Tess Gerritsen - Peggy Sue Got Murdered

"Did you smell gas?"

"No." Adarn shook his head firmly. "No gas."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. The fire started after the explosion."

The cop and fireman looked at each other, a glance that M. J. found terrifying in its significance.

She said, "It was a bomb. Wasn't it?"

They didn't say a word. They didn't have to. Their silence was answer enough.

It was after midnight when they finally pulled into Adam's driveway. They'd spent two hours in the ER getting their cuts and bruises tended to, two more hours in the Bellemeade police station, answering questions. Now they were both on the far side of exhausted. They barely managed to stumble out of the car and up the front steps.

Thomas was waiting at the door to greet them. "Good heavens, Mr. Q.!" he gasped, staring in horror at Adam's torn suit. "Not another brawl?"

"No. Just a bomb this time." He raised his hand to cut off Thomas's questions."I'll tell you all about it in the morning. In the meantime, let's get Dr. Novak to bed. She's staying the night."

"Would that be, er…" Thomas paused delicately. "In the guest room?"

The question hung unanswered, like a suggestive perfume.

Adam looked down at M. J. and saw her dazed expression. He realized that she was poised on the edge of collapse, and more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. Tonight is not the night , he thought. Not if I care about her. Which I do .

"The guest room will be fine," he said to Thomas.

Thomas nodded, utterly unruffled. "I'll prepare the room," he said, and went up ahead of them.

Slowly Adam guided M. J. up the stairs. Her body felt so small, so fragile under his arm. It was a word he'd never thought would apply to M. J. Novak-fragile. But that's how she felt to him that night, climbing each step as though it were an impossible hurdle. Perhaps the blast had done more damage than he'd realized. This wasn't the M. J. he knew, the woman whose courage he'd held in awe. This was a woman who needed him.

He pulled her closer, felt those old masculine instincts stir to life. Not just desire-that had always been there-but something new. Protectiveness.

He helped her up the last step, and down the hall. By the time they reached the south guest room, Thomas had already turned down the covers, placed fresh towels on the dresser, and closed the drapes. "I'll see to your room now, Mr. Q.," said Thomas, and discreetly withdrew.

"Come. Into bed with you," said Adam. He sat her on the covers, knelt down to take off her shoes.

"I'm such a mess," she murmured, staring down at her clothes.

"We'll clean these in the morning. Right now, you need some sleep. Can I help you off with your clothes?"

She looked up at him with a faint expression of amusement.

He smiled. "Believe me, my intentions are purely honorable."

"Nevertheless," she said, "I think I'll manage on my own."

So the old M. J.'s still in there , he thought, meeting her quiet gaze. Even a bomb blast can't kill that spirit .

He sat down beside her on the bed. "It's gone too far," he said. "Doing your job is one thing, M. J. And I admire your persistence, I really do. But now it's turned ugly. This time you were fortunate. But next time…" He stopped, unwilling to finish the thought.

She looked at him, her eyes wide and bright with the threat of tears. "At least-at least I can be certain of one thing," she said softly.

"What's that?"

"You were there with me, and trying to get me to go out. Obviously you had nothing to do with it."

"How could you even begin to think I'd-"

"I couldn't help it, Adam! This has me so confused. I don't know who to believe, to trust. I wonder about Ed, about Sampson, about all the people I ever ticked off. And they must number in the thousands. But I don't wonder about you anymore. Because that bomb could have killed us both."

He gave a sheepish laugh. "I'm glad to hear there's a silver lining somewhere in this mess. Now you'll trust me one hundred percent."

"Ninety-nine point nine percent."

Smiling, he gently touched her face. "The ever-suspicious M. J. Novak. Will you trust me to keep you safe tonight?"

She nodded.

"Good. Because I will." He took her face in his hands and gently kissed her on the forehead. "I'm right in the next room if you need anything," he said, and rose to leave.

"Adam?" The name was said softly, so softly he might almost have imagined it.

He looked back. "Yes?"

"You're not at all what I thought."

"I take it that's a compliment?"

"The very best."

For a moment they gazed at each other, each of them seeing things they'd never seen in the other's eyes before.

He turned off the light. "Good night, Mariana Josefina," he said. Then he went downstairs to call Lieutenant Beamis.

M. J. was still asleep when Adam rose the next morning. He had glanced in on her several times during the night, just to reassure himself that she was safe, that she was really there in the next room, that she was more than just some lingering ghost of a dream. And there she was, snug in the sleigh bed, her hair a black thicket against the pillow. Quietly he sat down in the chair beside her.

Sunlight winked through the curtains, the beams dancing around the walls and the polished furniture. He'd forgotten how charming this guest room could be, how lovely it looked in the morning light. Or perhaps it never had been this lovely before; perhaps, with this woman sleeping beside him, he was seeing the room's charm for the very first time.

There was a knock on the door. He turned to see Thomas poke his head in.

"I thought perhaps she would like some breakfast." whispered Thomas, nodding at the tray of food he was carrying.

"I think what she'd really like," said Adam, rising to his feet, "is to be allowed to sleep." He followed Thomas into the hall and softly closed the door behind him. "Did you collect her clothes?"

"I'm afraid they're quite beyond repair," Thomas said with a sigh.

"Then would you arrange to have some things sent up to the house? She'll probably need her entire wardrobe replaced. I doubt anything survived the fire."

Thomas nodded. "I'll put a call in to Neiman-Marcus. A size six, don't you think?"

With sudden clarity, Adam remembered how slender she'd felt against him last night, climbing the steps to the guest room. "Yes," he said. "A six sounds about right."

Downstairs, Adam lounged about the dining room, sipping coffee, picking at his breakfast without much appetite. He listened with amusement as Thomas made phone calls in the next room. A complete wardrobe, Thomas said. Yes, undergarments as well. What cup size? Well, good heavens, how should he know? Thomas hung up, and came into the dining room, looking distressed. "I'm having a problem with, er… dimensions."

Adam laughed. "I think we're both out of our depth, Thomas. Why don't we wait until Dr. Novak wakes up. She can give them a better idea of her, uh, dimensions."

Thomas looked relieved. "An excellent idea."

They heard the sound of tires rolling over gravel.

Adam glanced through the window and saw a blue Chevy pull up in the driveway. "Must be Lieutenant Beamis," he said. "I'll let him in."

He was surprised to find both Beamis and Shradick waiting at the front door. Apparently they came as a matched set, even on Saturdays. They were even similarly dressed in strictly nonregulation golf shirts and sneakers.

"Morning, Mr. Q.," said Beamis, pulling off his sunglasses. He held up a briefcase. "I got what you wanted."

"Come in, please. There's coffee and breakfast, if you'd like."

Shradick grinned. "Sounds great."

The three men sat down at the dining table. Thomas brought out cups, saucers, a fresh pot of coffee. Shradick tucked a napkin in his shirt and began to adorn a bagel with cream cheese. Not just a dab here and there, but giant slabs of it, topped with multiple layers of lox. Beamis took only coffee, heavily sugared-a favorite energy source, he said, from his patrolman days.