Read Heather Graham for Free Online

and he’ll be proven innocent. You—bastard!”
    “Now, wait a minute—”
    “Does police brutality work two ways?” Jimmy demanded. “She’s awfully damned brutal!”
    “Oh, hell!” Mark muttered.
    But the diminutive blonde was staring at him again, small shoulders squared, her stance rigid and proud. An absolute wall of defense and indignation. “Jon is innocent. He told me so.”
    “What?” Mark demanded harshly. “Then you did know—”
    She shook her head, pale flesh reddening, lashes flicking over her deep green eyes. “When he reached my apartment, just before he lost consciousness, he said, ‘I didn’t do it.’ I’d no idea what he was talking about. Of course, now I do. And he must have known that lazy policemen would immediately try to charge him with murder. And I’m telling you, I know Jon. He must have been trying to save her life!”
    “Perhaps you could let us in on what else he said?” Jimmy drawled,
    “That’s it. I’ve told you. Oh, no, wait a minute. I think he also said, ‘Oh, God! I didn’t do it.’ But that’s it. Do you want to arrest me? I’m covered in blood.”
    “Mrs. Marcel—” Mark tried.
    “I am covered in blood! Doesn’t that make me guilty?” she demanded again.
    “Mrs. Marcel, if you don’t tell us everything you know, you just may be guilty of complicity in murder,” Mark heard himself lash out suddenly. “And, yes, we damned well may arrest you if—”
    “Mark!”
    It was Jimmy’s turn to caution him. What the hell was the matter with him?
    Women!
    Ten deep breaths. He had been at riot situations where people screamed and spit at him—he’d handled that with dead calm. Earlier he’d wanted to take this vision into his arms and comfort her; now he itched to slap her.
    She stretched out her arms. “Lieutenant, go ahead. Arrest me. Cuff me.” She offered him a challenging smile, her eyes bright emerald daggers. “My attorneys will have you in jail before you can blink, Lieutenant.”
    “Will they?”
    “He didn’t do it,” she insisted quietly.
    He exhaled, watching her. Even covered in blood, tear-stained, she was still all too appealing.
    There didn’t seem to be any justice in the world. He had to find a killer. The killer was most probably her husband. She was going to fight him all the way.
    Gina L’Aveau had been a stripper and prostitute, yet Gina L’Aveau deserved justice the same as anyone else. And he was going to see to it that she got it.
    “Did Jon Marcel say anything else to you, Mrs. Marcel?” he demanded. “Did he speak to you when you just went in to see him.”
    She stared at him. Green eyes wide on his. “No,” she said flatly.
    She was lying. He knew it.
    There was no way he could prove it tonight.
    “Can we see you home, Mrs. Marcel?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “The streets can be dangerous this late at night.”
    “How could they be, Lieutenant, with you and your partner out in them?”
    “We’ll see you home—”
    “I intend to sleep here.”
    Again, Mark produced one of his cards from the inner pocket of his jacket. “If—”
    “I know. If I think of anything, call you.”
    He smiled grimly, staring at her. “If you think of anything in the next few hours, you can call me at the morgue. A woman is dead, you will recall.”
    Her lashes fell. Her cheeks whitened again. But her eyes quickly focused on his once more.
    “Jon Marcel is not guilty, Lieutenant. I’m convinced Jon is where he is now because he’s a good man, and he attempted to save her life.”
    “Your faith is quite commendable, Mrs. Marcel. But it’s not enough. We need to know everything and anything. Jon Marcel said nothing more to you?”
    “No.”
    “Absolutely nothing?”
    “I told you what he said, Lieutenant.”
    “But he said nothing more?”
    “No.”
    He nodded. He longed to call her a liar to her face. Not only that, she wasn’t a good liar. She probably spent most of her time telling the truth.
    But she was on the