One-Night Alibi Page 4

  It was over quickly, yet Elizabeth couldn’t imagine sex being any more perfect. As he lay on top of her, breathing hard, his skin slightly damp with perspiration, a glow of contentment settled on her.

  “I usually can last longer,” he assured her when he could talk.

  She laughed. “Men and their egos. I wasn’t timing you.”

  “I just wanted it to be good for you.”

  “It was, trust me.”

  “Give me a few minutes to recover. I think with you I could have a go every half hour all night long.”

  “You’re quite the optimist.”

  “It’s just that you’re so pretty and sexy.”

  “I...well, I probably should be going.” She didn’t want to go, and since tomorrow was Sunday, she had nowhere to be and no one would miss her. Still, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome.

  “What? No way. I mean, of course I’ll take you home if you really want to go, but I’m not one of those guys who makes a conquest, then can’t get rid of her fast enough. I want you to spend the night, to get to know you better...and not just in bed.” He shifted, separating their bodies. She missed him already. “I make killer banana pancakes.”

  “I have to work tomorrow.” It was a lie. But she did have to make the break clean and decisive. This could not be the start of something, much as she wanted it to be.

  When he found out who she was—and he would—he was going to be one pissed-off dude.

  “Still, you don’t have to run off. It’s early yet.”

  He was right about that. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock. Though the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave, she couldn’t make herself get out of bed and put her clothes on.

  “I’ll stay awhile.”

  She snuggled up against him, still feeling the effects of her sexual haze. How sweet it would be if she could fall asleep here with her head on his shoulder, lulled by the rhythm of his deep breathing. Not that she could. Not with what she was keeping from him.

  He, on the other hand, fell asleep almost instantly, which made her smile. Men were so predictable. She knew it was a physiological reaction, but it was amusing how he could be revved up in a frenzy one minute and a minute later sawing logs.

  After a short while, she surprised herself by falling asleep, too.

  When she woke sometime later, she was slightly disoriented. Hudson had an old-fashioned clock radio on his nightstand. Once she got her eyes to focus, she discovered it was almost 2:00 a.m.

  She couldn’t stay until morning. There was no way she could hide her identity from him—it was getting harder and harder to be deceitful.

  She was hunting around in the dark for her dress when she heard a strange noise outside. That was what had awakened her, she realized.

  The wind? An animal, perhaps a raccoon? There were a lot of trees around, and critters liked to hang out near lakes.

  She listened. There it was again. Footsteps. Someone was on the balcony. And it sounded as if they were trying to jimmy a window somewhere else in the house.

  She sat up and shook Hudson. “Hudson!” she hissed. “Wake up. Someone is trying to break in.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  HUDSON WOKE INSTANTLY, sat up and listened. He heard it immediately—the sound of a window rattling from the other bedroom. And it wasn’t the wind.

  He leaped out of bed and grabbed his pants, jumping into them commando style. His gun was in the safe in the closet, damn it. He’d seen no need to take it with him to a wedding, and he would never leave it where a burglar could steal it. Too many stolen guns were on the street.

  “Go into the bathroom,” he said in the take-charge voice he used when he intended to be obeyed. “Take your cell phone and lock the door in case you have to call for help.” He slid open the door of his closet and quickly worked the combination, then grabbed his backup weapon, a sturdy Glock.

  He noiselessly opened the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony, which completely encircled the house. As he stepped out onto the wooden decking in his bare feet, he realized Liz was right behind him. And damned if she didn’t have his Louisville Slugger gripped in both her hands. She’d obviously thrown on the first item of clothing she’d found, which happened to be his dress shirt. She’d buttoned only one button.

  Some other time that would be really charming.

  He wasn’t going to waste time and breath trying to get her to obey orders. She obviously wasn’t the hide-in-the-bathroom type of woman.

  “Just stay behind me,” he whispered. He walked to the corner of the house and peered around it.

  Sure enough, a guy in a ski mask was halfway through his window.

  The ski mask told him a lot. This wasn’t a simple burglary. The intruder knew the house was occupied, and he didn’t want to be identified. The other thing that told him a lot was the gun in the guy’s hand.

  Hudson raised his weapon. “Police! Freeze!”

  The guy didn’t follow orders. He pulled himself out of the window, pointed his gun straight at Hudson and squeezed off a shot.

  Liz screamed.

  Fortunately, Hudson pulled back around the corner, and the shot wasn’t too well aimed to begin with. He heard the bullet whiz past his head and sail off into the trees behind the house.

  Hudson would have been well within his rights to shoot the guy, but he didn’t return fire. Maybe it was because he was already in so much trouble; if he added deadly force to the mix, even justified, his career was over. Or maybe it was simply because he didn’t want to take the life of some scrawny drug addict.

  If the burglar had raised his gun again, Hudson would have shot him. But he didn’t. He turned and vaulted over the balcony railing. It was a long drop, but the guy landed on his feet. Hudson watched him hightail it out to the street and away like a jackrabbit on fire.

  “Are you okay?” Liz asked, coming up behind him.

  “He missed me by a mile. Not even sure he was really trying to hit me, though he ought to know better than to draw down on an armed cop.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know you were a cop.”

  “I identified myself.” The more he thought about it, the more disturbed he became.

  He’d never had any crime problems here before. His house wasn’t an attractive target for burglars; he didn’t have any fancy electronics or silver or jewelry. And if a burglar were simply choosing a house at random, there were plenty of unoccupied vacation cabins around.

  “We should call the police,” Liz said.

  “I am the police.”

  “Well, yeah, but shouldn’t you report this? Maybe he’s still in the area.”

  “You kidding? The way that guy was running, he’s halfway to Louisiana by now.”

  “What about evidence? Fingerprints and such.”

  “They wouldn’t send out CSI for an attempted burglary.”

  “Attempted murder more like it,” Liz argued. “He could have killed you.”

  “He wore gloves. He didn’t leave behind any evidence.”

  “What about his tattoo? Did you see that?”

  Now that he thought about it, Hudson did remember seeing a tattoo on the man’s forearm. Something like a big fish. Now, that could be useful.

  “I’ll call it in tomorrow,” he said, “but it’s the kind of almost-crime that makes most cops shrug.” Not to mention, he didn’t want to have any contact with his fellow cops right now. Most of the guys he worked with didn’t believe he’d beaten up Franklin Mandalay for no reason. They knew him better than that. But he couldn’t take their well-meaning pity.

  Hudson took the bat out of Liz’s hands. “You could have been killed. Next time I tell you to hide in the bathroom, hide in the bathroom. And by the way, that’s a fetching outfit you have on.”

  He couldn’t be sure, because it was too dark, but he thought he saw the hint of a blush as she turned and went back inside.

  “I wasn’t going to let you go out there alone.”

  “I’m a cop
. You’re not. But...thank you.” He tossed the bat aside, put the gun in the drawer of his nightstand, handy in case the guy came back. When he refocused his attention on Liz, she was shrugging her way out of his shirt.

  Hudson went instantly hard, ready to go again. Judging from the look on Liz’s face, she was ready, too.

  “Oh. My,” she said when he shucked his pants. “I’ve heard adrenaline sharpens one’s libido, but here I have some rather convincing proof.”

  “Adrenaline’s got nothing to do with it, sugar. It’s all you.” He playfully wrestled her down to the bed and kissed her—hard and fast, then slow and soft.

  “Liz,” he said before the lovemaking got so involved that he lost any ability to think or speak. “There’s something you probably should know about me.”

  “I know all I need to know.”

  “Maybe not. I was suspended last week. A guy I arrested claims I beat him up for no good reason. Unless Internal Affairs clears me—and really, I have no way to prove the guy’s lying—I might be out of a job.”

  “You’re telling me this now...because...?”

  “Because I want to see you again. But I figured you ought to know the worst before you decide if that’s gonna happen.”

  For a moment she looked unbearably sad. Had he disappointed her that thoroughly? But what she said next surprised him.

  “I already knew.”

  “What?”

  “I saw it on TV. That’s why I was staring at you at the wedding. I recognized you.”

  “Oh.” He rolled away from her, trying to wrap his mind around the implications. “Please don’t tell me you’re turned on by the idea that I’m violent.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “It’s not that at all.”

  “Then what’s this about?” Some women were attracted to notoriety, even the negative kind. “You like bad boys? ’Cause I’m not one.”

  “I know you’re not. I confess I was a bit curious, but after spending a very short time with you, I was sure you couldn’t have done what you’re accused of.”

  “Really? That seems a little naive.” All those doubts he had about why she’d come on to him reared their ugly heads. He should have listened to his gut when it told him something was off-kilter. His gut was always right. “Did Mandalay send you? Or his lawyer?”

  She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Good God, no.”

  “That would be a good ploy. Send the pretty girl to seduce the sucker. Set up a fake burglary. Maybe coax the disgraced cop into yet another violent act, conveniently witnessed by said pretty girl—”

  “You can’t think I had anything to do with that.”

  “I don’t know what to think. Most women would have cowered behind a locked door. But you were right behind me, where you could clearly see everything that happened.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  He wished she didn’t look so damn fetching wrapped in a sheet. Even while he suspected she might be trying to finish trashing his career, he wanted her with an acuteness that stole his breath away.

  Hudson scrubbed his face with one hand. Maybe he’d made a mistake. “Okay. Okay, I’m probably wrong.”

  “Maybe I should go home now.”

  “Liz, you don’t have to leave.”

  “Oh, I think I do. Don’t stir yourself. I’ll call a cab.”

  “No, I’ll take you home.” Maybe she’d cool off on the drive to her home. Maybe he could undo what might have been the worst mistake of his life. “Just let me jump in the shower. I won’t be five minutes.” He needed a shower in the worst way. A cold one.

  He didn’t wait for her to agree. He scooted off the bed and trotted to the bathroom. He’d be done by the time she was dressed.

  He scrubbed down quickly, then dried off and brushed his teeth. He’d be damned if he’d force her to deal with his morning breath. In the unlikely event she let him get close enough that she could smell his breath.

  A quick swipe of deodorant, and all that was left was to throw on some clothes. He exited the bathroom.

  “Liz?”

  Nothing. He checked the kitchen, living room and second bathroom.

  Her things were gone.

  She was gone.

  * * *

  “I COULDN’T DO IT.”

  “What the hell? Couldn’t find him? Couldn’t pull the trigger?”

  “He had a woman with him.”

  “So?”

  “You think I should have plugged her, too? Or left her behind as a witness?”

  “You were wearing a ski mask. She wouldn’t have recognized you. It would have been written off as a burglary gone bad.”

  “I don’t leave loose ends like that. And I don’t kill women. Nuh-uh. You didn’t say anything about a woman.”

  “Christ, do I have to do everything myself? You realize if I go down, so do you. Hudson Vale got a good look at Jazz. If he finds her before we do, it’s all over. She’ll sell us out like day-old fish. It will all come out—do you understand me? We’ll all go down.”

  “We’ll get him another day.”

  “Time’s running out.” The man paused, thinking hard. “You know, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked a boy to do a man’s job.”

  “Oh, go screw yourself. You think it’s so goddamned easy to kill someone, you do it.”

  The man hung up. It was remarkably easy to kill someone. Establish an unshakable alibi. Pay in cash. Leave no evidence behind, including no body.

  His muscleman had outlived his usefulness. He was going to have to take care of him. Tonight, before the idiot got drunk and blathered to someone what he’d been up to. Then he’d take care of the others. He’d find Jazz and finish her off. Himself.

  * * *

  ELIZABETH FELT AWFUL for the teenage girl huddled in her office. Tonda Pickens was in a terrible situation, no doubt about it.

  “If Jackson finds out I’m pregnant,” she said tearfully, “he’ll kill me. He will.”

  The fear was not ungrounded. When a woman was pregnant, she was much more likely to become the victim of violence from the very person who was supposed to love and protect her. Plus, in Tonda’s case, her boyfriend-slash-pimp had hit her before.

  “What about going home to your mother?” Elizabeth asked. “You haven’t talked to her in a while. Maybe the fact you’re having her grandchild would improve her attitude.”

  “Hah, you kidding? This is what she did to me for just kissing a boy.” She lifted her hair off one side of her face, revealing a jagged scar. “I can’t even imagine what she’d do if she found out Jackson and me...” She looked out the window, swallowing convulsively. “I have to get rid of it. I got no choice.”

  “Yes, you do have a choice.” Elizabeth wouldn’t counsel a nineteen-year-old prostitute to have a baby and keep it. But neither would she advise her to “get rid of it.” Her job was to lay out all the options and let the girl make her own decision. It was the only way, because Tonda was the one who had to live with the physical and emotional consequences. “You do not have to go back to Jackson or your mother. There are shelters for women in your situation. Safe havens.”

  “If you’re talking about one of those homes for unwed mothers where they make you pray and then make you give up the baby for adoption, no way. I won’t carry a baby nine months and give it away. I’ve seen girls do that. It racks ’em up bad.”

  Elizabeth had, indeed, been thinking about a place similar to what Tonda described. It was a godsend for some girls, but not suitable for everyone.

  “There are a number of places you could go. We could look into them together, find the one that suits you.”

  “What if I wanted...to keep the baby?” Tonda asked cautiously.

  “If that’s what you want to do, you have that right. No one can make you give it up. I won’t lie to you—it won’t be easy. If you want to keep the baby, you’ll have to find some way to provide for it and yourself. Jackson would be legally obligated to pay child support, bu
t I’m guessing that forcing him to do that would be a challenge?”

  “I’d rather not even tell him.”

  Elizabeth would rather she didn’t, either. What kind of father figure would a pimp be?

  “I shoulda been more careful.”

  “You’re not the first person to make a mistake, or the last. It happens. The thing to focus on now is making good decisions going forward.”

  Tonda placed a hand on her abdomen. “I know I said I wouldn’t go for adoption, but what if I changed my mind? Could I find a good home for the baby?”

  “We can certainly try. If you do a private adoption, you get to approve the adoptive parents. Just say the word, and I’ll get you into a women’s shelter—a temporary place until we can figure something out. But you don’t have to go back to Jackson.”

  Tonda shook her head. “No. I’m not showing yet. Jackson won’t know. I have to think. Maybe I’ll call Mama. Give her some time to get used to the idea before I see her in person.”

  Elizabeth hated to let Tonda go home to her unhealthy situation. If she was still prostituting herself, she risked illness not just for herself, but the baby. But they’d discussed that already. Tonda wouldn’t be pushed into anything—she had to make the decision herself.

  “Just remember one thing, Tonda. No one has the right to hit you. Whether it’s Jackson or your mother or a customer, if tempers start to flare, get out. Call the police. Call someone. Don’t just think you have to put up with it because you have no choice. There are always choices.”

  Tonda nodded. “Thanks. I won’t let anybody hit me, don’t worry. I have more to worry about than just myself now.”

  That was a mature attitude, and Elizabeth was glad to see it. She walked Tonda to the door of the clinic. “You take care, Tonda.”

  “I will. Thank you, Ms. Downey.” She gave Elizabeth a quick hug—something she’d never done before. The gesture warmed Elizabeth’s heart. Tonda shouldered her backpack, which had a picture of a kitten on it, and pushed the door open.

  Although Elizabeth tried to maintain a professional distance from her clients, she’d always had a soft spot in her heart for Tonda, who’d been coming to the clinic for almost a year now.