Wanting (PAVAD) Page 25

  He never would have expected her to do what she did. But she’d saved herself tonight by quick thinking and a willingness to act. “Sweetheart, let’s go. We’ll walk around for a bit.”

  Get her away from the prying eyes and see what she needed him to do in order for them both to get through this.

  “I don’t know…Dan…”

  “We won’t leave the hospital. And I have my phone still.”

  “Mine’s inside the shelter. I tried to answer when you called, but the keys jammed. I’ll need a new phone.” Carrie stood when he prompted her. He nodded at Dennis, knowing the older man knew what he was doing. Dennis would call if there was any news on Dan. Or on Paige and Calista.

  Calista had been brought by ambulance twenty minutes before Dan. Paige had only gotten checked out because Dennis himself had insisted.

  And Carrie had asked her to.

  Unfortunately for Paige, they’d admitted her.

  He wrapped his hand around Carrie’s smaller one, not allowing her to protest. He needed to touch her. He led her outside the hospital and they walked for close to fifteen minutes, just circling the building. She never spoke, but she never let go of his hand, either.

  He led her to a stone bench in the hospital courtyard. She settled on it and stared out at the street in front of the hospital. “I shouldn’t have gone over the roof. I should have stayed where I was.”

  She was blaming herself. He knew she would eventually. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  “What did happen?”

  Sebastian closed his eyes, knowing he would never forget. “You went over the edge and Rush aimed at Detective Beck. Beck…Beck was focused on getting to the side of the wall. To you. Dan was moving. He was between Rush and Beck as Rush fired. Dan went down, Dennis, Alessandra and I all fired after Dan hit the ground.”

  “I saw Rush go over the edge of the rail. He almost hit that girl. The one you said was my sister.”

  “He’s dead. He was dead before he went off the roof.”

  “Yes. I know. He killed my mother. And I guess my step-father. He would have killed me, but she hid me. With the necklace. It was a key to the music box in a Houston evidence lockup. It was never really about me. Just about the key. That’s what he was looking for in my apartment.”

  “Alessandra recovered the necklace you threw. It hit Dr. Bellows. Or she caught it. I’m not sure which. But we have it.”

  “I don’t want to see it again.”

  “It was your mother’s. Are you sure?” She’d told him how much it meant to her when they were driving between Missouri and Kentucky days ago.

  “Positive. I thought she gave me the doll and necklace because she loved me and wanted me to have them. Because she knew the bad man was coming. But she was just trying to hide the evidence from Rush. She was a criminal. He said so. And that other man. Him. Kevin. He confirmed it. Said she got mixed up in things. That’s why she was killed. Why I was alone.”

  “What was she like before that night, baby? Did she love you?”

  Chapter 85

  *****

  Carrie remembered her mother’s hands as they rocked her in the middle of the night. Remembered the soft brush of a kiss against her childish forehead when she had a fever. Remembered her mother singing. Laughing. Holding her so close, telling her stories about princes coming to rescue her. Loving her. That had her straightening. Had what Rush said becoming slightly less important? Less devastating? “She loved me.”

  “Isn’t that all that matters now? That she loved you? All the rest of the bullshit Rush was spouting. None of it is important. Just that you are alive, and Rush isn’t. A murderer is dead, and won’t hurt anyone else. Officer Thompson—Rush killed him two weeks ago. Who knows who else he would have hurt if we hadn’t have stopped him tonight.”

  “But at what cost? Dan? He didn’t deserve this.” She stood, then paced around the small grassy area.

  “No one did.” He stepped in front of her. “You definitely didn’t. Beck’s daughters didn’t. I heard what he had planned. If he hadn’t taken you, he was going to take one of the younger two. They’re nineteen and sixteen. Youngest is still in high school, baby. He would have taken her and used her as leverage to get the older ones to cooperate in getting that music box.”

  “I know.” A little girl. A teenager. Her sister, if Beck was to be believed. And Rush would have taken her, hurt her, to get a damned music box that meant practically nothing to anyone but him. How was she supposed to understand that? Sebastian was directly in front of her. Carrie just wanted to grab him and burrow herself into his chest. Where she knew she would be safe. Where he could block out the world and all the bad things in it. She stared at him as the tears she’d been holding back since they’d entered the hospital started to fall. She wiped at them. “And we stopped him.”

  “You did. We did.” Sebastian’s phone beeped and he grabbed it. Read the display. “And Dan did. And as soon as he’s back on his feet, we’ll stop others just like him.”

  Carrie stared at him for the longest moment. “What is it?”

  “That was Bellows. Dan’s pulled through surgery and is in recovery. It looks like he’s going to make it, baby.”

  Carrie felt a sob escape.

  Then she was in Sebastian’s arms and holding on to him tighter than she’d ever held anyone before. His hands were hot and hard on her, but she didn’t care. He held her, and held her.

  It took her a few moments to hear the words he was saying into her hair over and over again. I love you. It’s ok. I love you.

  No man had ever told her that before. No man had ever even acted like he loved her.

  Yet Sebastian Lorcan was telling her that he did.

  And God help her, she believed him.

  Carrie pulled away and looked up into the green eyes that had reminded her of her cat the first time she met him. “You mean that.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “How do you know?”

  He laughed. “What do you mean how do I know? I’ve suspected for a few days. But knew for sure when I realized you were up there with that bastard. When I realized that I may never get the chance to tell you how I felt. So here it is, I love you, Carrie Sparks. And I always will.”

  Carrie kissed him, hard, then pulled back slightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him. “How do you know?”

  “I just do. Look, I know it’s quick. God knows a few weeks aren’t really long enough to know, but…we’ve got plenty of time now to figure out the rest. If you’re willing.” His hands were around her waist and he lifted until they were eye to eye.

  “I am. I am. More than willing. Once Dan’s better, and we figure everything else out.”

  “We’ll work out the details later. For now… For now, let’s go wait on Reynolds. I think this is news he’d love to have, don’t you think? Hell, who knows, maybe I’ll ask him to be my best man…”

  Epilogue

  *****

  Carrie took a few deep breaths, counting softly. Today was the day. Within a few hours she would officially belong to someone. And he would belong to her.

  Paige was on her left side, Alessandra on her right. Her friends, forever. They’d helped her plan this whole thing and they’d had a great time doing it.

  Today. Today…

  “Are you ready?” Alessandra asked. “This is your last chance to head for the hills.”

  “Only if he can come, too.”

  Her mother’s words ran through her head. Only marry the man you truly love, my sweetheart. Wait for him. Only then can you be happy.

  Carrie’s waiting was over. Today, she’d be married.

  “You’re not nervous.” Paige shook her head. Her green silk gown made her look elegant and beautiful. It matched the one Alessandra wore. “I’d be freaking out about now.”

  “So would your groom, Twiggy.” Alessandra straightened the hairpiece in Paige’s hair. “If he didn’t have a heart attack when he propose
d.”

  “I’d be the one doing the proposing. No old-fashioned down on one knee drag for me.” Paige paced around the small room at the back of the church near the loft Carrie now shared with Sebastian. “You still have time, Care. We can call this whole thing off if you want!”

  “No. This is what I want.”

  Of that she was sure.

  The last five weeks hadn’t been easy. They’d had just as much time apart as they had together. And that time together had been spent moving him into her place, and helping Dan with his recovery. The older man would make a close to complete recovery, provided he didn’t push himself too hard in rehab. Carrie visited him at his home every chance she could get. Dan was likely to overdo it; everyone knew that.

  She was just happy he was going to be there today to help Kevin give her away.

  Her relationship with her biological father and half-sisters was growing. It would get stronger, Carrie thought, with time. She liked her sisters, but it was weird seeing so many different parts of herself in four others. Melody was ok; they probably would have been friends if they’d met differently. She and Brynna had a lot in common—even the Aspergers. Carrie knew the statistics; having one child on the spectrum did increase the chances of having others. And Brynna had also chosen computers. She was a great admirer of the programs Carrie had designed for law enforcement use and they were planning to collaborate on a second edition soon. That was how she’d found her in the first place. Carrie had barely remembered the interview and photos that had appeared in a technology magazine a year ago. But Brynna read it, and recognized her somehow.

  Probably because she and Carrie resembled each other more than any of the other girls. That had taken Carrie some serious getting used to.

  As for Kevin, Carrie was just learning to know who he was. There would never be those family-fuzzy feelings that other people claimed for their parents, but she knew she could grow to like him and care for him in time. Kind of like she had Dan.

  Speaking of…

  Dan was knocking on the door, ready to escort her down the aisle. He’d meet Kevin half-way, then Dan was under strict orders from Dr. Jules to park his butt on the bench and watch the rest of the ceremony. Dr. Jules had taken a personal interest in Dan’s recovery and watched him like a hawk.

  “Well, kiddo,” Dan said once she joined him in the hall. Paige and Alessandra headed to the front doors of the sanctuary. They’d go in first. Then Dan and Carrie. “This is it. Sure you don’t want to run away? This one is a slick kind of guy.”

  “He’s rather like a cat, Dan. And I know he’s who I am supposed to be with. This is what I want.” She knew he was out there, with Fin McLaughlin next to him as best man. His brothers couldn’t be reached with news of the upcoming wedding—both were out on cases somewhere in the world, but his sister was out there with him. It had made him happy to have Sarah there. They had a family, now. It just needed a bit more building. Carrie was eager to do just that.

  “Then allow me to escort you. It’ll work out for you, kiddo. I know it will. And all I want is for you to be happy. So promise me you will be.”

  Dan said nothing else as they entered the sanctuary. And then there Sebastian was. Waiting for her. He was everything she’d ever wanted.

  And now she had him. Forever.

  ******

  ******

  Coming 2013

  HUNTING…

  Jules just wanted to get away. Just stand up, get out of her chair, and walk completely out of the St. Louis bullpen and disappear for a while. A week, a month, maybe even a year. Maybe forever. Only the knowledge that she didn’t have anywhere else to go kept her butt glued to the ergonomic chair she’d pushed up to the edge of her borrowed desk.

  Being alone sucked. Working for the FBI sucked. Cutting up dead bodies sucked. Dr. Malachi Brockman and his all-knowing blue eyes sucked. It all sucked.

  And Jules could do nothing about it. And that’s what sucked the most.

  She couldn’t leave St. Louis; her only family lived there, and in the last several months she’d come to the realization that even she couldn’t cut herself off from family completely. She could honestly say she’d had that truth knocked into her head months earlier. And that bastard Stephenson’s fist had packed quite a wallop.

  So if that meant putting up with the know-it-all Brockman, Jules would do it.

  It was his own fault she disliked him. She knew she was justified in her opinion. He had no right butting in, sticking his patrician nose into her business. And then making excuses for himself, “I’m just worried for you, Julia. It can’t be easy dealing with the type of victims you see daily, on top of your own tragedy. Hah! No shit, Sherlock.”

  Her tragedy—what did he truly know of tragedy? Sure, he saw things in the job, but from all accounts, the great Dr. Brockman had had an idyllic life. Grew up the oldest of three perfect children, both his perfect parents still living, scholarships to all the right perfect schools. Perfect. Not to mention that he was good-looking and had tons of money.

  Damned psychologist had everything practically handed to him, and then he had the nerve to tell her she was acting spoiled. Self-centered. Self-absorbed.

  Just who the hell did he think he was? They’d not spoken to one another for personal reasons in the entire time she’d worked in St. Louis, then all of the sudden she’d looked up from the autopsy reports she’d been studying to see Brockman staring down at her. Coming to her desk and telling her she should basically just ‘get over’ Rick’s death and move on—before she dragged those who cared about her down as well?

  She shot a glare toward the half-rise where his office was located next to Agent Reynolds’. She could just make out the dark head of her new nemesis as he sat speaking with Agent Hellbrook. Damned jerk, she wished someone would punch him in the nose, do something to ruin all that damned perfectness. Even if just temporarily.

  God how she wished she had the balls to do it herself. She tightened her fists as she imagined it. Only the Hippocratic Oath she’d sworn years ago kept her from doing that and so much more to the arrogant bastard.

  As if he could read her mind—and she wouldn’t put it past him, with his three PhDs in mind reading and fortune telling and smarm—he looked up and smiled the smile that he probably thought would get him out of anything.

  Julia snarled. Not with her it wouldn’t.

  ***

  Malachi Brockman fought the urge to laugh in satisfaction as his eyes caught those of the lone team member still seated in the bullpen his team shared with Hellbrook’s.

  The woman did the damnedest job of hiding how she felt but occasionally her true feelings would slip through that mask. Malachi was determined to remove that mask completely. If she didn’t kill him first. He knew—had heard from her closest friend—that she had one hell of a temper when it was aroused. And he knew that was probably exactly what she needed. Fury, anger, rancor—anything other than the numbing grief she’d let grip her for the last three years. Nobody deserved to be that sad for that long. It wasn’t healthy. It would eventually eat a person alive. He couldn’t let that happen to her.

  If that meant she hated him for the rest of their days, so be it. People had to be in top mental condition to handle the job they did, and Dr. Bellows wasn’t in it. She would be—or Malachi would see to it that she was removed from her position with the St. Louis PAVAD unit. Until she became more aware of things around her, he wasn’t comfortable sending her out in the field. Period. It was too dangerous.

  But then again—she wasn’t his agent, she was Hellbrook’s, and since her field work mainly consisted of retrieving dead bodies and autopsying them, Hellbrook felt she was more than capable of the job. Malachi completely disagreed.

  He’d seen much stronger agents break under far less provocation.

  “That’s one angry medical examiner down there.” Hellbrook made the observation mildly. Malachi smirked. “What did you do to her?”

  “What makes you think
I did anything to her?” Mal asked, still smirking. He didn’t miss the way her expression darkened.

  “Because the normally calm-natured doctor is shooting poison glares straight over my shoulder, directly at you,” Hellbrook laughed.

  “I did nothing to her to warrant what she did to me.”

  “Which was?”

  “Threw a stapler at my head. And the woman has almost excellent aim.” Malachi rubbed his shoulder.

  “Sounds eerily reminiscent of my morning, as well.” Hellbrook said.

  “Oh? Bellows throw a stapler at you, too?”

  “No. George did. And it was the television remote. And apparently her aim is better than Jules’.”

  “I ducked. How is George?”

  “Cranky. That woman hates to be sick.” Worry touched the other man’s eyes for a moment. “Julia’s been over at the house at least once a day. I don’t know who is more concerned—Jules, George, or me.”

  “At least George has her own personal physician.” Malachi watched as she gathered her bag and then stomped from the bullpen. Her actual office was down in near the morgue, but she spent many hours in the bullpen.

  “I am eternally grateful for Jules. She’s been a godsend since this flu’s been making the rounds. I think George would have killed me if not for Jules.”

  “So there is some benefit to the woman.”

  Hellbrook’s brow rose. “Seriously? What is going on with you two?”

  “Nothing of importance.” Mal stood, and Hellbrook followed suit. “But I do believe we shall agree to disagree on the subject of the good doctor.”

  “Sounds eerily familiar as well. I remember feeling a serious bit of rancor toward a woman with good doctor in her title.”

  “Yes, but in this instance there won’t be the same resolution. I have no intention of doing that with Dr. Julia Bellows.” Malachi shuddered at the thought. Whoever did marry that woman would have to wear body armor. Two inches higher and to the left and she’d have broken his nose with that stapler.