Her Lawman On Call. Marie Ferrarella
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her shoulder. Tony moved it back into place, his fingers brushing against the side of her neck. They felt rough, as if he worked with his hands when he wasn’t being a cop.
“It was late,” Sasha replied.
“All the more reason,” he pointed out. When he’d taken the call that brought him back to the location where he’d been just two weeks ago, canvassing the area, he hadn’t expected to find the doctor at the center of the scene again.
The sensation that had shimmied through him was a surprise as well.
Sasha thought for a second. She supposed, to the detective, it must have appeared stupid. In hindsight, she had to agree. But she’d been going alone to the parking structure every night since they’d found Angela’s body. Besides, she didn’t think of herself in terms of mortality.
Sasha’s hands tightened around the container. “No one else was leaving when I left and I don’t like inconveniencing people.”
His eyes met hers. “Murder is the ultimate inconvenience,” he commented. Satisfied that the woman could understand him and process his questions now, he began by asking the obvious one. “Did you know the victim?”
Sasha bit back a sigh. She nodded. “Her name’s Rachel Wells. She’s a nurse. And a grandmother.” Sasha suddenly realized where he was going with this. “I didn’t know her well. Just to nod to, that kind of thing. She once showed me a photograph of her grandchildren. It was a Christmas-card photo,” she added.
Santini gave no indication that he was pleased or displeased with her answer. She didn’t like faces she couldn’t read. Everything that any of her family felt was right out there for everyone to see.
“Did the other victim know her?” he wanted to know.
The feeling of helplessness swaddled her. She hated being useless, but there wasn’t anything useful she could tell him.
“They were both nurses. I suppose they knew each other, but I really couldn’t say for sure.” Did he think there was a serial killer out there, focusing on PM’s nurses? She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know yet,” he told her simply, even though as a rule he didn’t like having questions about his methods being put to him. “I figure if we ask enough questions, we might wind up finding an answer that’ll tell us something.”
That made sense. Right now, it was difficult to pull her thoughts together coherently. “Do you think this is some kind of a serial killer, going around murdering nurses for some twisted reason?”
He didn’t answer at first. “What do you think?”
Sasha looked at the detective sharply, her mind kicking in for the first time since she’d looked down to see her second victim in a little more than two weeks. Was he toying with her? Baiting her? She raised her chin slightly.
“I don’t know what to think.”
Tony inclined his head, as if in agreement. “Neither do I,” he admitted mildly.
That was a crock. She didn’t buy it for a minute. Detective Anthony Santini looked like the kind of man who knew exactly what he thought at all times. Moreover, he looked like a man who was on top of everything, be it situations or people, and he undoubtedly made it a point to remain that way.
And then she saw a spark enter his eyes. His interest seemed to sharpen, as if a new idea had just occurred to him. Sasha wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what it was.
The next moment, she decided that she had to know what it was. If she didn’t find out, she knew she would have no peace.
“What?”
Tony pointed out the obvious, straddling a fence, as if to see which side he was going to climb down on. “You found both bodies and both victims were holding the same note.”
For the first time, she felt something other than grief for the victims and the family members who were left behind. Was he actually saying he suspected her of being the one who’d killed both women? How could he possibly even think something so stupid?
“The guard found Angela,” she reminded him. “But technically, I guess you could say that, yes,” she allowed. Her stomach felt as if it was on its way to meet her throat. Dear God, she hoped she wouldn’t wind up doing something stupid, letting her nerves get the better of her. “Why?”
This doctor might or might not be the common thread here, he thought, since they had no other viable lead. It seemed an incredible coincidence that she was in the same vicinity as both of the victims.
“Do you know anyone who might be doing this to get your attention?”
It took her a second to absorb the question.
“My attention?” she repeated incredulously.
“You know, like a cat coming into the house and laying whatever they’ve killed down by your feet.” He saw the revulsion enter her eyes. He’d thought doctors didn’t become grossed out. “To them, it’s a flattering gesture, not a sickening one.”
Sasha pressed her lips together. Someone was killing their nurses and this man was talking nonsense. “No, I don’t know anyone who would bring me dead bodies as a gift.”
The ghostly pallor was receding from her cheeks, he noted. He was getting her angry. Righteously, or was that bravado? “You said you were a female doctor?”
How archaic did that sound? “I’m an OB-GYN,” she corrected.
His eyes never left her face. “Lose any mothers or babies lately?”
Did he think some deranged husband or parent was killing innocent people because they were trying to get back at her?
“You are crazy,” she told him, taking umbrage for her patients and their families.
He never batted an eye. “Part of the job, ma’am.”
Tony glanced over toward the yellow taped-off area. As he’d instructed at the first homicide, one of the crime scene investigators was scanning the area with a video camera. He wanted to compare tapes, see if anyone who had come to the first homicide turned up at the second. Besides the good doctor here.
He turned his attention back to her. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to give me a statement again.”
She’d expected as much when she’d placed the 911 call to report the murder.
And then something suddenly dawned on her. “Do you think I did it?”
“I think everyone did it,” he answered. “Until I can weed the non-suspects out, one at a time.”
This seemed just too fantastic for her to absorb. That someone would think she was a murderer boggled her mind.
“Why would I kill Angela and Rachel?”
His eyes met hers. She’d never seen such serious eyes in her life. “If I had the answer to that, this would be easy.”
“Then I’ll give you an answer,” she told him heatedly. He was wasting his time with this line of thinking and the sooner he moved on, the closer he would get to catching Angela and Rachel’s killer. And maybe preventing another murder as well. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t even step on bugs.”
There was just the barest hint of amusement evident. “Maybe you should. Their population is really exploding these days. Had to move out of my last apartment because the roaches reclaimed the building.”
Sasha shook her head. “You’re insane.”
“So you already pointed out,” he told her, unruffled. He took the empty cup from her and saw her stiffen indignantly.
“If you want my prints,” she told him tersely, “you just have to ask. My DNA, too.”
He