He inhaled sharply.
Her satisfied smile turned into a slight grimace as she put on her underwear, feeling a tug in muscles she hadn’t used in a while. She dressed in clean shorts and a tank top while he examined her with a keen interest that suddenly didn’t seem at all sexual.
“Last night,” he began slowly, “did I hurt you?”
She studied the tense lines of his face. “I’ll get over it,” she replied, mad at him for asking. He knew she was smarting from his rejection, and acting like he pitied her just added salt to the wound. “Can I drive myself to work today?”
“I’ll take you.”
“I’m going home after.”
“I’ll take you there, too.”
She searched for another way to ditch him. “I was going to spend the day at the beach.”
“Fine,” he said with a tight little shrug.
Clenching her hands into fists, she picked up her tote and stormed out of the room, thinking he was really the most infuriating man.
Chapter 14
Marc let Sidney drive herself to work, although he followed her. On Sunday she only had about an hour’s worth of duties and she dragged her feet the whole time. He noticed, but didn’t act impatient, and his casual acceptance grated on her frayed nerves.
When there was nothing more to do, or even pretend to do, they traveled to her house in separate cars. After parking, they walked in silence to her front door, with Sidney entertaining the hope that he would leave after making sure her house was secure.
As she touched the doorknob, an image burst into her mind, so disturbing that the keys slipped through her frozen fingers. “Samantha,” she gasped, feeling a searing pain ripple through her midsection.
Marc swept up the keys and unlocked the door himself. “Get out of sight,” he said, taking his gun out of his shoulder holster and pointing it toward the ground. He slipped inside, moving like a swift shadow.
She followed, too worried about Samantha to heed his warning.
Her sister was on the floor in the living room, a fragile heap of tangled blond hair and limp, bloodied limbs. Marc crouched beside her and put his fingertips to her throat. “She’s unconscious,” he said, glancing up at Sidney. “Don’t touch her.”
He took out his cell phone to call an ambulance as he checked the rest of the house.
Again, she disregarded his instructions and sank to her knees at Samantha’s side, smoothing her wild hair away from her forehead. If not for the bloody scratches on her arms and legs, she might have appeared peaceful. Her chest expanded with even breathing, and her beautiful, makeup-smeared face looked vulnerable and surprisingly sweet.
Sidney could smell alcohol and the stale hint of sweat, a strange odor for her meticulous sister. An uncouth man must have perspired on her. She was dressed in a skimpy black sheath, torn in a slit up to her hip, exposing most of her naked lower body. There was more blood on her thighs, and a thin line of red trickled from her nose to her upper lip.
“Bring a rape kit,” Marc murmured into the phone before he closed it.
Sidney arranged Samantha’s skirt more modestly over her legs. “He attacked her here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I should have been home. I should have protected her.”
He knelt down beside her. “Your kitchen window is broken. I think she cut herself on the way in.”
She stared at him without comprehension. “She wasn’t attacked?”
He studied her face, not answering.
Sidney grabbed her sister’s hands, wishing desperately, for the first time in her life, that she could get a read. There was nothing. No image, no impression and no response.
“If she was assaulted, she may have evidence under her fingernails.”
Sidney dropped her hands, sobbing with frustration.
“Who has she been with?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Does Greg get rough with her?”
“No. Never.”
“Have they been sleeping together?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Who has she been with?” he repeated.
“Greg’s business partner,” Sidney whispered, blinking back her tears. “His appeal is more about sticking it to Greg than anything else. I can’t imagine him hitting her.”
Another idea occurred to her. “Did you tell her about the cat?”
He shook his head in one short, choppy motion. “I mentioned the break-in. She was more interested in coming on to me than your well-being. And in the morning, she was gone.”
A flash of anger surged through her. How could he speak badly of Samantha while she was tangled in a broken little heap upon the floor? “Maybe you were distracted, too,
He dragged a hand over his jaw.
“You won’t let me go to the bathroom by myself, but Samantha was on her own.” She glared up at him. “Wasn’t she worth protecting?”
His tone became dangerously low. “Don’t ever-ever-question my commitment to a victim. I don’t care if she’s a crack whore or the mayor’s wife, I always give one hundred percent. Always.”
“Is that what you were doing with me last night?” she asked softly. “Giving one hundred percent?”
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t reply. Instead he turned from her, holstering his weapon, and they both waited in silence for the ambulance to arrive.
Paramedics couldn’t rouse Samantha on the floor of Sidney’s house or in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
Whatever she’d taken, it had been some strong stuff.
Marc stayed behind to brief Lacy on scene while Sidney accompanied her sister to Tri-City Medical. There was actually very little to investigate. Until Samantha woke up, he couldn’t be sure a crime had been committed.
She’d thrown a potted plant through the kitchen window, the same window Marc had just repaired. Dirt, glass and pieces of orange clay littered the floor. On her way in, she must have cut herself on the glass shards adhering to the window frame, because there were smears of dried blood on the sink and countertops.
Once inside, it appeared she’d stumbled into the living room, fallen down and passed out where she landed. Whether she was attacked before, after, during, or not at all remained to be seen. The blood on her face and thighs could have been sustained during her clumsy break-in. Or, as Marc strongly suspected, it may have been the result of a consensual act.
For the first time, Marc wondered if Samantha could have been responsible for the dead cat on Sidney’s bed. She was volatile, emotionally unstable and she had a great motive, if she knew Greg was sniffing around her little sis.
Marc made arrangements for the window to be repaired before driving to Tri-City Hospital, where Samantha was being treated. He learned she’d been admitted to a private room and was expected to make a full recovery. The doctor’s exam indicated she’d engaged in intercourse sometime over the past twenty-four hours, and they were running a blood toxicology. Marc requested a sample be sent to the crime lab as well. He’d be interested to find out if Samantha had some Maximum Relaxem in her system, on top of everything else.
Sidney didn’t look up from her sister’s bedside when he walked in.
He took a seat in the corner of the room, knowing he wasn’t welcome. He was still smarting from her earlier criticism and pissed off that he hadn’t crawled into bed with her this morning to redeem himself.
