“That’s good. You’re doing great.” Mitch scribbled. “Voice?”
“Guttural. Deep. But I think he was disguising it.”
Mitch and John exchanged a look she didn’t understand, then Mitch continued. “Did he say anything else?”
Julia shook her head. Her mouth had gone dry. She was starting to feel sleepy.
“I think the painkiller the doc gave her is kicking in,” said John.
She risked a look at him to find him standing at the foot of the gurney. His arms were crossed at his chest. His expression was inscrutable, revealing nothing of what he felt. Julia wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She hadn’t been able to look at him while she’d recounted the details of the attack. She hated feeling so vulnerable. She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing her as a victim.
“Yeah. Okay.” Mitch shoved the notepad into his jacket pocket and handed Julia his card. “I’m going to file the report. In the interim, if you remember anything, even if it doesn’t seem important, give me a call, okay?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
John looked at his brother. “What about the shop? There might be something there.”
“CSI is already processing it,” Mitch said. “We got the book and letter.”
“Let’s hope we get some latents.” John looked at Julia. “The CSI you talked to said you had tissue beneath your nails. DNA will take a couple of days, but if he’s in the system we will identify him.”
Julia nodded. The CSI who’d “processed” her was a woman not much older than Claudia. She’d made small talk and done her best to put Julia at ease as she’d swabbed beneath her nails and taken photos of the bruises and burns.
“Let’s hope he’s in the system,” Julia said.
“I’ll keep you posted. Take care.” Nodding at Julia, Mitch turned and left.
Even through the haze of the painkiller, Julia felt the rise of tension between her and John. She couldn’t pinpoint its source. Before either of them could speak, the curtain swished and a young man donning blue scrubs entered the exam area.
“I’m Dr. Rahimi. How are you feeling?”
“Better now that the painkiller has kicked in.”
“Excellent.” He turned and jammed three films onto the X-ray light on the wall. “You’re a very lucky young woman.”
Lying there with her body aching, all Julia could think was that she didn’t feel very lucky.
He glanced at the chart in his hand. “You have no broken bones. No internal injuries. Lacerations and burns are minor. You do, however, have a mild concussion.”
John stepped forward, his expression concerned. “A concussion?”
“Mild,” the doctor repeated. “It doesn’t warrant my admitting you.”
Relief swirled through her. She’d been praying her X-rays would come back all right, because she did not want to spend the night in the hospital.
“Any idea what caused the burns on her throat and abdomen?” John asked.
The doctor nodded solemnly, his eyes going to Julia. “Tissue samples are being analyzed at the lab, but my best guess is that they were caused by acid.”
The word struck her like a fist. “Acid?” she repeated dumbly. “My God.”
John scrubbed a hand over his face and muttered an obscenity. “Are you sure?”
“We can’t be certain without having some residue to test. But I’ve seen burns caused by skin exposure to hydrochloric acid.” The doctor shook his head. “Your burns are very similar.”
Julia closed her eyes, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could digest this latest information. Why in the name of God would someone douse her with acid?
“Do you have someone to stay with you tonight?” Dr. Rahimi asked.
“My sister,” she said quickly.
“Me,” John said simultaneously.
Dr. Rahimi’s mouth twitched, then he addressed Julia. “In that case I’ll sign your release papers.” He looked at John. “Just make sure she goes straight to bed. I want her to drink plenty of fluids. I’ll write a prescription for some painkillers. You will need to wake her at least twice during the night.”
“No problem,” John said.
The doctor scribbled on the clipboard. “She’s been sedated, so you’ll need to use the wheelchair. I’ll leave her prescription at the window.”
“Thank you,” Julia said and worked up a smile.
Smiling back, the doctor touched her arm briefly, then ducked past the curtain.
John walked to the bed and looked down at her, his expression taut. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Me, too.” A sigh shuddered out of her.
“I’m sorry this happened.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I was wrong about Vester.”
“All of us were wrong about Vester.”
“I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”
The curtain surrounding the gurney swished. Julia glanced up to see her father barrel into the examination area. Parker trailed behind him, looking frazzled, his expression telling them he’d have had better luck stopping a train.
“Julia.” Benjamin Wainwright’s face went sheet white at the sight of his daughter. “Oh, darlin’.”
“It looks worse than what it really is,” she said quickly.
He rushed to her side, stopped and bent to kiss her gently on the forehead. “Oh, darlin’. You’re hurt.”
“Dad, I’m okay.”
His hand shook when he reached for her. “You’re obviously not okay, honey. You’re covered with bruises. What on earth happened? John didn’t tell me much over the phone. Just that you were attacked in your shop.”
Leaving out most of the horrid details, Julia explained how she’d been ambushed.
“Thank God you’re all right.” Wainwright shook his head. “Honey, how many times have I told you the Quarter is no place for you to have set up shop? The crime rate there is off the scale. It’s no place for a lone woman to run a business.”
“Dad, this doesn’t have anything to do with the French Quarter or the shop.”
The elderly Wainwright plowed on as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Why don’t you consider moving the shop to Metairie? Better yet, why don’t you consider closing the shop and taking a position with the ministry? You’ve so much to offer.”
Julia stomped on impatience. She loved her father dearly and knew his heart was in the right place. But they’d had this conversation before, always with the same results, and she did not feel up to having it again tonight.
“Dad, we think the man who was stalking me did this,” she said.
“What?” Wainwright looked like he’d been punched in the nose. “That’s impossible. The man who’d been stalking you is in jail.”
“Vester isn’t the man,” John said.
“Isn’t the man?” Wainwright repeated.
Before Julia could intervene, her father swung around to face John. His eyes went cold. “You told me you caught the man who’d been stalking her.”
John met the older man’s eyes steadily. “I was wrong.”
“How could you let this happen?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Julia could have been killed tonight and you’re sorry?”
Julia sat up in the bed. “Dad, that’s enough. John handled the situation the best way he knew how. Even Mitch and the police thought Vester was the guy.”
But none of those things seemed to matter to her father; once he made up his mind about something it was impossible to change. He swung anger-bright eyes on John. “I asked you to keep her safe and what do you do? You nab the first suspect you find and wash your hands of it because you’re too busy drowning your sorrows in alcohol. How would you have felt if this maniac had succeeded and killed her?”
John had been raked over the coals too many times to count in his lifetime. He’d developed a thick skin. But it wasn’t thick enough to keep cruel images from creeping into his head, and
he was brutally reminded that Julia wasn’t the only person who’d been hurt because of him. She was the lucky one; she’d survived. Franklin Watts had not.
John couldn’t defend what he’d done—or what he hadn’t done in this case—so he remained silent while the older man dressed him down.
“I knew you were going through a rough time, but I didn’t think it was so rough that it would affect your ability to keep her safe.”
“Dad, Nicholas Vester fit the profile,” Julia said.
“Stop defending him,” Wainwright snapped to his daughter. “You’re not thinking straight.”
Anger whipped through Julia. “I’m thinking quite clearly.”
But her father had already turned his attention back to John and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, John, but I’m not willing to risk my daughter’s life on the chance you’ll come around. I think all of us would be better off if I found someone else to look after Julia.”
The words shouldn’t have shocked him, but they did. The humiliation that followed burned. But John couldn’t dispute the man’s logic. He should have stayed with Julia even after Vester was taken into custody.
“Dad!” Julia cried.
John raised a hand. “It’s okay.” But he didn’t take his eyes off of Wainwright. “He’s right.”
He could feel Julia’s eyes on him. He could feel the anger and disappointment coming off Benjamin Wainwright in hot, undulating waves. He could feel the shame pressing down on him with the weight of a thousand tons of earth.
He wanted to say something, but there were no words left inside him. There was no defense for what he’d done, for what he hadn’t done. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d failed Julia. He’d failed all of them.
He’d failed himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, then turned and walked away without looking back.
TWENTY-FIVE
There had been plenty of times in the past twenty-nine years when Julia had been angry with her father. But she had never been so angry as she was tonight.
The look on John’s face when her father fired him had been like a bayonet run through her heart. For the first time since she’d known him he hadn’t had a smart-assed reply ready on the tip of his tongue. He’d stood there, stoic and silent, his expression inscrutable. But she’d seen the pain and humiliation in his eyes. Emotions so powerful he hadn’t been able to hide them. It had killed her when he’d simply apologized then turned and walked away.
“You had no right to do that,” she said.
Benjamin Wainwright turned to her. “I had every right. I hired him. I can fire him.”
“He didn’t deserve that.”
“You didn’t deserve to be assaulted tonight!” he shouted.
Until this moment Julia hadn’t realized just how upset her father was. The intellectual side of her knew he was reacting to the fear of her being hurt, because he loved her. But the more emotional side of her couldn’t sit by and let her father berate John when he’d done exactly what any cop would have done.
“Dad, John isn’t the only one who thought the stalker had been caught. So did you. So did Mitch.”
“I don’t care. It was John’s responsibility to keep you safe. He accepted that responsibility. He didn’t deliver.” The elder Wainwright shook his head. “For God’s sake, he’s probably on his way to some bar to drown his sorrows.”
“Dad, he’s dealing with a heavy load. He accidentally killed a man two months ago. Where’s your compassion?”
“My compassion lies first with my family.” His eyes narrowed. “You know, Julia, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten the impression there’s more going on between you and John than you’re saying.”
“I’m twenty-nine years old, Dad. My private life is none of your concern.” Despite the words, a hot blush heated her cheeks.
Her father pretended not to notice. “You are my daughter. Every facet of your life is my concern.” He huffed. “You can stay in the guest room at the mansion tonight.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Flinging the sheet aside, Julia sat up, wishing immediately she’d passed on the painkiller.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She turned away and looked at him over her shoulder. He’d stopped midway to the gurney, his expression part concern, part indignation. “I’m going to find John,” she said.
“Honey, no. You need to rest. Come home where you’ll be safe.”
“You should have thought of all those things before you fired him.” She pulled the sheet around her hips. “Now, if you’ll please leave, I’d like to get dressed.”
“Julia, honey, I wish you’d rethink this.”
“Send Claudia in on your way out.”
“Julia . . .”
When she ignored him, he finally turned and left the room.
“We’re going to John’s house.”
“What?” Claudia looked away from her driving, her expression alarmed. “Just how many of those painkillers did the doctor give you?”
“Not enough to make me believe Dad did the right thing by firing him.”
“Julia, it’s one o’clock in the morning. You’re exhausted and medicated. I need to get you to the house, where you can get some rest.”
“I’m not staying with Dad.”
“What? Honey, Dad’s expecting you.” Claudia jabbed a finger at the headlights behind them. “In case you’ve forgotten, so is Mitch.”
Julia pressed her lips together. Benjamin Wainwright had asked Mitch to escort her and Claudia back to his Garden District mansion. “Dad is a control freak and I’ve had all I can take.”
Claudia cut her a sideways look. “Please tell me you didn’t have a fight.”
“He shouldn’t have fired John.”
“I agree he could have been a little more diplomatic, but can’t you deal with it tomorrow?”
“You didn’t see John’s face. He blames himself for what happened to me. The same way he blames himself for what happened to that cop in Chicago. He’s got this guilt thing going on and it’s eating him alive.”
Spotting her sister’s cell phone in the black bag next to the seat, she picked it up and punched in the number from Mitch’s card.
“What are you doing?” Claudia asked.
Mitch picked up on the first ring with a curt utterance of his name. “Take us to John’s house,” Julia said.
A beat of thoughtful silence, then, “Julia, your father asked me to escort you to his house.”
“My father had no right to fire him.”
“John’s a big boy. He can handle it.”
“Cut out the macho bull,” she snapped. “He’s in trouble and you know it.”
Another long beat of silence. “You sure you want to do that?”
“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be calling.”
A sigh hissed over the line. “Okay. Have Claudia pull over and I’ll take the lead. John lives on the other side of the Quarter.” He paused. “You might want to call him and give him a heads-up that you’re coming.”
Julia knew Mitch was concerned that John had already picked up a bottle. That he was home alone and drowning his sorrows. Just like her father had insinuated.
“You know if I call him he’ll only try to talk me out of this,” she said.
“And that would be the first thing he’s done right in days.”
“He didn’t deserve what happened. I want to make it right.”
“Let’s just hope he appreciates the effort,” Mitch said and disconnected.
John didn’t waste any time breaking the seal. He knew at some point he was going to have to end his jaunt down the superhighway of self-destruction. That wasn’t going to happen tonight.
He felt like a fool. Worse, he felt like a failure. Not only as a cop, but as a man. Benjamin Wainwright had hired him to keep Julia safe. As in so many other areas of his life in the past few weeks, John had fallen short.
He poured four fingers of gin into a
tumbler and took a long, dangerous pull. The alcohol burned all the way to his stomach, so he took another drink. Fighting fire with fire. John knew it wouldn’t work, but the knowledge didn’t keep him from finishing the glass and pouring again.
He tried not to think about Julia witnessing the entire humiliating scene. He couldn’t imagine what she thought of him. He shouldn’t care. Didn’t want to care.
But he did.
That was when he realized his being fired was only part of the reason for his despondency. The real reason was a hell of a lot more disturbing. He missed her. He wanted to be with her. To be perfectly honest he wanted a hell of a lot more than that. The admission shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. Of all the times in his life to get tangled up with a woman, why did it have to be now, when he was so totally unraveled?
The laugh that followed was as bitter as the irony. He looked down at the glass in his hand, swirled the clear liquid, then drained it. He had enough problems to deal with without having to contend with a hard-on for a woman he could not have.
A knock on the door jerked him from his reverie. Mitch. Or maybe Wainwright stopping by to give him the name of some counselor.
“Fuck that,” he growled and started for the door.
He swung open the door without checking the peephole. Shock rippled through him at the sight of Julia. She was standing in the hall in baggy sweatshirt and faded jeans. Her hair brushed the tops of her slender shoulders like a curtain of silk. She looked beautiful and vulnerable and sexy at once.
The sight of the bruises took him aback. He hated it that someone had done that to her. That he hadn’t been there to protect her. Better to end this now . . .
“If you’re here to apologize for your father,” he began, “don’t bother.”
“I’m here to see you.” Her gaze met his. “Can I come in?”
John’s heart began to pound, but he didn’t move. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Her gaze flicked down to the glass in his hand. “You didn’t waste any time.”
“I’m an expeditious kind of guy. What can I say?” But there was a very big part of him that wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her until they were both mindless. It was the one thing he couldn’t allow. Another encounter like the one in the storage room and no doubt the situation would get out of hand. He respected her too much to let things go any farther.