Under Suspicion, With Child. Elle James
where I’m headed.” His feet ate the distance between the cliff and town in long easy strides.
“Look, for all I know you could be the Seaside Strangler.” Her breath caught in her throat as his hand shifted, brushing against the underside of her breast. “Why else would you be out there?”
“I was jogging.”
Okay, calm down. No need in upsetting the baby. On the other hand, what did she really know about the muscle-bound man with the soulful dark eyes? So he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. The strangler could dress the same.
She renewed her struggles. “Put me down before I scream.” With the wind blowing and still on the outskirts of town, she doubted anyone would hear her. But she’d give it her best effort. She dragged in a breath.
“If I were the Seaside Strangler, would I be carrying you toward town? To the Raven’s Cliff Police Department?”
Her breath released in a huff. “If you wanted to throw people off your trail, maybe.” As they entered town, the few cars driving along the road slowed.
Jocelyne groaned. “Put me down. People are pointing at us.” She cupped his cheek and made him look at her. “Please?”
Something in her voice must have gotten to the Neanderthal and made him pause. “Are you sure you won’t pass out again?”
She raised a hand scout-style. “I promise.”
If his frown was any indication, he didn’t quite believe her, but he let her feet drop to the ground, while retaining the arm around her waist.
“Look, I’m pregnant, not sick. The reason I passed out was that I haven’t eaten breakfast.” She patted his chest. “See? Easy fix. Now let me go.”
A gaggle of women exiting the coffee shop a block away stopped and stared at Jocelyne and the man in the running shorts.
“I can manage it from here, Officer.” Jocelyne’s cheeks burned like they had when her classmates pointed and whispered about her mother being a witch, when they made taunts that she was the spawn of the devil. She turned toward the police department, but try as she might, she couldn’t shake the cop’s hand from her waist. “Really, I can walk on my own.”
“Until we get you to the station, you’ll have to deal with a little help.”
One of the women leaned toward the ear of another, her gaze following Jocelyne’s progression down the street, her lips moving fast.
“I don’t like it when people stare,” she whispered through her teeth.
“I don’t care what they think. There’s a dead woman back there, you passed out, and I’m not letting go of you until we get to the police station.” His jaw could have been carved in granite, ebony eyes staring straight ahead unwavering from his course. That arm was like a steel band, locking her against his rock-solid side.
Jocelyne’s heart hammered against her ribs. This man was hard, strong and determined. If he were the Seaside Strangler, she didn’t stand a chance. Nor did any other woman. The fact he was a cop, didn’t mean anything. There were such animals as renegade cops gone bad. Her instincts told her he wasn’t bad and he wasn’t the Seaside Strangler, but he also wasn’t letting go of her. The fact that he’d carried her for almost half a mile impressed her. Not that she’d admit it to him.
A pretty young blonde stepped out of the beauty shop and waved at the man whose hand gripped dangerously close to Jocelyne’s breast. “Hi, Andrei.” Her face crinkled into a pout, her gaze narrowing at the hand around Jocelyne’s waist. “Are we still on for tonight?”
“Sorry. Something’s come up. I have to work.” He passed her with little more than a glance, hurrying on to the stately brick building that housed not only the police station, but the jail and courthouse.
All along Main Street, Jocelyne reminded herself that the victim of the Seaside Strangler took precedence over her own embarrassed sensibilities. She could suffer through the inconvenience. Humiliation was a better alternative to what happened to that girl in the waves.
Once inside the building, Andrei settled her into a chair, with surprising gentleness. “Are you going to be okay?”
She inhaled the musky scent of male sweat, mingled with a hint of aftershave, and gulped. When he was being nice, he was almost handsome and sexy in his damp clothes, his thighs bulging from beneath his running shorts. “I’m fine,” she lied. “It was just the shock.” Seeing a body on the rocks, on top of being hungry and pregnant had caused her to black out. Having him stand so close, leaning all his bronzed muscles into her vision, just made her dizzier.
He stared hard at her, his brows drawing together. Had he read her mind? Could he see her reluctant attraction to him? Did he think less of her because she was pregnant and unmarried? She leaned back in her chair, determined to distance herself from him. Why should she care what he thought?
Her hand moved to the swell beneath her shirt. Because she kept in shape and had gained so little weight, she didn’t look very pregnant…yet. As the next few weeks passed, her condition would only become more apparent.
“What’s going on?” A bald man perhaps in his midfifties stepped through an open doorway, a coffee mug in one hand.
The man named Andrei straightened, his face drawn and tight. “Captain, I think we found Angela Wheeler.”
The captain’s gaze locked with Andrei’s for a moment, then he sighed. “Where?”
“Washed up on the rocks below the cliffs north of town.”
“Sure it wasn’t the mayor’s daughter?”
Andrei shook his head. “From where I stood, she looked tall, maybe five foot nine or ten. Camille was only five-four, right?”
“That’s right.” The captain nodded. “When did you find her?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t have a chance to get a positive ID, but she had the long blond hair and looked to be tall and thin like the girl in the picture Angela’s parents circulated.”
“Damn.” The older man turned toward the desk. “Joe, get the county coroner on the phone and send a squad car out to the cliffs north of town, we have another homicide.” When he faced Andrei again, he asked, “Same MO?”
Andrei nodded. “White dress, washed up on shore.”
“We’ll get the state crime lab right out there.” He shook his head. “This has got to stop. People can’t feel safe in their homes or let their daughters out without being afraid of that maniac.”
Andrei’s hands tightened into fists. “We have to find him.”
The captain laid a hand on Andrei’s arm. “Sorry. I know what this means to you and I know how hard you’ve worked this case.”
As the outsider looking in, Jocelyne didn’t know what a stranger’s death meant to the man who’d held her captive all the way back to town. By the whiteness of his fisted hands, she’d have to guess that it meant a lot.
Holding the coffee mug in one hand, the captain clutched the other hand to his gut. “This case is giving me an ulcer.” He dug in his pocket and unearthed a roll of antacids, popping one into his mouth. He chewed and then washed it down with the last of the coffee.
Jocelyne cringed. “You know, if you cut back on the coffee and high-fat foods and go on a regimen of mastic gum, that ulcer might go away.”
The man turned to Jocelyne, as if seeing her for the first time. “You think so? I’d give up my right arm to make my stomach feel better.” He stared down into his mug, then up at her. “Who are you?”
She stuck out her hand. “Jocelyne Baker. I’m a holistic healer. You know…natural cures versus surgery and drug company medications.”
“Captain