Sandra Brown - Ricochet

Now he expelled a sigh of profound disappointment, and despair settled over him like a mantle of chain mail. A desultory search of the other rooms on the first floor yielded nothing. He forced himself to climb the creaky staircase and check the upstairs rooms, but they were all empty save for one of the bedrooms that contained a rusty iron bedstead with even rustier springs.

He returned to the living room. Although he realized it was pathetically maudlin, he sat down on the sofa and ran his hand over the nap of the upholstery, imagining it to be still warm from the heat their bodies had generated.

What had happened here after he walked out? What? What had she done next?

Even if he hadn’t confessed to the sexual encounter, perhaps he should have told his colleagues about his meeting with Elise in this house. It was material to their investigation.

It wasn’t too late. He could call DeeDee now, give her this address. She would make record time getting here. He could give her a condensed version of what had transpired in this room last night. Telling her about it would be a relief, would make his burden of guilt lighter.

But DeeDee would do the right thing. No question of that. She would go straight to Gerard. Gerard might think that his clandestine meeting with Elise was reason enough to take him off the case, put him on suspension.

He couldn’t let that happen. So for the time being, it would remain his secret, and he was stuck with carrying his guilt.

He had a lot to feel guilty about. Elise had implored him to believe her. She was in desperate fear for her life. She had begged for his help. He had refused. By doing so, he had either caused her to kill Napoli, or he had handed her over to Napoli to be killed, or, rejected by her last hope for help, she had thrown herself off the bridge and killed herself.

“Christ.” He covered his face with his hands and fell against the back of the sofa.

When he was seven years old, the family cat had given birth to a litter of kittens. His parents had said that he could choose one to keep. The others they would give away.

He knew immediately the one he wanted. It was the cutest of the litter by far. Around the clock, he kept vigil over the box of kittens. He asked every day when he could take his kitten to his room to live.

His mother told him repeatedly, “As soon as he’s weaned, Duncan.”

That became a little too long. He was afraid that one of the adopting families would lay claim to that kitten before he could establish his ownership of it. One night after his parents had gone to bed, he sneaked into the kitchen and took the newborn from its mother. He placed it in bed with him. The frightened kitten was still mewling when Duncan drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, it was dead.

He cried for days and couldn’t be consoled. Even though his mistake hadn’t been malicious, even though his parents didn’t scold him, he blamed himself and couldn’t get over what he’d done. He had wanted that kitten more than anything in the world. He had loved it with the unrestrained passion of a seven-year-old. But his selfishness had killed it.

For more than an hour, he sat in abject misery where, only hours before, he had known ecstasy. He should be wishing that he’d never met her. Short of that, he should be wishing that he’d never gone near her, never touched her. Instead, he wished he had taken more time to touch her. He wished his touch had been gentler. He wished they had shared at least one tender kiss.

But if he had taken more time and shown her more tenderness, would that have alleviated the heat of this personal hell, or made it worse?

And, despite the angry roughness with which they’d coupled, had she sensed his yearning for it to be different? Had she been aware of the emotion he wanted to express, but couldn’t? Had she?

He would never know.

SHORTLY BEFORE NOON DUNCAN RETURNED TO THE VCU.

“We caught a break,” Worley informed him as soon as he cleared the doorway.

He stopped in his tracks. “You found her?”

“I said a break, not a miracle.”

Duncan had left the abandoned house and gone home, ostensibly to sleep for a few hours. He lay down, but he remained awake, half in dread, half in anticipation of a telephone call telling him that Elise had been found…one way or the other.

He’d finally given up trying to sleep. In between a shower and shave, he’d placed a dozen or more telephone calls, phoning every agency taking part in the search. As lead investigator, he’d insisted on talking to the individual in charge. None had anything substantial to report, nor had he expected to hear of a breakthrough. As soon as there was one, he would know of it. But he gave all of them a pep talk, reminding them of Judge Laird’s standing in the community and the priority that Chief Taylor had given Mrs. Laird’s disappearance.

The Coast Guard had several choppers in the air, flying low along the coastline. The beaches were being patrolled. Search-and-rescue craft were patrolling offshore. These activities looked and sounded good, but no one actually expected Elise to reach the Atlantic.

Exhausted dogs and their trainers were still searching the river-banks and marshes. Police boats were searching the river and all its tributaries. Chatham County SO and state troopers were assisting any way they could. The dive team had been in the shipping channel since daylight.

Local TV stations frequently interrupted their programming to recap the story and update viewers on the search. These news bulletins reported nothing except that there was nothing new to report.

“Pardon my saying so, Dunk,” Worley said now, “but you look like shit.”

“And here I was about to tell you how fresh and handsome you look today.”

Worley continued to regard him with concern. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Grabbed something on my way here,” Duncan lied. “What kind of break?”

Worley went to the door and shouted down the hallway, “Hey, Kong? Dunk’s here.”

Kong appeared carrying an insulated drinking cup and wiping powdered sugar from his mouth with the back of his hairy hand. “Hey, Dunk. You don’t look so good.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, well, heard y’all had a late night. Found my guy for me. Just for the record, I’d have preferred him alive.”

“So would I. What’s the break?”

Duncan ’s tone must have conveyed that he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. Kong said, “Ever since Napoli went missing, we’ve been looking for his car. Turned up this morning.”

“Where?”

“A church parking lot.”

“Last place we’d think to look for Napoli,” Worley said around a chuckle.

Duncan headed for the door. “Let’s go take a look.”

“DeeDee’s already on it.”

“Oh.”

“But that’s not all of it,” Worley said. “I figured that Napoli hadn’t gone to the church to pray. I think he just dropped his car there ’cause it was a convenient place to leave it-and probably because it was the last place we’d look.”

They’d come to the conclusion last night that if Meyer Napoli was blackmailing either of the Lairds, his so-called disappearance of the last few days had been voluntary.

“I checked all the taxi services in the city and guess what?”

Duncan was no more in the mood for Worley’s guessing games than he was for chitchat, but he guessed anyway. “ Napoli called a taxi to pick him up at the church.”

“At twelve sixteen in the A.M.,” Worley declared with satisfaction. “The driver dropped him at his destination at twelve twenty-six.”

“Short trip,” Kong remarked.

“A few miles.”

“What was his destination?” Duncan asked.