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Authors: Karen Rose

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense

Closer Than You Think (19 page)

BOOK: Closer Than You Think
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‘You don’t know that, Faith. You did the right thing tonight. You stood guard over Arianna and made sure that whoever hurt her couldn’t hurt her again. Do that now. At least help me rule Combs out so I can focus on another suspect. Please.’ He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, then slid it across the table until it was right in front of her. ‘Please.’

Don’t look down. Do not look down.
But Faith’s eyes did not obey, and a second later she found herself staring at one of the photos taken of Arianna Escobar lying in the road, covered with Faith’s wool coat. The girl’s face was crisscrossed with shallow cuts and bruised beyond recognition, her mouth bleeding and swollen. She’d been abused so cruelly.

Faith closed her eyes, knowing he’d won. ‘Goddamn you, Novak,’ she said wearily.

‘Then you’ll talk to me?’ he asked, his voice deep and quiet. She’d expected to hear elation. Maybe smug pride or victory. But all she heard was grim determination.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘I need to know why Combs hated you enough to terrorize you, to try to kill you. Maybe enough to follow you here. It’s personal, isn’t it?’

She opened her eyes to find him only inches away. Watching her. ‘Yes, but not the way you think. I didn’t sleep with him.’ She hated that her voice trembled. Hated that she needed Novak to believe her. ‘I despised him. I despised all of them.’

His expression softened. ‘All of who, Faith?’

She clenched her jaw. ‘Every last sonofabitch pervert who walked into my office.’

A frown creased his brow. ‘But if you hated them, why did you treat them?’

‘Because of the victims. The children. I wasn’t there to “cure” the offenders. I don’t believe there is a cure, at least not for most of them. I was there to help the victims. Any way I could.’

‘I don’t understand, but I want to. Help me understand.’

‘Right out of college, I worked in a rape crisis center. I’m good with kids and teens, and was getting a lot of referrals. I took my first offender because of the little girl, his daughter. She was only five, and so broken. I can still see her face.’ She could still see all their faces. The memories still broke her heart. ‘Her eyes were dead, you know?’

He nodded, so close that she could see the striations separating the blue and brown in his irises, like shattered glass. So close that she could see the pain flitter through his eyes. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘Her social worker begged me to take her case. I initially refused because it was a court-mandated family therapy. To help the child, I had to take on the father.’

‘At the same time? The victim had to sit in your office with the offender?’

‘Oh no. The appointments were separate, but the court wanted the same therapist working with each individual in the family unit. For continuity. I bit back my distaste for the father and focused all my energy on the little girl. And she made progress. Enough that I got more referrals. Soon those were the only cases I was getting. My boss at the time was thrilled – the contracts he signed with the court system were our practice’s bread and butter.’

Novak tilted his head a fraction. ‘But you could have quit.’

‘I wanted to, but I realized that the kids who came to my office through the court-mandated programs weren’t likely to get therapy otherwise. So many of the mothers were in denial or such dependent personalities that they would have allowed their partners to do anything to their children as long as they stayed. Those mothers wouldn’t get their children the help they needed.’

‘Unless they were forced by the court,’ he murmured. ‘I understand now.’

She nodded, relieved. ‘I got the rep of being the best sex-offender rehabilitator in the county. It made me want to scream, because I knew I’d become part of the problem. If there were no therapy programs, judges wouldn’t have it as a sentencing option. But it’s moot. Judges
do
have the option and they aren’t going to give it up easily, especially not with the prisons as overcrowded as they are.’

‘But if you’d walked away, the victims would have had no one.’

She nodded again, feeling the old helplessness rise to choke her. ‘It’s a vicious circle.’

‘But you counseled dozens of offenders, Faith. What made Combs different? What made him hate you so intensely?’

Faith hesitated, knowing what her honesty would cost her. ‘They all hated me.’

His eyes grew sharp, sensing her evasion. ‘But only Combs tried to kill you.’ He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. ‘
Why?

She steeled her spine. ‘Because I stalked him first.’

Chapter Nine

 

Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 10.50
P.M.

 

Now I’ve done it
, Faith thought miserably. She’d just given Agent Novak the ammunition to destroy her career. She’d never planned to tell another living soul what she’d done to Peter Combs. That she’d told Novak after knowing him only a few short hours meant he was that good or she was that tired. Or maybe she’d simply been ready to tell.

Novak didn’t blink. ‘You stalked Peter Combs first? How? Tell me exactly.’

Faith opened her mouth to answer, but was spared a reply by a knock at the door. It opened and a woman peeked round. ‘Can I come in?’

Novak frowned in frustration. ‘No. Come back later.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ the woman said. ‘I came down here for you.’

Faith knew it was cowardly, but she welcomed the chance to organize her thoughts before she laid them bare in front of Novak. ‘Come in,’ she said.

Novak shot Faith a knowing glare, but waved the woman in. ‘Sure. Yeah. Come.’

‘Well, hello to you too, sunshine,’ the woman said dryly, closing the door behind her before turning to face Faith. ‘Dr Corcoran, I’m Dr Novak. What seems to be the problem?’

Faith stared, aware that she was gawking, but unable to stop herself. In her early thirties, the woman was of average height, but that was the only thing average about her. Her long black hair bore a two-inch streak of bright white that framed both sides of her face. Her skin was the color of
café au lait
and her mouth curved naturally, as if she smiled without thinking about it. But it was her eyes that were the focal point of her striking face. With a slight upward tilt, one was a vivid blue, the other a dark chocolate brown.

And then what the woman had said sank in.
Dr Novak.

Novak had said they went way back.
Well, duh
. That they were siblings was unmistakable. The white hair, the heterochromatic eyes. Novak’s were far more interesting than his sister’s, though. Hers were the more common occurrence, one of each color, while his were that amazing half-and-half.

Faith turned to Novak with a frown, the motivation behind his choice of doctors suddenly clear. ‘She’s your sister,’ she accused.

Dr Novak turned to her brother. ‘You didn’t tell her?’

He shook his head, his expression unapologetic. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ Dr Novak asked.

‘Because he wanted me to trust him,’ Faith snapped. ‘He figured that if he told me he’d called you, I’d suspect he’d get you to reveal my personal information and refuse to come.’

The doctor frowned at her brother. ‘Is that true?’

Novak nodded once, not even trying to hide his duplicity. ‘Yes.’

His sister frowned. ‘Shame on you, Deacon. Wait outside.’

‘How long will you be? I need to run to Tam—’ He cut himself off. ‘Out to Norwood.’

‘Give us thirty. Now go.’ Dr Novak closed the door behind him. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Corcoran. I didn’t know he’d been so stingy with information.’ Smiling warmly, she pulled out a chair. ‘He’s a good guy really. But he gets all cloak-and-daggery sometimes. Makes me nuts.’

‘I suppose that comes with being an FBI agent,’ Faith said. ‘I apologize. I was rude after you came in on your night off to help me. Thank you.’

‘Not a problem. I assure you that I will keep your medical information confidential. He can bribe, beg, and cajole all he wants, but my lips are sealed.’

Faith believed her. ‘Thank you.’

The doctor scanned the chart the nurse had filled out. ‘Dr Faith Corcoran. May I call you Faith?’

‘Sure.’

‘And you should call me Dani. Deacon said that you were in an accident. What happened?’

Faith recounted the accident as the doctor pulled on a pair of gloves with a snap.

‘You’re lucky,’ Dani said when Faith was done. ‘You walked away from that wreck with barely a scratch. I get so many accident cases who have far more serious injuries than you have.’ She shone her penlight in Faith’s eyes, then probed the back of her skull and neck with gentle hands. ‘Headaches?’

‘Just one named Deacon.’ Faith liked the name. It fit him somehow.

Dani’s lips twitched. ‘Any headaches
not
named Deacon?’

‘Not really. He gave me some pain reliever and that took care of most of it.’

‘Did you lose consciousness?’

‘For maybe a few seconds. No more.’

‘How do you know?’

‘The radio was on. A song was playing when I saw the girl in the road and it was still playing when it was all over and the airbag deflated. I may have missed a line of the chorus.’

‘Which song?’ Dani asked.

Faith grimaced. ‘”Live Like You Were Dying”.’

Dani snorted. ‘Sorry. That’s just dang ironic.’

Faith had to smile. Novak’s sister had put her at instant ease. ‘Ain’t it just?’

‘I used to cry when I heard that song on the radio. Now, thanks to you, I’ll probably laugh and people will think I’m a sociopath.’ She held up her index finger. ‘Follow the finger with your eyes,’ she said, putting Faith through her neurological paces. ‘I don’t think you have a concussion. Just take it easy for the next forty-eight. Get lots of rest. That means no computer, no day at the office, no reading books. Rest.’

Faith thought of the army of law enforcement on her grandmother’s front lawn. Somehow she didn’t think resting was in her immediate future. ‘Sure. You got it, Doc.’

Dani rolled her eyes, then stood to remove the bandage from Faith’s forehead. ‘It’s not too bad,’ she pronounced. ‘I can close this with some superglue and you’ll be good as new.’ She proceeded to clean the wound. ‘So are you angry with my brother?’ she asked as she closed it.

‘I don’t know. I’m trying not to make assumptions based on his background.’

‘His background? What background?’

‘That he’s a cop,’ Faith said flatly.

‘Ah. Cops are wired differently from the rest of us. You know, seeing bad guys everywhere they turn. And they’re so darn bossy.’

Faith chuckled. ‘I know.’

‘He didn’t mean harm, I can promise you that,’ Dani said quietly. ‘He’s a good man.’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Faith murmured. She’d all but confessed to stalking her own client, which could mean the end of her license. What he’d do with that was anyone’s guess.

‘He called me because he’d already called the ER and found out that the wait time was three hours,’ Dani said. ‘He just wanted to get you in and out of here quickly.’

‘I can accept that.’ Faith thought of the desperation in his eyes as he’d begged her to help him find Corinne. ‘He definitely wants to protect the woman who’s still missing and get justice for the one I found.’ The doctor said no more, leaving Faith to study the white streak in her hair as she applied the glue. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

‘You can ask,’ Dani said pleasantly.

‘Your hair. Is it natural?’

Dani leaned back to wink at her. ‘Mostly. This is how it looked when I was sixteen. The streak was there at birth, but started to spread when I was in my late teens. I liked the streak but didn’t want to be all white. So the black’s from a bottle.’ She grinned as she resumed her task. . ‘It allows me to channel my inner Rogue.’

‘X-Men?’ Faith asked, already liking Dani more than her brother.

‘Of course. Rogue’s my favorite. Absorbing other people’s powers for a little while would be seriously useful. Without draining them to death, of course.’ She made a face. ‘Hippocratic conflict and all that.’

‘Damn ethics,’ Faith said dryly. ‘I was always more of a Black Widow fangirl myself.’

‘With your red hair, I can see why.’ Dani paused, her voice becoming cagey. ‘Or is it perhaps because of her super-skills? You know, all that karate and kung-fu, the acrobatics and super-marksmanship? Or, uh, maybe even the climbing of sheer rocky embankments?’

‘You know your comic book canon. Except for the rocky embankment part, of course. I don’t recall the issue where Black Widow did that. Obviously you’ve talked to Agent Novak.’

‘He texted me the high points and then I called Sheriff Palmer and the EMT who treated you for the detailed version. That was a pretty impressive climb you made.’

Faith shrugged. ‘I do wall climbing at the gym. Did, anyway, back in Miami. The embankment wasn’t all that difficult.’

‘I’ve been considering trying that, but I’m probably too old to learn now.’

‘Nonsense. I didn’t start until a few years ago.’ Right after she’d recovered from Combs slitting her throat. She’d learned to defend herself and escape various situations.

Dani put the glue away. ‘Then I might try after all. What about Black Widow’s other super-skills? Running? Martial Arts? Marksmanship? Classical ballet? Can you do those too?’

‘All of the above, except for being a ballerina. I grew too tall. Did Agent Novak have dark hair with a white streak too?’ Faith asked, needing to deflect attention away from herself.

‘He did. Except he went the other way, letting it all go white. It works for him.’

It really did, Faith thought reluctantly. Everything about Novak’s appearance worked for him. Which didn’t seem quite fair. ‘And what about your younger brother? The one who’s in hot water with the older-than-dirt principal? Does he have the same streak of white?’

Dani laughed. ‘She
is
older than dirt, but she can still make me shake in my shoes. She never, ever forgets a student or their transgressions. Deacon’s in for it.’ She leaned forward to inspect her work. ‘Not bad, if I do say so myself. You shouldn’t have a scar.’

‘It’s okay if I do,’ Faith said, noting that the other woman had evaded the question about her younger brother. ‘I’ll just have a matched set.’ She pulled her sweater away from her throat and watched Dani’s mismatched eyes flash hot with surprise.

‘That’s quite a souvenir,’ Dani said. ‘Hopefully your attacker won’t find you here.’

But if Novak was right, Combs already had found her, arriving long before she had, lying in wait for his victims.

In Grandmother’s house, no less,
Faith thought with a mental eye-roll. Peter Combs was a beast in his own right. He needed no assistance from a fairy tale.

Novak simply couldn’t be right. His theory was ludicrous.

But . . . 
What if he
is
right?
Then Kimble was right, too. Faith
was
involved.
Culpable.
Because if Novak was right, it meant that she’d led the beast here. Which meant that Arianna and Corinne had been abducted, tortured . . .
because of me
.

‘If he finds me, I’ll be ready. I won’t let him hurt me again.’
Or anyone else.

Dani frowned. ‘I’m all for taking care of yourself, but within reason. If the man who did that to you surfaces, I hope you’ll contact my brother. I know he ruffled your feathers, but Deacon is
very
good at what he does. And even though he can be a cocky son-of-a-gun, his heart’s bigger than any I’ve ever known. Please, Faith. Don’t take Combs on by yourself.’

Faith leaned back a fraction, startled. ‘You know about Combs? You know who I am?’

‘I know who you used to be. I Googled you before I came in.’

Faith narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you know who I used to be? Did your brother tell you?’

‘No. My cousin called to give me the heads-up that Deacon was bringing you to the ER.’

‘Kimble,’ Faith said darkly.

Without commenting, Dani took Faith’s hands and with gentle efficiency stripped away the bandages the EMT had applied. ‘No need for stitches. Just keep them clean and dry. What about your feet? I heard you climbed that embankment without shoes.’

Faith hated that people could Google her. She hated that this woman, with whom she’d felt so comfortable, knew everything about her. Knew who she
used to be
. ‘My feet are fine.’

Dani met her eyes again. ‘You don’t like it that I know about Combs and what he said about you when he was on trial.’

‘That I slept with him? No. Would you?’

Dani’s smile was strangely sad. ‘We all have secrets we’d rather keep buried, so no, I wouldn’t. But I wasn’t interested in what the press said. Have you ever gone on the loops?’

‘Which ones?’

‘The online forums where victims can tell their story, get support from each other.’

Faith’s irritation dissipated, curiosity taking its place. ‘I know they’re there, of course, but visiting seemed like an invasion of my clients’ privacy, so I never did. What did you find?’

‘That they talk about you, your clients. I didn’t have to search hard to find some incredible stories of the work you did. Real tear-jerkers. A few discussions about the accusations Combs hurled at you. Your clients supported you. Recommended you to other victims.’

Faith swallowed hard, but the tears came anyway. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Thank you. God. Just . . . thank you.’

Dani slid a box of tissues across the table. ‘You’re welcome. Look, right now you’re scared. Angry that no one helped you. Maybe even feeling a little sorry for yourself?’

Faith dabbed at her eyes. ‘Yeah. Pretty much all of the above.’

‘I’d say you’re entitled – to a point. But watch the self-pity. It can eat you alive from the inside out. When you’re ready to make a difference again, give me a call.’ She handed Faith her business card. ‘When I’m not on shift here – or in the principal’s office with my little brother – you’ll find me there. We’re always looking for people with your skill set.’

Faith read the card.
Dr Danika Novak, MD
. And above her name, in a simple bold font,
Lorelle E. Meadows Center, The Meadow
. ‘What is The Meadow?’

‘A free clinic in Over-the-Rhine. We have two locations, one for men, one for women and kids. We provide basic medical and counseling services. We get a lot of addicts and runaways. A lot of STDs. And sex abuse victims who are reluctant to go to a traditional hospital because they don’t want the police involved. Some are afraid they’ll be thrown out of their home for accusing stepfathers or fathers or mothers’ boyfriends.’ Dani pulled her pager from her pocket, glanced at the screen. ‘I have to go. If you need a general practitioner, I can recommend several.’

BOOK: Closer Than You Think
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