Russell Andrews - Aphrodite

"Oh my God, Jay… they killed Alicia?"

"They were going to, but they decided to rape her first. Jerry, he was such a sick son of a bitch, he told her they wanted her to see my face while they were raping her. They wanted her to see who'd really done this to her. So he walked over to me and kicked me, to turn me over on my back. He didn't know I had my gun with me. I'd gotten home late and hadn't put it away. I mean, I always put it away-I never wanted Lili to even touch it. But that night-I don't know why-I just didn't. I'd fallen on it when I went down on the floor. And I managed to put it in my hand while I was there. So when he kicked me I turned over and I shot him. In the chin, while he was staring down at me. He died instantly. One of the other bastards shot me again, but I kept firing, and I killed them, too. Then I passed out. When I came to, a couple of days later, my little girl was dead and Alicia… Alicia, she…"

He turned away from Deena, put one hand on his throat as if to lock the words in. Deena reached over, put her hand on his. "What happened to your wife?"

"I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. When I got out I had a few months of rehab; I was on paid leave. Temporary disability. Alicia couldn't bear to look at me. She just got more and more depressed. She'd cry a lot and spend most of her time in Lili's room. If I tried to say anything or, worse, to touch her, she'd just look at me-it was like she was saying, 'You did this.' She never said anything. Not out loud. Ever. But that's what she was thinking. And, of course, she was right. I did do it."

"Your parents…"

"Not much help, I'm afraid. My mother came to see me in the hospital. My father never did. When I got out, he wouldn't take my calls. So I went to see him at his office, at the bank. His secretary let me in and my dad was sitting at his desk, working. He looked up at me and he said, 'You took the thing I loved the most away from me.' He meant his granddaughter. And that was it. He put his head down, went back to work. I haven't seen or spoken to either one of them since."

"And Alicia?"

"One year to the day after the break-in and the shooting, she killed herself. I was home and she went to the kitchen, right to the spot where she was standing when Lili was killed, and she shot herself. I had put the gun away that day, but she took it out of the closet, put it in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.

"I think I'm finished," he said. "That's the end of the story."

Deena slid over next to him, put her head on his chest, and wrapped one arm around him. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Bad stuff happens all the time," Justin said. "It just seems a lot worse when it's happening to us."

"That's not what I meant. I am sorry for all that happened. But I meant…you shouldn't have gotten pulled back into the bad stuff. You're here because of me. And you shouldn't be."

"No one really gets pulled into something they don't want to get pulled into. Not exactly the words of the Buddha, I'll grant you, but there's my philosophy of life. When push comes to shove, people are where they want to be."

He slid down on the bed so his eyes were even with hers and his mouth was an inch away from her lips.

"Do you want to be here?" she asked.

"Right now I do, yes."

He could feel her warm breath on his face, feel the hardness of her body up against his.

"I know you're out of shape," she whispered, "and you haven't been a real cop in a while. And I know my daughter can outtalk you on the telephone." She put her hand on Justin's cheek and stroked him gently. "But exactly how rusty are you?"

Justin leaned in to her and they kissed. Their lips were cracked and dry, and he winced when her shoulder bumped up against his. But he kissed her again, harder, and when she lifted her T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, he pulled the sheet back and motioned for her to get under it.

"I think we'd better find out," he said. In the morning, Deena opened her eyes a few minutes after six o'clock. She thought an alarm had gone off, but then she heard someone talking, thought maybe it was a dream. She turned over, saw that he was gone. She realized it was his voice she was hearing. She looked across the room. Justin was on the telephone, speaking quietly.

"All right," he was saying. "You be careful. If you can get what I asked for, that's great. But don't do anything if it's too risky. Do you understand?" He listened for a moment, then said, "Okay. Thanks for calling back. If I'm wrong, I'll let you call me paranoid. I'm sorry I woke you up."

He hung up, saw that she was awake, smiled, and slid back into bed. "That was Gary. The kid I work with in East End."

"Do you trust him?"

"I don't really have a choice right now. People aren't exactly lining up to help."

She kissed the corner of his lips. "Has anything else happened?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he told her. "There's a warrant out for my arrest. And yours, too."

"For what?"

"Murder. They're saying I killed Ed Marion. And that we both killed Susanna Morgan."

"I don't understand," she said.

"Somebody doesn't want us to get any closer to whatever the hell is going on. And it'll be a lot harder to get close while there's a manhunt going on."

He could feel her tremble as he held her. And he saw goose bumps raise on her arms.

"I'd better go back to my room," she said. "So I'm there when Kenny wakes up."

He nodded. Ran his hand through her hair. "I'm not going to let them hurt you," he told her. "Not you or Kendall. I swear." "I believe you." She did her best to smile, and then she said, "Do you really have a plan?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to tell me what it is?"

"We're going to Providence," he said.

She looked surprised. "What's in Providence?"

"Almost everything we need," he told her. "At least for now." Book Three

Deena had asked if they could do a half hour of yoga before they left. She said it would do them some good. Justin thought of how his body had ached after their first session and how his shoulder throbbed now. Then he thought of Deena, under the covers, and he remembered touching her smooth, perfect body. He thought of all the things they had to do and the obstacles facing them, and then he said, "Sure. A half hour of yoga is just what I need."

He had to admit he felt better afterward. He stretched and held poses, then she made him sit and do nothing but breathe deeply for ten minutes. It relaxed him and made him feel centered. After taking a shower, he actually felt pretty good. The first thing they did after leaving the motel was stop off and buy yet another cell phone. "It won't slow 'em down for long," Justin said, "but at least it'll annoy them." Then they bought copies of the New York Times and the local paper. The news that they were now wanted for questioning and were suspects in two murders was on page four of the Times' Metro section. They had made page two of the local.

Front-page news was still dominated by the murder of Maura Greer and the burgeoning scandal with Greer and Frank Manwaring. Details were emerging daily-hourly, it seemed-that tied Manwaring closer and closer to the murder. The media were incensed by the veil of silence behind which the ex-secretary had hidden himself. They were calling for his head. D.C. police had revealed the depths to which Manwaring had gone not to cooperate with their investigation in the months prior to the discovery of the body. And Assistant Director Leonard Rollins of the FBI, in charge of the now-federal investigation, was quoted acknowledging that Manwaring had been on the East End of Long Island, in the nearby Hamptons, just two weeks after Maura had disappeared. When questioned about whether Manwaring could be tied to the attempt to hide Maura's body in the waters off East End Harbor, Rollins gave a halfhearted "No comment." The dead woman's parents were insisting that such proximity to the murder scene could not be a coincidence. Public opinion polls showed that eighty-eight percent of America believed that Manwaring was involved, if not downright guilty, in the death of Maura Greer.