He inclined his head. “That would account for the pale complexions, but—”
“No, look,” she ordered tersely. To underscore what she meant, she pointed to the photograph on top. To the scar that was visible. “See?”
“What is it I’m seeing?” But even as he asked, he realized what she was pointing out. “Those are incisions.” Just like the ones on the bodies of the homeless victims. Quickly, he went through the rest of the photographs again. Different people, same discovery. “Those are all incisions.”
She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. And they all appear fresh.”
“How can you tell?”
She traced one line. “The scarring hadn’t begun. Because the person was dead.”
He felt a stirring in his stomach. The same kind he felt when he was onto something. But he wanted to be absolutely sure of what little facts there were. “And these were on your friend’s camera?”
“Yes.” Excitement vibrated in her voice. “I think this is what Clancy meant when he said he was onto
something. It wasn’t anything to do with falsifying the bookkeeping. This is a whole lot bigger than that.” Her eyes widened as her voice gained momentum. “Those incisions are in the region of the kidneys. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
Mike was trying to wrap his head around what this could mean. “You think people are being killed for their organs?”
She didn’t know if she would go that far, but it definitely had something to do with organ theft. “Or at least having organs harvested just after they died. There were no autopsies done.” That was evident because of the lack of wide, V-shaped incisions across the breast plate. “These people died and were hustled to the mortuary, as per instruction by whoever was overseeing their arrangements. But before they got there, someone decided to make them a little lighter. And their own pockets a little heavier.”
“Someone like a surgeon.” It wasn’t really a question. The incisions he was looking at had all been closed neatly, with perfect stitching, as if to make the lines all but invisible.
“Had to be,” she agreed. “Those incisions are too good. And someone had to know what they were doing, otherwise, the organ would be butchered and useless. Timing is everything in these cases.” She took a breath. There was an ache in the center of her chest. “Clancy stumbled onto this and they killed him for it,” she concluded.
“It looks that way,” he agreed. Carefully, he returned the photographs to their envelope. “But we can’t know for sure.”
She looked at him, stunned. “You’ve got the photographs. What more do you need?”
“The actual bodies, for starters.” He knew she wouldn’t like hearing that, because it sounded as if he didn’t believe what she was saying. But she didn’t understand how carefully a case had to be made. “We need to have autopsies done in order to make sure that these bodies are missing organs before we start to point fingers.”
He was talking about exhumation. “Are you going to go to the next of kin?” she asked him.
It wasn’t that simple. “In my experience, most next of kin really don’t want the body of their loved one disturbed. They’d rather close their eyes and try to move on.”
“If someone I loved had been violated like that, I’d want to know so that I could make whoever was responsible pay,” she declared with feeling.
She was one hell of a fiery woman. He liked her spirit. But that still didn’t make the case for them.
“‘Ignorance is bliss’ isn’t just something printed on a dish towel. Most people would rather not hear things that’ll give them nightmares.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “So what are you going to do?”
What he always did as a backup plan. “Get to the
D.A.’s office. If I show him these photographs and tell him what we think is going on, he might be able to come up with the name of a friendly judge who doesn’t mind disturbing the dead.”
She nodded, then said something she hoped might help him persuade the D.A. “This might tie into the case where those homeless men were killed in the park.” He looked at her, surprised. “I read the newspaper on occasion.”
“It might tie in with that.” He didn’t bother telling her that he’d already thought that. Why steal her thunder? He grabbed his jacket from the hook where he’d hung it. He knew where the D.A. lived and these wouldn’t keep until tomorrow. “Thanks for bringing these.”
She read between the lines. He was planning on leaving her behind. “Thank me later. I’m coming with you.”
The hell she was. “Stay here and wait for me,” he instructed.
She placed her hand on the envelope. “They’re my photos.”
He wasn’t about to be put over a barrel. “How do you figure that?”
She continued to hold on to the corner of the envelope. “Clancy left me all his worldly goods. Last time I looked, a camera was a worldly good.” She smiled. “Want to waste time, arguing with me? My
mother says I’m very stubborn. It’s a trait all Polish women share and if she thinks I’m very stubborn—”
He had no doubt that Natalya was probably capable of arguing until hell produced a skating rink for penguins. “C’mon.” He sighed, handing her her jacket.
She grinned, preceding him out the door. “Knew you’d see it my way.”
D
istrict Attorney Hayden Sommerville looked less than enthusiastic about finding a police detective standing on the doorstep of his Staten Island home on a Sunday afternoon.
Tall, with a full head of prematurely silver-gray hair, Sommerville looked more like Hollywood’s version of a leading man than the sharp legal mind that he was. His good looks, coupled with his flamboyant style, had gotten him more than his share of press coverage and women. The latter, so the story went, was a thing of the past now that he had finally settled down. He had two children under the age of six, both of whom had more energy than an entire battalion of kindergarteners.
The children, Nathan and Jake, were currently trying to poke their way around their father’s imposing body and across the front door threshold in order to see what was going on. But Sommerville stood like an iron statue, refusing to let them out.
It looked to Natalya as if the man was fighting a battle with his temper and was in serious in danger of losing it.
“It’s Sunday, Detective,” Sommerville pointed out, enunciating each word as if it were to stand alone. “A day of rest and a day that I promised to my family.” He looked at Mike meaningfully, lowering his voice so that it carried no farther than the front step. “Cut me a break, DiPalma. I am half a business phone call away from a divorce right now. My wife said that if I didn’t give her and the boys some time alone, I wouldn’t
have
her and the boys.”
Despite some posturing, Sommerville was one of the good guys. Mike could more than sympathize with the man. But he also knew that they could very well be fighting time. If Tolliver was somehow involved in a black market scheme to sell organs, there was nothing to prevent the funeral director from fleeing before they could arrest him. And until they had some definite proof to show the police department, their hands were tied.
“Mr. Sommerville,” Mike began respectfully, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
“My marriage is important,” the D.A. replied
tersely. One hand behind him, Sommerville urged his sons back into the living room as he began to close the door to his Colonial-style home.
“This is connected to the homeless men who were killed in the park recently,” Natalya managed to blurt out before the door shut. “The case that the mayor’s so interested in,” she added quickly.
The door stopped closing. After a beat, Sommerville pushed it open a little wider. His dark blue eyes took closer measure of her. “And you are?”
“Dr. Natalya Pulaski.” Counting this as a victory, she put her hand out.
Instead of taking it, Sommerville looked down at her face. His expression was utterly unreadable. There was no emotion in his voice.
“All right, you have my attention.” He turned his head slightly so that his voice could carry. His sons were ready to launch a second assault on the door. “Boys, go play video games.”
“Really?” Jake, the oldest, exclaimed gleefully.
“Really.” Not wasting any further words on a debate, the D.A. eased himself out of the house, closing the door firmly behind him. “Their mother saves that for special occasions. It helps to have a secret weapon.” He sobered, but there was interest in his eyes. “All right, talk fast.”
The man didn’t know what he was leaving himself open for, Mike thought, amused despite the gravity of the situation. He wasn’t wrong. Even as he began
to explain the reason for their unscheduled visit, Natalya was interjecting her words into his narrative. He decided to retreat and leave the explaining to her, seeing as how it was the hunt for her friend that had initiated all this in the first place. Besides, even though she talked fast, every word was clear as a bell, not an easy feat in his book.
In the space of less than five minutes, the D.A. was up to speed. In ten, he promised to get the wheels moving for the court order that they had come seeking. And then, he was advising them to leave. Quickly.
The next moment, he’d disappeared into the house again.
“Well, that went well. We got him to say yes and his wife isn’t divorcing him,” Natalya commented as she followed Mike back to his motorcycle.
Mike caught himself laughing. He’d known Sommerville in his much-lauded bachelor days. Now, the six-foot-five D.A. was wrapped around the finger of a dark-haired woman who barely came up to five-one. How the mighty have fallen.
“That we know of,” he underscored. “He might still be in hot water. In my experience, women have a sixth sense about these things.”
Natalya frowned. She wasn’t entirely following him. “What things?”
“Lines being crossed that they’ve drawn in the sand.” The D.A. didn’t look like the type to be kept on a short leash, but looks in this case were deceiv
ing. He saw amusement filtering across Natalya’s face, but he’d be willing to believe it was for a different reason.
“Had a lot of experience with that, have you?”
In an attempt to divert her attention, he smiled seductively at her.
“A gentleman never elaborates.” Reaching inside the saddlebag, he took out the spare helmet and handed it to her. “I doubt if that court order is going to come through before tomorrow at the earliest.” He deliberately let his eyes slide over her from head to foot. “What do you suggest we do with the rest of the day?”
Desire rippled through her body, taking parts of her prisoner. Scenes from last night and this morning replayed themselves in her mind, adding fuel.
Fastening the helmet, Natalya got on behind him. Secure, she tucked her arms around his waist. It took effort not to lean her cheek against his back. “I’ll leave that up to you,” she told him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” With a laugh, he knocked away the kickstand. The next moment, they roared back into the street.
This wasn’t like her.
There were articles in at least the last three medical journals she’d promised herself to get to this afternoon. And there was a stack of charts she’d been meaning to annotate before having Vicki file them away. She’d had every intention of going into her
office in the late afternoon to catch up on things that always seemed to get out of hand during the week. This seemed like an excellent time for it inasmuch as she had no small patients in the hospital to look in on.
So what was she doing, lying here in bed beside this man, dressed in nothing more than a smile, a smile that seemed to have a life of its own? She had no excuse, no explanation.
What she had was this overwhelming desire that refused to be quenched, refused to be sated. The only thing it seemed capable of doing was growing and it was doing that at a breathtaking rate.
This was only making it harder on her, she argued silently, even as her body turned into his, harder to endure the inevitable when it happened. She’d never been one who stubbornly clung to a habit, never allowed herself to gain an addiction to anyone or anything. Nothing had ever had control over her. And yet, here she was, being led around by her emotions, her desires, and not trying to do a damn thing to save herself.
Natalya propped herself up on her elbow. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she looked down at him.
“You know, Detective, we have to stop meeting like this,” she quipped.
“Why?” There was humor in his eyes. “Works for me.” And then he looked at her more closely. Something he saw in her face had him backtracking. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Back to the yes-no tug of war, she thought. There was no point in trying to be evasive about it. “What I am is confused.”
He tried to tease her out of it. “What you are,” he contradicted, “is magnificent.” Cupping the back of her head, Mike gently brought her face down to his and kissed her. The kiss worked itself into his system, spilling out through his veins like maple syrup in July. Sweet. Delectable. “We both overthink things,” he told her after a beat. “Maybe for once, we should just let whatever happens happen.”
If only.
But she had been raised to believe that every action had a consequence. And the consequences of what she was allowing herself to do here with him were extremely steep. “That’s not very responsible,” she pointed out.
His response surprised her. “Maybe I don’t always want to be a grown-up.” He slid his finger along her collarbone. “I’m a grown-up on the job. In my private life…” He let his voice trail off. His smile alone was enough to make her blood sizzle.
It took effort to rein herself in. Effort not to just throw him flat on his back and have her way with him. Damn, but he had turned her into a completely different person. “Is that where all those women come in?”
His expression was innocence personified. “What women?”
“The ones you said you had all that experience with,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “That’s
not
what I said.” And definitely not what he wanted her to think. The women who had come before her had begun to blur the first time he kissed her. And had all but faded from memory the moment they’d made love. “Is that what you want to do with the rest of this afternoon?” He underscored the question by pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. It was followed by another. “Talk?”
Heat was springing up, taking hold. Clouding her brain. “Talking is good,” she managed to get out thickly, already losing the battle she hadn’t really believed she could win. He was touching her, caressing her. Making her crazy.
“This is better,” he countered, raising her hair from her neck so that he could kiss that side, as well.
She was dissolving right in front of him, she thought. Any willpower she’d hoped to summon had dashed away like a newly freed deserter. Her limbs felt heavy, languid. “You don’t play fair,” she protested.
“Never said I wanted to be fair.” His breath feathered along her skin as it preceded his lips.
She could feel herself melting and heating at the very same moment. If she’d been a candle, she’d have long been nothing more than just a puddle of color.
“No,” she acknowledged hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper, “that you didn’t.”
Okay, tomorrow she’d tell him. Tomorrow. Monday, when things began fresh for the week. When everything moved along at a faster clip. Tomorrow
she’d find a way to let him know that she couldn’t have children. And then, the next move would be his.
Now was for enjoying this wild, wonderful feeling that he created, for savoring it as she struggled to keep from falling over the brink into an abyss.
With effort, she turned her body into his and began to strum her fingers along his torso, her tempo increasing as needs and wants hammered through her, growing ever more frenzied. When she touched him intimately, she heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his desire for her surge. She would have laughed in triumph if she’d had the strength for that. She was saving what little was left of her strength for the ultimate culmination and joining. That would make the third time in as many hours.
Whatever regrets she felt were waiting to pounce on her she managed to keep in abeyance. All she wanted in this moment was to be his and to pretend that this wonderful sensation could last.
Tempted to stay the night again, Natalya forced herself to return to her apartment. He insisted on bringing her back. It was late, he’d reminded her, and the city that never slept wasn’t always as savory as everyone would have wanted it to be.
She came in so late, she was able to get to her own room without encountering Kady or any of Kady’s knowing looks. The following morning, still yawning, she quickly got ready, pausing only for a mo
ment when she went to select her underwear from the drawer. The colors were still together, but the types—sexy, functional—were not. Kady, she thought. It had to have been Kady, rummaging for something sensual to put on. She was going to have ask her about it when she got the chance.
It wasn’t far to her office and she decided to walk instead of taking the bus or her car. She was hoping to walk off some of the excess tension that was vibrating through her.
For once, her schedule wasn’t full. There was a large break between her first two appointments and her third one, a highly unusual occurrence. Especially on a Monday when parents who’d spent the entire weekend debating whether or not those sniffles their child was exhibiting were actually a sign of something more serious called.
Sitting at her desk with that same stack of files that she’d neglected yesterday, Natalya drummed her fingers on her desk. She hadn’t heard from Mike yet, which could mean that he hadn’t heard from the D.A. Or, she supposed it could just mean that he was too busy to call. It wasn’t as if he had nothing else to do. Cases came in, right and left, hardly leaving any time for him to breathe.
Still, you’d think, because they had a special connection…
Natalya stopped herself. She had to remember that she couldn’t expect too much from Mike, other
than a good time. And even that was finite. To expect more was leaving herself open to disappointment. A man like Mike was faithful to the moment. When it left, so would he.
She forced herself to think of something else, which brought her mind back around to Clancy and the photographs. While they were waiting for the court order, Mike had told her that he was going to look into putting names to those bodies.
Maybe, she suddenly thought, she should be looking in to where they came from. Ellis Brothers handled funeral arrangements for people from all the five boroughs, not to mention the hospitals in the area that shipped their nameless dead to them. She didn’t have the time to contact all the hospitals, but at the very least, she could explore one avenue. Patience Memorial sent their unclaimed deceased to Ellis Brothers with the county footing the bill.
Were any of those people in the photographs Clancy took from Patience Memorial?
Her head began to ache. She needed answers to questions she hadn’t completely formed yet. Rummaging around in her middle drawer, she found a bottle of aspirin. Natalya swallowed it dry, then reached for the telephone on her desk. She had to start somewhere.
It took her over an hour, with so many transfers and lost connections, but she finally had a name. The doctor who was in charge of handing off the
bodies of the unclaimed John and Jane Does was Dr. Ralph Jessop. Funny that Clancy had never mentioned him by name, although he had grumbled several times about “the pompous ass” he’d had to deal with at P.M. Still, being a pompous ass didn’t immediately mean that a person was capable of breaking the law.