S. Harper - Cursed

The confrontation with Sarah should have left me anxious. Instead, she’s made me curious . . . and sore. I’m sure I’ll have a glorious bruise on my arm where she grabbed me. Rubbing the spot, I decide it’s time I ask Zack if she poses a real threat or if it was all posturing—the attempts of a scorned lover to scare off the competition.

If only she knew she had no need to take me out of the game. I’ve got an envelope of powder in my handbag to do that for her.

I’m stepping off the elevator onto our floor when my cell phone rings. A glance at the caller ID shows it’s Zack. In a flash, Sarah is pushed from my mind. Instead I wonder if he’s wondering why I left this morning without waking him up or saying good-bye. Maybe he’s calling to end it. Or to set some ground rules for office etiquette. Could be he’s running late because our activities last night made him oversleep.

“This is Emma,” I croak through a throat suddenly gone dry.

“Where are you?” he asks without preamble. Then, “Wait. I see you. Stay there.”

I look up in time to see him crossing the floor. There’s nothing intimate in his expression—no sly sideways glances, no seductive smile. And he’s not peering at me as if I’ve suddenly sprouted a second head. Maybe the Emma he made love to last night was the Emma he’s seeing now. Maybe I’m not in as much trouble as I thought.

But I remember the feeling of soaring, of giving myself to him completely, of holding nothing back.

More important, I remember the way I looked in the mirror.

That was not my imagination. Did Zack see it, too?

All this runs through my head in the time it takes Zack to close the distance between us. For him, it seems to be all business. He’s got a piece of paper in his hands.

I feel my shoulders relax a bit. If he can separate what happened last night from our professional life, I certainly should be able to.

“Just got this,” he says, waving the paper. “Alan Pierce moved recently.” He reads off the address.

It’s one I recognize. “That’s the same address as Michael Dexter’s.”

“Bingo!”

“He’s Michael Dexter’s partner?” I follow Zack as we head back to our cubicle.

“Did you peg them as being together last night?”

I shake my head. “But then, Alan was constantly working the party.”

“There’s more.” Zack hands me a cup of coffee. “When the first Mrs. Barakov disappeared, Alan Pierce was interviewed. He had been working for an architectural firm in Los Angeles. The one the Barakovs hired to renovate their home. He had a key and free rein of the house, so the police thought he might have seen something. He hadn’t and they dropped him from the suspect list.”

Zack pauses to take a drink from his mug. I’m reminded of the envelope in my bag. All it would take is one little sip. Thankfully, Zack doesn’t give me much time to think. He has something else to tell me. I see it in the gleam of his eyes. He plunges ahead.

“So, Alan’s mother, the present Mrs. Barbara Barakov, met the good doctor at Alan’s office. He was there for a consultation and she dropped in to take her son for lunch. While Alan works on the renovation project, his mother works on Barakov. The affair only lasted a couple months. It’s not clear what ended it. But Barakov went back to his wife. You still with me?”

I nod, recalling my research. “A month or so later, the wife mysteriously disappears.”

Zack continues. “Barakov plays the concerned husband for a while. Then he starts seeing Pierce again. Not long after that, Alan gets a new stepdaddy.”

“What kind of doctor is Barbara?” I ask, remembering how she was introduced last night.

“She’s a surgeon. Specializes in organ transplants.”

I watch Zack as he goes over the notes in his hand. Excitement is there in his expression, hopefulness that we may have uncovered the one detail that can help us break the case, determination that we’ll stick at it until we do.

The one thing that’s missing is any indication that we spent last night having sex—great sex.

Am I relieved or angry?

Do I even need the fucking powder Liz gave me?

Suddenly I realize Zack is peering at me. “What’s the matter? You look disappointed.”

I turn away, briefly, to recompose my expression. “Nothing’s the matter.”

“Is it about last night?” He steps close, glances around, then whispers, “I assumed you left early this morning so you’d have time to change clothes before work. Are we okay?”

Suddenly I’m back there with him—fire crackling, candles glowing, wringing torturous pleasure from Zack’s body in ways that were utterly exquisite and entirely addictive.

But that was then. This is now. “We’re fine.”

He lowers his head so it’s close to mine. “Last night was—I don’t have the words.”

I can feel the pulse of his breath against my ear. “Try.”

“Best. Sex. Ever.” He straightens and steps back. “Now, where were we?” He makes a show of shuffling the papers in his hand, but he’s grinning.

For an instant, this morning’s feeling of bliss is back. With all its implications. I am at the core a sexual creature, after all. And as Liz reminded me, sex is okay. As long as we leave it at that. I see him and can’t help wondering, hoping . Could it be possible? Just sex. Am I capable of hiding my true feelings for the chance to have even the most superficial of relationships with him? Could Liz work a spell that would make Zack accept a relationship like that?

Just sex.

Just sex.

Sarah pops into my consciousness. Maybe that’s the kind of relationship he has with her now. Is this the time to bring it up?

No. Now it’s time to get back to business.

I clear my throat when what I want to do is clear my head. “I think I should interview Alan,” I say.

Zack nods. “I agree.” He glances at his watch. “He should be at the Green Leaf offices right about now.”

“On a Saturday morning?”

“Someone called him earlier posing as a new fat-cat customer and requesting a morning meeting.”

“I wonder who that might have been.”

Zack shrugs. “Don’t know. I do know Mr. Pierce was very accommodating. He should be waiting for us.” He flutters his fingers. “I’ll wait outside or something while you work your mojo.”

I pick up my bag. “Let’s go.”

But the telephone on his desk rings. I pause while Zack answers it. He listens for a moment, then says, “Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”

He replaces the receiver. “Deputy Director wants an update. I can handle it. You go on. I’ll meet you at Green Leaf as soon as I can.”

The Green Leaf central office is located on Front Street. It’s a converted mansion, sitting on a lot surrounded by a high hedge. The brass sign on the wrought-iron gate is in the shape of a maple leaf on which the name Green Leaf is embossed. I ring the bell outside the entrance, and a buzzer sounds immediately. No questions. The gate clicks open.

I follow the walk up to the front door, where there’s another bell. This time when I ring, a voice from inside asks, “Yes?”

I look up at a surveillance camera set high and to the right. I dig my badge out of my purse and hold it up. “Agent Emma Monroe. FBI.”

The door opens immediately. Alan Pierce smiles out at me. “I remember you from last night, Agent Monroe.”

“I have a couple questions I’d like to ask you.”

He pulls out his cell and checks the time. “I have a client meeting scheduled, but they seem to be running late. I can give you a few minutes. Come in.” He stands aside and the door closes behind me.