didn’t look at all surprised to see him standing there and he didn’t like that, either.
“Detective,” she said in the same even voice she’d used the night before. “I know you were in court the day Green was tried and I know what you think of me. To say you are wrong would do no good at this time.”
The even keel of her voice made the hackles on his neck stand straight up. He held her eyes and nodded. “I’d have to say you’re right, Dr. Ciccotelli. It would do no good. We have to look at the evidence we’ve gathered. For Cynthia Adams’s sake.”
“Tess.” Her attorney pul ed at her arm. “Let’s go.”
“No, Amy. Wait.” She looked away for a brief moment, then back up, her gaze penetrating and… sad. It threw him. Just a little. “Detective Reagan, somebody wanted Cynthia dead and it wasn’t me. Please.” Then she did the unexpected, grasping his forearm, making his entire arm jolt. His heart took off at a gallop and there was suddenly not enough air in the room. He couldn’t seem to look away from her dark eyes. “Find out who did this,” she whispered fiercely. “They used me to hurt one of my patients. Cynthia died thinking she’d lost her mind. That I’d forsaken her, too. I know what you think of me. But last night you cared about her. Please make whoever did this pay.”
Then her hand was gone and so was she, leaving him to stare after her. And wonder. Sunday, March 12, 3:30 P.M.
Just another minute. The elevator bell dinged and before the doors were ful y open, Tess was through them and into the police station lobby, breathing hard, Amy fol owing at a more leisurely pace. Being shoved into a suffocating elevator had put a cap on an otherwise sucky day. Tess flicked a glance at the glass doors that opened to the street. Another minute. In another minute she’d be out of the police station and…
And she’d still be in an inconceivable predicament. Tess smacked Amy’s helping hand out of her way, shoving her arms into her coat on her own as she walked. “You let me sit in that interrogation room for an hour because you went home to put on your damn suit?” she hissed. Amy lifted a single brow, managing to look affronted and dignified at the same time. “I thought it better to show up looking like a professional and not a street hooker.”
Tess buttoned her coat with jerky movements. “I do not look like a street hooker,” she bit out from behind gritted teeth, then saw one corner of Amy’s mouth quirk up and knew her oldest friend had met her objective. For a few seconds she hadn’t been thinking about that stark room with its two-way mirror or Aidan Reagan’s accusing eyes. Or Cynthia Adams lying dead in the morgue. Or the fact that her own fingerprints existed in a place she’d never been. She blew out an exasperated breath. “You’re just jealous I found this red jacket before you did.”
Amy chuckled. “You’re right. Macy’s?”
29
Karen Rose
[Suspense 5]
You Can't Hide
“Marshal Fields, sixty percent off.”
Amy’s grin went cagey. “And you’l let me borrow it?”
“Sure, why not? As long as you let me borrow your black sweater.” Tess passed the main desk, ignoring the desk sergeant’s blatantly curious stare. She’d come in between two grim detectives and was now leaving with a known defense attorney. Hell. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. By shift’s end it would be all over the precinct and she knew no cop here would shed a single tear. Instead they’d toast Reagan and Murphy for giving the shrink her just desserts.
Amy lightly grasped her elbow and propelled her toward the front door. “My new cashmere sweater?” she asked, but the cheer in her voice was strained and Tess knew she was keeping up the routine for any ears that happened to be listening. “Your boobs are bigger than mine. You’l stretch it.”
Hearing her best friend strive for merriment served to sour Tess’s mood further. The
“Detective,” she said in the same even voice she’d used the night before. “I know you were in court the day Green was tried and I know what you think of me. To say you are wrong would do no good at this time.”
The even keel of her voice made the hackles on his neck stand straight up. He held her eyes and nodded. “I’d have to say you’re right, Dr. Ciccotelli. It would do no good. We have to look at the evidence we’ve gathered. For Cynthia Adams’s sake.”
“Tess.” Her attorney pul ed at her arm. “Let’s go.”
“No, Amy. Wait.” She looked away for a brief moment, then back up, her gaze penetrating and… sad. It threw him. Just a little. “Detective Reagan, somebody wanted Cynthia dead and it wasn’t me. Please.” Then she did the unexpected, grasping his forearm, making his entire arm jolt. His heart took off at a gallop and there was suddenly not enough air in the room. He couldn’t seem to look away from her dark eyes. “Find out who did this,” she whispered fiercely. “They used me to hurt one of my patients. Cynthia died thinking she’d lost her mind. That I’d forsaken her, too. I know what you think of me. But last night you cared about her. Please make whoever did this pay.”
Then her hand was gone and so was she, leaving him to stare after her. And wonder. Sunday, March 12, 3:30 P.M.
Just another minute. The elevator bell dinged and before the doors were ful y open, Tess was through them and into the police station lobby, breathing hard, Amy fol owing at a more leisurely pace. Being shoved into a suffocating elevator had put a cap on an otherwise sucky day. Tess flicked a glance at the glass doors that opened to the street. Another minute. In another minute she’d be out of the police station and…
And she’d still be in an inconceivable predicament. Tess smacked Amy’s helping hand out of her way, shoving her arms into her coat on her own as she walked. “You let me sit in that interrogation room for an hour because you went home to put on your damn suit?” she hissed. Amy lifted a single brow, managing to look affronted and dignified at the same time. “I thought it better to show up looking like a professional and not a street hooker.”
Tess buttoned her coat with jerky movements. “I do not look like a street hooker,” she bit out from behind gritted teeth, then saw one corner of Amy’s mouth quirk up and knew her oldest friend had met her objective. For a few seconds she hadn’t been thinking about that stark room with its two-way mirror or Aidan Reagan’s accusing eyes. Or Cynthia Adams lying dead in the morgue. Or the fact that her own fingerprints existed in a place she’d never been. She blew out an exasperated breath. “You’re just jealous I found this red jacket before you did.”
Amy chuckled. “You’re right. Macy’s?”
29
Karen Rose
[Suspense 5]
You Can't Hide
“Marshal Fields, sixty percent off.”
Amy’s grin went cagey. “And you’l let me borrow it?”
“Sure, why not? As long as you let me borrow your black sweater.” Tess passed the main desk, ignoring the desk sergeant’s blatantly curious stare. She’d come in between two grim detectives and was now leaving with a known defense attorney. Hell. It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. By shift’s end it would be all over the precinct and she knew no cop here would shed a single tear. Instead they’d toast Reagan and Murphy for giving the shrink her just desserts.
Amy lightly grasped her elbow and propelled her toward the front door. “My new cashmere sweater?” she asked, but the cheer in her voice was strained and Tess knew she was keeping up the routine for any ears that happened to be listening. “Your boobs are bigger than mine. You’l stretch it.”
Hearing her best friend strive for merriment served to sour Tess’s mood further. The
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