Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair Read online

  “Especially then.” His fingers danced over her hip, sending a new shiver of desire racing through her. “Want to try for a two-fer?”

  “That never happens.”

  He eased her onto her back and kissed his way down the front of her. “Baby, I love a challenge.”

  *

  Sam skipped through her morning routine with far more energy than she should have had. Multiple orgasms had multiple benefits. Who knew? With one last glance at Nick sleeping on his belly, she went downstairs in desperate need of a soda. As the first blessed mouthful cruised through her system, she realized she had no way to get to HQ.

  Laughing softly, she called Freddie and asked him to pick her up. Since her dad wasn’t up yet, she decided to wait for Freddie on the front porch. She surveyed the quiet street, wondering if Peter was out there somewhere watching her and waiting for his next opportunity. They would’ve called her if they’d found him, so she knew it was possible he was watching her.

  “Come and get me, you bastard. You won’t catch me off guard a second time.”

  As she took another long drink of soda, Freddie’s battered Mustang came around the corner with a loud backfire.

  “Gonna wake up the whole freaking neighborhood,” she grumbled.

  He pulled up to the house and leaned over to unlock the passenger door.

  “Do I need a tetanus shot before I ride in this thing?”

  “What’s that they say about beggars and choosers?”

  She battled with the seatbelt. “I’ve got to requisition a new ride.”

  “I’ll take care of that for you, boss.” He offered her one of the powdered donuts from the package on his lap.

  With a scowl, she took one and turned so she could see him. “You’ve done some good work on this case, Cruz. Damn good.”

  His face lit up with pleasure. “Thanks. So after I got home last night, I was kinda wired and couldn’t sleep, ya know?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her face flushed when she thought of how she’d worked off her own tension.

  “I got to thinking that maybe there’s some sort of connection besides the sexual kind between O’Connor and one of our people of interest.”

  “What kind of connection?”

  “A domestic—cook, caterer, cleaning lady, gardener.”

  “Possible. Where you going with it?”

  “I know this is way out there, but what if one of the domestics found out about the kid, Thomas, and told someone who’d be infuriated by it?”

  “Worth looking into.”

  “You think?”

  “When are you going to start having some faith in yourself and your instincts?”

  “I don’t know. Soon. I hope.”

  “So do I, because you’re starting to piss me off.”

  “You know what pisses me off?” He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at her. “Your scumbag ex-husband. He pisses me off.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “Me, too.”

  “It’s all over the papers.”

  “I knew it would be.”

  “I have it there. In the backseat if you wanted to…”

  Her stomach twisted in protest. “That’s all right. Thanks.”

  “He had pictures of you all over his place. It was totally creepy. There were shots of you from a distance working crime scenes, and he even had a police scanner.”

  Sam’s stomach took a dive at that news. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t just give up and go away. I should’ve known that.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” he said fiercely.

  “So Natalie Jordan paid us a visit last night,” Sam said, anxious to change the subject. She relayed what Natalie told them and went over their visit with Noel. “I don’t think he did it, but I want to get him on a polygraph today. Will you set that up?”

  “Sure thing. I don’t see Noel for it, either. Nothing about him screamed ‘murderer’ to me. Natalie, on the other hand, she’s a cool customer.”

  “Nick said she’s lying about Noel, but he’s never liked her.”

  “He’s got good instincts, though,” Freddie said.

  “Do me a favor when we get in, ask Gonzo and Arnold to check out this address.” She gave him the slip of paper with Natalie’s parents’ address. “And have them go by Noel Jordan’s house in Belle Haven. Get me a couple of hours of surveillance on him before you bring him in.”

  “Got it. Will do.” As they pulled up to the last intersection before the public safety building, he said, “Shit.” He pointed at the street leading to HQ, lined with TV trucks bearing satellite dishes.

  “Goddamn it.”

  He scowled at her choice of words. “Let’s go in through the morgue.”

  “Good plan.”

  They parked on the far side of the building, entered through the basement door and took a circuitous route to the detectives’ pit where Gonzo and Arnold waited for them.

  “We’ve got Terry O’Connor in lockup. He’s lawyering up.”

  “Figured.”

  “They filmed us bringing him in,” Arnold said. “It’ll be the lead story this morning.”

  Captain Malone burst through the door. “The chief just got off the phone with a very angry Senator O’Connor. He’s threatening to call the president.”

  “He can call anyone he wants,” Sam said. “His son had motive, a key and can’t produce his supposed alibi. If he was anyone else, we would’ve had him in here days ago, and you know it. I need to rule him out.”

  They stared each other down for a long moment before Malone blinked. “Get him into interview and either charge him or let him go. And do it quickly.”

  “Yes, sir.” To Gonzo, she added, “Bring him up.”

  CHAPTER 29

  When Sam and Freddie entered the small interrogation room, Terry O’Connor leaped to his feet. “I didn’t kill my brother! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  She pretended to gaze intently into the file she had carried into the room with her. “The reason you’re here is you failed to attend the safe driving course the judge ordered after your DUI.”

  “You aren’t serious.”

  Sam glanced at Freddie.

  “She’s serious,” Freddie said.

  “I meant to,” Terry stammered.

  “Why don’t we talk about why we’re really here?” the attorney said.

  “Give me a lie detector.”

  Grabbing Terry’s shirt, the attorney yanked him into a chair. “Shut up, Terry.”

  “Mr. O’Connor, have you been advised of your rights?” Sam asked.

  “The cops you sent to haul me out of my parents’ house before dawn went through all that,” he spat back at her.

  “Do we have your permission to record this interview?”

  “At the advice of counsel,” the attorney drawled in a honeyed Southern accent, “Mr. O’Connor will cooperate with this farce—within reason.”

  “Isn’t that good of him?” Sam asked Freddie.

  “Real good,” Freddie agreed as he turned on the recorder and noted for the record who was in the room and why.

  “It’s now been ninety-six hours since your brother’s body was discovered in his apartment,” Sam said. “You say you spent the night of the murder with a woman you met in a Loudoun County bar. Can you give me her name?”

  “No,” Terry said, dejected.

  “Have you found anyone who can confirm you left the establishment with this imaginary woman?”

  “She wasn’t imaginary!” he cried, slapping his hand on the table.

  “Witnesses?”

  He slumped back into his chair. “No.”

  “That kind of puts you in a bit of a pickle, doesn’t it?” she asked as Nick’s words echoed through her mind—you’re barking up the wrong tree with Terry. She had to admit that the buzz she got from knowing she had a suspect’s nuts on the block and all she had to do was lower the boom was missing here.

  “Is there a relevant question coming a