questions, although he knew she was probably curious as hell.
After supper they sat on the sofa and Jack talked about Marcie and how great Ben and Liz were to look after her. He said that the four of them had a long talk. Ben and Liz agreed to take her in on a trial basis. Marcie agreed to start seeing a psychologist and go to school.
He also told her about Maggie and Ben Junior. He confessed he was having nightmares where they were calling out to him for help and he all he could do was sit there, unable to move.
“Do you always have the same nightmare?”
“Lately, I do.”
“Often?”
“Quite often.”
“Does it bother you to talk about it?”
“Not with you, for some reason. Maybe because you’re a doctor. It feels good to be able to talk to someone about it.”
“You were talking in your sleep last night. You repeated the word dirty.”
“I said that?”
Natasha nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be listening in on your private dreams, but I was concerned you might be getting an infection and I was checking to see if you had a fever.”
“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize I talked in my sleep. Dirty was what Maggie printed in the last page of her sketchbook, just before she was murdered. It’s been bothering me ever since.”
“Maybe whoever killed her was dirty or perhaps was using foul language?”
“I don’t think so. She was really talented. You should see some of the drawings she did. They’re incredible. She could really draw what she saw.”
“Meaning?”
“She was too talented just to print the word dirty. I think it has more meaning.”
The security buzzer announced Danny’s arrival, and Natasha let him in.
“Well, big guy, are you going to tear a strip off me for leaving you here this morning?” asked Danny, while placing two photo albums on the coffee table.
“I don’t know whether to yell at you or thank you.” Jack stole a quick look at Natasha and added, “But I think maybe I’ll thank you.”
“I should be home by five tomorrow,” said Natasha. “I’ll check on you then. If you’re okay, you can go, provided you take some time off and don’t go back to work for a while.”
“Maybe by then I won’t want to go.” Jack caught the sparkle in her eye and thought how good she was for him — and not just as a doctor.
“So what’s this? Your family photo albums?” asked Natasha.
“Pictures of Satans Wrath,” replied Danny. “See if Jack can put names to who did this.”
Jack opened the binder to the picture of Wizard. He knew it well but wanted to look again. After turning a few pages, he recognized another picture.
“That’s the driver. His forehead looks like someone performed a frontal lobotomy.” Jack looked at Natasha. “Your work?” he asked.
Natasha snickered and lightly squeezed his leg.
Danny took a look. “Lance Morgan. Okay, that’s two out of three. See if you can recognize fat boy.”
Jack took a few more minutes to identify him. “His name is Roland Leitch.”
Natasha went to the kitchen and Danny whispered, “We got a computer kickback on Red this afternoon. She’s dead. The landlord found her body. Looks like an accidental overdose. The needle was still hanging off her arm and there was a deck of heroin nearby.”
“That was no accident. She was a connection to them. Dig up everything you can on my three friends from the alley.”
“Will do. Also got a response on the Volvo.”
“Stolen?”
“Yup. The owner was out of town. He reported it stolen last night when he returned.”
“Speaking of returning home. Come back in the morning and bring me some clothes! It’s time I got out of here. With this blanket I’m beginning to feel like a monk!”
“Don’t give me that!” replied Danny. “I saw how you two snuggled in with each other when you were looking at the pictures! Besides, you’ve been through those pictures a dozen times. It should only have taken you seconds to find them!”
“Well … I had to make sure I picked the right person.”
“Oh? Well, I hope she is the right person,” retorted Danny.
Jack didn’t respond, so Danny asked, “What did you mean when you said the gloves were coming off?”
Jack’s face hardened. “I’ve got a plan. Might get a little violent.”
Natasha saw Danny out the door and then returned to sit with Jack on the sofa. Earlier, she had studied his face as he spoke. He seemed intense, yet he was quick with a smile. She had watched his eyes as he related his past experiences. His long, dark eyelashes made his blue eyes take on a deeper shade, but at the same time he had a boyish, wide-eyed look of innocence. The type who had freckles as a kid, she decided.
Considering his experiences, she knew he was far from naive. Briefly she felt irritated to think other women had probably fallen for his boyish charm. Still, he was compassionate. He hadn’t become hardened and callous, like so many people who deal with life and death.
Maybe it was the intensity and openness of his conversation, or the realization that they both dealt with grief and sorrow, but it occurred to her that she felt closer to this man in the short time she had known him than any other man she had ever met.
Right now, with a blanket wrapped around him, he looked cute. But earlier today, when he was wearing only a towel, she had felt aroused. There was no denying that. She had only ever kissed him once. That was in a men’s room. There was no denying what she had wanted to do then, either.
Enough fantasizing! I’m a professional. I’ve got to behave like one.
“Okay, you’re still my patient. Turn around on the couch and lower the blanket so I can have a look under those dressings again.”
Jack did as he was told. She carefully removed the dressing covering the wound across his shoulder blade. She gently ran her hand over the smooth skin on his back, lightly probing with her fingers. She felt his muscles tense under her hand and noticed he held his breath.
“I’m sorry, does it hurt?”
“No,” he replied softly, “it feels good.”
Neither spoke as Natasha put on a fresh dressing.
“Turn around and let me take a look at your arm.”
