Truth Or Lies

“Internal Affairs.” The venomous tone sounded foreign to her usually soft voice. “They’ve been to the house at least three times, most recently yesterday. At first they danced around things, saying how sorry they were about Brian. Then they started asking questions. Had he said where he was going that night, what he was going to be doing? Yesterday they asked if they could go through his things.”

Her words seemed to come from a distance. Internal Affairs? Cade tried, and failed, to imagine a positive reason for them to be looking into the shooting. The whole event, as much as he remembered of it, had been laid out in the report he’d dictated to the investigating officers. Then her last sentence registered, and her revelation started to take on an even more ominous light. “What did they want to look through?”

“Brian’s case files. They asked whether he kept notes on any ongoing investigations and I said no. You know Brian left work at work.”

“What are they looking for?”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Irregularities is the word they used. Like he was a damn accountant or something. When I press for more information, they clam up. But every time they come around, they get pushier, and one of them threatened to get a search warrant.”

Although trepidation was circling in his gut, he made an automatic effort to soothe. “Don’t worry about it, Carla. It’s just I.A. on another wild-goose chase.”

She clutched his arm, her fingers biting. “I was a policeman’s wife for eight years. I know what I.A.’s all about. Cops hunting other cops. They think Brian was dirty. They’re investigating him.”

Looking into her liquid dark eyes, he couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her. “What are their names?”

“Torley and Morrison. Do you know either of them?”

He shook his head. But then, he wasn’t especially well-acquainted with anyone from I.A. Because of their occupation, the cops he knew had a healthy disdain for that department. Ferreting out corruption in the ranks was a noble enough calling, he supposed, but good cops had a way of getting dragged into their investigations, too. And the taint of an I.A. investigation had stalled more than one police officer’s career.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his wallet. It took a moment searching the contents before he found what he was looking for. He took out a card and handed it to her. “I want you to get in touch with someone at this number.” She took the card and looked at it. “It’s the policemen’s-rights committee. Tell them what’s been going on and then follow whatever advice they give you.”

Her jaw set in an expression that was all too familiar. “I can’t call them, Cade. It’d be like admitting there was substance behind I.A.’s interest.”

“It’s an admission that you need help,” he retorted, “and with I.A. sniffing around, for whatever reason, you do. Call them. I’m going to check in tomorrow to make sure you did. Got it?” He waited until she gave him a reluctant nod. “Good.” Gathering her close, he patted her back reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’ll all turn out to be nothing.”

“You won’t let them smear his memory, will you?” For the first time her control seemed to waver. He could feel the tremors working through her body. “He was a decent cop. You said so yourself. I don’t want my babies growing up thinking otherwise.”

The thought of his two dark-eyed godsons had his chest going tight. At three and two, neither of them would recall their father. There would be no memories of ball games and barbecues, or fishing in the bayou. All they’d have, all there was, were pictures and newspaper clippings. And the stories their mother would tell them about their father’s bravery. Living up to a hero’s legacy could keep the boys on the right track all their lives. And living with a shadow over their name could send them hurtling down the wrong path.

“No.” The word was torn from him without his conscious permission as he hugged his dead partner’s widow closer. “I won’t let them smear Brian.”

Chapter 2

“Shae, you’re needed in I.C.U.”

Shae looked up as Tim Pearson, the E.R. supervisor, strode into the examining room. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged. “All I can tell you is that Martin Reeves called down and said to send you up to room six. We’re not too busy right now. I’ll take over for you here.”

He reached for her clipboard, but Shae was slow to relinquish it. What would Martin Reeves, one of the hospital administrators, want with her? She’d rarely had occasion to even speak to the man, but when she did, it was in his office on the sixth floor, not on the intensive-care ward.

“Is it about one of my patients?”

He tugged lightly at the clipboard, and she released it. “He didn’t say. Just asked if I could spare you for a few minutes, but you’re using that time up pretty rapidly.”

Given the number of times she’d rejected Pearson’s invitations to go out together, she wasn’t overly concerned with his brusqueness. He wasn’t a man to accept rejection gracefully, but he was professional enough not to let it affect their working together. He was right about one thing—the only way to get her questions answered was to head to I.C.U.

“What do we have here?” Pearson asked.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she made to leave. A much bigger person wouldn’t take a modicum of enjoyment from handing this particular case over to the man who had made such a pest of himself for several months before he’d finally given up on her.

But sometimes being small and petty could be so satisfying.

“Patient presented with severe pain due to an obstruction,” she said blandly.

Tim’s gaze shot up from the clipboard, took in the male patient positioned on his stomach, his hips propped up by several pillows. Next his eyes took in the utensils Shae had gathered, lingered on the set of forceps. His head swiveled to hers, the expression in his handsome face dismayed. “It probably wouldn’t hurt if you were a little late upstairs. Just tell them you couldn’t get free.”

She was already moving away from the cubicle. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t pay to keep Martin waiting.”

The small sense of pleasure she derived at the thought of Pearson’s distaste for the task ahead of him had dissipated by the time the elevator doors slid open on the I.C.U. floor. It vanished completely when she stepped into room six and observed its four occupants. Reeves was there, his plastic public-relations smile firmly affixed to his plump face. With his solemn presence and unfailingly smooth tones, he’d always reminded her more of an undertaker than an administrator. A uniformed policeman stood next to the room’s bed. But it was the patient in the bed that drew her attention. Jon LeFrenz.

With a thread of apprehension she swung her gaze to the man lounging in the corner. Cade Tremaine. He was again dressed in jeans, wearing a black T-shirt and black running shoes. Today he wore a shoulder holster, along with his shield. He didn’t look any more rested than he had three days ago.

Annoyed that she’d made unconscious note of the fact, she stopped in the doorway, addressed Reeves. “You wanted to see me?”

“Dr. O’Riley, Detective Tremaine has asked for our cooperation while he speaks to Mr. LeFrenz. I assured him the hospital would extend him every courtesy.”

It would have been difficult to miss the warning in the man’s civil tones. Ignoring it, she asked, “Just exactly what courtesy is the detective requesting?”

“Me, Angel Eyes. I’m the one with the request.” LeFrenz reached over to press the button that would raise the head of his bed. His other wrist was handcuffed to the railing. “I got no reason to trust Tremaine, but I said if you was in the room, maybe I’d answer a few questions for him.” He grinned. Without the oxygen mask and pain twisting his features, it was apparent he was several years older than she’d originally thought. And equally apparent that he was taking great delight in drawing her into the drama between him and the NOPD.

She looked at Reeves. “I’m on duty. I don’t have time to baby-sit.”

The administrator’s smile chilled but didn’t disappear. “You can make time.” Looking at Tremaine, he said cordially, “Dr. O’Riley is at your disposal, Detective. Please don’t keep her too long. The E.R. is slow right now, but that has a way of changing suddenly.”

“I appreciate it. If they page her, I’ll send her right down.”

Nodding, the other man strode from the room.

There was nothing quite so annoying as feeling like a pawn in a situation of someone else’s making. Shae made no attempt to keep the irritation from her voice as she asked Tremaine, “Just what is it exactly that I’m here for?”

The detective shoved away from the wall he’d been leaning against, crossed to her side and cupped her elbow. “We can talk outside.”

“Hey, where you taking her? Tremaine? Tremaine!” LeFrenz bellowed as Cade inexorably guided her resisting form to the hallway. “She’s here because I said so. Bring her back. Now, Tremaine!”

Before they’d taken a dozen steps outside the room, Shae yanked her elbow out of the man’s grasp and turned to face him. “Care to tell me what this is all about? I have patients downstairs to tend to.”

The detective just gazed at her, his dark-green gaze inscrutable. “You have a patient up here, too.”

“LeFrenz isn’t my patient anymore. He’s Dr. Lyndstrom’s.” Something about the steady intensity of his regard made her uneasy. Since no man made her nervous, not ever, she decided the reaction had to do with his occupation. Dealing with cops had always raised her stress level.

“I’ve been in to question him every day since he got out of surgery and he hasn’t given me jack. The only thing he has said, more than once, is that he wants to see you.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Apparently you made quite an impression on him, Angel Eyes.”

She gave an impatient shrug. “And this concerns me how?”

“Jonny hasn’t been exactly cooperative up to this point. But he promised that your presence would change that. I thought it was worth a shot to see if he would be any more talkative with you in the room.”

Giving an incredulous laugh, she said, “You mean, I’m a bribe? Drop dead, Tremaine.” Turning, she walked toward the elevator.

He stepped into her path and she stopped, rather than risking running into him. “I wondered if there was a temper to match that red hair.” His mouth quirked. “Now I know.” As quickly as the humor flashed into his face, it was gone again. “Are you telling me you can’t spare fifteen minutes to help the NOPD?”

She raised a brow. “Appealing to my sense of civic duty? Maybe that would have worked if you’d approached me first, instead of running to Reeves.” Even as she said the words, she tasted the lie in them.

Cade shoved his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. “Reeves? Oh, you mean the suit. I figured you might need permission to leave the floor for a while. Yeah, okay, so I’m using you. I admit it. But I got a kid dead because of the sh—drugs that LeFrenz sold him. We’re not so different, you and me. We both try to keep people alive.”

Bitterness twisted through her at his words. Professionally, at least, his words were true enough. But personally… Tremaine would be shocked to discover just how far apart they were.

He moved closer to her, his head tilted intimately toward hers, his voice now low and persuasive. “C’mon, Doc. What’s the harm?”

Startled, her gaze jerked to his. He had a smoker’s voice, slightly raspy, with more than a hint of the South in it. She’d heard it hard, demanding, expressionless. But she’d never heard it sounding like this. That coaxing tone he’d adopted was pure sex, honey-coated temptation that issued its own beguiling invitation. She imagined there were few women who’d ever stood firm against it.

With new eyes she reassessed him, not as a doctor but as a woman. His long narrow face wasn’t conventionally handsome, but it was strong, with its slash of cheekbones, straight nose and sensual lower lip. A lock of his dark-brown hair seemed permanently out of place, usually falling across his forehead. She’d noticed him shoving it away more than once. Coupled with those penetrating jade eyes and rangy build, his physical presence no doubt made it easy for him to persuade women to do just about anything he asked. The slight pallor he still wore would only make him more convincing.

He reached for one of her hands, held it in his as his thumb skated over her knuckles. At the touch, her eyelids lowered, her lips parted.

“Tell me something,” she murmured throatily.

Although he hadn’t moved, somehow he seemed closer. “Mmm-hmm?”

“Does this little act of yours usually work?” When he went still, she retrieved her hand, angled her chin and looked him squarely in the eye. She saw comprehension register there, followed by a flicker of amusement.

“Yes.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in his voice.

“Well—” her smile was brittle as she stepped away from him “—I’ll have to readjust my estimate of women’s intelligence.”

He tucked his fingers in his pockets again and rocked back on his heels. “It was the hand holding, wasn’t it. Too over the top for you? I was afraid so, but you’re a tough one to read.”

She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or disarmed by his matter-of-fact admission. It suited her to be annoyed. “Has it ever occurred to you to just be upfront about what you want?”

“Sure, I tried that first. Figured you for a more straightforward approach. When that didn’t work, I had to improvise.”

Even as she was shaking her head at his blatant confession of manipulation, he was continuing. “You won’t be in any danger in there, if that’s what you’re afraid of. LeFrenz can’t get out of the bed, and if he could, the officer and I will be in there with you.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she said automatically.

“You should be.” His voice was grim. “He may look like a choirboy, but he’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm. His juvie record dates back to when he was ten and mugged a homeless woman for her social-security check. He’s one of the major drug dealers in the city now.”

Despite herself, a chill chased up her spine. The detective was painting a picture of a hardened criminal. But she was painfully aware of the spin law enforcement types could put on people’s pasts. She had no doubt that St. Theresa herself would be demonized beyond recognition if an ambitious prosecutor dug into her life.

It was that knowledge, rather than any real sympathy for LeFrenz, that kept her carefully noncommittal. “I don’t know what help I’d be in there.”

“You’ll only be there to pacify LeFrenz.” The detective’s mouth curled. “The scumbag is being manipulative, but you’re the only lever I’ve got on him. For some reason he’s fixated on you. If he gets what he wants, seeing you, he might give up some information in return.”

“He didn’t seem about to give anything up in the emergency room a few days ago,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to lose, do I? What do you say?”

Shae stalled by checking her watch. If she walked away as she wanted to, she’d certainly hear about it from the hospital administrator. But it would almost be worth it to avoid the detective.

He made her uneasy. Not nervous, but…on edge. She’d have to be dead not to be aware of the currents of energy that rolled off him. Her femininity might be dormant, but it wasn’t dead. She didn’t want to get involved in whatever mission drove the man hard enough for him to put his job before his health. She didn’t want to get caught up with the police in any capacity.

As if her agreement was already determined, he started issuing commands. “When you go in the room, I want you to stand on the side of the bed he’s cuffed on. Don’t go too close. The officer will stay on the other side, and he’ll stop him if he makes a grab for you.”

“I hardly think I have anything to fear from an I.C.U. patient with only one hand free,” she said dryly.

His expression was not amused. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. People who do that have a way of going missing.”

He turned and headed back toward the room, leaving her to follow more slowly. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she brought out her beeper, as if she could will it to summon her back downstairs. But it remained stubbornly silent. With a sigh, she dropped it back into her pocket and entered the room.

“Angel Eyes.” LeFrenz’s gaze burned fever-bright. “Thought you might have decided not to join our little party.”

“Me?” She kept her voice carefully expressionless as she positioned herself near the side of his bed. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten me down there.” LeFrenz seemed intent on ignoring the policemen in the room. “Figured you’d at least come to check on me.”

“As I explained to Detective Tremaine, there was no need. You’re under Dr. Lyndstrom’s care now. He’ll do the follow-up visits.”

“Dr. Lyndstrom don’t have big blue eyes that a guy could drown in.” LeFrenz looked her up and down with an insulting familiarity. “Don’t have long legs like yours, neither.”

When Shae had worked on LeFrenz in the E.R., he’d been just another patient needing her help. But now there was something revolting about that lascivious expression sitting on his cherubic countenance. Her flesh prickled. She experienced the same sort of revulsion by kicking over a rock and watching the disgusting creatures beneath scuttle for cover. “In the short time you’ll be with us, I think you’ll come to appreciate some of Dr. Lyndstrom’s better qualities.”

“That’s right, Jonny.” Cade strolled toward the bed. “You aren’t going to be here long enough to get too attached. County lockup has a medical wing, and I’m betting they have a comfortable cot with your name on it. Can’t promise you any good-looking nurses, but hey—” he gave a negligent shrug “—with where you’re going, it’s best you get used to not seeing women, anyway.”

For the first time the patient pulled his gaze from Shae and looked at the detective. “You don’t have enough to hold me, Tremaine.”

Derision sounded in the detective’s voice. “What are you, slow or something? I stood over that dying kid’s body and he gave you up as the one who sold him the cocaine. I walk in on you in the middle of bagging your stash, you pull a gun on me and fire while attempting to flee. What part of that doesn’t add up to ‘enough’ for you?”

Shae had the feeling she’d been all but forgotten. This was a private war, being fought between LeFrenz and Tremaine. The patient’s voice was still cocky when he answered, “Okay, so you’ll get the possession with intent to stick. With the new sentencing laws in Louisiana, I’ll be out in five. You can’t tie the kid to me, though. With him dead, his naming me is hearsay. Ain’t no jury in the world gonna convict on only your word.”

Tremaine’s face remained remarkably calm. “That might be true under normal circumstances. But that kid was the nephew of the mayor’s wife.” He waited for the news to sink in, noted with satisfaction that LeFrenz had gone a bit paler. “Even you have to figure out what that means.”

The boy’s death had already received more than the usual attention from the media. High-profile names in a police investigation always invited scandal, and scandal made for good copy. The political spin on this one was to turn the dead boy into an unwitting victim of a murderous drug dealer. The version was close enough to the truth to suit Cade, especially when resulting local sentiments were screams for LeFrenz’s blood.

“Your only chance of surviving this is to tell me who’s supplying you, Jonny.” No one rose as rapidly as LeFrenz had in the illegal drug market without help. “Give me the name and you become just another cog in the wheel. Cooperation buys a lot of leniency in the courts. Say the word and I can have the D.A. in here working out a deal.”

He knew he’d gotten to the man when he glanced away, looked at Dr. O’Riley as if he’d read the solution on her impassive face. Despite his impatience at the delay, Cade could hardly blame the man for his distraction. The leggy redhead was difficult to ignore. Today her mane of hair was scraped back in some kind of fancy braid that hung to the center of her shoulder blades. The severe style showed off those high cheekbones, her short straight nose and her come-to-bed eyes. With the white examining coat and the shapeless scrubs she wore, it was difficult to guess at the figure beneath. But that didn’t stop a man’s imagination from filling in the details.

He’d never lacked for imagination.

“Whaddaya think, Doc?” Jonny’s voice was conversational. If he’d been shaken by Cade’s earlier remarks, he’d since recovered. “Think I can trust the detective here to play straight with me?”

A moment passed. Then another. Cade found himself hardly daring to breathe. Shae O’Riley had made no effort to hide her reluctance to be involved in this scene. But instinct told him that reluctance stemmed from more than her unwillingness to leave the E.R. There was something in her voice when she talked to him, something in her eyes that shouted distrust. Since he’d met her just a few days ago, he could only figure it was directed at all cops, not just him. And if that was the case, she was the last person in the world he needed advising his perp.

But her words, when they came, were noncommittal. “Seems to me you’ve been playing roulette with your choices for some time now. The question is, are you man enough to face the consequences?”

“Honey, I’m man enough for anything you have in mind.” Cade sprang forward when LeFrenz reached for her with his free hand, but the uniform got to him first, restraining him. Jonny never took his eyes off Shae, just kept talking, his voice low and suggestive. “I’m looking forward to showing you that sometime. You and me, we could have us a real good time.”

“Make your choice, LeFrenz.” There was a slow burn in the pit of Cade’s belly. Not a little of it was due to the way the punk kept looking at the doctor, as if she was starring in a pornographic movie reel playing in his head. “She can’t help you with this. No one can. But you can help yourself.”

“Maybe I can cooperate with this detective, Angel Eyes, whaddaya think?” LeFrenz’s attention never swerved from Shae. “Maybe I can even tell him who put those bullets in his chest.” Her breathing stilled. She stared back at the young man, noted the mouth curled in sardonic amusement, so at odds with the angelic face. How did he know about the detective’s injury? She saw the same question reflected on the polished ebony face of the policeman at his side. But the man was too well trained to do more than look at the detective. Her gaze followed the direction of his, met Tremaine’s. His expression was inscrutable.

“Think that would interest him, Doc?” There was a hard note of glee underlying LeFrenz’s words. “I’m betting it would. I’m betting he’d arrange a pretty fine deal if I was to tell him where to look for the shooter.”

“Don’t change the subject, LeFrenz. You have one piece of information I want, and that’s pretty simple. Just a name.” Amazingly enough, the detective’s voice sounded bored. “Make it easy on yourself and give it up. Then you can start planning for your retirement.”

“He don’t believe me,” LeFrenz told Shae confidingly. “I’d think I would. We have something in common, me and him. We both know what it’s like to have a bullet plow into us, to watch the blood pour out. ’Course, I don’t know what it’s like to watch my partner die on the sidewalk next to me.” There was a stillness in the room that reminded Shae of an explosive waiting to detonate. “But then, maybe Tremaine don’t care about none of that. Maybe his partner was as dirty as everyone’s saying.”

There was no warning of his intention. One moment Cade was standing there, face grim. The next he’d leaned down, yanked LeFrenz up with one fist on the neck of his hospital gown. “You’ll show a little respect.” The words were murmured almost soundlessly, but the warning in them sent a shiver down Shae’s spine. Here was the control she’d sensed that first day from him, dangerously close to slipping. Here was the lethal intent that would drive a man from his hospital bed back to the streets much too soon.