RESIDENT EVIL PIERSHERRY

Chapter 27

IT TOOK PIERS a moment to process what Sherry had just said.
"A gun? What makes you think that?"
Sherry gestured to his shoulders. "There was a bulge under his
blazer--I think he was wearing a shoulder harness. Working with FBI agents,
I've probably seen it hundreds of times before but never consciously paid
any attention to it. But when you moved your arms and rubbed your face like
that, it looked kind of bulky right under your shoulders there . . ." She trailed
off, as if unsure how to describe it.
"You could see my gun printing."
She nodded. "Yes."
"And you're sure you saw the same thing with the guy who left Mandy
Robards's room?"
"Yes. I always felt like there was something I was missing, I just
couldn't figure it out," Sherry said. "Does that mean anything, that he was
wearing a gun?"
Piers's mind worked through this new development. They knew so little
about the killer, everything meant something. And this piece of information
could mean a lot. "I certainly find it interesting that he suffocated Mandy
Robards when he had a gun on him."
"Guns make noise."
"Yes, they do. Although a professional could've brought a silencer to
take care of that. I'm thinking more than ever now that this murder wasn't
something that was planned."
"A jealous boyfriend, perhaps? Maybe he confronted Mandy about
Senator Hodges and it escalated," Sherry suggested.
Piers shook his head. "We already looked into that angle. The shoulder
harness is an interesting development. You might not have recognized it, but
someone with a trained eye would've spotted the gun right away. That would
be a sloppy, risky move, with the city's restrictions on handguns," he said, referring to the fact that Chicago citizens were not permitted to own or carry
handguns. "Makes me think this guy is licensed in this city to carry a
concealed weapon."
"Like a cop, you mean? Or an agent?"
"Maybe . . ." Piers mused over this for moment. Then something
occurred to him. He strode over to the foyer and unzipped the duffel bag he'd
left there earlier. He pulled out the case files he'd brought to the
wedding--he'd made copies of everything and left the originals with Wilkins.
He opened the file with the photographs of the people they'd interviewed in
connection with Mandy's murder.
He located the photograph he was searching for and took a closer
look.
Interesting.
He handed the photograph over to Sherry. She pointed. "This is one
of the photos you showed me the night of the bachelorette party."
"His name is Grant Lombard," Piers said. "He does private security for
Senator Hodges. He carries a gun--I noticed it the night we interviewed him.
He had the proper permits, and since Mandy had been suffocated the gun
didn't jump out to us as a red flag. I remember him from the interview--sort of
a cool, professional type. I also recall him being about five feet eleven and
one hundred seventy pounds, so he matches the physical description of the
guy we're looking for. I thought I remembered him having brown eyes, too,
although I wanted to confirm that with the picture."
"The guy who attacked me had brown eyes," Sherry said.
"Yes, he did."
"By any chance does Grant Lombard have an alibi for the night of
Mandy Robards's murder?"
"He says he was at home sleeping. Alone," Piers said.
"Given the time of murder, there's probably not too much we can make
of that," Sherry said.
"True. But perhaps I need to ask him if he has an alibi for the time of
your attack."
Sherry took a second look at the picture. "He can't exactly use the 'at
home sleeping' excuse for four thirty in the afternoon. There's certainly
enough here to make it worth checking into." Piers pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Wilkins. His
partner didn't answer, so he left a message on his voicemail. "Wilkins--it's
Piers. I might have something in the Robards case--a lead worth looking into,
at least. Call me when you get this message. I'll fill you in then."
Piers hung up, glad to finally have an actual lead to pursue after two
weeks of hunting and pecking in the dark. "We're not going to talk to anyone
about this except Wilkins and Davis," he told Sherry. "Not yet, anyway. I
don't want to take any chances that the wrong person could find out that you
know more than we'd originally thought."
Although he didn't say it out loud, Piers knew that Sherry, as a
prosecutor, understood that the gun could be a key piece of evidence. If
Lombard did turn out to be the guy they were looking for, she had just
inadvertently stumbled upon the link that could ultimately lead to his arrest.
The idea left Piers feeling very skittish.
"I'm sorry I didn't remember this right away," Sherry said. "That night
at the hotel, you warned me not to be sloppy--I should've thought of this
earlier." She looked annoyed with herself. "After all the times I've raked a
witness over the coals for claiming to remember something after the fact.
Now I've done exactly the same thing."
Piers reached for her. "I hate to break this to you, Sherry, but you're
only human."
"Shh . . . I've been trying to keep that under wraps for years."
He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Your secret is safe with me."
She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "So where
does all this leave us for tonight?"
Piers wrapped his arms around her. "Unfortunately, it means I have
some work to do. There are a few things I want to check into."
Sherry pulled back, running her hands over his chest. "What kinds of
things? And more important, how long will they take?" she asked with a coy
smile.
Two days, Piers thought. For two days he'd been tortured by Martino's
interrogators and had never broken once--not a single word. But this woman
had him wrapped around her finger in one second flat with just a smile.
He knew he should probably run as fast as he could in the opposite
direction. Instead, he kissed her.
She kissed him back playfully at first, until he moved her against the
counter. He wound his tongue around hers and slid his hands to her waist.
"I need to get to work," Piers said as he kissed the spot on her neck that
he knew drove her crazy.
"You do," she agreed, as her hands wandered down his stomach. "And
I need to unpack."
"I'll walk you to the stairs," Piers said. They kissed the entire way as he
backed her through the kitchen and to the staircase. By the time they got
there, his hands had somehow made their way underneath her shirt.
"So you'll come upstairs when you're done working, then?" Sherry
asked.
"Yes. Shouldn't be too long." There was a lot of kissing after that, and
suddenly they were on the stairs and he was between her legs. He pushed
her shirt up and scooted down, trailing his lips across her stomach.
She sucked in her breath. "Okay. I'm going."
"Yes. Go." Piers pulled himself up and kissed her--just one last time.
Then he felt Sherry's hands unzipping the fly of his jeans. She reached
into his boxers, and he groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.
He peered down and saw the sparkle in her eyes.
Work would just have to wait a few damn minutes.
"Do you have any condoms left in your suitcase?" he asked raggedly,
at least having the presence of mind to think of that while she worked him
over. The woman had the most incredible hands.
"Top outer pocket," Sherry said.
Piers stepped away, swore as he rummaged around, finally realized he
was in the wrong pocket, grabbed a condom, and came back.
Holy fuck.
The little minx had taken the initiative of slipping off her jeans.
But she'd left the naughty-boots on.
"You know I feel naked without my heels," Sherry said.
Piers tossed the condom onto the stairs. He shrugged off his blazer,
then took off his gun harness and set it on the stairs next to the condom.
"Slide up two steps," he ordered her.
She did. He spread her legs and knelt between them on a lower step. He watched her eyes widen as he slid one of her legs over his shoulder, then
the other. He felt her tremble as he bent down and licked the top lacy edge of
her panties.
"Piers . . ." she murmured, threading her fingers through his hair.
He hooked his finger around the waistband of her panties and pulled
them down a few inches. He lowered his mouth.
Sherry moaned. "Oh god, you are the devil . . ."
Enough said.