Lover, Stranger Part 12

"What incident are you talking about?"

The woman bit her lip, as if worrying about how much to tell the dead woman's sister.

"There was a man, Amy's boyfriend, I guess. I gather he was... married."

Her gaze flashed to Grace's face. Seeing no signs of resentment, she continued.

"He was at her apartment one night when his wife showed up. I live here in the complex, you know. Right across the parking lot from Amy's apartment.

Anyway, the woman created such a disturbance I finally had to call the police."

"What did she do?"

Another pause. The woman's frown deepened.

"She had a gun. She shot out the tires on her husband's Porsche, and then threatened to use the gun on Amy." amy's apartment was decorated in soothing pastels--green, peach and cream. The colors reminded Grace of warm breezes and flower-scented afternoons. Of youth and innocence and everything she'd lost one cold Sat.u.r.day night.

The apartments Grace had occupied since that night fourteen years ago, when she'd lost her whole family, were places where she slept and sometimes ate.

They were never home. Not like this.

For the first time since she'd heard about Amy's death, Grace let herself feel the impact of the loss. She hadn't known Amy well.

They'd spoken on only two occasions, once here in Amy's apartment.

But Grace had sensed something about the young woman, a loneliness that had touched a chord deep within Grace's own darkness. The door to Amy's apartment opened, and Grace turned. Ethan stepped tentatively inside.

"All right if I come in now?" Nodding, she motioned him in.

Ethan walked into the room, looking around.

"Nice place," he murmured.

"Do you recognize it?"

He glanced at her.

"Why? Have I been here before?" Grace started to tell him the story the manager had related to her, but then decided he'd had enough blows for one day.

"I thought you might have, considering."

He walked over to a pine bookshelf and picked up a picture, studying it intently.

Grace knew the picture. Amy had told her about it the night they'd first met, when Grace had come here to talk about Ethan. The photograph was of Amy and a boyfriend who had long since gone his own way, but Amy had told Grace that she liked the way the two of them looked together so she'd kept the picture on display. Grace could see why. Blond and fair, dressed all in white, Amy looked radiant, almost ethereal against a snowy Rocky Mountain backdrop. Grace walked over and stood beside Ethan.

"That's Amy," she said softly. Her eyes were drawn to the picture, and for the first time, she detected a similarity between Amy and Pilar Hunter. The resemblance was not so much in their faces but in the perfection of their features.

"Evidently you have a thing for beautiful women," she said. Ethan glanced up, his eyes locking with hers.

"Evidently, I do." His gaze dropped almost imperceptibly, touching the curves of Grace's body only briefly before lifting to her face. Something dark flickered in his eyes. Something that made Grace's heart pound in awareness.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything, but the attraction between them was electric.

This can't be happening, Grace thought. Not here. Not now. And especially not with this man.

She had a job to do. A killer to find. Nothing could get in her way.

And yet, something was getting in her way. Clouding her judgment.

Threatening her whole way of life.

She knew that he was going to kiss her, but Grace was powerless to stop it.

Powerless to fight it. Powerless to do anything more than close her eyes briefly before his lips touched hers. And it was only a touch. Nothing more than a faint skimming of their lips, but Grace's heart pounded an erratic rhythm inside her breast. When she made no move to resist, he deepened the kiss, almost urgently, and finally Grace heard the warnings that were screaming inside her head.

You can't do this! You're risking everything! Besides which, he was a married man.

Immediately, Grace stepped back, glaring at him angrily, trying to convince herself she'd had no part in the kiss. Trying to rea.s.sure herself it would never, ever happen again.

She waited for the plat.i.tudes and the apologies. The I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I don't know what came over me excuse. Instead he stared down at her, his dark eyes openly defiant, as if he were daring her to deny the blatant s.e.xual chemistry between them. Without a word, Grace turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Six.

Inside Amy's bedroom. Grace stood leaning against the wall, eyes closed, while she tried to get her heartbeat, her emotions, under control.

What would Myra say if she could see her protegee now--pulse pounding, hands trembling, stomach fluttering like a schoolgirl's?

This was so unlike Grace. She never lost control. She opened her eyes and took several long breaths. All right, so the kiss had been a mistake. No question about that, but there was nothing to be done but put it behind her.

Stop thinking about it and get back to work.

Grace knew all about using work to forget. There had been times when her job was all that had kept her going. After all she'd been through, a kiss seemed so inconsequential.

And yet. It hadn't been just a kiss. That was the problem. It had been an acknowledgment of the attraction--the dangerous kind--that existed between her and Ethan Hunter. The kind of attraction that made people forget who and what they were, and why they shouldn't be together.

But that can't happen, Grace told herself firmly. It won't happen. After all the years of indifference--of celibacy, for G.o.d's sake--it would take more than a man without a memory, a man with a dangerous past, to awaken her sleeping libido. Grace would make sure of it.

She drew another long breath and glanced around. She knew it was pointless to search Amy's bedroom. Anything helpful or incriminating would have already been removed. So instead, she opened the closet and glanced through Amy's beautiful clothing, selecting a simple black knit dress and a pair of black heels. Opening the jewelry box on Amy's dresser, Grace removed a string of pearls and a pair of matching earrings.

Just as she closed the jewelry box lid, she heard voices from the other room.

Grace thought at first Ethan had turned on the stereo or TV, but when she walked to the bedroom door, she saw a man in a powder-blue suit talking with Ethan. , Grace had never met the man, but she knew who he was. As she entered the room, both pairs of males eyes turned on her, and a s.h.i.+ver of apprehension slipped up her spine. ' Ethan introduced her to Sergeant Pope with the Houston Police Department, and the detective lifted his grizzled eyebrows as he took her in.

"You were at the crime scene last night. I didn't meet you myself, but Webber told me about you. He said you were pretty distraught. Only natural, I guess, considering."

"Yes, Sergeant Webber was very courteous under the circ.u.mstances,"

Grace said.

"I appreciated that."

"Refresh my memory," Pope said.

"I don't seem to remember what you were doing at the clinic last night."

Grace glanced at Ethan. He was staring at her curiously. Maybe even a little suspiciously, and no wonder. She'd failed to mention to him that she'd been at the crime scene just minutes after he and Amy had been taken away. Any hint of the pa.s.sion she'd glimpsed in his eyes earlier had vanished.

She turned back to Pope.

"Amy and I were supposed to have dinner.

She called and said she might be running a little late because she was going by the clinic first. I went to the restaurant and waited for her, but after a while, I got worried. The clinic isn't in the safest area of town, you know, so I decided to go by and check on her. "

Grace paused, her gaze dropping to the black dress draped across her arm and the pearls and shoes clutched in her hands.

"The police were already there when I arrived." Her gaze lifted to Ethan's.

"Dr.

Hunter and Amy had already been taken away. "

"That's what you meant last night when you said the police had talked to you?" Ethan asked.

She nodded.

"They told me what had happened, and then Sergeant Webber asked me to go down to the morgue with him and identify Amy's body." Grace shuddered, remembering the coldness of the room, the steel vaults. The dead bodies.

She would never get used to that.

Never.

The detective glanced at first Grace, then Ethan.

"How did the two of you hook up?"

Before Ethan had a chance to answer. Grace said, "I went by the hospital to see how he was doing. When I learned he was checking himself out, I volunteered to drive him home. And then knowing how difficult it would be, he offered to come over here with me today. I thought it was... very considerate."

The suspicion in Ethan's eyes turned to puzzlement.

Who are you? his expression seemed to be saying. What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?

"I hope we haven't done anything wrong, Sergeant." Grace widened her eyes innocently.

"Letting ourselves in here, I mean. There wasn't any crime scene tape on the door, or anything."

Pope's gaze narrowed on her.

"How did you get in? You have a key?"

"The apartment manager let us in. I explained that I needed to get some of Amy's clothes for her to be... buried in. The funeral is tomorrow."

The detective looked surprised.

"Tomorrow? That's rus.h.i.+ng it a little, isn't it?"

"Not really." Grace shrugged.

"Amy and I don't have any family, no out-of-town relatives to wait for. I just want to get it over with as soon as possible. There won't be a problem... getting her body released, will there?"

Again Grace felt Ethan's gaze on her, but this time she kept her attention on Pope. His awful blue suit, greased hair and world-weary expression didn't fool her one bit. He was sharp. As soon as he got back to the station, he would check out her story. Grace had no doubt about that.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he said.

"The coroner has already filed his report. Didn't take long to figure out the cause of death." When Grace winced, he said, "Sorry. Sometimes you forget." He took a few steps into the room, gazing around. With his back still turned to them, he said, "So why did you check yourself out of the hospital, Dr. Hunter? You were in pretty bad shape when I left you last night."

Ethan exchanged a glance with Grace, one that said, We 're going to talk about all this later. Trust me.

"I wanted to get home, rest in my own bed. I don't like hospitals."

Pope turned at that.

"Worrisome hang-up for a doctor, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all," Ethan said smoothly.

"I think you'll find most of my colleagues have that same 'hang-up." You've heard the expression Doctors Make The Worst Patients. I'm afraid it's true.

" He was good, Grace thought. Quick on his feet. Almost frighteningly so.

She stared at him with new admiration.

"I came by to see you this morning," Pope said. He withdrew a wallet and a pa.s.sport from the inside pocket of his suit coat. He handed the items to Ethan.

"I wanted to give you these. I'll have someone deliver the luggage and your briefcase to your house later today."

Ethan gazed at the wallet and pa.s.sport for several seconds before putting them away in his own jacket pocket. Grace could only guess what he was thinking. A wallet meant information. A pa.s.sport could mean freedom.

The detective finished his perusal of the room and turned back to them. He nodded to the clothing in Grace's arms.

"Looks like you got what you came for. The mortuary you select will take care of the arrangements with the morgue."

"Thank you." Grace turned to Ethan.