For Her Eyes Only Part 2. Шарон Сала
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that thought came still another. Thinking of Jessie in danger made him sick with fear. He wiped a shaky hand across his face and closed his eyes, trying to remind himself that he had no claims on her other than the fact that she was just another innocent citizen he’d sworn to protect. But he kept remembering the way she laughed and the way she made love. As he broke out in a cold sweat, he groaned.
“Damn it,” he muttered, “I don’t need this,” then he started the car and headed back to the station.
He’d already decided he wasn’t saying anything to anyone but Sanderson until the autopsy report was in his hands. And he could just imagine how the chief was going to take the news. How does one tell the chief of police that some woman had a psychic vision and Stone had decided to act upon it? He shook his head. It sounded crazy, even to him.
* * *
Jessica was a morning person. Usually, she got up with a buoyant attitude that stayed with her through the rest of the day. But today, as she stepped out of the shower and glanced at herself in the mirror, she frowned.
In spite of doctor’s orders, she had removed her bandage and washed her hair. Shoving back her ragged bangs, she turned her head, first one way, then another, looking intently at her wound before reaching for a towel. The way she looked at it, it was a toss-up as to which was worse—her homegrown haircut, or the bald spot that was sprouting new growth.
“I don’t care,” she told herself as she dried. “I don’t have to go to work. Who’s going to see?”
And then the phone rang. She dropped the towel and bolted, flopping across her bed as she reached for the phone beside her pillow.
“Hello.”
Stone’s voice rolled over her senses like warm honey on hot bread.
“Jessie, it’s me.”
In spite of the fact that she was safe from prying eyes, she instinctively reached for a sheet, then realized he wouldn’t know she was naked. An odd little smile came and went as she dropped the sheet and moved the phone a little closer to her mouth. It was a decadent feeling to be talking to this man without wearing a stitch.
“I called to see how you were feeling,” Stone said.
She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. The air from an overhead fan was blow-drying the lingering moisture from her skin and she imagined that it was Stone’s breath instead. She was so into her fantasy that her nipples suddenly peaked and hardened as her body tightened with longing.
She sighed. “I’m feeling fine. Just fine.”
Stone frowned. She sounded strange, almost drugged.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
She answered before she thought. “Oh, no. I’ve been up for ages. I just got out of the shower.”
Stone gripped the receiver until his knuckles whitened, and he tried, without much success, to concentrate on something besides the thought of Jessica, wet and nude.
“Uh—” Realizing that he’d totally lost focus as to why he’d called, he gave himself a mental kick in the butt and shifted the receiver to his other ear.
Jessica was woman enough to hear Stone’s confusion. And just when she could have taken heart from the fact that he could be remembering their past, she edited her thought. Yes, a naked woman might do wonders in getting some attention from Stone, but what about one with a bald spot and stitches? Aware of the dampness beneath her head, she abandoned her fantasies and sat up.
“Stone, hang on a minute, will you?” Without waiting for his answer, she dropped the phone and rolled off the bed to get a towel for her wet hair. It was dripping all over the bed.
Moments later, she was back. “Thanks,” she said. “I was getting everything wet.”
He groaned and covered his face with his hand.
“Stone?”
He jerked. At last. A reason to focus. “What?”
“Was there a particular reason you called?”
His mind was a blank, and then he remembered the autopsy in progress, and that he had wanted to warn her about talking to anyone other than him.
“Oh! Yeah! Uh, you know yesterday, when we talked about what you saw?”
She tensed and sat up.
“Yes, what about it?”
“You might have been right.”
She’d known it, and yet hearing it said aloud gave her chills.
“About Olivia and the needle?”
“Yes, well—maybe yes about Olivia, maybe no—but you were right about my lost check. It was where you said it would be. And, I think you should know that they are performing an autopsy on Olivia Stuart. We’ll know more soon.”
“Oh, Lord.”
Stone heard her panic. And the fact that she’d been unable to come up with one of her colorful comments was proof of how rattled she must be.
“Jessie, I need you to do something for me.”
She felt sick to her stomach, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Don’t talk about this to anyone else. At least, not until I tell you it’s all right.”
“Why?”
He had to tell her. Her life could be on the line.
“Because, if you’re right, then that means Olivia was murdered. And if she was, then that means there’s a murderer who will be very unhappy to learn there was a witness…of sorts.”
There were aspects of this mess that kept going from bad to worse. She started to shake.
“But I’m not really a witness. At least not the kind that will help you solve the case. I saw Olivia being stabbed, but I never saw the woman’s face who did it.”
Stone frowned. For some reason, he’d been expecting her to furnish recognition as to the attacker’s identity.
“Then, how do you know it was a woman?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, doing a mental playback of what she’d seen. “Because…”
She paused, trying to focus. The hands. Those long, tapering fingers. And the polish. She was wearing red nail polish! Suddenly it dawned.
“She was wearing nail polish. Red nail polish. And I think maybe perfume. Every time I see it happening, I smell gardenias.”
Stone’s frown deepened. “What else, Jessie? Think.”
“That’s all,” she said. “I didn’t see her face, I swear. My focus seemed to be entirely on Olivia.”
“Okay, don’t worry about it,” Stone said. “The main thing is, keep what you saw to yourself.”
Jessica nodded, and then remembered. Brenda! She’d told her sister, Brenda.
“Uh, Stone…”
“Yeah?”
“Brenda knows.”
His stomach tied itself into a miserable knot. “Damn.”
She frowned. “Well, I had to tell someone, and she is my sister, remember?”
In spite of the fact that no one could overhear their conversation, a flush heated his face as he glanced over at Stryker’s desk. The accusation in Jessie’s voice had been no accident. He’d dated one sister and made love to the other. It was a mess he could have never foreseen. But it was over two years ago. What he had to remember was to keep his personal life out of his job.
“Okay, so