The Perfect Murder

Twelve

A clap of thunder woke Sebastian. After the initial boom, it rolled across the sky loudly enough to shake the whole building and was soon joined by an onslaught of wind and rain.

“What a morning,” he grumbled. It was still early; he felt like going back to sleep. Especially when his first thought was of Jane-and the disappointment and frustration that had resulted from their lovemaking. He couldn’t help feeling he’d let her down. She’d summoned the courage and trust to return to his room, and he hadn’t been able to deliver what she wanted. She wasn’t sexually liberated enough to take advantage of being in charge. Not after five years of celibacy. Not after what she’d been through. He should’ve thought of that, should’ve realized she actually needed him to take the lead. He would’ve slipped into that role if he hadn’t been so afraid of spooking her.

What she needed was a happy medium between aggressiveness and restraint. He could see that now. But at the time, he’d been feeling his way through the experience, too. He’d never made love to a woman who’d been viciously attacked by a stranger, let alone by the man who was supposed to love her and protect her above all others.

He wondered how Emily would’ve reacted to the violence of having been shot had she survived…

When he considered it in those terms, he had to admit Jane was recovering quite well. She’d been attacked in a brutal, very personal fashion. Yet she was standing her ground, battling her fears. That alone told him she was a brave woman.

He wished last night had brought her some comfort, some satisfaction.

“Live and learn,” he said aloud. Too gentle was almost as unfulfilling as too rough. He instinctively understood that, but he’d made an exception for Jane.

In an attempt to put her out of his head, he showered and checked his voice mail. But he didn’t have any messages and his chores offered little distraction. While he was working, part of his brain kept replaying that moment when her tongue had first touched his and sent his heart racing. He hadn’t been so aroused in ages…

The phone interrupted his thoughts. Halfway hoping it would be Jane, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Sebastian?”

It wasn’t Jane; it was Constance. His disappointment surprised him-and confirmed that he wasn’t himself anymore. Didn’t he want to reconcile with his girlfriend? Maybe she didn’t seem vital to him now, but she would at some point. At this rate, he’d have to rebuild every aspect of his life.

And yet he’d rather speak to a woman he’d met yesterday, a woman with whom he had no future, a woman who’d left him feeling off-balance.

“Yes?” he said into the phone.

“You haven’t called.”

He’d just sat down and booted up his computer, but at the sulkiness in her voice, he pushed away from the desk and stared at the rain sliding down the window. “You told me it was over.”

“And you were willing to leave it at that?”

“I thought it was what you wanted, what would make you happiest.”

“I was angry.”

“And now?”

“I’m still angry. But…I’m not sure I can give up on us.”

Sebastian had no idea how he felt about their relationship anymore, how he felt about her. Was it fair to let her believe things would go back to the way they were before? He’d drifted so far from the man he used to be; he doubted she even knew him anymore. And what about last night? Once he told her he’d been intimate with another woman, they’d have more problems. Constance was nothing if not intensely jealous.

“Malcolm is within reach, Connie,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“I think you might be right.”

Her sudden reversal surprised him. “What?”

“Someone called late last night, Sebastian, at about 2:00 a.m.”

“Who?”

“A man. He wouldn’t give his name.”

He gazed out at the overcast sky. “What’d he say?”

“He asked for you.”

Below, puddles formed in any depression, mirroring the gloom overhead. “Did you get the number he was calling from?”

“I couldn’t. It was blocked.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said we broke up, that you were at your condo. But I don’t think he believed me.”

“Why not?”

“He said, ‘Then why the fuck doesn’t he answer?’ and hung up. He was…enraged. I could feel the hate coming through the phone. It was weird.”

Trying to absorb what that call, and the emotion of the caller, could mean, Sebastian looked over at the parking space where he’d found Jane crying. He wished he could have last night to do over again… “You think it was Malcolm?” he said.

When Constance replied her voice was softer than it had been in a long while. “Yes.”

Sebastian had immediately considered the possibility, but he had Malcolm on his mind 24/7. He’d never expected Constance to suspect a man she believed was dead.

Or maybe she simply wanted to believe he was dead-so Sebastian would come home and they could get on with their lives.

“It sounded just like him,” she went on with a degree of acceptance.

Lightning flashed in his peripheral vision before another crack of thunder rumbled overhead. “Are you sure? You only talked to Malcolm occasionally.”

“I talked to him enough to recognize his voice! I picked up Colton for you several times. Or have you forgotten?”

He hadn’t forgotten. He’d wanted her to get to know his son, to see how they’d interact. He’d been on the verge of asking her to marry him-they’d been that close-which was why he couldn’t believe he felt so indifferent to her now.

“He always made it a point to answer the door and harass me,” she was saying. “He’d clarify the time we’d be bringing Colton home, ask what we were planning to do with him-as if he had any right to approve or disapprove. He’d also inform me when Colton had homework so he wouldn’t be ‘saddled’ with it. Or he’d say we needed to get Colton a physical for sports or have his teeth checked or whatever. Don’t you remember? He passed off every chore he could, especially the ones that cost money, although you were already paying an exorbitant amount of child support.”

As long as it was for Colton, Sebastian hadn’t minded. His son had meant everything to him. Sometimes he’d even sent a little extra for Emily. He had no problem buying her a new dress or a meal out so she wouldn’t have to account to Malcolm for the expense. Why would he? She was the mother of his child. The happier she was, the happier his son would be.

What he wouldn’t give to have the option to overpay her again…

Clenching his teeth, he pressed his forehead to the cool glass. “He always had something to say.” It hadn’t been easy having another man tell him how to raise his son. That, more than anything, made Sebastian regret ever allowing his marriage to end. If only he hadn’t been so caught up in work during those early years. He’d been far too driven. With the hours he’d spent at the office, it was almost inevitable that Emily would get involved with someone else. She needed love, attention. He’d neglected her, yet he’d felt so angry, so betrayed, that he hadn’t been able to forgive her until it was too late.

“You hated it.”

“I did. All of it.” Because he’d been such a poor husband himself, his son had ended up living with a stepfather no one liked. And Emily had felt trapped. She didn’t want to “fail” again. But she’d been afraid of Malcolm…

Sebastian wished he’d given those fears more credence. But his father had needed constant care during the years she was first with Malcolm, and once his dad had died and he’d managed to forgive her, he was accustomed to the situation. He’d passed along a few bucks to ease the financial strain, hoping that would help, but he’d never expected it to end the way it did. The fact that Malcolm was a cop-that he loved being a cop-had convinced Sebastian that Emily’s husband was basically a good guy. Sebastian had thought he was just rigid and difficult to deal with on a personal level.

Even after so long, he was shocked by how wrong he’d been.

“So you finally agree that Malcolm is alive?” he asked.

“Now I do. It was him. Who else would be calling here in the middle of the night?”

Sebastian had no idea. But it was a relief to hear Constance acknowledge the possibility that Malcolm was still among the living. Until now, only his mother and, to a point, Mary-had believed him.

“Should I e-mail him? Let him know it was me?”

“You have his e-mail address?”

“It was on those transcripts you sent me.”

“No. I can’t afford to spook him. But why would he be looking for me?” he asked, but he could guess. Malcolm was tempted to see Mary this weekend, more tempted than he’d ever been to let someone from his former life know he was alive. But he was scared, too-scared enough to be searching for signs of trouble.

“Maybe he realizes you’re on to him. Maybe he feels you’re getting close.”

Lightning illuminated a few souls determined to brave the weather. At nearly eight o’clock in the morning, it was still dark enough that they had to use their headlights. One pair flipped on, then another.

“It’s possible,” he said. It wasn’t as if Sebastian had kept his search a secret. He’d flown all over the country tracking down everyone Malcolm had ever known, including Malcolm’s first wife. If Malcolm had been in touch with any of them, he’d probably been told that Sebastian was asking questions. Malcolm had contacted Mary, hadn’t he? Perhaps he’d contacted someone else, too-someone who’d heard what he’d done but didn’t quite trust the news. Or someone who was willing to accept any denials Malcolm had to offer.

“Do you think he checked with the bank?” she asked.

“That would be my guess.” Sebastian couldn’t believe that Malcolm would call Constance first, that he’d let her hear his voice when there were easier ways to get information. Lincoln Hawke Financial, the bank where he worked, was holding his position open, despite the topsy-turvy economy. Had Malcolm called there, he might’ve been told that Sebastian was still an employee. Or, depending on whom he’d spoken to, he might’ve been told that Sebastian hadn’t been in for more than a year.

What would Malcolm make of such a long absence?

“I’m nervous,” Constance said. “If he’s afraid you’re on to him, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

Turning away from the window, Sebastian went back to his computer. “It’ll blow the meeting this weekend, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not worried about the meeting-I’m worried about your safety!” she cried. “He’s already killed two people and gotten away with it. If he thinks you’re on to him, he might decide to get rid of you!”

“I’m prepared for that.”

“How do you prepare for being shot?”

“By knowing how to shoot back. After all the time I’ve spent at the range, I’m not bad.”

“But he could use this meeting with Mary to set you up. You might go there thinking you’ve got him, and it could be exactly the opposite.”

Maybe, but he’d never been this close to catching the man who’d killed his son. This could be his only opportunity. “Then we’ll see who outsmarts whom.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” she snapped. “That’s your response? That cavalier attitude will get you killed!”

“You know I can’t turn back now.”

“Sebastian, you could stop this madness if you wanted to. How will it help Colton or Emily if you die, too? And what about me? Don’t I matter at all?”

He logged in to his e-mail program. “I can’t move on until I put this to rest,” he said. “This is the only way.”

“Sebastian?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

The question caught him off guard. He didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t lie to her. That was one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do with any woman. Not after Emily had cheated on him, not after he’d learned how it felt to be on the receiving end of such lies. “I don’t know anymore.”

His admission met with a prolonged silence. “Then you won’t be coming back, anyway, not to me,” she said and hung up.

Exhaling, he tossed his phone aside and held his palms against his eyes. He’d just slipped even farther away from the woman he’d wanted to marry, away from everything he had left.

A knock sounded at the door. It was early for the maid, but Sebastian couldn’t imagine who else it would be. “No housekeeping,” he called.

“It’s me.”

Jane. He crossed to the door and opened it to find her standing in the hallway, shaking off an umbrella, which she propped against the wall. She was wearing a trench coat that fell open to reveal a fitted brown business suit with a narrow skirt and a turquoise blouse. Only her rock-star hair, that tattoo on her hand-the one on her breast was completely hidden today-and her large dangly earrings gave away the fact that she wasn’t like other women who might wear this kind of tailored clothing.

“I got hold of the owner of that rental house we visited yesterday,” she said.

Sebastian felt torn. He’d just broken up with Constance -and this time he was sure it was for good. That was probably a mistake. And yet he wanted to touch Jane. He wanted a second chance to make it a pleasant experience for her.

But her starchy bearing told him she had no intention of letting that happen. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge that they’d ever been intimate.

“And?” he prompted.

“Wesley Boss moved out three months ago.”

“Any forwarding address?”

“Just the P.O. box we already have, as you expected.”

He stepped back to let her in. She paused uncertainly, but when he cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge, she clutched her purse in front of her and marched past him in her sensible brown pumps.

“Did Malcolm put a phone number on the rental application?” he asked as the door swung shut.

“He did. It was the number of that cell phone my kidnap victim used. A phone that’s disappeared from the network and can’t be found, of course.”

She had the smell of rain on her, mingled with the perfume he’d noticed the night before. “So it’s a dead end.”

“Yes.”

He motioned to the desk chair. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I’m on my way to work. I just stopped by to see if you’d lend me that picture you have of Wesley Boss-or Malcolm Turner or whoever he is-so I can make a copy of it. It’ll be a lot easier to find him if I can at least show people what he looks like.”

“The one you saw yesterday is still in the car, but I’ve got another one.” He crouched next to his briefcase-he’d opened it on the floor on the far side of the bed-and riffled through the contents, eventually withdrawing a manila envelope containing an eight-by-ten of Malcolm. He’d taken it from a second photo that’d had Emily in it, too, until he’d cropped her out.

Jane avoided any incidental contact as she accepted it. “Thank you.”

“No need to make a copy. I have a whole stack.”

“Perfect.”

“What about references?” he asked.

“References?” She’d obviously lost the thread of the conversation.

Following her line of sight, he realized she was looking at the condoms on the nightstand. Maybe she wanted to pretend last night had never happened, but she was as preoccupied with it as he was.

“On the rental application,” he clarified.

She jerked her eyes back to his face. “Oh, right. They were all bogus.”

“The landlord never bothered to check?”

“No. He was going negative trying to carry the mortgage every month so he was just grateful he had someone to move in and pay rent.”

As Sebastian sat on the bed, images of their time together paraded across his mind in greater detail. The softness of her skin. The way her mouth had yielded beneath his. The sounds she’d made. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her. He wished she’d let him redeem himself.

But he knew better than to try. She’d taken a giant step backward.

“That means we’re down to the link we have through Mary,” he said.

With a shrug, she perched on the edge of the office chair he’d offered her a moment earlier. “At this stage, it’s our best hope.”

But what if Malcolm had figured out that Mary was betraying him? That call to Constance signified something. “I think Malcolm’s concerned about me.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He called an old friend last night, asking for me.”

“He knows your friends?”

“This one he does.”

“How?”

“She picked Colton up for me on occasion.”

“She?” Genuine confusion showed on Jane’s face, but it cleared a second later. “Oh! You were with her.”

“Yes.”

Her voice dropped. “Is that still the case?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? Because I assumed…” She cleared her throat. “You’re not wearing a ring.”

“I’m not married, Jane. She’s my ex-girlfriend.” Did it matter that they’d broken up only a few minutes ago?

She spoke through a crash of thunder, but he could hear the relief in her voice. “What did he say to her?”

“He asked about me. He’s poking around to see what I’m doing.”

Jane held her purse primly in her lap. “If he connects you with Mary-”

“Best-case scenario, he takes off again and I’ll be starting from scratch.” Worst-case scenario, he killed Mary before disappearing. But Sebastian didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario, let alone state it.

“You wouldn’t give up and go home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Never.” Although he had no idea how he’d continue to finance such efforts.

“Is there any chance he could find out you’re in Sacramento?”

“I’m sure there is. My family and friends know I’m here. But my being here doesn’t necessarily imply it was Mary who betrayed him.”

Lightning flickered, preceding another boom. “Someone had to tip you off to come here.”

“Or something. For all he knows, I traced him a different way.”

Her eyes ranged over him as if she was matching what she saw to what she’d touched last night, and the tension between them ratcheted up. It was ugly outside, ugly everywhere else. He wanted to hole up in this room with her, show her that she could forget the past if only she’d trust him enough…

She shifted uncomfortably. “I still think he’d question her loyalty. I’d wonder about her if it were me. She could be in trouble, Sebastian. At some point, she might have to take her kids and go to a motel booked under a friend’s name or something.”

“I agree. But we can’t uproot her too soon. It’ll be too hard on her and the kids to be away from their regular lives for very long.”

“What if we can get to him before this weekend?” she asked. “Before he has time to do much investigating of his own?”

While part of his brain was busy maintaining the conversation, the other part was remembering the feel of Jane’s breasts against his chest…

He sat up so his body’s reaction to that image would be less apparent. “How?”

“We could tell him that Mary’s sending him a package, ask for an address.”

“He’d provide the P.O. box we already have.”

“Curiosity is a powerful motivator.”

“You think he’d go there to pick it up?”

“I do. And we’d be waiting.” She smiled, but when his gaze fell to her mouth, the smile faded and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“I’m not sure it’ll work,” he said. But he was sure this was working. God, he wanted to touch her…

“Why not?”

“He knows the police have the number for his cell phone, which means they also have his P.O. box.”

“A lot of people come and go at any given post office. The idea of running in and picking up a package might be too tantalizing to resist.”

He needed to get her to leave before he pulled her into his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk her to the door before she was ready to go. The torture of having her close but not close enough was bittersweet… “It’s worth a shot. I’ll try to set it up tonight.”

She nodded and got to her feet. “Let me know how it goes.”

“You’re not coming back?”

“I don’t think we should be alone together.”

“If you’re afraid we might fall into bed, we already did.”

“That doesn’t mean we should make it a repeat performance.”

When he stood, they were separated by only a few inches. “Why not? Maybe if you let your guard down next time, you might actually enjoy it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but the scowl that accompanied those words was a mask. He saw the truth beneath it, knew he’d hit a nerve.

He ran a finger down her cheek. “You stopped me every time I did something you really liked. Why?”

Stepping back, she fastened her coat and tied the belt. “I was just trying to…trying to-”

“Sabotage your own pleasure?”

“No!” She headed for the door.

“I think that’s exactly what you were doing,” he called after her. “Then you could convince yourself that you’re not really missing anything.”

“Stop it! You…you’re wrong.” She reached for the door handle. He expected her to open it and leave, but she didn’t. She turned back to face him as if she was going to argue some more-and met him in the middle of the room instead. Then she was kissing him as hungrily as he’d ever been kissed.

This time Sebastian swore he wouldn’t treat her as though she might shatter. Pushing her against the wall, he claimed her mouth as he’d longed to claim it last night and knew it was okay when she clenched her hands in his hair, pulling him even closer, and moaned deep in her throat. At last she was letting go, allowing her body to do what came naturally.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “No need to hold back.” Then he slid her skirt up to her waist.