“This is-well, sick.”
He’d pinned photographs of Belinda, scores of them, to the walls. Many were life sized. All of them were lewd.
Looking up, Romana spied a larger-than-life shot of an impossibly contorted Belinda Critch peering down at her from the ceiling. “My God, how did she get into that position?”
“She was double-jointed.”
With her gaze fastened to the ceiling, she traced the serpentine coil of Belinda’s body with a curious finger. “That’s more than double-jointed, Jacob, that’s a woman with no bones.” She continued to stare, fascinated and repulsed at the same time. “Did you know she could do that?”
A smile that looked suspiciously like a tease appeared as Jacob sifted through snapshots on a rickety table. “I knew she was flexible…”
“Okay, people.” O’Keefe pushed through the door. “I just got off the phone with Harris and… Holy-whoa. What’s all this?” His jaw dropped. “Man, oh, man, this guy is one sick puppy.”
“Tell us about it,” Romana murmured.
His phone rang, and still shaking his head, he stepped onto the landing to answer it.
Romana studied a montage of nude body parts. “Handcuffs with spikes,” she noted, and ran her finger over the shiny chain. Her stomach pitched. “You don’t think he-no, he wouldn’t. Would he?”
“Hurt Fitz?” Jacob came up behind her, rubbed her arms through her coat and kissed her hair. “I doubt it. He was obsessed with Belinda. They’re together in at least half of these shots, so obviously they had an affair.”
“Unless he’s a computer whiz, and he created the photos. His own virtual reality.”
“Always a possibility.”
She pressed herself into him, absorbed his warmth and strength. “I knew he loved her, knew it but didn’t take it any further than that. So was it Patrick who frightened Belinda to the point that she wanted a restraining order?”
“Answer’s probably yes.” O’Keefe came back through the door, pocketing his phone. He shook his head one last time at the photographic wallpaper. “Man, oh man, what some minds can do. That was Harris. Patrick North’s been picked up. He hailed a taxi three blocks from here.”
“The driver let him get in?” Romana was incredulous. “I’d have gunned it in the opposite direction.”
“The guy’s been driving for thirty years, probably seen it all. He got a message through to headquarters. Two patrols intercepted his car. North’s being transported to a well-guarded hospital room. Apparently, he’s decided that everyone in the world knows he murdered Belinda. First Fitz showed up on his doorstep, then after she got away, Critch appeared. Finally, you two descended on him.”
“Critch said he had no idea Patrick and Belinda were involved,” Romana recalled. “He came to find out if Belinda had mentioned being afraid of or worried about someone other than Jacob. He said that lately he’d been starting to wonder if he might not be wrong about who killed her.”
Wrapping his forearm lightly around her neck, Jacob leaned over to ask, “Did he define
“Hey, we didn’t get into time frames, and I have to tell you, he threw me totally when he admitted that maybe he’d been wrong about you. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was pretty much at the bottom of the list. Except…” Another memory slipped in and brought her eyebrows together. “He mentioned the Christmas cards. Not once but a couple times.”
Making a final sweep of the walls, Jacob motioned to O’Keefe and ushered Romana from the room. “Don’t tell me he apologized for sending them.”
A knot of dread unfurled in Romana’s stomach. “No, he didn’t do that.” She brought her head around to meet Jacob’s eyes. “But before he passed out, he told me he sent only four of the six we received.”
“HE WAS JERKING YOUR CHAIN,” O’Keefe maintained while they sealed the doors and windows of Patrick’s house. “You’re believing him too easily, Romana. The guy’s barely clinging to life. He was probably hallucinating, floating somewhere between fantasy and reality.”
He hadn’t been floating when he’d grabbed her wrist, of that Romana was certain. But had he been telling the truth?
That was the question that haunted her-at least it did until they reached the hospital.
Jacob waited in the corridor while she visited her cousin. When she emerged, he pushed off from the wall. “Give me some good news.”
“Okay. Her dad’s with her now. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but her pulse rate and blood count are both up.”
“How’s her shoulder?”
“The stab wound’s deep, but so far it doesn’t appear any nerves were severed.” Because he looked as exhausted as she felt, Romana hooked her arms around his neck and gave him a nice long kiss. “It’s all good, Detective. Fitz is going to be fine, and the clouds that were hanging over that gorgeous head of yours are gone. Soon everyone will know what I’ve known all along. You didn’t kill Belinda Critch.”
“You knew that all along, huh?”
“Yup.” She kissed him again. “And deep in your heart, so did you. Okay, you might wonder why you woke up in your car near O’Keefe’s place, but that’s no different than a drunk waking up in a jail cell the morning after.”
His lips quirked against hers. “Somehow, the comparison doesn’t fill me with positive thoughts.”
“Give me twenty-four hours of sex, sleep and food, and I’ll do better. Getting back to the up side of this story, Patrick’s in custody and Critch is-well, hanging on at this point, but he’s strong and judging from his past performance, cantankerous enough that he’ll want to pull through so he can make sure Patrick pays for killing Belinda. Like I said, all good- with that one small niggle about the cards.”
“Romana?”
The voice that hailed her had Romana dropping her forehead onto Jacob’s shoulder. “Doesn’t anyone stay home anymore?” She raised her head, but didn’t turn. “Hello, James.”
“How’s Fitz?”
“Improving. Her father’s with her now.”
“You see, darling, I told you we didn’t have to rush over here.” A bleary-eyed Shera Barret twirled a strand of Ro-mana’s hair around her index finger and smiled just a little too widely. “I knew teacher would have it all under control.”
Her husband ignored her and spoke to Jacob. “Is it true what I was told about North? He murdered Belinda?”
“Apparently. His statement’s being taken now.”
“All tied up in a pretty red bow,” Shera mocked. Romana caught the strong smell of gin on her breath. “Isn’t it wonderful how things work out? Now the handsome detective can get on with his life while the rest of us eat worms, or whatever that stupid expression is.”
She probably meant that Patrick’s arrest would open a whole new can of worms. Part of that being, Romana assumed, the bribe she’d offered to Gary Canter.
Poor Shera, she loved her husband and wanted him to love her back. But she had absolutely no idea if he did or not.
“Critch is the one I feel sorry for,” Shera slurred while James made a futile attempt to shuttle her away. “Married to someone who treated him like that. One affair after another. But as we know,” she tapped the side of her nose, “that’s how it goes sometimes, right? You love someone enough, you’d do anything to protect him-her- that person.”
James forced a smile, gave his wife a firm shove. “We’ll offer Fitz’s father our best wishes, then be off.”
It didn’t surprise Romana that Shera fought him. But the crack of her palm across his cheek made everyone blink.
“Stop pulling me along, James. I’m not one of your empty-headed playmates.” She jerked free. Tears of frustration and anger welled up. “I love you, you jackass, have since before we got married. But did you ever take the time to notice? Oh.” She set a woozy hand on her mouth, drew back and seemed to lose her focus. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Romana located a distant washroom sign and sighed. “Do you want me to come with you?”
