LOVE’S REDEMPTION

By

Kimberly Kaye Terry

© copyright December 2005, Kimberly Kaye Terry

Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright December 2005

ISBN 1-58608-804-1

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Dedication:

This is dedicated to my daughter's Imani and Hannah and my husband Bill. Imani is in Heaven, and I'm blessed to have Hannah with me on earth.

Imani thank you for inspiring Mommy, and Hannah thank you for continually motivating me, as only a five year old can... Mommy loves you both.

Bill you're my rock. I could never write a fictional hero half as wonderful as you are.

PART I

PROLOGUE

Glasses perched on top of her head, Dr. Maya Richardson searched in vain for the file she’d just had in her hand. It was one on those days where she didn’t know if she was coming or going she had so much work in front of her. Maybe the file had fallen off her crowded desk. Lord knew she needed to come in early to clean and organize the pit she called an office.

“Sesute, there is something on the news I think you should see,” her assistant said from the doorway. Dalia knew Maya would never find the remote in time, so she came into the office and turned the TV on for her.

“Authorities believe two victims of the San Antonio Slayer have been found outside loop 410 near Huebner Road. The police have described the male as Caucasian, 5’8”, short blond hair, and brown eyes, and in his early 40s. The second victim is a Caucasian female, 5’10”, red hair, green eyes, with a long jagged scar running the length of her lower face. Anyone with information on either of these two victims is asked to call the San Antonio Police department at…” the newscaster droned.

“Oh my God. Not Allison. Please don’t let it be Allison.” With trembling hands, Maya picked up the phone and dialed the number displayed across her small television screen.

“San Antonio Police department, how may I direct your call?” the brusque, disembodied voice of the department operator asked.

PART II

CHAPTER 1

She had the prettiest brown eyes Mark had ever seen. The minute his gaze wandered in her direction, he couldn’t look away.

He bent to refill his water from the cooler, where he stood near the doorway directly in front of Lieutenant Hernandez’s door. The woman sat waiting outside the office in one of the dingy chairs that lined the precinct wall.

Normally, he would have glanced at the small, huddled figure and looked away. He would have done the same thing again had she not glanced in his direction at that same moment, and he felt poleaxed.

Transfixed, he stared at her.

Damn.

She was gorgeous. Large, light brown eyes, slightly tilted in the corners, drew his gaze like a magnet. Her hair was tightly coiled into one long braid that nestled between her ample breasts. What drew his attention to her hair were the small curls that had escaped and, like musical notes, framed creamy, golden-brown skin.

But it was her mouth that caused the sharp clench he felt in his gut. She had a sinful mouth. Lush and full, it grabbed his attention and made something more than his gut clench.

When their gazes collided, a flash sparked between them before the woman glanced away and lightly tapped one small foot in a staccato beat on the old linoleum floor of the precinct.

Her face in profile drew his attention back to her mouth. Obviously lost in thought, she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth with her top teeth and slowly let it pop back out. His overactive male libido had him wondering what else she’d be able to grip with the same intensity.

“Hey Mark, check this out--Jean Luc here bet me that in his prime, Ali would have beat Tyson any time, any place, any ring,” Jordan Phillips yelled out across the room.

“What?” Distracted and slightly flushed, Mark glanced across at his partner, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from the woman.

“All I am saying is if both men were in their prime, fighting in the same generation, then it would be no contest,” Detective LeDoux answered in his heavily accented English. “And please, refer to me by my correct name. My name is Frances LeDoux, Detective Frances LeDoux if you do not mind, not Jean Luc.” With a huff, the short, bald detective turned back to his desk.

“Look, you two are always trying to get me in the middle of this dumb ass argument when you both know Joe Louis would have beat the hell out of Ali and Tyson hands down,” Mark answered, his mind on the woman.

“Man whatever.” Jordan laughed in his deep voice before he spun his large body around in his chair to continue his harassment of LeDoux.

Glancing back in the direction of the lieutenant’s office, Mark uttered a low curse when the unknown woman was no longer there. He brightened considerably when he realized she must have gone inside Lieutenant Hernandez’s office.

He figured now was as good a time as any to ask if forensics had turned in their report on the latest murder victim in his investigation. Mark stood and stretched, and casually walked over to knock on the lieutenant’s door.

* * * *

Maya sat opposite Lieutenant Hernandez with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. After calling the police department she’d sat in numbed silence denying the possibility that the murdered woman the newscaster referred to could be her Allison.

The operator had taken her information, and then transferred her to the desk sergeant. She had been told two uniformed officers would pick her up to bring her into the station. After giving them her address, she replaced the receiver with a listless hand.

Now, as she sat across the desk from the lieutenant, all she felt was numb. Numb and cold.

Her gaze took in the small office. The walls were painted the same washed-out color as the rest of the precinct and filled with standard, government-issue furniture that could stand a good scrub down.

Maya rested her gaze on the lieutenant. He’d been kind to her from the moment she entered his office. His soft brown eyes were wide set and thickly fringed behind the round glasses perched at the top of his small, straight nose. His lips and cheeks were a natural pale shade of rose and provided a light contrast to his olive complexion. His mild demeanor and show of sympathy had put her at ease the moment she sat down in front of him.

“Dr. Richardson, thank you for coming in with the officers. As you know from the news, there have been a series of violent murders involving ‘clients’ of prostitutes in the city over the last six months,” Lieutenant Hernandez told her directly. “We believe we’ve discovered two more victims. We’re hoping you’ll be able to identify the body of the latest victim.”

She couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears at his statement. He handed her a tissue as she began to cry. A knock made him look away from her to the door.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Lieutenant, is the forensic report in on the slayer’s latest?”

Maya glanced up with tear-stained eyes to see the detective with whom she’d made brief eye contact earlier enter the office.

“Come in Mark. Dr. Richardson, this is Detective Mark Halstan. Detective, this is Dr. Maya Richardson. Dr. Richardson has come in to possibly provide an identification for the female victim.”

Lieutenant Hernandez waved him in to have a seat. The detective moved further into the office and shook her hand, holding it a little longer than necessary before sitting down.

“As a matter of fact Detective, I was going to send for you to escort Dr. Richardson to the morgue to identify the body,” Lieutenant Hernandez said. “This is a very difficult process, and we will do anything within our power to help make it as painless as possible for you,” he promised, returning his attention back to her.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Hernandez. From what I’ve learned in the news, I was under the impression the killer was targeting the ‘clients’ of the prostitutes and not the prostitutes--is that wrong?”

“Actually you’re right. So far, the offender has targeted the clients. However, in the case of this female victim, we believe she may have interrupted the killer in the act, and she was then forced to kill her.”

“How do you know?” Although saddened by the possible death of Ally, Maya was acutely aware of the close proximity of Detective Halstan. She instantly felt guilty, but the office seemed to grow smaller with his presence.

It wasn’t only his physical bearing, although he was considerably taller and larger than either she or the lieutenant. He just seemed to take up more space than seemed necessary.

Overlong sable brown hair barely reached the collar of his shirt. His dark blue eyes were deep set and stared at her from beneath lashes no man should have. His mouth held a hard edge of sensuality around the corners. The beauty of his face was saved from perfection by the slight crook in his nose, which only served to make him even more appealing. There was no denying he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen.

Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, Maya glanced guiltily away, blaming her grief and confusion for her errant thoughts.

“The projection of the bullet, and where the shell casings were found near the victims, indicate your foster sister was likely to have been a small distance away when she was shot.”

“Lieutenant, you said the victim had interrupted the killer and ‘she’ had then been forced to kill her as well. Do the police believe this person is a woman? I assumed the killer was a man. Isn’t that true for most serial killers?” Maya couldn’t bring herself to actually say Ally’s name as the victim in connection with the murder.

“While it’s true for the majority, women do make up a small percentage of this population. To be honest with you Dr. Richardson, we don’t have a good working profile on the killer, to make a determination either way, but the evidence at present suggest the slayer is female. Once we have a profile, we will make headway into this investigation.” The lieutenant promised grimly.

“If you’re ready, Dr. Richardson, we can go. Lieutenant?” Mark asked both Maya and his commander, as the interview came to a close.

“Yes, and afterward, Dr. Richardson, would you be able to come back to the squad room in order to answer a few questions?” Lieutenant Hernandez asked, coming from around his desk to walk the pair to the door.

“Of course, anything I can do to help. I’m more than willing.” She shook the lieutenant’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay, Dr. Richardson. Detective Halstan will take good care of you.” He grasped both of her hands between his, and patted them.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Hernandez, I appreciate your concern.”

When the detective ushered her out of the office with his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, she felt electric warmth tingle through to her skin the minute he touched her. She was caught off guard, and she casually stepped out of reach of his hand as they walked down the hall, uncomfortable with his touch, and more uncomfortable with the spark it had given her.

* * * *

Mark steered Maya toward the open doorway to the squad room. “I’ll be right back,” he said and walked to his partner’s desk in the open bay room.

“Jordan, I’m leaving to take Dr. Richardson over to I.D the female victim we turned up yesterday. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

His partner stole a glance at Maya as she waited for him in the doorway. With a low whistle he answered, “Man, take all the time you need. How does she know the victim anyway? She doesn’t look as though they were ‘colleagues,’ know what I mean?” Once again, his partner glanced over at Maya.

“They weren’t. From what I understand they were foster sisters. Probably grew up in a group home together somewhere. I think that’s where the similarities end. I just met her in the lieutenant’s office, so I’m not sure of all the details myself. After she’s identified the body, I’ll ask her a few questions and go from there. I’m not sure what time I’ll make it back in, so don’t wait around for me.”

“Later on, partner,” Jordan answered. Mark walked back toward Maya and together they left the squad room.

After they reached the elevator, he motioned for her to precede him, following closely behind her. Once inside, he punched the button for the basement-parking garage.

“I’m assuming a uniform came to pick you up?” He asked, as they silently rode the elevator to the garage.

“Yes. I was at Imani House when I called the station. It was a relief they came to pick me up. I don’t think I’m in a frame of mind to drive right now.”

They were the only two occupants in the slow-moving elevator, and when it came to a lurching halt, Maya fell against his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, and tried to move away from his light hold. Mark tightened his clasp on her body fractionally before allowing her to step away from him. When she darted her eyes in his direction, he hoped she wouldn’t look down and see his body’s reaction to the small contact.

As the elevator made it to the basement level, he led her to his late model Expedition. He opened the back hatch and threw in his gym bag after helping her into the passenger side.

He felt guilty over how he was handling his attraction to her. He knew she was terribly upset and worried. He knew it, felt guilty as hell about it, but couldn’t stop himself from crowding her. “Dr. Richardson, when we’re through with everything, where did you want me to take you?” he asked, seeking more neutral ground.

“Detective, please call me Maya. I was working when the officers arrived to take me to the precinct. I’m the director of Imani House. Are you familiar with it?”

“Please call me Mark. Yes, in answer to your question. Isn’t it the halfway house for ex hookers--uh sorry, for former prostitutes?” he covered, maneuvering out of the parking garage and into traffic.

As she settled against the soft leather seat, he caught the sidelong glance she threw his way, before she answered. “Actually, there’s more to it than that. We have a variety of programs, mainly designed for women to help them transition from prostitution to a more stable way of life.”

“Sorry if I offended you. It sounds like a great place for them to go when they want to get off the streets and get their lives together.” He backtracked, smoothly recovering from his gaffe. He then drove the short distance from the downtown precinct to the hospital.

After pulling into the underground lot of the hospital, Mark found a space to park. Turning off the ignition, he turned in his seat toward her. A curl had escaped her tight braid, and he barely resisted the urge to tuck it back behind her ear.

“The coroner is expecting us. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I may as well get this over with. Maybe it isn’t Ally after all.” She waited for him to come around to the passenger side and allowed him to open her door.

They walked the short distance to the entry before Mark stopped short and turned her around to face him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a dead body or not. With this possibly being your foster sister, it’s going to be a shock, so take a deep breath, and I’ll be right there with you.”

He saw the fortifying breath she took, as she straightened her shoulders, before with a silent nod, she allowed him to lead her into the morgue.

Not until the attendant had drawn back the white sheet did Maya glance down, and when she did, her body bowed over in obvious pain.

“Oh my God, oh my God, it … it’s her, that’s Ally,” she told him, covering her face with her hands.

After motioning to the attendant to close the drawer, Mark moved closer to her and encircled her shoulders with his arm, turning her away from the sight and out of the room.

Her golden brown complexion had a distinct greenish tinge to it. The eyes staring up into his were large and dilated. The distant hint of blood vessels near the surface of her skin stood out in stark relief against her complexion.

Once outside the doors, he turned her fully into his arms, as uncontrollable sobs racked her small body.

“Are you okay? I know that was hard to see. Would you like to sit down for a minute?” He had known this woman for less than a few hours, yet it was tearing at his heart to see her cry so hard. As she cried, the only thing he could offer was the comfort of his arms around her body. He rubbed her back and whispered soothing words, allowing her to cry until he felt her body calm down, and the sobbing wane to an occasional sniff.

Without her asking, he offered his last remaining Kleenex and watched as she wiped her face and eased her body away from his embrace.

“Thank you, Detective, but I’m okay. If it’s all right, could we go now?”

“Of course. We don’t have to go back to the precinct. There’s a coffee shop nearby where we could talk. A little less formal, but we’ll still get the job done.” He told her and they left the morgue and walked back to his vehicle.

Once inside, Maya eased her head back against the cool leather headrest and closed her eyes. “That sounds fine, Detective. I could use a cup of coffee right now.”

After giving her one last sympathetic glance, he eased out of the parking space and headed toward the café.