Silent Night Stakeout

WHEN HER ALARM WENT OFF the next morning, Regina was jolted out of an uneasy sleep that was anything but restful. Instantly wide awake, she stared at the glowing digits on her bedside clock. It was early. She’d forgotten to reset the alarm the night before. This was the time she’d needed to get up to catch her flight to the Caribbean.

A flight she wouldn’t be taking, she acknowledged without a second thought. Shutting off the alarm, she rose to her feet and padded to the bathroom. All that mattered was finding out who was responsible for what had happened to Jeremy Decker.

Going to bed hadn’t allowed her to escape the horror of last night’s events. Her dreams had been filled with images of Jeremy, first silently begging her for help he was voiceless to explain, then as he’d looked when she’d found him, long past asking for anything.

And almost just as disturbing, an unsmiling police detective with dark eyes that seemed to sear through her, his expression mysterious and unreadable no matter how long she tried to discern what he was thinking.

Regina didn’t let herself linger on the last image. There were much more important things to deal with. She needed to get to the office and go through Jeremy’s file. With any luck, there would be something in it that would help her figure out this mess.

She showered and dressed as quickly as possible, already deciding to stop for coffee on the way rather than take the time to make it. Within fifteen minutes she was ready to go. Making her way downstairs, she tugged on her coat and, ignoring the packed suitcases lined up by it, pulled the door open.

She was about to step outside, her gaze lowering as she fumbled through her keys, when she saw it.

There was something on her front porch.

She froze, her keys forgotten. The snow hadn’t reached the porch, so the object, stark white against the brown of the wood, was plainly visible—and immediately noticeable as out of place. She stared at it for a moment, unsure what to do. Peering closer, she tried to identify it. It was white. Some kind of paper? No, the texture was wrong. It looked like some kind of fabric. Almost like—

A handkerchief.

Dread held her in place for a moment, her mind automatically going back to the last handkerchief she’d seen, the one shoved in Jeremy Decker’s gaping mouth. The one she’d thought was red.

The handkerchief most likely didn’t start out red.

No, in order to end up that color of red, it must have started out white. As white as the handkerchief sitting on her front porch.

And it was just sitting there, slightly crumpled or folded over. It didn’t move other than the edges fluttering the slightest bit. A cold wind was blowing outside. She could feel it swirling around her ankles. Yet the handkerchief didn’t blow away. Something must be holding it in place.

And in a horrifying instant, she knew what it was.

Her mind immediately rebelled, her stomach nearly doing the same. The idea was too terrible to consider. She desperately tried to think of another explanation, and came up blank.

Still, she had to know.

Digging into her bag for a pen, she inched closer to the handkerchief. Coming only as near as necessary, she leaned in, using the pen to ease back the corner of the fabric where it was folded over.

One glance was all it took to see her instincts had been correct.

Expecting it didn’t protect her from the shock of seeing it herself. She reeled back, already wishing she hadn’t looked, already trying to block out the image.

If the killer was sending a message, that message was most likely intended for you.

Detective Waters’s words echoed faintly from the back of her mind.

Waters.

She should call him. She should call somebody. It only made sense that it should be him. Even as the thought occurred to her, she was reaching into her pocket for the business card he’d given her, then for her cell phone.

She forced herself to focus on the tiny digits on the card and dialed the number with trembling fingers.

It took only two rings for him to answer.

“Waters.”

The sound of that voice sent a rush of relief through her, the emotion fiercer than she had any business feeling.

“Detective Waters, this is Regina Garrett.”

There was the briefest of pauses before he responded. “Of course, Ms. Garrett. What can I do for you?”

“I’m at home. There was something on my front porch when I opened my door this morning.”

“What kind of something?”

“A white handkerchief. And there’s something in it. I think—” She swallowed hard, tried to force the words out when her throat just wanted to gag.

“I think I found Jeremy Decker’s tongue.”

Chapter Four

If there had been any question whether the removal of Jeremy Decker’s tongue was supposed to be a message, Marcus figured its arrival on Regina Garrett’s porch provided a pretty definitive answer. From the look on her face, she knew it as well as he did.

It was a message, all right—a message that now had literally been delivered to her.

Not that he spent much time looking at her face. He deliberately avoided it, keeping his eyes on his notebook as he took her statement about what had happened.

Unfortunately, for more reasons than one, there wasn’t much she could tell him and he soon ran out of questions. “I guess that does it,” he concluded, finally looking up with some reluctance. “Unless there’s anything else you can think of that might be helpful?”

“There isn’t,” she said firmly. “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

He wasn’t surprised. The tongue hadn’t been there when she’d arrived home, so it must have been delivered in the middle of the night while she was sleeping. Polinsky was checking with the neighbors to see if anyone had seen the person who’d left it. Marcus doubted anyone had. Even if one of her neighbors had been awake at that hour, he suspected the perpetrator would have done everything to make it impossible for anybody to identify him or her. It shouldn’t have been a difficult task, given the weather and the kind of bulky winter clothing most people were wearing these days. This person seemed determined to prevent Regina from revealing something. After going to this much trouble, they weren’t going to risk having their identity revealed by getting caught leaving the tongue on her porch.

He also didn’t doubt the tongue had been left by the person who’d cut it out of Jeremy Decker’s mouth in the first place. It wasn’t exactly a gift someone could ask a second party to deliver. It was too personal. Everything about this was too personal.

Marcus didn’t tell Regina Garrett any of that. She looked unsettled enough—rather understandably, he thought as he studied her. They stood in her living room—she’d declined the opportunity to sit—as the crime scene techs photographed what she’d found on her porch and collected it for evidence. Her expression was calm, but her posture gave her away. She was ramrod straight, her spine stiff, her arms folded over her chest. One hand stroked up and down the opposite forearm absently as though she was subconsciously trying to comfort herself. His gaze lingered on the motion, and he felt something clutch in his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“I’m fine,” she said with a tight smile, then sighed gently. “At least as fine as I can be. I’m past the initial shock of finding…it at any rate.”

He nodded, not sure if he should believe her.

As though confirming his doubts about her emotional state, she cleared her throat softly and asked, “Is it all right if I use the bathroom?”

“Of course.”

With a tight nod she turned and started out of the room. When Marcus realized he was watching her walk away, he immediately lowered his eyes and slowly exhaled, releasing the air that had been pent up in his lungs.

He’d spent the past twelve hours trying not to think about Regina Garrett. Her open, lovely face. Her soft, inviting scent that had stayed in his vehicle long after they’d parted ways. It should have been easy. God knew he had plenty of other things to think about, a million other subjects fighting for his attention. But somehow his thoughts had kept being pulled back to her. Even after he’d gone to bed, he’d lain awake for far too long, and what he’d thought about was her.

Then, just when he’d finally settled in at work that morning and found the means to push her out of his mind, she’d called with the news of her discovery. And so here he was, in the home of a woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. A woman who, despite the shock of what she’d found, looked even better than he’d remembered.

He gave his head a brief shake. He didn’t know what it was about her that had grabbed his attention so firmly and refused to let go. Yes, she was beautiful, but he’d met beautiful women before. Maybe not as beautiful, maybe not in the same way, but beautiful nonetheless. Yet there was something different about this woman. From the very first moment he’d seen her, he’d responded to her in a way he never had to any woman before and couldn’t seem to shake. But whatever the reason, this wasn’t the time and these really weren’t the circumstances for him to be thinking about her like that. He was pretty sure he had no business thinking about this particular woman at all.

Seeking a distraction, Marcus scanned the interior of her home, trying to get a sense of the woman who lived here—strictly for the case. It was a two-story, single-family house, and she’d already told him she lived alone. It wasn’t the kind of place he would have pictured her living, but the woman seemed to be full of surprises, and now that he was here, he had to admit it seemed to fit her.

She appeared to be neat, but not fanatically so. There were enough signs that the room was lived in—a few magazines tossed on the coffee table, an afghan loosely folded at the end of the couch—without too much unnecessary clutter. There were no Christmas decorations on display. She had no tree, no wreath on the door. Even in the light of day, he’d noticed that hers appeared to be the only house on the block without any lights or displays outside. It was something they had in common, he acknowledged before he could think better of it. He hadn’t bothered with any decorations at his place, either.

Not comfortable with the comparison, Marcus glanced toward the front door, hearing the sounds of Polinsky talking to the techs outside. He noticed, not for the first time, that there were two matching suitcases lined up neatly in the entryway, as though ready and waiting to be carried out.

He was staring at those bags when she reentered the room. She did look better now, like she’d taken the opportunity to gather herself. If anything she looked even more beautiful.

He saw she’d noticed where his attention had been focused. He made himself ask the logical question. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m supposed to be on vacation at the moment,” she explained. “I had a flight out this morning, but obviously I couldn’t go.”

That explained the lack of holiday decorations both inside and outside her home. She hadn’t expected to be here for the holidays. He wondered where she’d been going, who she’d been going with. A boyfriend? He pushed the thought aside. Whatever the answer, it was none of his business.

Polinsky chose that moment to walk through the door. “The guys are done out here. They’re going to take off. What about you?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done,” Marcus said. “You get anything from the neighbors?”

“Nobody saw anything.” Polinsky turned his attention to Regina, the gleam that entered his eye sending a warning through Marcus’s system. “Pretty nasty Christmas present, huh, counselor? Must have given you quite a scare.”

On the final words, his mouth twitched. Marcus had to fight back a sudden surge of anger. When she’d called to report her discovery, Polinsky hadn’t been able to keep from smirking, seeming to take a particular pleasure at the news. Not unexpected given how he felt about her, but not one of his finer moments as far as Marcus was concerned. It was one reason he’d insisted on taking Regina Garrett’s statement, even though he hadn’t really wanted to and Polinsky had been more than willing to talk to her in this instance.

Regina met Polinsky’s gaze calmly, seeming unruffled by his hostility. “It was certainly an experience I could have done without.”

“So how about it, counselor? Seems pretty clear somebody doesn’t want you talking about something your client told you. You ready to tell us what that is?”

“As I’ve already told Detective Waters, I don’t know what it is.”

“I know what you told him. I thought this might have jogged your memory.”

“My memory is just fine, and I can’t be reminded of something I never knew.”

From the way his lip curled, Polinsky didn’t believe her. Marcus wasn’t surprised. Considering Polinsky’s feelings and everything he’d heard about her, it made sense he would assume she was trying to be difficult, keeping relevant information from them, viewing him as much the enemy as he did her. The only truly surprising part was that Marcus didn’t feel the same way. He believed her. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to examine his reasons for that belief.

Before he could say anything, Regina turned toward him. “I’ve been thinking. We need to talk to Lauren Decker again. Now that she’s had a chance to absorb the news of Jeremy’s death, she may be more forthcoming.”

Marcus didn’t miss the glance Polinsky shot him at her comment, and knew exactly what had caused the reaction. “There is no ‘we,’ remember?” he told her. “I let you come along last night to break the news to her, but that’s taken care of.”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase. I need to talk to Lauren Decker, and I was offering to let you come as a courtesy. Because I am going to talk to her, and while we could speak with her separately, we’ve both seen which of us she responded to more. Chances are, the only way you’re going to learn anything is if you’re with me when I speak with her.”

He wanted nothing more than to argue with her logic. He needed her out of this, for multiple reasons. Trouble was, she was right. Lauren Decker had appeared to respond better to Regina than to him, certainly more than she would to Polinsky. His partner’s bulldog tactics might actually get something out of her, but Marcus wasn’t sure he felt right about siccing the man on her, especially when she just lost her brother less than twenty-four hours earlier. And if Regina did manage to get something out of the young woman, he didn’t want to learn about it secondhand, if she bothered telling him at all.

“All right,” he said, barely managing to keep it from sounding begrudging. “‘We’ will talk to her one more time.”

“Great.” She nodded, her expression much less smug than he might have expected since she’d gotten her way again.

“Waters, can I see you outside?” Polinsky asked.

Marcus grimaced. If he couldn’t already guess this wouldn’t be pretty, the dangerous tone in Polinsky’s voice made it clear. “Sure,” he said, swallowing a sigh. “I’ll be right back,” he told Regina.

She nodded, sending an uneasy glance between him and Polinsky, as though sensing the undercurrents between them. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

Polinsky had already pushed through the front door. Marcus followed, stopping when Polinsky whirled to face him at the bottom of the front steps.

“What the hell are you doing?” Polinsky demanded in a hushed tone.

“What’s best for the investigation.”

“The woman is lying. She knows a hell of a lot more than she’s admitting. Letting her be involved in any part of the investigation is a mistake. For all we know she’s just trying to get in the way to obstruct it, the same way she is by not talking.”

“I don’t believe that. We both saw her face when we first got here. She knows what that tongue meant and she got the message loud and clear. She knows her best bet is for this person to be caught.”

“Or she got the message and decided to take it to heart and make sure whatever they don’t want told doesn’t come out.”

“No way,” Marcus said without hesitation. “I’m the one who spent time talking to her last night, remember? She wants her client’s killer caught. You really think that woman in there, the one we’ve both heard plenty about, is going to cave because someone threatens her? Does that sound like the Regina Garrett you’ve heard about?”

Polinsky’s silence told Marcus he’d scored the point.

“Besides,” he continued. “She’s right. She can be an asset we can use. This is about solving the case.”

“Really? It’s not about you wanting to spend more time with her?”

“Of course not.” It was true. He really didn’t want to spend any more time with her.

So why did it feel like a lie?

Clearly that was exactly what Polinsky thought it was. He shook his head. “Right. Do what you want. I’ll see you back at the station.”

“You’re not coming again?”

“I’m not interested in spending any more time with Miss Bleeding Heart in there.”

Polinsky started to turn away, only to stop and glance back. “Watch yourself, Waters. She may be nice to look at, but don’t forget who she really is and what’s underneath the pretty face.”

With that parting line, he stomped away, leaving Marcus to stare after him and ponder his words.

Though Polinsky wouldn’t have believed it, he really didn’t need the warning. He knew he had to watch himself around this woman. The way she’d dogged his thoughts, that strange protectiveness he felt around her, made that clear enough. Most important, though, was the fact that she was involved in the case, and as always, that was all that mattered: the case. Anything that could interfere with that had to be avoided. That included distractions as sizeable as Regina Garrett, regardless of who she was and what she did—both of which were reasons enough in their own right.

He knew it, just as he already knew the resolution was going to be hard to live up to. In fact, the only thing he didn’t know was why.

Or maybe, he thought, his heart sinking into his gut, he just didn’t want to know, since the answer threatened to be even more disturbing than what Regina Garrett had found on her front step that morning.

“I GOT THE FILE ON THE burglary your client was charged with,” Detective Waters said as he drove them back to Lauren Decker’s house.

“That must have made for some interesting reading,” Regina said mildly, though inwardly she started gathering her energy for the upcoming debate. She knew everything he must have read, of course, and she was pretty sure she knew what conclusions he must have drawn. Which meant she was going to have to defend her client again, this time to him.

She was prepared to do it, and Lord knew she’d never been one to back down from an argument. The trouble was, she was having a harder than usual time focusing.

Because of him.

They were back in the close confines of his car, the small space accentuating his sheer size, his presence a palpable thing she couldn’t begin to ignore even when she wasn’t looking at him. He was too big, and she felt him too keenly, her skin practically buzzing with awareness of his closeness.

He was even better looking than in her dreams. She’d opened the door and been struck by it, the same way she’d been the first time she’d seen him, her heart simultaneously leaping into her throat and kicking into a higher gear. More than that, she’d been glad to see him again, an excitement that went far beyond simple relief that he’d come to help her with what she’d found. The feeling had remained as he’d taken her statement, until she’d had to excuse herself to get away from it—and him—for a few precious moments. Even now, her heart continued to beat faster than normal.

She wasn’t used to this feeling, wasn’t entirely sure she liked it, was positive she wasn’t comfortable with it. What was it about this man that caused such a reaction within her? Yes, he was good-looking, but this was something more than that, something entirely too disturbing. She was an intelligent woman. She believed in logic and reason. And there was nothing logical or reasonable about the level of response she had to this man.

“You have to admit, they had plenty of reason to charge him,” Waters said finally, dragging her attention back to the subject at hand.

“Possibly,” she said, unwilling to concede even that much. “They certainly didn’t have enough for a conviction.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Look at the facts. The first officers responded to a silent alarm at the home of Cole and Tracy Madison. When they arrived, they spotted your client fleeing the scene. He didn’t live in the neighborhood and couldn’t explain his presence, and his fingerprints were later found on the back door window the burglars broke to get in. I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen people convicted on less.”

“That doesn’t mean it was enough to convict in this case. Clearly, the ASA agreed, since she decided to drop the charges.”

“Just because the State’s Attorney’s office decided the case wasn’t a sure enough thing to make it worth their time to pursue doesn’t mean they couldn’t have gotten a conviction.”

“I doubt it, not with all the unexplained questions. There were plenty of grounds for reasonable doubt. For starters, the Madisons reported several items stolen in the burglary, mostly jewelry belonging to Mrs. Madison. Jeremy wasn’t found in possession of any of those items.”

“It was considered likely that the burglary was committed by more than one person. His accomplice could have gotten away with those pieces.”

“Except there’s no proof there was more than one burglar. Then there’s the matter of the fingerprints. Anyone over the age of ten knows about fingerprints, and any would-be criminal would do everything they could to keep from leaving any. Jeremy didn’t even have gloves in his pockets when he was arrested, and there were none discarded nearby. Jeremy wasn’t stupid, nor was he intoxicated or in any way impaired when they found him. Yet we’re supposed to believe he tried to commit a burglary and was foolish enough to leave his fingerprints on the broken window? It doesn’t make sense.”

“People aren’t always smart, especially criminals. They make mistakes. Why else would his fingerprints be there?”

“Maybe he was passing through the alley behind the house, saw the broken window and decided to investigate. He could have touched the glass by accident.”

He exhaled sharply. “You really think that story makes more sense than the official theory?”

“I’m just saying it’s another possible theory. You can’t prove it’s not true any more than you can prove yours is. That’s what reasonable doubt is all about.”

“Be honest with me. After everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, you really still think he was innocent?”

“I think it’s not safe to assume he wasn’t. We don’t know that the murder was connected to his arrest.”

“Really? Because as far as we know, Jeremy Decker’s arrest and his murder have one thing in common: you. You represented him, you found him outside your building, and you found his tongue on your front porch. It seems pretty clear somebody doesn’t want you talking about something they thought he told you. What else would someone think he told you about but the burglary?”

“I don’t know,” Regina said. “Believe me, I wish I did.”

“I would guess that there was an accomplice, the person who got away with Mrs. Madison’s jewelry. Most likely that person wanted to silence Decker to keep him from revealing his or her involvement.”

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