Silent Night Stakeout

The only thing that mattered was finding out if her actions had played as much of a part in getting him killed.

REGINA HAD SEEN THE man she deduced was a homicide detective as soon as he arrived with another man who appeared to be his partner. He’d been far enough away, with his collar pulled up against the cold, that she hadn’t been able to get a good look at him. She’d watched from a distance as he and the other man had approached Jeremy’s car and examined the gruesome scene she could still see entirely too well in her head.

But it wasn’t until he suddenly turned and looked directly at her that she was able to see him clearly. And in that instant when their eyes met, every thought that had been racing through her head evaporated, along with every bit of moisture in her mouth.

The man was, quite simply, the best thing she’d seen in a long time, so much so he almost didn’t seem real. He was tall, with the kind of muscular frame that not even the bulky coat could hide. It seemed barely capable of containing his wide shoulders, the sleeves stretching and straining around his arms. Even if she hadn’t been able to see the rest of his body, his face would have been enough to tell her what it was like. His features were all hard planes and sharp leanness, and even his cheekbones seemed to have muscles. His hair was cut close to the scalp, making the features on that dark brown face stand out that much more strongly.

He started toward her, that massive frame moving with an easy grace. Her heart did a curious lurch in her chest, then kickstarted again in a faster pace as she watched his approach.

Then he came close enough that she could see the tightening of his expression, the wariness in his eyes. She immediately knew the cause of his reaction, and she choked back a sigh.

So he was one of those. A cop who viewed her as the enemy.

She wasn’t surprised, of course. It went with the territory. She was comfortable with her career. She’d learned a long time ago that the police weren’t always right and that not all police officers were good people. But there was still something uniquely disappointing about having as fine a male specimen as the man before her looking at her like that.

She swallowed the disappointment that rose in her throat. Hadn’t she just been thinking how difficult it was to find a good man? She should know better than to let herself be so affected by a physical reaction, a reaction that was no doubt caused just as much by the stress of everything that had happened in the past few hours as the man himself. Finding Jeremy. Talking to the first officers on the scene. The endless waiting. It was no wonder her emotions were off-kilter. She sucked in a breath, trying to regain her senses.

Then he was in front of her, bigger and more overwhelming than before, and she suddenly had to try to recover from his appearance all over again. “Ms. Garrett?”

Damn. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him, a low rumble she felt quake through her. She nearly shuddered. “Yes,” she said, her tone admirably smooth.

“Detective Marcus Waters,” he said, all business. “I was told you found the body.”

The subject matter thankfully brought her back down to earth. “That’s right.”

“And the victim was a client of yours?”

“Yes. He called earlier this evening and asked to see me.”

“About what?”

“He didn’t say. I tried to get him to tell me, but he would only say it was very important. I was expecting him at six. I called him a few times when he didn’t show, and finally gave up around eight. I was driving by when I saw him.”

“And he was already dead?”

“Yes.”

“You represented him on a burglary charge, is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Did he do it?”

For a second, the blunt, wholly unexpected question caught her off-guard, as she suspected he’d intended. Fortunately she had plenty of practice at keeping her expression from revealing anything but what she wanted it to. She never blinked, meeting his gaze head-on. “The charges were dismissed, Detective. That makes him innocent in the eyes of the law.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m afraid anything he might have told me is covered by attorney-client privilege.”

“Even if it’s relevant to his death?’

“Even then.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, turning downward the slightest bit, the only sign of his displeasure. She had to fight the urge to stare at those dangerously tempting lips. “What can you tell me about the case?”

“I imagine not much more than you could find in the police file.”

“Since I don’t have the file on me, any insight you could provide would be appreciated,” he said with a trace of sarcasm.

“Jeremy was arrested in April after the police responded to an alarm indicating a break-in at a home in Lincoln Park. He was found at the scene and was unable to provide a reasonable explanation for his presence, so he was arrested and later charged with burglary.”

“You said the charges were dismissed. So the case never went to trial?”

“No, it never got that far. He was released a few days ago.”

“And was murdered soon afterward.”

“You think there’s a connection.”

“Wouldn’t you?” he said sensibly. “Or maybe I should ask, don’t you?”

“I can see why you would think that,” she said carefully.

“So is there anything you want to tell me about the case? Anything I should know?”

Regina sighed. “Detective, I promise I’m not trying to be difficult. I want whoever did this to Jeremy to be caught just as much as you do. But frankly, it’s been a rather difficult evening and I’m not at my best. Let me take a look at my notes when my head’s a little clearer and see what I might be able to share with you.”

Eyes narrowed, he looked at her, long and probing, his gaze feeling as though it was peeling away the layers of her skin and exposing her to the core. Finally, his expression eased, like he’d come to the conclusion she really wasn’t trying to be a pain. “I would appreciate it.”

“Has his sister been informed?”

“His sister?”

“Lauren. She’s his next of kin, the only family he had left other than the baby she had a few months ago.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of that next.”

“I’d like to be there when you do.”

“Why?”

“Lauren Decker just lost her only sibling. She’s going to need a kind face to break the news.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to inform someone of the death of a family member.”

“A family member you didn’t view as nothing more than a no-good criminal? That’s what you’ve already decided, isn’t it? That Jeremy Decker was nothing but a lowlife who probably deserved what was coming to him?”

“I’m not sure anyone deserved this, but just because you got him off doesn’t mean he was truly innocent.”

“And just because he was arrested doesn’t mean he was guilty.”

From his expression, he was biting back the response he wanted to offer. After a moment, he said, “Either way, I’m capable of breaking this news to her gently.”

“Then I look forward to seeing that. Because Lauren Decker is a young woman who just had a baby, which she is raising on her own. I suspect her emotional state is already fragile, and I can’t imagine this news is going to help that. Besides, who do you think she’s more likely to confide in, someone she just met who’s a member of the same police department that recently arrested her brother, or someone she’s met before, someone her brother trusted?”

Regina could tell he wanted to argue the point, those lips now compressed into a thin, frustrated line.

“Besides, like you said, you don’t have the file, so you’d have to look up the address. I already know it.”

“Fine,” he practically growled. “You can come.”

“Thank you.” Inwardly, she sighed with relief. Evidently she’d been wrong earlier. She could do something else for Jeremy Decker, the same thing she’d always intended to do: make sure he got justice. And not even an incredibly handsome police detective was going to prevent her from doing so.

The sound of footsteps crunching on slush and snow indicated someone was approaching moments before the man she’d seen arrive with Waters came up behind him. He was middle-aged and overweight, the folds of his face seemingly settled in a permanent frown. Even so, she had the distinct impression his scowl was extra fierce for her benefit, given the bleary-eyed glare he shot at her. Another cop who didn’t like her, she registered, though the knowledge gave her none of the disappointment she’d experienced when she’d seen the look in Detective Waters’s eyes.

“Everything okay over here?” the newcomer asked.

“Fine,” Waters said. “Ms. Garrett, my partner, Jeff Polinsky. Polinsky, Regina Garrett. Ms. Garrett has graciously agreed to provide the address of the next of kin. We’re going to go notify her now.”

The man’s frown deepened. “She’s going? Why?”

“To help,” Waters said with a wry edge that hinted at his skepticism. “You coming?”

“Pass,” Polinsky muttered, the look he shot her leaving little doubt for the reason. “I’ll wrap things up here, get a ride back with somebody.”

“Fine.”

Both men turned back toward her at the same moment. Regina knew Polinsky was about to challenge her before he said a single word. “Since you have all the answers, how about it, Counselor? Any theories about why somebody killed your client?”

Regina didn’t flinch from his stare, refusing to let his hostility get to her. “I have to assume someone didn’t want him to talk about something.”

“Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Why else shove a red handkerchief or whatever that was in his mouth? It was a message.”

“Probably. Especially since that handkerchief most likely didn’t start out red.”

“Polinsky—” Waters started.

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The handkerchief was red from the blood.” The corner of his mouth curved in a smirk, the nasty pleasure in it instantly making her uneasy. “The killer cut out his tongue.”

Chapter Three

“I apologize for Polinsky,” Marcus said as he drove them toward the address Regina Garrett had given him. “He’s not usually so rude.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said mildly from the passenger seat.

His mouth twitched in acknowledgment. “I’m not saying he’s not rude. He’s just not usually that rude.”

“I understand. He’s not the first cop who didn’t like me, and I doubt he’ll be the last.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Like most people, I’m not crazy about the idea that anyone dislikes me. But then, I wouldn’t be very good at my job if the entire Chicago PD were fans.”

“Well, cops tend to not be too crazy about people who help criminals get off,” he said before he could think better of it. As soon as the words were out, he braced himself for an angry comeback.

Instead she simply said, “Everybody deserves a defense, Detective. It’s how our justice system works.”

He didn’t bother to disagree. He was well aware how the justice system worked, or at least how it was supposed to. He also knew that some people deserved nothing but to be punished. That was justice. He almost asked her how many who deserved to be punished hadn’t been because of her, how many crimes they’d gone on to commit, how many people they’d hurt because she’d given them the opportunity. But that would make him no better than Polinsky, and he was in no mood to pick a fight.

They passed the rest of the trip in silence, his discomfort growing by the minute. He did his best not to look at her. It didn’t help. He could still see her out of the corner of his eye, still feel her presence with almost painful awareness. The faint scent of her perfume, something light and distinctly feminine, seemed to fill the close confines of the car, and every bit of his senses.

He felt a spurt of relief when they finally reached the street she’d named. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Most of the houses on this quiet residential block were aglow with holiday lights, though their darkened windows indicated that almost all of the residents were settled in for the night. He slowed as the house numbers began to reach the one he sought.

“I think that’s it,” she said a second after he spotted the house. It was a small one-story structure with a single car parked out front. Unlike those around it, this house wasn’t decorated with any lights. There also didn’t appear to be any on inside, at least none that were visible from the front.

“Was it just Decker and the sister who lived here?”

“I believe so. From what I remember, they inherited the house from their father, who died a few years ago. Their mother died when they were children.”

Filing the information away for future reference, he parked along the curb in front of the house and climbed out. He might have opened her door for her, but by the time he rounded the vehicle she was already out of the car. She started for the house as soon as he joined her, moving so automatically he almost wondered if she’d waited for him or intended to go on her own and leave him to follow.

Before he could bring up how they would handle this, she strode right up to the front door and knocked. For more than a minute, there was no answer.

“She may already be in bed,” Marcus observed.

“Maybe,” Regina agreed. “Especially if she managed to get the baby to sleep. She’d probably be trying to get as much rest as she could. I hate to wake her.” She sighed. “I hate to tell her any of this.”

To his surprise, there was genuine regret in her voice. She meant it. Frankly, he’d taken her insistence on being here as evidence of the control-freak tendencies he’d initially assumed she’d have, her claims of concern nothing more than a ploy to have her way. She was a lawyer; of course she’d be good at making an argument. Her obvious sincerity caught him off-guard, nearly made him look at her again until he managed to catch himself.

She was about to knock again when the curtains in the window shifted slightly, then the sound of locks being withdrawn met their ears. The door finally, slowly eased open. A nervous-looking face, a female version of Jeremy Decker’s, peered at them over a still-fastened chain. “Yes?”

“Hi, Lauren. Do you remember me?” Regina asked.

After a moment, Lauren nodded shakily. “You’re Jeremy’s lawyer.”

“That’s right. This is Detective Waters with the Chicago Police Department. Can we come in? We need to talk to you about something.”

“Jeremy’s not here.”

“I know. We need to talk to you.”

Lauren’s expression said she wanted to say no. Finally, as though realizing how futile it would be to turn away the police, she grimaced. “I just got the baby to sleep. You’ll have to be quiet.”

“Of course.”

The door closed long enough for her to unfasten the chain before opening it fully. She was dressed in thread-bare sweats, her hair wet as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. They hadn’t woken her, apparently catching her on her way to bed instead. As Regina had said, she was young, looking to be barely in her early twenties. Even younger than her brother. She was pretty, but tired-looking, probably to be expected for a woman with a baby. She waved them in, quickly closing and re-locking the door behind them, then turned to face them, folding her arms almost protectively over her chest.

“Is there somewhere we can sit down?” Regina asked when it looked as if Lauren Decker wasn’t going to offer.

Lauren nodded tightly and stepped past them to lead the way into a tiny living room off the entryway. She motioned vaguely at the couch, as much as an invitation as it seemed like they were going to get, falling into a chair herself.

Regina slid onto the edge of the couch closest to Lauren. Marcus remained standing, not seeing any way he could fit on it with her, not really wanting to get that close.

“Lauren, I’m afraid I have some sad news,” Regina said slowly, the kindness in her voice again catching him by surprise. “Jeremy is dead. I found him in his car outside my office tonight. He was murdered.”

He watched Lauren’s reaction to the news. She blinked several times, a lack of comprehension in her expression. It was a face he’d seen more than once in moments like this. “What are you talking about?” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“It appears someone killed him while he was sitting in his car.”

Eyes wide, Lauren began to shake her head. “Who?”

“That’s what we were hoping to ask you,” Marcus said gently, ignoring the look Regina shot him. “Do you have any idea why anyone would want to hurt your brother?”

She blinked up at him, her gaze slowly sliding from his to Regina’s, then away entirely as she lowered her head. And he knew before she said a word that she was going to lie.

“No.”

Before he could call her on it, Regina leaned forward. “Lauren, I know you must want whoever hurt Jeremy to be held responsible. If there’s anything you can tell us, anything at all, it would be helpful.”

This time the pause was barely noticeable before Lauren shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. He’d only been home a few days, and we didn’t talk much. He didn’t want to talk about jail, and he went out a lot.”

“Do you know where he went or who he went to see?” Marcus asked.

“No. Like I said, we didn’t talk much.”

He was about to press her further when Regina interjected. “Okay. I know this is a lot to take in, and we should give you some time to grieve.”

Before she even finished speaking, she started to rise. Marcus’s first instinct was to object. He hadn’t even begun to ask the many questions he had for Lauren Decker. But if he tried to press on in the face of Regina Garrett’s kindness, he would just come off like a bully, and that wouldn’t get him anywhere. As he took in the face of the young woman before him, now even more drained and pale than when they arrived, it was clear she’d closed herself off to them. He might be able to get more out of her now, or maybe he’d do even better once she’d had a chance to let the news and the implications of her brother’s death sink in.

Regina reached out and touched the arm of the young woman, who’d also risen. “Are you going to be all right here alone, or is there someone we can call to be with you?”

Lauren shook her head. “We don’t have any family left, and I have the baby. She’ll probably wake up if I have anyone over. I’ll be okay.”

Regina reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number. Please call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

Marcus already had his own card in hand. “And if you think of anything you think might be helpful, feel free to call me.”

She took the card without meeting his eyes. He didn’t believe for a second she would use it, but wanted to keep his name in her memory. Because like it or not, they would be meeting again.

Lauren Decker knew something, and sooner or later—sooner if he had any say in the matter—he was going to find out what it was.

“SHE WAS LYING,” Detective Waters said as he pulled away from the house.

“I know,” Regina said without hesitation. She should have known he’d pick up on it as well as she had. There was something reassuring about that. It implied he was smart, good at his job. He might be the right man to solve Jeremy’s murder after all.

“I would have appreciated the chance to talk to her further rather than have you rush us out of there.”

“It was obvious she wasn’t going to tell us anything. I have a feeling you saw that as well as I did.”

“It couldn’t have hurt to try.”

“Couldn’t it? She was a clearly exhausted woman who barely had time to absorb her brother’s murder. If you pushed her too far she could have turned against us entirely and decided to never cooperate at all.”

“Me,” he corrected. “She could have turned against me. There is no ‘us.’”

No, there certainly wasn’t, she thought with a pang. The comment seemed best left unaddressed. “Either way, you’re better off giving her a chance to let this sink in. Once she has a chance to think about it she may decide to share what she knows. If not, then you can push her. Or does your partner usually play the bad cop? I have a feeling he’s good at it.”

“He is,” he admitted. “In the meantime, is there anything you want to tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, if you were right and the killer was sending a message, that message was most likely intended for you.”

He wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already considered, but hearing him voice the possibility made it much harder to ignore. She swallowed the knot that rose in her throat. “I know,” she agreed.

“It would seem somebody wanted to prevent him from talking about something. If there’s even the slightest chance he told it to you, they might come after you.”

“As I reminded you, attorney-client privilege applies to anything Jeremy might have told me.”

“We’re talking about someone willing to slit your client’s throat and cut out his tongue in a car parked on the street. I have a feeling this isn’t someone who’s going to take a chance you’ll remain that dedicated to your principles.”

“Which means this also isn’t someone likely to take the chance I don’t know anything either,” Regina said on a sigh. “And believe it or not, I really don’t think I know anything anyone would be willing to kill to keep hidden. I have to believe Jeremy was going to tell me tonight and didn’t get the chance.” If only he had. If only she’d pressed him harder on the phone. He might not be dead, or if so, at least she might have some idea what she was facing.

“Of course this is all guesswork,” he said after a moment. “For all we know whatever warning the killer implied wasn’t intended for you.”

He was trying to make her feel better, she realized with surprise. She glanced at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. At the sight of that impossibly good-looking face, a nervous flutter erupted in her chest. She tried to read his expression for any hint of what he was thinking, but came away empty. It was an odd reassurance for him to offer her. She wouldn’t have thought he would bother. She wondered what it meant that he had, wondered if it meant anything at all.

Wondered why she cared. No point reading too much into a simple courtesy.

“I hope you’re right,” she said, unable to keep the doubt from her voice.

They’d reached the street where her office was located. It hardly seemed possible but the crowd of police officers and crime scene technicians was already gone, the street deserted. As they neared the space where Jeremy’s car had been parked, the place where he died, she saw there was nothing there now. The body had been removed, the car towed away. But the memory of what had been there remained vivid in her mind, and she couldn’t suppress a shudder.

He stopped next to her car and put his vehicle in Park. As she unbuckled her seat belt, he reached into his coat and pulled out a business card, offering it to her. “For when you’ve gone over your notes, or if you think of anything else.”

“Of course.” Tucking the card in her pocket, she opened the door. “Good night, Detective.”

“Take care of yourself, counselor,” he said in that low, smooth voice of his, what should have been no more than a basic parting line sounding strangely personal.

She crossed the street to her car, fully expecting him to drive away as soon as she was out of the vehicle. He didn’t, remaining where he was as she unlocked her car and started the engine. Only when she was heading down the street did she see him finally start to drive away, his lights fading from view in her rearview mirror.

The fact that he’d finally left made sense. The fact that he’d waited until she was safely on her way, while somewhat surprising, was understandable.

The fact that she felt better for his having done so, or that the warmth caused by the timbre of his voice and those closing words continued to linger long after he was gone, was much harder to explain.