Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(26)

The chunky guy said, “The neighborhood is in bad shape. No one gives a shit about these people. None of the city resources come to us—except to arrest someone or put out a fire. The entire country has the wrong idea about neighborhoods like this.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Sort of a thank-you for your guidance.”

“You can pray for us. And if you go by the community center at the end of the block, they take donations.”

“I’m headed there right now.” I shook hands with both men. They had reinforced my belief that most people are basically good.





Chapter 32



I’d received a lot of information in a short amount of time. My head was spinning as I tried to figure out how the murder of Michelle Luna might be even remotely related to Emily Parker’s death. And I had no idea how I’d explain to Bobby Patel my theory that the two murders might be connected, that I’d gone to Baltimore and looked into Michelle Luna’s death.

Then I thought ahead. What if I came up with information the FBI didn’t want to hear? What if they focused on me for some kind of obstruction charge? Bobby Patel didn’t impress me as that kind of petty prick. But I’d dealt with enough FBI supervisors to know that many wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing a city detective.

My other concern was, if Emily really had been interested in “powerful men,” what would those individuals do to limit this investigation?

I went ahead and called Bobby. I told him all about my trip to Baltimore.

Bobby said, “I knew about the Luna homicide. It was news in both Baltimore and DC. She may have known some of the same people as Emily, but we can’t find any connection between the two. That’s a dead end.”

“How can you call the strangulation of two women in the same social circle a dead end?”

“Because Michelle Luna never met Emily Parker. They had a few friends in common, but everyone in DC does. You make it sound like the FBI ignored this. I was giving you the shorthand.” He paused, sighed, and said, “I get the feeling that you think you’re the only one trying to find Emily’s killer. I’m busting my ass on it too. I’m doing it officially. Making notes, writing reports. Not roaming round talking to people who might know something.”

“Sorry, Bobby, you’re right. You’ve done a good job. I’m not disparaging it in any way.”

He mumbled an acceptance of my apology.

We ended the call on that awkward note. After I drove back to my DC hotel, I was still unsettled as I handed my Prius off to yet another snickering valet. Though maybe not as tall as me, he was on the heavy side. All I could think was Good luck squeezing in there, pal.

I was tired. I did another zombie shuffle through the lobby. The typical chain-hotel happy hour—business travelers downing cheap vodka tonics as fast as the elderly bartender could pour them—was in full swing.

I took the elevator up to the seventh floor, the Baltimore PD case file in hand. All I could think about was lying down for a few minutes. Maybe an hour. Maybe until tomorrow morning. Just as I was about to put my plastic key card into the sensor, I thought I heard someone inside my room.

I paused and listened. I definitely heard something. I took a second to scan the hallway while I reviewed the list of possible suspects. Members of The Burning Land, the DC cops who’d harassed me at the hotel, the FBI, or maybe someone else I hadn’t thought of.

I put my ear to the door, trying to figure out how many people were inside. There was no way to tell. And I didn’t have the patience to wait it out. I swept back my windbreaker, wedged the Baltimore case file into the back of my waistband, and put my hand on the butt of my pistol. In one quick motion, I swiped the card and turned the handle.

It’s fair to say I burst into the room. I was prepared to draw my pistol in an instant. Instead, I froze when I heard “Michael!”

I just stared. Mary Catherine stood in the middle of the room. She looked spectacular in jeans and a button-down shirt. Maybe it was the unexpected and sudden shift of blood that made me dizzy.

I took my hand off the pistol and stood up straight. Mary Catherine didn’t say anything. She just rushed to me.

Between kisses, I blurted out, “What? How?”

All I heard was “Shhhhh. It’s all right. I’m here now.”

We kissed. Gently at first, then our lips seemed to lock together. Mary Catherine eased me onto the bed. She moved as carefully as a nurse. I tossed aside the case file and fumbled with my jacket, feeling as nervous as a teenage boy. My heart raced. I could feel the beats in my ears. I started to pant, a little breathless with excitement.

This was heaven, with Mary Catherine as my guide. I went with it.

We made love on the bed like it was our wedding night. Then we made love in the shower like it was our honeymoon. Then we were back under the covers of the king-size bed.





Chapter 33



I put my arm around Mary Catherine, and she snuggled up next to me. Our hotel room had the vague air of a crime scene, with our clothes scattered around. Mary Catherine’s jeans were nowhere in sight.

Mary Catherine gazed out the window at the early night sky typical of mid-Atlantic autumn. It was weird to think how many parts of the country were still light and sunny.

Just having Mary Catherine near had energized me. We hadn’t said much other than “I love you” since I’d burst into the room. We’d been too busy concentrating on other things.