Lost Souls

for either of them.

Mention of a key, that other key, had made her heart spasm, remembering Sam’s quiet refusal to accept hers. But that wasn’t the one her father had been talking about. Cait felt in her pocket for Morin’s key. One that didn’t actually fit any particular lock but which granted her access to his domain.

She wouldn’t be seeking solace from him. Couldn’t betray Sam like that, even if he was dead. But Morin might help her find some answers.

Even defeated, so empty she felt like a hollow shell, she still had questions.

Stepping outside, she hoped she hadn’t missed the last trolley run; otherwise, the walk to Beale was going to be a long one.

When she let herself into Morin’s shop, she found him sitting on the steps leading up into the library. His face was haggard, his hair disheveled as though he’d been running his fingers through it. But what right did he have to look that way? He hadn’t lost anything except a rival for her heart. Not that she’d ever let him back inside. Suddenly angry, she regretted the decision to come.

He stood slowly, his arms swaying beside him, seeming unsure whether he should embrace her but deciding at the last moment not to. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“You didn’t check my crystal ball?” she snarled.

“It needs charging. I didn’t see much past you running after Sam in that monstrous hotel.”

She was glad he didn’t make mention of the bodies she’d found. “So you know.”

His gaze sliding away, he nodded.

They stood in awkward silence until Cait swayed.

“You need a bolstering tea,” he said softly.

Blinking against the burning at the back of her eyes, she gave a sharp shake of her head. “I need Sam.”

Morin reached out to touch her shoulder, a tentative caress. “I’ll make tea. We’ll talk.”

Cait shook off his hand. “I don’t want to talk.”

His expression bleak, he nodded. “Then we won’t, but you need to sit down. You’re exhausted.” He began to turn.

“I don’t want tea. I want to sleep, Morin.”

Without looking her way, he asked, “Need a potion?”

“No, I want your bed. Someplace he hasn’t been. And I want to be alone.”

Morin swallowed and then gave her a nod. “Of course. You know the way. I’ll be down here when you awaken.”

Without another word, Cait trudged past him, making her way behind the books to the iron spiral staircase that led upward to his bedroom. She’d been there twice before. Once when she’d asked him to take her virginity. The last time, to draw down the moon while she stood in his arms, the details of which she’d shared with Sam, knowing he’d find her actions hard to forgive.

And this was the place she’d been drawn to. Cait shook her head, not understanding herself but knowing she couldn’t sleep anywhere she’d have reminders of what she’d lost. Not her bed. Not Sam’s. Surrounded by his scent, she’d have cracked.

All she wanted was to sleep and forget the images that bombarded her over and over—his strong arms braced in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at the last moment. The empty hall. The remnant spark. The twisted, blackened husks stuffed into the wall.

Cait sat on the edge of Morin’s sumptuous mattress and toed off her boots. Fully clothed, she crawled into the center and lay down on her back, staring at the dark ceiling and the window of the skylight where a full moon shed beams to brighten his chamber.

Only then did she let her mind wander. She remembered the first day she and Sam had met. He’d transferred in from vice. Although she’d seen him a time or two, crossing paths on investigations, she’d never paid him any attention until she’d raised her hand to shake his.

“Cait O’Connell.” She dropped her hand instantly, made uncomfortable by the warmth of his strong hands.

“Sam Pierce.” He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck and stared at the two desks shoved together, hers and Henry’s, but now theirs. “Leland gave me a brief summary of the cases you’re currently working on.”

She raised her chin. “Along with a warning about me, right?”

His smile had been slow. And she’d liked the instant heat that had gleamed in his blue eyes. His gaze had matched his name. Piercing. Knowing. He’d sensed trouble from the start but hadn’t been the least put off.

Tears seeped from her eyes. She was aware, but too enmeshed in her memories to care. Their first kiss had happened by accident. They’d just closed another case, handing it off to a pleased DA. She’d invited him to join her at O’Malley’s to celebrate.

He’d seemed amused at how well known she was among the patrons.

Pauly had served her favorite scotch before even asking him for his order.

“This was my dad’s favorite place,” she explained.

He knew who her dad was. Every cop knew the names of their fallen heroes. The fact her father’s luster didn’t pass to her made him curious.

Rather than let him find out from the gossips, she said, “I get the strange cases. The full-moon ones.”

“Why’s that?”

“Low woman on the totem pole?”

“Leland said you had a knack for strange.”

She grimaced. “Leland doesn’t like me much.”

A dark brow arched. A half-smile curved his firm mouth. “I think he likes you, but you’re giving him an ulcer. He liked your dad. Maybe since they worked together in the early days, he thinks he has a duty to set you on the right path.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And there’s the problem. I couldn’t find the right path if it waited at my front door.” She shrugged. “I seem to attract weird.”

Sam’s white teeth flashed. “Why do I feel insulted?”

Her gaze darted to his. “You’re attracted?”

His mouth firmed. “We’re partners. Can’t happen. We’d be reassigned.”

His response set her girlie parts into mild arousal. He could have given a flat “no.”

“Leland might not care—if we kept things on the down low,” she said, dropping her voice into what she hoped was a sultry whisper. “No one else wants to work with me. Why do you think he had to bring you in?”

He finished his drink. “Can I drop you home?”

Cait nodded, mildly insulted he hadn’t responded to her flirting, and disappointed he was letting some pesky rule get in the way of their exploring where their mutual attraction might lead.

Outside, he held the passenger door open, a gesture that was odd given he’d never done that for his partner before. He’d never done a thing to concede to her femininity.

Cait paused, the door separating their bodies. He held so still she worried they’d never be comfortable with each other again. The secret was out. Suppressed desire would only flare hotter. They’d grow more testy with each other the longer they ignored what simmered between them.