first she fought him like a frightened cat, bracing q around her, his heartbeat so steady against her cheek, his against his chest with her fists, then her forearms, growling ; hand so gentle in her hair. Never in all her life before had she " No. no. : in helpless fury. ) felt like this-wrapped in warmth, steeped in security, pro But he was a whole lot stronger than she was. q q, cherished and cared for. " " Hey," he said again, and was bemused to hear that this The sensation was so wonderful it utterly demoralized her. time it sounded almost like a croon. His hand cradled the q She felt shattered, overwhelmed by a grief she didn't un back of her head; his fingers pushed through her hair and understand at all. How could she feel such a terrible sense of rasped softly against her scalp. He felt her begin to relax a loss for something she'd never even had? little, then a little more, and finally the damp warmth of her I can't do this, she thought. I can't. breath and tears soaked into his s.h.i.+rt. Something inside his She heard the sounds she was making, sounds she'd never made before, sobs like those of a heartbroken child. And She chest seemed to tighten and quiver. " It's okay," he heard himself murmur. " It's okay. We heard something else, too-the cop's soft, wordless murwon 't leave without him, I promise. How 'bout if I go look C murs of comfort. She felt his hand stroking her hair, the for him? " , bare and vulnerable nape of her neck. A shock-wave of pain She shook her head, a movement that caused her face to 1 rolled through her, like magma boiling beneath the surface rub against the front of his s.h.i.+rt in a way that felt disc on- q of a volcano, or an avalanche of sorrow that was utterly becertingly like nuzzling. " You'd never find him: It was a q yond her control. whisper, m.u.f.fled and husky. "He hates strangers. Fspe- i Ican't... Ican't. cially men." But then somehow her arms found their own way around Oh, great, Doug thought, gazing up at the oeiling. And q the cop's midsection, her hands clutched at his s.h.i.+rt, gaththen he thought, Oh, Lord, I wonder if he likes mynah q ered it to desperate fistfuls, and she was clinging to him as birds. He had a sudden, vivid mental picture of the cat ; she would to a rock in a flood. making Maurice's acquaintance for the first time. Which, j Sometime later, in the darkest, quietest time of the night, the more he thought about it, did cheer him up some. Mary awoke to a strange, rhythmic sound. A harsh, but "Okay," he finally said, with a sigh he acknowledged as q oddly comforting, sound. She was so disoriented it took her complete capitulation. "I guess we can wait awhile... see if a while to figure out what it was. It wasn't a sound she could he shows up. He'll probably come back home once he knows ; ever recall having heard before. it's safe, right?" q Somewhere, very close by, a man was snoring. Joy mumbled something he couldn't hear. q, How funny, she thought. The cop-MacDougal-was Oh, well, he thought, what the h.e.l.l. He was too tired to snoring. And very close by. So close his breath stirred her drive to L. A. right now, anyway. He'd rest for a little hair, so close she felt the rumble of it beneath her cheek. Oh while . maybe an hour or two. If the d.a.m.n cat hadn't come ', Lord, when had she come to be snuggled on his lap, wrapped in his arms with her head pillowed on his chest, in the middle of her living room sofa? When-and how could she have fallen asleep in the arms of a cop ?

It was all so strange. And the strangest part of it was, she felt no desire whatsoever to move out of those arms. She felt limp, exhausted, utterly spent. and at the same time, unbelievably content. She remembered it all now, being in such awful pam, feeling such overwhelming sorrow. It had probably been cathartic, although at the time she hadn't really understood what she was grieving for. Even now, sheltered and protected in the arms of a stranger, she still couldn't figure out why.

I have so much. That was what she told herself, as she had always done. I am so fortunate. I'm thankful for my health, my home, my friends. I have so much. Why should I be sad?

Because I have lost so much. The truth came into her mind like a cold and mournful little wind, scattering her denials like so many dry leaves. She'd lost. oh, G.o.d, so much. Her family. Her sisters. And Belle, of course. Her dreams. And trust. And so many other things she hadn't let herself think about for such along time. Thinking about them now should have brought more pain, more grief, but somehow it didn't. Maybe she was just too drained, too numb, but for some reason instead of feeling sad, she felt. empty. Not a bad kind of empty, but an emptiness that waits, like a cup or a bowl, to be filled. She felt. for the first time in a very long time, she felt hopeful.

She thought it was ironic, in a way. This cop-MacDougal She'd dreaded his coming so much, been terrified of all that it would mean, but now that he was here, she found that she wasn't afraid anymore.

The rhythm of his snoring stumbled, then resumed. Mary drew an unsteady breath, then held it in wonder while something warm and tremulous came to life inside her. Incredibly , it was happiness-an urge to smile, to giggle, to laugh. Held inside, the laughter became a cool shower of sparkles, like the bubbles in a gla.s.s of champagne. With along sigh she turned the smile against MacDougal's gently heaving chest, and with the music of his snoring in her ears, went back to sleep.

The first thing Doug realized when he woke up was that parts of him were still asleep, parts he hadn't even known were capable of that sort of betrayal. Both feet and an elbow , okay-but portions of his chest and backside?

He s.h.i.+fted, and a warm weight distributed all along his front stirred and rearranged itself in a way that made him acutely aware of another kind of discomfort entirely.

"Joy," he croaked, "wake up." ! She made a querulous sound and burrowed her face into the hollow of his throat. He sighed, and the breeze of his ! exhalation made a lock of hair that was standing up in a childish rooster tail flutter and tickle his lips. He smoothed down the errant strands with his hand, then absentmindedly pressed his lips against them. The scent of strawberries i filled his nostrils, evocative of suns.h.i.+ne and spring.

Then for a while he didn't move at all, just sat enjoying the unique and unexpected pleasure of waking up with a beautiful woman in his arms, feeling no compulsion to a.n.a.lyze it or explain why it should feel so good to him. What he felt mostly was a profound sense of wonder, but not because the woman in his arms was Joy Donnelly, the object of his ten-year-long search-or, some might have said, obsession. No, it was wonder-because it seemed so natural to him to be holding her like that. As if it were something he'd been doing for years and years, and would go on doing for many years more.

A sound intruded on his gentle doze, most likely the same one that had awakened him the first time. It was an unearthly sound. The effect it had on him was something like I fingernails raking down his naked spine.

"Joy... uh, Mary?" He coughed, nudged her head with his chin and said firmly, "Hey, come on, wake up. I think your cat's home."

Catlike herself, she stirred, her body firming, stretching, arching against him. Then suddenly she paused. and sat bolt upright on his lap, which increased certain of his discomforts immeasurably.

"Moki? Really?" Her voice was sleep-slurred and husky. "Oh, G.o.d, he came back. I was afraid-" "Shh," said Doug with gritted teeth. But she'd already hopped off his lap and gone to open the front door, leaving him free to rise, groaning, and hobble to the bathroom on legs that were still p.r.i.c.kly with returning circulation.

He felt better after he'd relieved himself and doused his face with cold water. At that point there wasn't much he wouldn't have given for a shave and a nice hot shower, and he did consider it, with alonging look at the bathtub and its transparent shower curtain patterned with gaily cavorting tropical fish. He figured there was probably even a razor somewhere he could borrow. But he was beginning to feel a real sense of urgency about getting Joyout of that vulnerable little house and into a safer place, so he just borrowed some deodorant and a sprinkle of baby powder instead.

When he came out of the bathroom he could hear Joy in the kitchen, apparently talking baby talk to someone or something. The first thing he saw when he walked into the room was that incredible smile of hers, which was like looking into the sunrise, so it was a moment or two before he really noticed the creature that was winding itself with serpent me grace around her feet.

When he did, he blurted tactlessly, "My G.o.d-what is that?"

Far from seeming insulted, Joy turned up the volume on her smile a few megawatts and scooped the animal into her arms. "This is Moki. He's a purebred Siamese-aren't you, baby? Yes, you are. My neighbor down the street raises them. She gave him to me because she says he has some kind of flaw-too many toes, or something. Isn't he beautiful?"

All Doug could think of at that moment was that, if her name wasn't Joy, it sure should have been.

"Beautiful," he murmured, not meaning the cat, which had fixed him with a pale, op aline stare, while the last six inches or so of his mink-brown tail twitched and curled as if possessed of a life all its own. Personally, Doug thought the beast looked more like a goblin than any cat he'd ever seen before. Its neck was too long, its ears too large, and its small, triangular face much too small to accommodate those eerie, translucent eyes. "They reminded him of something He cleared his throat warily. " " lTh. did you by any chance happen to see Walt Disney's Lady and the Tramp when you were a kid? There were these two evil Siamese cats-"

Joy's laughter was an uninhibited bark of delight, which ended with a happy little gulp. " " I know-he does look kind of sinister, doesn't he? But he doesn't even like fish, and he hardly ever hunts birds. He's really sweet, I swear to G.o.d. Onoe he gets to know you : ' Doug said, "Right," but with a note of lingering doubt as he observed the tips of razor-sharp claws peeking out of deceptively relaxed-looking chocolatqbrown paws. He sighed inwardly and firmly suppressed mental images of cartoon mayhem. It was clear she thought the world of the d.a.m.n beast, so it looked like he and Maurice were just going to have to make the best of things.

He cleared his throat. "Uh.. you know, we really should get going."

She nodded, but showed no sign of being through with nuzzling and sweet-talking the beast. Watching her, it occurred to Doug that she seemed different this morning friendlier , for one thing, and a lot more relaxed around him. Nothing like a good crying jag for breaking the ice, he thought. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that she'd just spent most of the night in his arms. Either way, she seemed to have gotten rid of most of the chip on her shoulder, not to mention her bad att.i.tude toward cops, which in a way was going to make his position that much more difficult. It was hard enough having to keep reminding himself that she was "the target," the material witness in a homicide investigation, when she was so d.a.m.ned beautiful Being physically attracted to her was one thing; if he started to like her on top of it, things were going to get a lot more complicated.

He pulled himself together, put on his best take-charge look and said sternly, "Come on, let's go. You got a carrier for that th-uh, Moki?"

She smiled at him from between the cat's triangle ears, obviously not terribly impressed by his authority. "Yeah, somewhere, but he really hates it. He'll just howl the whole time. That can really get on your nerves. It's probably better if I just hold him: '

"Right," said Doug, and sighed, which was something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. His stomach was giving him warning rumbles, too. "Uh, look, that's fine, but the thing is, I'm pretty hungry, and you probably are, too. What about when we stop for breakfast? We can't just leave the cat in the car."

As desperate as he was for a cup of coffee, there was no way he was going to leave those claws alone with his seat covers. His Meroedes might be old and ugly and stagger a bit on the hills, but it did have leather upholstery.

"No problem," said Joy blithely. "We can just drive through McDonald's" "Perfect, " Doug breathed. He could already feel his cholesterol rising.

Mary broke off a small pi ere of an Egg Mcm.u.f.fin and offered it to Moki, who was perched on the back of her seat, near her shoulder. MacDougal glanced over at her and said irritably, "You sure that stuff's good for cats?"

She could think of a lot of combative answers to that, but for some reason she felt too mellow to bother. There was a strange kind of warmth inside her this morning, like the friendly glow of a nice little old potbellied stove on a cold winter's day, and all she said was "It'll have to do until I can buy some cat food: '

MacDougal grunted, then began to swear and mutter under his breath as they started up a hill and his car coughed and sputtered and the speedometer needle dropped once more below the speed limit.

"Great car," said Mary dryly. She'd made that remark before, and with sincerity, when she'd first learned that the old dirty white Mercedes was MacDougal's. She thought it was kind of endearingly wacky, an unexpected sort of car for a cop to have. But then, she was finding that quite a few things about MacDougal were unexpected. "What's her name?" she'd asked him then, to which he'd replied in a surly tone, "It's a car, not a pet." But she thought that if it was hers, she'd have named it. That's just the kind of car it was.

Now, already regretting her facetious remark, she looked over at MacDougal and asked with genuine concern, "What's wrong with it?"