Just A Front
Chapter 2
Carl stifled his disappointment at being delayed. The persistent ring of the doorbell had reached his ears just as he stepped from the shower and he had toweled himself off hastily. If Bella stood on the other side of the door…the thought of what he would say lent a smile to his face. He was running behind as it were and didn’t wish to hold up his dinner partners.
He cursed under his breath as he brushed wet tendrils out of his eyes before he grabbed the door handle. He threw open the door prepared to abuse the intruder, but stopped when he discovered Rachel standing there, trembling and pale. He took her by the arm and pulled her into his suite, and she fell into him.
Unprepared for her nearness, Carl intuitively held Rachel to him protectively. She lay lax against his chest, a surprising yet achingly familiar place for her to be. For a just minute, maybe more, he closed his eyes and just held her. Hadn’t he dreamt of this? The way she was lying against him, soft and shapely, strong but yielding. And the way she smelled so sweet and vibrant and warm.
He had to force himself back to reality, he had to remember that something must be terribly wrong for Rachel to be here with him. Rachel breathed too laboriously, as if every time she inhaled it hurt. From head to toe her body quaked and she looked a fright. The hem of her jacket was torn, there was a ladder in her stockings and sweat glistened on her brow.
Clearing his mind, he closed the door. "Rachel," he said as calmly as he could, "tell me what happened."
She breathed deeply and made an attempt to talk, but couldn’t. Her lips quivered, the words refused to come.
"Take your time my darling," he said, restraining the need to tighten his arm around her. He could feel her breathing slowly returning to normal. She took first one deep breath, then another and another until the trembling began to subside. But he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, far too hard and fast.
Rachel was feminine and delicate, but not helpless. Rarely in their marriage had he witnessed her fall so completely apart. And she was falling apart, right now, right here, with her body folded against his own as if he was the last bit of comfort in the world. Despite the apparent urgency of her situation however, he found an opportunity to note once more, how sweet she smelled and how wonderful it felt to hold her.
Oddly he wished he’d taken time to dry his hair and slip into more than a pair of silk pajama pants. He’d even forgotten to grab a shirt or robe. Standing with her, his body practically naked, while he held a women who’d tormented him for far too many lonely years, was almost too much to bear. For a split second he considered several foolhardy notions—such as kissing her to calmness or holding her long after her fears were gone.
And then he realized doing so would get him a slap across the face.
"Rachel," he whispered, "tell me what is wrong."
She lifted her head, stared cautiously at him then stepped back, as if she suddenly realized where and with whom she was standing. "I saw a man murdered," she said in a voice so low and soft he had to focus to hear her words. "The killer, the killer just…shot the poor man as if it was an everyday thing." She swallowed hard and moved a little farther away. "When he saw me, I ran. He chased me but I ducked into an alley. I took him out with a pipe."
"Good my love."
"I thought he was going to get me. I’ve never been so frightened. When I knocked him down, I ran," she added.
Here, was the word she didn’t add. She didn’t run home or to the police or the nearest phone. She’d run to him.
"First things first," he began, gently guiding her to the couch. She no longer felt the need to cling to him but he didn’t think she was ready to stand on her own feet either. As she sat on the edge of the couch, tense and shaky and still pale, he wondered at what to do.
"Do you think you were followed?"
Rachel shook her head. "No! I didn’t bother to look back until I was about a block away…no one was behind me. Nothing."
He nodded. "Excellent. Now, where were you when this happened?"
"The underground parking garage at the Cory building. I was on my way home." Rachel’s breathing hitched. "It wasn’t like in the movies. It was just a pop and the guy fell to the concrete." Her eyes began to glaze over.
Common sense told him the next thing to do was investigate, make a call or two. He knew he needed to do something, anything to rouse Rachel from the catatonic state she was slipping into. At the moment it looked like she could feel nothing, even fear was preferable to that.
But in a split second she turned bright, intelligent eyes on him. Her eyes were so very, very blue. He wanted to fall into them, lose himself. He’d always loved her eyes. At times, the years since the divorce melted away. When they were at the same event and their eyes met across the crowded room, it was, for a moment as though they’d never parted, as if nothing had changed.
Without preamble she said, "Thank you."
He brushed the phrase away as he turned away from her. He was being an old fool. Everything had changed. "For what Rachel? Alright, I need to dress and make a call. While I’m at it, you need to consider what we should do next. I’m fully prepared to help you whatever you should decide."
"Okay," she replied. "Where you going out tonight?"
"Yes," he said, but he didn’t say with whom. Let her think he had a scorching social life.
*(*
Rachel sat alone on Carl’s living room couch, images of the horror she’d witnessed tonight warring with the sight of an underdressed Carl. She knew which she preferred.
Leaning back into the cushions she considered his words. She knew exactly what he meant when he said she had to decide. At her word Carl would call the police or he would take things into his own hands. That was if he well and truly believed her. He hadn’t said he thought she was crazy but he hadn’t said he believed her every word. Maybe he thought she was hallucinating.
Before she could change her mind, Rachel stood up and moved over to the phone. The last thing she wanted now was more violence in her life. She dialed Joe’s number and counted the rings. Joe and Paulina were on shaky ground, but he was a cop first and foremost. He would help them.
"Joe? It’s me, Rachel. Um, could you meet me at the Cory parking garage?"
"Why?"
"I um, saw something. A crime. A murder," she elaborated.
"When?"
"Fifteen minutes or so?"
Joe hung up, but not before Rachel caught his muttered oath. She was well aware he didn’t care for the Corys, but he still had a duty.
"What will it be Rachel?" Carl came out into the living room, impeccably dressed in dark cords and a turtleneck. His hair was drier but still hung around his face. Would he care that she’d decided to involve the police?
"We need to go now. Joe will meet us there in just a few minutes."
*(*
"Right there," Rachel pointed to the exact spot where the crime had occurred. Only instead of a body and a sinister spread of blood, all they found was innocent, pristine concrete. "A man came running in and then the car behind. Very fast too. I didn’t see the man come in…I wasn’t expecting to witness someone die."
She caught Joe’s skeptical look and the way his eyes rolled upward. No longer scared, Rachel felt the sting of his disbelief.
"What kind of car was it Rachel?" Joe asked, not bothering to get out a pad and pencil.
"Dark. Under the lights I couldn’t tell if it was black or dark blue. It was sort of big."
"Dark and ‘sort of’ big. Was it a van, a SUV? A truck?"
"Not a truck or a van." She shook her head. "It was a car."
Not exactly the best description she knew, but she hadn’t been too concerned with the vehicle’s make and model. After all, she’d been terrified!
The weary police captain apparently decided what she was telling him wasn’t worth his time or effort. Around him the crew he’d brought was searching in vain for any sign of what she’d seen. They were finding zilch. Joe rubbed his eyes and Rachel suddenly noticed just how tired he looked. She knew he and Paulina were having problems that her stepdaughter refused to share with her. Joe was a good guy, but pig-headed and stubborn beyond all reason. Personally, she believed the Carlino marriage was doomed.
Carl didn’t interfere with the interview, instead choosing to hang back. He was still close enough to make her feel as though he was with her. Which was a stupid notion. She hadn’t depended upon him in years.
"Okay Rachel, can you at least tell me what the perp looked like?"
She could remember the killer’s clothing. When she’d whacked him she’d gotten a good look. "Tall, about my height. Not a very big build and I didn’t see much of the face. I thought I saw a flash of blond hair. He was wearing black clothing or maybe dark grey. A trench-coat and some sort of hat."
"What kind?"
"I can’t remember. I do remember that when I hit him with the pipe, the way he screamed, well…"
"What?"
"Well, it didn’t sound…masculine. Does that make sense?"
"Oh sure. What were dealing with here is an effeminate killer," Joe said sarcastically.
She tried her best to remember more details, but they were few. Add that to the fact that the crime scene appeared to be clean as a whistle and it equaled out to a supremely unimpressed Joe.
"You know Rachel, maybe you didn’t see what you thought you saw. Maybe you saw two guys fightin’ and the one fell down. Maybe he got right back up and walked off after you ran outta here like a bat outta hell. Maybe that guy ain’t dead."
"No," she stated emphatically. "I know what I saw, what I heard." There had to be a way to convince Joe. "A man died here, in this garage."
"Then where’s the evidence Rachel? Huh? I don’t see nothin’ that screams murder. I got nothin’ to go on. Help me out here Rachel."
"He’s dead."
Joe walked away grumbling. "Okay. There’s not much to go on, but I’ll keep a look out for missing persons. Would you at least recognize the victim if you saw him?"
"I don’t know," she said truthfully. "It all happened so quickly and I wasn’t very close…"
Joe sighed a long ‘why bother’ sigh.
She knew it would take a body to convince him of what she’d seen. Rachel refused to give in to Joe’s skepticism. When the body turned up, then he’d see the truth. At least Carl believed her. She could take some comfort in that even though she knew she shouldn’t take comfort in the fact that he remained with her. His presence was reassuring, strong and solid. They weren’t a couple and she didn’t rely on him to get by. He was but a bit-player in her life now.
And yet, after this wretched experience she did feel better when she turned around and met his eyes. The world stopped it’s frenzied spinning and it was almost like old times.
"Joe doesn’t believe me," she told him.
"I know," Carl answered. He didn’t sound concerned in the least. He appeared casual to the unpracticed eye, but she could see the tense way he held himself. His eyes were searching the shadows for something, anything. All the hard work of putting him out of her life and head had all been in vain. A colossal waste of time. For right now she knew that if she turned to him and wanted to bury her head into his shoulder to hide from the world, he’d let her. He would protect her from anything and anyone. The urge to do just that nearly overwhelmed her. So much so that she had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself. What she felt for him went beyond the need to hide in his arms.
They’d touched one another. They’d stood closer today than they had in a long time. Old dormant desires came rushing to the surface to taunt her. Looking at his inviting person right now she found herself tempted to fall against him again, this time with far different results.
Wanting him was one thing, relying on him was another. She’d made that mistake once; she’d not make it again.
"You believe me don’t you?"
Carl never gave much away with his facial expressions. He was calm and cool and completely Carl. Where else would she have run if not to him?
"Of course I do," he replied. The tone of his voice indicated he thought there was no other option.
She nodded her head as she joined him. He opened the passenger side door of his car and helped her in. "Thank you," she said as he closed the door. She trusted him. She trusted that he believed her. She just couldn’t trust him not to take matters into her own hands. He’d risked lives in previous pursuits of justice--she needed to remember that.
He shut the door without commenting on her thanks, and Rachel looked around the garage. Joe and his minions were gone, leaving just the two of them. Empty and quiet, it took on an ominous feel. Rachel shivered, chilled to the bone. She thought she could feel someone watching.
"Do you want me to go with you to pick up some things or would you rather sleep in something of mine?"
"Excuse me?" Rachel turned to face him. Inside the close confines of the car, his presence was tenfold. "What did you say?"
"You shouldn’t be alone tonight. The killer is obviously still out there and you’ll be alone in that big house."
"If you think I’m staying with you then you’ve got another thing coming! We’re not sleeping inside the same building—no way!"
"Rachel, it’s the best solution," he said. "If the killer chased you, saw you, how long do you think it will be before he learns who you are. From there it’s just another step to finding where you live. Really, be reasonable."
"I am. And you are not camping out on my couch or in the guestroom. If I need a bodyguard, I’ll hire one."
As Carl cranked the engine she crossed her arms across her chest. There was no way she was sleeping within a mile of the pushy, devastating man. She’d rather take her chances with the killer.
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