I fished a dollar out of my bag and handed it to him as he opened the door. Then, making sure I was settled in, he closed it.
I knew what the odor was in the first ten seconds. The driver had been smoking a cigar in the cab before picking me up.
“Sorry,” I said. “Can you pull over? I’m sorry but I can’t stand the cigar smell.”
Cursing, he did. I let myself out of the cab. We’d only gone ten feet.
“Whatsa matter, lady, you crazy?” he called after me.
As I stepped up on the curb I thought about it. Whatsa matter, lady, you crazy? Such a throwaway phrase. So simple to say. No, I wasn’t crazy. I knew what the word really meant. I had seen crazy people. I had seen people go crazy. My mother. My patients. In June, I’d seen a man go crazy and murder a series of prostitutes because he thought he could save them. Five women had died.
And there was someone else out there who was crazy. Kidnapping men, killing them and taking their photographs.
I always wondered how the courts could declare that anyone who had taken someone else’s life was legally sane. It had to be an insane act to take a life that was not yours.
Thirty-Five
I walked the twenty blocks to the police station, hoping that I could convince myself to turn around and go home before I reached the front door. In my head, I ran through every one of Nina’s arguments and some she hadn’t thought of, but none was convincing. By the time I reached the precinct house I had worked out exactly what I could say and what I couldn’t say in order to stick to the rules of my profession.
Noah was smart and he wouldn’t need much. I would not have to betray anything the members of the Scarlet Society had told me. I’d just show Noah what I’d seen and he’d follow it through.
If, of course, he hadn’t figured it out already. And if he had, so much the better. I’d pick up my bags, take myself home, get into bed and be able to sleep, because although I’d done the wrong thing according to Nina, I would have done it for the right reason. To save someone’s life.
And no one but Noah would ever have to know.
My heart was beating loudly in my chest and my skin felt clammy as I walked up to the front desk, gave my name and asked for Detective Jordain. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him that it’s important and that it will only take a few minutes.”
The young officer dialed the phone, spoke into it, listened and then hung up.
“He asked if you would please wait for him in his office. He’ll be with you shortly. I’ll have someone take you there.”
The corridor was busy-it was always busy here-and no one paid any attention to my escort or me. We turned the corner. Up ahead, coming from the opposite direction, were Detectives Jordain and Perez, and a woman who looked familiar.
You aren’t aware of how quickly the synapses work: your eyes send the message to the brain, which supplies you with conscious information before you even have time to realize you are working on figuring it out.
Of course, the combination of pressed blue jeans, soft brown suede blazer and the ever-present worn leather briefcase were familiar. It had been the dark brown hair that had thrown me.
In my office, as Liz, a long-time member of the Scarlet Society, she was a blonde. But her eyes were the same and they were staring at me, as shocked as I was, asking me exactly the same silent question I was asking her.
What are you doing here?
What trust are you breaking?
I didn’t wait to talk to Jordain. I had been completely wrong to go there. My escort was gone but I knew where to go. Turning, I rushed back the same way I’d come, as fast as I could without running, the shopping bags hitting my legs.
Out in the street it was raining again. I cursed myself that I’d forgotten to buy the umbrella at Barney’s, pulled up my collar, tucked my head down and just kept walking, figuring I’d find a cab soon enough. After three blocks, I did.
I gave the driver my address, sat back, opened my bag, pulled out a roll of peppermints, popped two in my mouth and bit down, knowing that the instant intense scent of mint would obliterate the stale body odor that permeated the air in the enclosed space.
Inhaling the sharp, clean scent, I concentrated on the sensation of speeding through the nighttime streets and the sound of rain hitting the car’s roof.
Thirty-Six
It was just eight-thirty but it had been a long day and I was exhausted. I’d only been home fifteen minutes. The shopping bags were still in the front hall where I’d dropped them when I got in. I’d taken off my work clothes and had changed into leggings, a cashmere cardigan, and a pair of black suede ballet slippers. I’d even had time to stick some frozen thing in the oven and pour myself a glass of vodka with a splash of Rose’s lime juice when the buzzer rang.
It wasn’t really a surprise. I had gotten to know Jordain better than I’d thought in the short time we’d known each other. That he wanted to know why I had turned and left the police station when I’d obviously come to tell him something was not unexpected. But the reality of him filling the door frame shocked me.
I stared at the drops of rain on the broad shoulders of his leather jacket and in his silver-streaked hair. How long was he going to want to stay? How could I get him to leave?
“Can I come in?” he asked.
His eyes were too blue. “What will happen if I say no?”
“I’ll come in, anyway.”
“I guessed as much.” I opened the door wider and he walked into my apartment.
“Is Dulcie here?”
I shook my head. “She’s with her father.”
He nodded and looked around. He’d been here before and he seemed to be remembering it, reacquainting himself with the space and my things in it.
“Did you eat yet?” he asked.
“No, I was just having a drink.”
“That sounds great. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Wasn’t he going to ask me what I had come to tell him? Why couldn’t he just get it over with? As I moved toward the bar, my mind tried to deal with a half-dozen different emotions at once. Had Nina been right? Should I stay out of the police investigation and let them find out who these men were and why they were being killed on their own? Or was I just thinking that because Noah was here?
I took a glass off the shelf above the bar. My hand was shaking. Did he see it? I poured the vodka, splashed in the Rose’s. There was no ice. I left him, walked into the kitchen, put three ice cubes into the glass and went back to him. He was looking out the window and turned as he heard my footsteps. He walked toward me, took the drink, sipped at it, smiled, and then without putting it down or saying a word, pulled me toward him with his free hand and kissed me.
His lips were cold from the drink. He tasted of lime. He smelled of rosemary and mint. He pressed his whole body against mine and reminded me how it felt to be alive with every cell of your body, not just with your brain. The room fell away. The reason I’d gone to see him and the rain and the impropriety and the rules I was bending were all gone.
That the coming together of bodies could be such a delight, such a powerful force, that it could be so pleasurable was both a gift from the gods and a mercurial force of science. That I was still wary of it shamed me. That I was thinking of giving this gift back made me feel ungrateful.
Noah did not stop kissing me.
I lost my balance.
His arm held me up.
He knew even that.
I pressed into him.
He responded, reciprocated.
He did not stop kissing me.
I could not remember ever being kissed like that. I did not remember when a kiss was as good as fucking. When a kiss was as intimate as having a man inside me. No. More. More intimate. Noah breathed into me. I inhaled his breath. The rest of our bodies disappeared. The point of contact between us burned. I knew my lips would be bruised when we stopped. I only hoped his would be bruised just as badly. Months of long nights were in my mouth, spewing from me into him. My teeth gnashed into his, letting him know that he had waited too long to come back. I bit down on his lips, trying to punish him for taking me at my word. He had known better. I had counted on it. He had tricked me.