Page 72 of Grissom
Alex nodded. “At first, Howie thought Pam killed Estes in the heat of passion, but then he got in touch with the policein Puntarenas. Seems she emptied Estes’ bank account prior to his untimely death, which is premeditation. Add that to what Reagan Airport security found in the trunk of Moreno’s sedan, and she’ll go down for first-degree murder.”
“Good,” Tuesday whispered at the same time Grissom barked, “I hope they hang her.”
She could only imagine what was running through his mind. He blamed himself marrying Pam in the first place, for putting his sons in danger, and for the abuse she’d heaped on Tanner. But that was what good fathers did. They stood between their children and evil, and when they failed, they blamed themselves.
“Unfortunately, she won’t be extradited to Costa Rica. The Puntarena police won’t be able to charge her for murder or seize the money she stole because she burned through it traveling back to the States. She won’t hang for her crimes in D.C., either. There’s no death penalty in Virginia.” Slyly, Alex added, “But there is in Florida.”
Tuesday wished she could read his mind.
“What’s Florida got to do with that witch?” Grissom asked.
“Because Pamela McCoy lied on your marriage certificate.” Alex’s lips curved into a delightfully wicked smile. “She might’ve been living in Washington state when you met her, but she was born and raised in Gainesville, Florida. Her real name’s Marcia Valentino, and she’s wanted for killing an airman from Eglin Air Force Base seven years ago. She accused him of fathering the child she was allegedly carrying, then stabbed the poor guy when he refused to marry her. The motel they hooked up in had just installed a top-of-the-line security system and caught everything. She was charged with manslaughter, but for some reason, the idiot judge who arraigned her released her on her own recognizance. Pam fled the state and changed her name.”
Tuesday couldn’t believe the wicked twists and turns in that woman’s mind. “Was she really pregnant, or was that a lie, too? What’d she do with that baby? Is it still—”
Grissom’s hold tightened. “Easy, Mama Bear. Let’s hear what else Alex has to say.”
But knowing Pam had refused to nurture her children with Grissom, Tuesday couldn’t help worrying. Was that other baby another lie Pam told to get what she wanted, or was it real? Was it in a foster home, bereft and left out for the rest of its life, or was it loved and nurtured like every child deserved to be? Worse, did Pam simply have it scraped out of her body after she’d killed the baby’s father? Was she that cruel? That heartless?
Stark desolation roared over Tuesday at all the questions. She needed answers and she had the means to make it happen. As soon as Grissom and his boys went to bed, she’d search online and hire someone to search for that baby. She could fund a string of orphanages. That’d be the perfect way to spend Freddie’s money. Private orphanages. Maybe private homes for unwed mothers, too. All staffed by people that cared, truly cared for at-risk people, and she’d work there. And, oh yes, a home for men who found themselves with violent spouses or partners. She could make all of it happen. Every last bit.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The day’s revelations were precisely what Grissom needed. Somewhere during Alex’s descriptions of Pam’s infidelities, Grissom made up his mind to rely on Tuesday’s inheritance if Pam insisted on a custody battle. He and Tuesday needed to get past their individual fears about them being together. Ego be damned, he’d take the first step, even if it meant allowing Tuesday to use some of her inheritance to make sure Pam never went near his boys again. Like he’d told Tanner so many times:Anytime. Every time.That included Tuesday, and it started now.
After Alex and Kelsey left with their kids, Grissom grilled steaks while Tuesday made a leafy green salad. The boys ate in front of the fireplace, like cowboys riding the range, Tanner said. They were finally asleep in their bunk beds, worn out from playing with Lexie and Bradley all afternoon. It was time to make a move.
Grissom looked down on Tuesday, stretched out comfortably alongside him, asleep in his arm. A powerful sense of protectiveness swelled inside. Closing his eyes, he held her as tightly as he dared. She’d insisted on helping with dinner, and them working together over something as simple as preparing that meal, had confirmed everything he already knew. They needed each other, in all things and in all ways. Breathing in her sweet, feminine scent was a gift he hadn’t planned on ever having in his lifetime. But he had it now and he wasn’t letting her go.
In so many ways, they were alike. She’d conquered a mountain of insurmountable obstacles in her life, yet was still avirgin. He wasn’t as pure as Tuesday, but he was inexperienced in other things that mattered. Like love. No woman had ever loved him like a boy or man deserved to be loved and cared for. His dad had, sure, yeah, in his own, stifled way. But tender womanly expressions of love were as alien to Grissom as Martians on planet Earth.
Tucking her close, he lifted up slowly from the couch, and, with the practiced care of a father of little boys, he headed for his room. Make that,their room. With one foot, he nudged the door open and aimed for the bed. Sticking one knee to the mattress, Grissom carefully deposited Tuesday against the pillows, then eased his arm out from under her.
He couldn’t remember ever having carried a woman before or talking as openly as he had with Tuesday. With her, he could be himself. She treated him the way she treated his boys, with empathy and respect. Every time.
Just as carefully, he crouched to his knees, eased her feet out of her slippers, and unzipped her jeans. Once her long legs were freed from the denim, he stopped and stared, amazed that a woman as lithe and beautiful as Tuesday was in his bed. She could be a dancer as toned and well-muscled as her legs and thighs were.
His cock kicked against his zipper, wanting her. Every male instinct sprang to life. Molten need roared through his veins, and his eyes watered at the intense juxtaposition of a man like him, a warrior and killer, standing so close to an angel. What had God been thinking, to bring a creature full of light into a life that, for so long, hadn’t been worth living?
If not for his firstborn, Grissom would’ve offed himself years ago. He’d been that low, that hopeless, after he and his team had mistakenly killed those boys in Syria. How did a man ever get past such a heinous act? Sure, it was accidental, one of those ungodly fog of war mistakes. But to Grissom, it seemedenormously unjust that he was free to hold and love his sons, while another father grieved. Death had been a constant in his line of work, and now there was the possibility that another child had been left motherless, maybe fatherless, this one through no fault of his. Tuesday was right to wonder if Pam had truly been pregnant when she’d killed that airman out of Eglin Air Force Base.
Quietly, Grissom stepped from his bed to make a call.
Mother answered with a terse, “What do you want?”
She seemed tense so he gentled his tone even more. “Hi Mom, it’s me, Grissom.”
“I know. I’ve got caller ID.” Mother was in rare, testy form tonight.
“Could you locate the name of the airman my wife murdered in Florida about seven, maybe eight years ago?”
“Why?”
“Because, allegedly, she killed him after he refused to marry her, and, oh yeah, her real name’s Marcia Valentino, not Pamela.”
“Oh, sure.” Mother’s tone softened. “Chief Prince should have that information. Hold, please.”
Grissom paused, listening to her fingernails work one of her many keyboards. Mother was a complicated woman. If she liked you, she’d do anything you asked. If not, she could make your life miserable. A few agents found ways to work around her. Many did their own research, or they went to Beau Villanueva, Axel Cho, or Ember Dennison for assistance. Grissom still didn’t know if Mother liked him or not, but she was helping now. That had to mean he was on her good side, didn’t it?
