He held her on his lap for quite a while. He held her close while she called the office and reported off for the rest of the day. She managed to keep her voice even, but Mr. de Wynter wasn't in and she had to talk to Gina, who was full of questions and also reported that both Luna and T.J. had called several times.
"I'll call them back," Jaine said, and hung up. Miserably she buried her face against Sam's shoulder again. "How long do I have to dodge them?"
"At least until they aren't at work. I'll check with the sergeant at Sterling Heights to see if her sister has been contacted yet. And just don't answer your phone; anyone who needs me will either page me or call on my cell phone."
Eventually she left the comfort of his lap and went to the bathroom to wash her face with cold water. She peered at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, and her entire face was puffy from crying; she looked like hell, and didn't care. Wearily she changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and took two aspirin for her pounding head.
She was sitting on the side of the bed when Sam came looking for her. He loomed in the doorway, big and masculine and utterly comfortable even in the feminine environs of her bedroom. He sat down beside her. "You look tired. Why don't you take a nap?"
She was tired, almost overwhelmingly so, but at the same time she didn't think she could sleep.
"At least lie down," he said, seeing the doubt on her face. "And don't worry; if you do go to sleep and I learn something, I'll wake you up immediately."
"Scout's honor?"
"Scout's honor."
"Were you ever a scout?"
"Hell, no. I was too busy getting into trouble." He was being so sweet she wanted to hug him to pieces. Instead she kissed him and said, "Thanks, Sam. I don't know what I'd have done today without you."
"You'd have managed anyway," he said, and returned the kiss with interest, but drew back before it could heat into anything serious. "Sleep if you can," he said, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. She lay down and closed her burning eyes. Eventually the aspirin began to work on her headache, and when she opened her eyes, she realized that the afternoon had grown late. She looked at the clock in some astonishment; three hours had passed. She had slept after all. She had some treated eye pads for soothing tired and puffy eyes, so she placed two of them over her lids and rested for a little while longer, trying to muster some energy for the next few draining days. When she sat up and removed the eye pads, the puffiness was noticeably less. She brushed her hair and teeth, then wandered out to find Sam watching television with BooBoo asleep in his lap.
"Any news?"
He had considerably more details now than he had earlier, but none he wanted her to know. "The sister has been notified, and the press knows Marci's identity now. It'll probably be on the evening news."
Her face tightened with sorrow.
"Luna? T. J.?"
"I turned off your phones after you went to sleep. There are a couple of messages from them on your machine, though."
She checked the time again. "They're on their way home from work now. I'll try their numbers in a few minutes. I'd hate for them to hear it on television."
She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when two cars pulled into her driveway: Luna's Camaro and T.J.'s Buick. Jaine briefly closed her eyes, trying to brace herself for the next few minutes, and walked barefoot out onto the front porch to meet her friends. Sam came out behind her.
"What's going on?" T.J. half-yelled, her pretty face haggard with tension. "We can't find Marci, you left work and won't answer your telephone – damn it, Jaine…" Jaine felt her face start to crumple. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs that convulsed her chest.
Luna stopped in her tracks, tears welling. "Jaine?" she asked in a shaky voice. "What's happened?"
Jaine took several deep breaths, fighting for control. "It – it's Marci," she managed to say.
T.J. paused with one foot on the first step. She clenched her hands, already beginning to cry even as she asked, "What is it? Is she hurt?"
Jaine shook her head. "No. She – she's dead. Someone killed her."
Luna and T.J. came to her in a rush, and they clung together, weeping for the friend they loved and had lost forever.
Corin sat in front of the television, rocking back and forth as he waited, waited. For three days he had caught every newscast, but so far no one knew what he had done and he thought he would burst. He wanted the world to know the first of the four bitches was dead.
But he didn't know if she was the right one. He didn't know if she was A, B, C, or D. He hoped she was C. C was the one who had said that awful thing about trying harder to be perfect. C was the one who really, really needed to die. But how could he make sure? He had called them, but one never answered her phone, and the other three wouldn't tell him anything.
But there was one he didn't have to worry about now. One down and three to go.
There! The newscaster, looking oh-so-serious, said, "A shocking murder in Sterling Heights takes the life of one of the Detroit area's latest celebrities. Details when we return."
At last! Relief filled him. Now everyone would know they shouldn't say such things about Mother's perfect little man. He rocked back and forth, singing softly to himself. "One down and three to go. One down and three to go…"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Finding Meldon Geurin, nickname "Brick," didn't take very long. A few questions led to his favorite bar, which led to the names of some of his friends, which led to the statement that, "Yeah, Brick, uh, he and his old lady, uh, had a fight or something, and I heard he's crashing with Victor."