John ignored him. Back when he’d been a cop, he’d had to abide by the rules of the department. Now that he was a civilian, he did not. The urge to cross a line with Vester was strong. This man was the worst kind of human being. A predator. A liar. A man who preyed on the innocent. But was he the man who’d been stalking Julia? Was he the man who’d murdered a woman in the cemetery?
“Easy, bro.” Mitch’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back.
John straightened and was surprised to see his hand shake when he shoved a finger in Vester’s face. “Stay away from Elisabeth de Haviland. Next time they won’t be here to pull me off you.”
Vester’s gaze swung from John to Mitch. “I’m telling the truth! I ain’t done nothin’! I swear!”
Mitch’s fingers dug into John’s shoulders. “Can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he growled as he hustled him to the door.
John let his brother shove him through the front door and onto the porch before he pulled away. He knew it was unprofessional of him to lose his cool, but he wasn’t feeling particularly professional.
“Now, that was some smooth police work,” Mitch said dryly. “Good job.”
Shaking off his brother’s hand, John turned back toward the house. “Can you take him in on the child porn charge?”
“Oh yeah.” Mitch looked back at the house. “I don’t know if it will stick. But I’ve got a crime scene unit on the way. They’ll go over this dump with a fine-toothed comb, see if they can find some trace, match this loser with the vic.”
“You think he’s the guy?”
Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know.” His gaze went to John’s. “I’ll probably need Julia to come in, do a lineup, see if she can give me some kind of I.D.” Mitch glanced back at the house. “Why don’t you go tell her the good news?”
It was Mitch’s way of saying he’d outlasted his welcome. John knew better than to take it personally, but the words drove home the fact that he was an outsider here. That he was neither wanted nor needed. That the twelve years he’d spent as a cop didn’t count for shit when it came to department policy and procedure.
“I’ll do that.”
John knew he should thank his brother, but he didn’t even look back as he started toward the Mustang parked curbside.
He should have been relieved Julia’s stalker had been caught. That he could put this assignment behind him and get on with the business of pulling his life back together and trying to figure out what came next.
But relief wasn’t what he was feeling. John didn’t want to analyze what he was feeling too closely. Emotions were generally pretty useless as far as he was concerned.
He thought about driving back to the shop and telling Julia the good news. He could already feel the anticipation of seeing her pulling him in that direction. But that kind of eagerness wasn’t something he wanted to feel at this point in his life. For the last two days he’d done nothing but think of her. Fantasize about her. It had to stop.
Instead of driving to the shop, he opted for a drink at a relatively quiet bar on Bourbon Street. He’d give her a call from there. Tomorrow, he’d go back to the shop for his things. Maybe when she wasn’t there, so he wouldn’t have to see her or talk to her. So he wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid. He’d never been very good at good-byes, anyway.
Hell, a few days at the cabin and he’d forget all about Julia Wainwright and her gypsy eyes.
Yeah.
Right.
TWENTY
John called a few minutes before Julia closed the shop for the evening. Claudia was at the register, counting the day’s receipts. Jacob was helping a customer find just the right antique cookbook for his wife’s fiftieth birthday. Julia was at her desk trying to focus on work, but as had been the case for the last few days, her mind was bouncing between a dangerous stalker and a man who seemed every bit as dangerous, but in a very different way.
She caught the phone on the second ring, hating it that she was terrified it would be the stalker. “The Book Merchant. This is Julia.”
“Hey. It’s me.”
John.
She sat up straighter, the file she’d been alphabetizing forgotten. She knew it was stupid, but a blush heated her cheeks at the sound of his voice. “Hi,” she said.
“I think we got the guy,” he said.
“That’s great news! Was it Vester?”
“We think so. Mitch and McBride made the arrest a few hours ago. Took him into custody for questioning.”
“Is he the one who murdered that poor woman in the cemetery?”
“Cops are looking into it.”
“This is fabulous news, John. It’s finally over. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
“You and a lot of other people.”
“I should call Dad and let him know.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
Silence filled the line for the span of several heartbeats. Julia sensed a tension that hadn’t been there before. She thought of what had happened between them the night before, and suddenly it dawned on her that once he picked up his things he probably wouldn’t be coming back.
It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. A lot more than she’d anticipated. Julia had just received word that the man who’d been stalking her had been caught; she should have been ecstatic. She could go back to her old routine. No more looking over her shoulder. No more dealing with John’s moodiness. His morning hangovers. But all she could think about was that he’d kissed her like she’d never been kissed before in her life . . .
Not wanting to think of that now, Julia reined in her thoughts and said the first impulsive thing that came to mind. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
“You think everything calls for a celebration.” He said the words teasingly, but he sounded distracted. More reserved than usual. She could hear music in the background. Blues, if she wasn’t mistaken. People talking, laughing. The clang of glass against glass. And she realized he was in a bar. Probably with Mitch.
“Just some wine and cheese,” she said. “Champagne with strawberries. Oh, and chocolate. Lots of it.” She closed her eyes. “Can you stop by?”
“Uh, you mean tonight?”
“Everyone’s already here. We’re closing the shop for the day. I’ve got a wedge of Brie and a bottle of champagne in the fridge. I’ll send Jacob across the street for some of Mr. Rossi’s chocolate Piroulines.” She knew she was blabbering, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him to be there, and the tone of his voice was telling her he wasn’t going to make it. “I’m going to ask Dad to come. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you in person.”
He hesitated. The realization that he didn’t want to be there disappointed her more than it should have.
“If you can’t make it, it’s okay,” she said quickly. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I’ll try to swing by a little later,” he said. “I need to pick up my stuff, anyway.”
“Oh.” She closed her eyes briefly. “All right.”
But he had already disconnected.
Julia loved entertaining. She’d always had a flair for it, however impromptu or short notice. After hanging up with John she brought her hands together and announced to Claudia and Jacob that the stalker had been apprehended.
“Does that mean we don’t have to tolerate your cop buddy anymore?” Jacob asked.
Claudia elbowed him. “How did they catch him?” she asked.
Julia explained how John had traced the fan letter to Nicholas Vester. “It turned out Vester had just been released from prison for stalking a radio talk show host.”
“I think I remember hearing about that on the radio,” Claudia mused.
“I must admit, I didn’t have much faith in Merrick,” Jacob said. “But I’m glad he came through for you.”
“I’ll kind of miss having him around,” Claudia said.
“Especially the puking in the alley,” Jacob added dryly.
Rolling her eyes, Julia
started for the phone. “I’ll call Dad and give him the good news. Are you two up for a little celebration?”
“Do the French drink wine?” Jacob answered.
“Great idea,” Claudia said. “I’ll call Rory.”
Benjamin Wainwright wasn’t in, so Julia left a message with his assistant, Parker, who promised to have her father call her as soon as he arrived back in the office.
Rory Beauchamp arrived twenty minutes later with a bottle of Chianti. Julia set out food while Claudia, Rory and Jacob wiped down wineglasses and draped the table with linen. She tried to work up some excitement, but for the first time in recent memory, her heart simply wasn’t in it. She went through the motions. Linen tablecloth on the coffee buffet. Chocolate Piroulines set in a fan-shaped pattern. Chicory coffee with cream. Chianti in a flat carafe with matching tall tumblers. A crisp cabernet sauvignon with tall-stemmed glasses. Imported Brie and water crackers. Dark Swiss chocolates. French champagne on ice. She’d just chosen a haunting Celtic CD when Claudia came up behind her.
“The shop looks fabulous.”
Julia turned to survey the place and found herself smiling despite her thoughtful mood. How she loved creating atmosphere and sharing it with friends. It would have been perfect if only John had agreed to come. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“Only one thing missing.”
“Hmmm? What’s that?”
“John.”
Julia’s hand froze as she lit the last of a dozen eucalyptus candles she’d set in antique gold-leaf pillars. “Oh, I think he’s had enough of this place. He probably has better things to do.”
“You can pretend not to be disappointed, but I know you wanted him to be here.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Julia hit her sister with a bright smile. “Thanks to him this nightmare is over. All of us are safe. We can get back to the way things were before.”
“I don’t think those are the only reasons you wanted him to be here.”
“Don’t be silly.” But even to her the laugh that escaped her sounded forced. “Thanks to him I have a new alarm system. New locks on the windows and doors. It’s only right that I thank him for helping me out.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with his being attractive. You’re far too astute not to have noticed the way he looks at you.”
“You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
“Any fool can see there’s something between the two of you.”
“It’s called friction.”
“Or maybe you’re so deep into denial you can’t see the woods for the trees.” Claudia topped a cracker with cheese and popped it into her mouth. “Rough around the edges suits him.”
Because she was blushing, Julia focused on the carafe and wiped it down for the third time. “Rough around the edges or not, he’s dealing with a lot of demons right now. I think he needs his space.”
“Or maybe he needs someone like you to pull him out of whatever bottomless pit he’s fallen into.”
“He’s the only one who can pull himself out of this particular pit.”
The bell on the front door jingled. Julia looked up to see her father and his assistant, Parker Bradley, walk in.
“Saved by the bell,” Julia said under her breath.
Claudia snagged a glass of Chianti off the banquet table and grasped her sister’s hand. “Let’s go tell Dad the good news.”
The letters were waiting for John when he arrived at his apartment. He’d been riding a high since the scene at Nicholas Vester’s place. Cops called it the rush of the bust. For the first time in months, he’d felt useful. As if he’d done something worthwhile. Something good. Something that had made a difference in someone’s life.
The high was short-lived.
He knew what was inside the envelope even before tearing it open. The first letter was from the law firm of Perrin, Fair and Gay out of Chicago and had been sent via registered mail. John’s stomach went queasy as he stared at the legalese. Dread and grief and a terrible, crushing guilt descended as the words registered in a brain that didn’t want to believe:
Eva Watts [plaintiff] is hereby suing John T. Merrick [defendant] and the Chicago Police Department [defendant] in a civil suit for the amount of two million dollars for the wrongful death of DEA agent Franklin Watts.
Two million dollars.
Jesus Christ.
A second letter was a formal notification from the Chicago PD informing him of the suit. He was to call the legal department as soon as possible. It was strongly advised that he obtain legal representation. Get his cards in order. His life was about to be ruined a second time.
John tossed the letters onto the coffee table and brooded. He wanted to believe he didn’t give a shit. His life was already ruined; why sweat something small like two million dollars? He didn’t have it. Not even close. What were they going to do? Take it out in blood?
But the reality of what his life had become struck a hard blow. The lawyers for the department had warned him that this day would come. It wasn’t enough that his life was ruined. It didn’t fucking matter that he couldn’t sleep. That most days he was lucky just to get out of bed. Now they were going to financially ruin him, too.
Par for the course when you shoot a cop, a little voice reminded.
John didn’t have much left. He hadn’t drawn a paycheck in two months. Over the years he’d put aside a nest egg, a small 401K, a checking account that was dwindling at a rapid rate, the Mustang. He would probably lose it all. If he ever worked again, everything he owed would go toward paying for lawyers, the bereaved widow and her two fatherless children.
He thought about the kids and realized there was nothing on this earth that would give them back what he’d taken away. Franklin Watts would never see his children graduate from college. He would not be there to give away his daughter on her wedding day. He would never hold his first grandchild.
At that moment, like a thousand other moments before it, John would have given his own life to rectify what he’d done. But he couldn’t bring back Franklin Watts. He couldn’t change any of what had happened that night. He was going to have to deal with this. Find a way to get through it. Get on with his life.
Yeah. Right.
Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he looked around the derelict apartment. Like the rest of his life, the place was a piece of shit. A pigsty. Already, he could feel the walls closing in. The memory of that night descending. The guilt squeezing like a giant snake wrapped around his throat.
For the first time in a long time he wanted to call someone. But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out who. He didn’t want to call Mitch. Didn’t want to talk to his former partner from Chicago. The only person who came to mind was Julia Wainwright. Pretty, sweet, gypsy-eyed Julia. As of late she seemed to be the only person left in the world he looked forward to seeing. She was the only ray of light in a life that had become black with despair. The only person capable of lifting him out of the deep, dark hole he’d fallen into.
He wanted to believe his feelings for her were only the result of his sex drive kicking back in after a two-month hiatus. He knew it would only make things worse if he came to rely on her for anything. That he was only fooling himself by thinking her feelings for him were anything but friendly sympathy.
He’d always been good at keeping things in perspective, particularly when it came to women. As far as John was concerned, a relationship with a woman meant sex on a regular basis. He’d never had a female friend. He’d sure as hell never gone off the deep end and gotten the two confused. Then along came Julia Wainwright with her pretty smile and kind heart and he’d started getting all kinds of crazy ideas. Like maybe this was the real deal.
He’d done the right thing earlier when he’d turned down her invitation. The last thing he wanted to do was hang out at the bookstore with a bunch of old codgers and eat hors d’oeuvres he couldn’t pronounce. He’d done the right thing by practically hanging up on her earlier. He didn’t want her
gratitude. He sure as hell didn’t want her sympathy.
Goddamn it, he didn’t want to want her.
But he did.
He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to act on the impulses running hot in his blood, even though he knew in the long run it would cost him something to walk away.
If he were a stronger man, he might have had the moral character to stick to his guns. Do them both a favor and stay the hell out of her life. Keep her out of the muck he couldn’t seem to climb out of himself.
But when it came to Julia, John was a long way from strong. Snagging his bomber jacket off the chair back, he left the apartment and set off for the French Quarter, hoping he found a bar before his discipline crumbled and he ended up at the Book Merchant.
Julia wasn’t going to let herself think about him.
If John didn’t want to be here, so be it. She wasn’t going to get caught up in something she had no control over. Damn it, she was going to have a good time if it killed her.
Except for her own misguided expectations, the impromptu get-together was a success. Everyone she’d invited had shown: her father; his assistant, Parker Bradley; Claudia’s beau, Rory Beauchamp. Even Jacob had stayed late to socialize and celebrate the end of what had been a tough week for everyone.
Absently, Julia listened to the conversation around her as she replenished the tray of chocolates.
“I told you John Merrick would come through,” Benjamin Wainwright was saying. “His daddy was a good man, and John certainly has the potential to follow the same path.”
Parker Bradley nodded vigorously. “His references were glowing. Well, except for the Chicago incident.”
Rory Beauchamp spread Brie on a cracker. “So what happened up in Chicago? He get fired, or what?”
Julia sipped her Chianti and tried not to look at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. John wasn’t going to show. Damn it, she wasn’t going to do this to herself . . .
“He was involved in a friendly fire incident a couple of months ago,” she said.