Chapter Ten
Sunday, January 13, 10:00 A.M.
The trek across town on I-64 took Jacob twenty minutes. He took Exit 195 and continued east on Laburnum. Soon he spotted the blue lights of the squad cars flashing next to a convenience store called Ned’s. He parked behind the county’s white forensics van. From his trunk he grabbed rubber gloves.
Ned’s was a one-story building covered in vertical siding painted a muddy red. In a large picture window hung signs for beer, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. The parking lot was crushed gravel. The officers had closed the store and driven off morning patrons.
Jacob walked up to the young officer who stood by the yellow crime scene tape, huddled in his jacket, his face pointed down away from the wind. ‘Officer.’
The young guy stuck out his hand. ‘Detective Warwick.’
‘Where’s the body?’
He stamped his feet to stimulate the circulation in them. ‘By the Dumpster. Hasn’t been there long.’
Jacob frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Ned, the owner of the store, said when he opened the store at five she wasn’t there. But when he went outside to dump stock boxes at nine-thirty she was.’
‘He see anything?’
‘Said no. But he was rattled. Said he needed a cigarette.’
‘I’ll talk to him later. Make sure he doesn’t leave.’
‘Will do.’
Jacob rounded the corner and saw Tess. She was snapping pictures of the victim. ‘Can I come closer?’
She didn’t stop shooting. ‘Sure. You know the drill.’
He ducked under the tape and moved toward the body as he put on rubber gloves. The dead woman lay curled on her side, her knees drawn up by her chest. She wore ragged hip-hugging jeans, black boots with heels, and a tight sweater that accentuated her breasts. Her leather jacket hugged her midsection and looked like it was designed for fashion, not warmth. Dark hair was cut short with purple and red streaks tinting the strands.
This woman was the polar opposite of Jackie White. ‘What about her neck and wrists?’
Tess squatted. She lifted the cuff of the victim’s jacket. Red marks marred the pale skin of her wrist. Then Tess pushed back the woman’s hair. Bruises indicating strangulation appeared.
‘Shit,’ he muttered.
‘Yeah,’ Tess said.
‘We have ourselves a guy who likes to hold women and then strangle them.’
She straightened. ‘But I can tell you she hasn’t been dead long. Liver temp was ninety-one degrees.’
‘About five hours?’
‘That’s right.’ The first victim had died late Sunday.
‘Turn her face so I can see it.’
Tess gently turned the woman’s head to reveal pale skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. ‘She looks a lot like the first one.’
Jacob expelled a breath. And Kendall Shaw. ‘Yeah.’
He spotted a glint of gold around the victim’s neck. It was a gold chain. ‘See the chain?’
Tess pushed back the leather jacket. Resting on the woman’s chest above her breasts was a charm like the one worn by the first victim. It read Judith.
Jacob’s gut tightened as he scribbled the name in his notebook. ‘Any ID on her?’
‘No.’
Her ID was missing. Dark hair. A charm. ‘Bet money her name isn’t Judith.’
Tess shook her head. ‘I’m not taking that bet.’
Bells above Nicole’s head jingled as she pushed through the front door of the coffee shop. A blast of warm air greeted her and she was grateful to be out of the wind.
The coffee shop was small. One look and anyone could see it wasn’t part of a chain. Quirky furniture – round tables covered with shellacked postcards and chairs that didn’t match – and a collection of old Virginia license plates on the wall. The front counter sported a cash register and a glistening display case filled with cookies and tarts. The tables were full of patrons.
Behind the counter stood a teenaged girl with blue hair and a nose ring. Nicole had learned on her last trip here that the girl was an art student at Virginia Commonwealth University.
‘Hey, Ceylon,’ Nicole said. ‘How goes it?’
Ceylon smiled. ‘Excellent. The usual?’
‘I’ll take a biscotti today along with the tea.’
‘Living dangerously, I see.’ She put a bag of green tea into a porcelain cup, poured hot water over it, and with a napkin in hand grabbed a biscotti.
Nicole handed her a five. ‘I don’t know what’s up. I can’t seem to stop eating this week.’
Ceylon gave Nicole her change. ‘The kid is growing.’
Nicole dumped a dollar in the tip jar. ‘I suppose.’
Ceylon nodded as if she were the authority. ‘My mom has had eight kids. She ate whatever wasn’t nailed down.’
‘Did she lose all her baby weight?’
Ceylon rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, no.’
Being saddled with extra weight didn’t sit well with Nicole. She wanted her body back. Wanted her life back as soon as possible.
Still, her stomach grumbled and she knew she’d eat every bite of her cookie. The place hadn’t cleared out a bit and no tables had opened up. Everyone seemed content to stay hidden from the cold. Looked like she’d be sitting in her car.
‘Nicole Piper.’
The deep male voice had her turning. A man with blond hair rose from his chair. He was a cop. She’d met him last summer but the name escaped her. That was another thing she wanted back – the other half of her brain that had gone into hibernation sometime during the second trimester.
She smiled, digging through her memory for a name. ‘Hi.’
His smile was rich and warm, signaling he knew she couldn’t recall his name. ‘David Ayden.’
Color rose in her cheeks. ‘Sorry. My memory isn’t so great these days.’
‘Would you like to join me?’ He had a relaxed smile. ‘Tables are at a premium.’
Her knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Her late husband’s brutality had done that to her. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘The tables are full and I’m killing time waiting for my son.’ He moved around the table and pulled out the chair. ‘Sit. Please.’
If she refused she’d look silly or ungrateful. And after all, the guy wasn’t asking her to marry him. He was just offering her a seat. ‘Sure. Thanks.’
She set her tea and cookie down on the table across from his black coffee and neatly folded newspaper. He held the back of her seat. She cupped her belly and eased into the seat. His attention made her feel oddly pampered. It had been a long time since anyone had held her chair for her.
Ayden was dressed in a dark turtleneck and faded jeans. She guessed his age to be about forty but he was fitter than most men half his age. A well-worn wedding band winked on his left ring finger. Her memory was coming back in bits and pieces. Ayden was a widower. Had a couple of kids. Boys, if she remembered.
‘So what brings you down here?’ he asked.
‘I come in here at least once a week.’
Sipping his coffee, he sat back in his chair, his body relaxed. He was comfortable in his own skin.
Nicole dunked her tea bag, amazed that she felt at a loss for words. That wasn’t like her. She could carry on a conversation with anyone. Making people relax and feel comfortable was part of being a good photographer. ‘Do you come here often?’
‘First time. My son is taking a one-day S.A.T. prep course at the university. He should be finishing up in the next twenty minutes or so.’
‘S.A.T. So he’s looking at colleges?’
Pride shone in his eyes. ‘We plan to start driving around the state this spring and looking at a few colleges.’
‘That must be exciting.’
‘For him. Frankly, it makes me feel old. I remember when his mother was pregnant with him.’
She shifted. There was no escaping this pregnancy. ‘Time flies.’
He frowned, sensing her unease. ‘Everything all right?’
She traced the rim of her cup with her finger. ‘I just get a little weird when people mention my pregnancy.’ She glanced down at her belly. ‘But when your stomach is the size of a barn, it’s kind of hard for people not to talk about it.’
‘Everything all right with the baby?’
‘Oh, yes. She’s fine,’ she rushed to say. A sudden weight bore down on her chest. And suddenly, the words tumbled out. ‘I’m thinking about giving her up for adoption. I’m not sure if I can be the kind of mother she deserves.’
There was no judgment in Ayden’s gray eyes, just a hint of sadness. ‘Have you chosen a family?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘And I know I need to make a decision soon.’ Emotion threatened to overwhelm her and she sipped her tea, hoping it would calm her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a therapy session.’
A warm smile curved the edges of his lips. ‘You’re fine. Were you working today?’
God bless him for changing the subject. ‘Yes. I was taking head shots for a client. In fact, I stayed late so I could get the retouches done and get the project off the desk.’
‘Rush job.’
‘Not really. My client gives me the creeps and I just wanted the work off my desk.’ She voiced her fears out loud so he could tell her she was being silly.
‘Who’s the client?’
She broke off a piece of her cookie, not sure why she’d even brought up the topic. ‘I’m probably being silly, but it’s Dana Miller. I’m being silly, right?’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve crossed her path a couple of times.’
This was the part where he was supposed to tell her not to worry. ‘And she was fine, right?’
‘I wasn’t impressed.’
‘Oh.’
He leaned forward. ‘You’re finished with her, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Then don’t sweat it. Just say no to any other jobs.’
‘You’re right. I’m just overreacting.’ She needed to hear the words.
‘I didn’t say that. I’m just saying I wouldn’t work for her again.’
She sighed. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘For just letting me babble. I work alone so much, I don’t get the chance to talk to people very often.’
Creases formed around his eyes when he smiled. ‘You are doing me the favor. I’ve got two teenaged sons who only talk about bodily functions and cheerleaders.’
She laughed out loud.
Ayden sat back, savoring the sound of Nicole’s laughter. When he’d first seen her last summer she’d worn her hair shorter and she’d dyed it blond. In the last seven months the bleached strands had grown out and been cut away. Now ink-black hair framed her round face. He preferred the dark to the light. It made her blue eyes all the more expressive and alluring.
Pregnancy agreed with Nicole. The extra roundness of her face was preferable to last summer’s gauntness. And despite her protruding belly she still possessed an air of grace.
‘What are your boys’ names?’ she asked.
He sensed genuine interest. ‘Caleb and Zane. Sixteen and fifteen, respectively.’
‘They keep you busy, I’ll bet.’
‘You’ve no idea.’ He thought about the fiasco this morning. ‘At six this morning, Caleb remembered he was supposed to be here for the S.A.T. session at eight. He woke me up oblivious to the fact that I’ve worked a lot of late hours this week on a case.’
She rested her chin on her hand. ‘I could be a little spacey when I was a teenager. I drove my mom nuts. She was always a sport, though.’
‘Caleb’s mom, my late wife, was the calm one. I wish she’d been there this morning to smooth the explosion.’
Since his wife’s passing two years ago, Ayden had never been able to talk to another woman without first thinking about Julie. Guiltily, he realized he’d not thought about her at all since Nicole sat down. ‘Julie was always good at getting the boys where they needed to go. I never had to worry.’
Nicole’s face softened. ‘I remember Zack saying you’re a widower. How’d she die?’
‘Cancer.’ He liked Nicole’s directness. He’d grown tired of dancing around other people’s discomfort over Julie’s death.
The familiar lump formed in his gut, but the sharp pain of loss was finally starting to ease. ‘I do the best I can to keep her memory alive for the boys. But it’s getting harder and harder for them to remember.’
She nodded, her expression serious. ‘If I look at pictures of my mother I remember her. Otherwise, it’s hard.’
‘How long has she been gone?’
‘Eight years. Car accident.’ She straightened as if the baby kicked.
It was none of his business how she was doing, but he wanted to know. He’d worked with the Richmond and San Francisco police who’d unraveled her late husband’s murder sprees. They’d all been violent, vicious crimes.
‘I gotta say,’ Ayden said, ‘you appear to be doing real well.’
She nodded, understanding his meaning. ‘I’m just putting one foot in front of the other. I figure as long as I keep moving I can hold it together.’
‘That’s exactly how I felt when Julie died.’
She sipped her tea. ‘But I didn’t love my husband. Not at the end anyway.’
‘But you did at one time.’
‘Sure. In the beginning.’
‘It’s logical to mourn that loss.’
‘I mourned that loss a long time ago. The real struggle has just been learning to live again. To think for myself. I wanted to buy shoes the other day and for a split second wondered if Richard would approve. Moments like that make me angry.’
She had a fighter’s spirit. ‘You buy the shoes?’
A wicked grin curved the edge of her lips. ‘In brown and in black.’
The front doors of the shop opened. A blast of cold air rolled in with a gangly boy who had the same color of eyes as Ayden. The kid’s gaze scanned the shop and landed almost immediately on him. The boy grinned.
Ayden was glad to see his son but sorry his visit with Nicole would have to end. ‘Number one son has arrived.’
Nicole twisted and looked up at the boy. She smiled.
Ayden rose. ‘Caleb, I’d like you to meet Nicole Piper.’
Caleb shook her hand. ‘Hey. Nice to meet you.’
‘How’d the test go?’ Ayden asked.
‘Good.’
‘Any problems?’
‘No.’
He wondered if the boy would ever speak in complete sentences again.
Nicole grinned. ‘I remember my S.A.T. I think I got a two on the math.’
Caleb nodded. ‘Math was a bear but I aced the English part.’
‘When I took my test, the proctor opened the windows. Outside, the university was hosting a charity carnival. The noise was a big distraction.’
‘Yeah, some kid in our classroom kept tapping his foot. It was a real pain.’
Ayden watched the exchange, thinking he’d just witnessed a minor miracle. Caleb had completed sentences and was engaging in a conversation.
‘Hey, Dad, can we head out? I’ve got a paper to finish for science.’
Ayden glanced at Nicole’s half cup of tea and uneaten cookie. ‘I hate to leave you like this.’
Nicole’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘I’m never alone when I have a cookie.’
‘Right.’ Still, it bothered him that he was leaving behind a very pregnant woman to fend for herself. He reminded himself that she was none of his concern. But the argument fell on deaf ears. He dug five dollars out of his pocket. ‘Caleb, grab yourself a cup of coffee for the road and then we’ll head out.’
Caleb took the money without question. ‘Cool.’
Ayden sat back down. ‘Don’t let me hold you up. Eat.’
Nicole started to eat her cookie. ‘He’s a good kid.’
‘Yeah. I credit his mother. I’ve always worked insane hours.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short.’
For the next few minutes they sat and talked while Caleb flirted with the girl behind the counter. They talked about Nicole’s photography and she told him an amusing story about an uptight bride. The exchange was, well, nice.
As luck would have it, Caleb came back to the table just as Nicole was finishing off her cookie and tea.
Ayden rose. ‘We can walk you to your car?’
Nicole lumbered to her feet. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m just a few blocks from here.’
‘A few blocks. We’ll walk you.’
Caleb glanced at him. His expression was a mixture of amusement and surprise, but thankfully the kid didn’t blurt out whatever thoughts pummeled his mind.
Nicole picked up her purse off the floor. ‘It’s twenty degrees outside. Save yourself.’
‘I’m parked out front. I’ll drive you.’ The more he thought about her walking down city blocks alone, the more the idea bothered him.
She seemed grateful for the favor and allowed him to guide her out of the shop. Caleb lumbered behind.
Ayden opened the front passenger seat of an unmarked white Crown Vic and waited as she lowered herself into the seat. When she was settled, he closed the door.
‘You gonna open my door?’ Caleb muttered.
Ayden glared at the glint in the kid’s eye. ‘Get in the car.’
Caleb climbed in the back while Ayden slid behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and pulled into traffic.
Nicole directed him to the parking lot where she’d left her car. Her skin looked a little pale now and he guessed she was exhausted.
‘Thanks for the ride,’ she said.
‘Take care.’
‘Will do.’ She climbed out and moved to her car. Once inside, she fired up the engine and then waved an all clear to him.
Caleb got out of his seat and into the front. Ayden waited until Nicole pulled out and waved her thanks.
‘Jeeze, Dad, she’s like a hundred months pregnant and you’re giving her “the look.” ’
Annoyed, Ayden pulled onto Cary Street. ‘I wasn’t giving her a “look.” ’
Caleb clicked his seat belt and leaned back in his seat, pleased with himself. ‘Oh, it was a look all right.’
Ayden shot his kid a good-natured glare. ‘Stow it, kid.’
Then Ayden’s cell phone rang. He glanced down at the number displayed.
Zack Kier.
A call on his day off couldn’t be good.
Standing in her spare room, Kendall wore jeans, a faded T-shirt, and paint-spattered sneakers when the cell in her pocket rang. She glanced at the yellow paint can she’d been preparing to open and flipped open the phone. ‘Kendall Shaw.’
‘There’s been another murder,’ Brett fired off. ‘How soon can you be ready to cover it?’
Kendall’s heart raced. ‘Give me fifteen minutes.’
‘Good.’ He gave her the address. ‘I’ll have a cameraman meet you there.’
Adrenaline rushed her system. ‘I’ll be there in a half hour.’
The paint job forgotten, Kendall showered quickly, pulled her hair into a neat French twist, and donned a chocolate cashmere sweater, dark suede pants, and boots. Good to her word, she was mobile in fifteen minutes.
On the way to the crime scene, she mentally ran through the questions she wanted to ask. She prided herself on not only looking her best but also having the sharpest questions.
A woman should be more than a pretty face. Henry Shaw, her father had said that a lot. He had never let Kendall trade on her looks. He’d expected her to work hard in school and prove she could succeed in spite of her looks.
Her dad had provided ballast for his type-A wife, Irene, and his daughter. The women’s personalities were so much alike and her dad had often said they were ‘two peas in a pod.’ Kendall had always liked it when he said that because it made it easy to pretend that Irene had given birth to her and that there wasn’t another woman out there who’d given her away.
‘What made me think of that?’ Kendall muttered as she slowed for a red light. She forced her mind back to the story and the victim. Minutes later, she turned right on Laburnum and quickly spotted the flashing blue lights of the police cars. The Channel 10 van was waiting in a Chinese restaurant parking lot across a side street. The other television crews had arrived. This was going to be chaos.
She parked behind the van and got out. The cameraman on the scene was new and she’d only worked with him a couple of times. ‘Hey, Lin. Where’s Mike?’
Lin was tall and lean. He couldn’t be more than thirty but his shoulders stooped like those of an old man. ‘Don’t know.’
It wasn’t like Mike to miss a story like this. ‘Follow me. Let’s cross to the crime scene and see what we can see.’
He nodded, reached in the van, and hoisted a camera onto his shoulder. ‘Will do, boss.’
The wind cut into her skin as she crossed the intersection toward the crime scene. She made it as far as a sidewalk before she reached yellow tape and a patrolman stopped her.
Kendall tossed the officer her trademark smile.
But before she could ask her first question, he said, ‘No one’s getting close to the scene. Especially you.’
Her smile held, though annoyance rose in her. ‘Can you tell me anything about the victim?’
‘No.’
‘Is Detective Warwick here?’ This was a long shot. ‘He’ll talk to me.’
That made the man laugh. ‘He’s busy.’
Frustrated, she glanced at the store. There’d be no getting in now. She turned and started back across the street toward the van. The corner was lined with other stores and a growing number of onlookers. Someone had to have seen something.
Lin’s long legs kept pace easily. ‘So what now?’
‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’
Jacob had been waiting for Kendall since her station’s news van had arrived. He’d seen to it that she didn’t get close to this story.
A flutter of movement caught his attention and he watched as Tess turned the body on its side. She pushed up the victim’s shirt. Pale blue speckles covered the dead woman’s lower back.
Tess looked up at him. ‘She died sitting in a chair. But she didn’t sit as long as the last one. Whoever did this didn’t keep her as long.’
‘Almost as if he was in a rush.’
‘Right.’
The similarity between the two victims and Kendall had to be addressed. The likeness could have been dismissed as coincidence with one victim, but not two. Jacob needed to talk to Kendall.
Over the last year, he’d managed to collect an odd assortment of facts about Kendall. He’d never gone out of his way to dig up information on her, but when she was mentioned, he paid attention.
Both her parents were dead. No siblings. Model. Loved Paris. Won several awards. He didn’t want to talk to her here. A conversation between them would not go unnoticed and he didn’t want to draw the attention. He’d wait. Until he could find her alone.
Kendall spent the better part of the morning talking to bystanders, store owners, and anyone who might have seen something. People were happy to talk to her, but all rambled on about details that couldn’t be built into a story. At four she and the other members of the media had gotten a briefing from the police department’s public information officer. But the details had been scant. Female. Caucasian. Manner of death yet to be determined.
She’d called Phil White a couple of times to get his reaction, but he’d not answered his phone.
So when she returned to the station at about five, she was frustrated, tired, and hungry. It would be a long night piecing together the bits into a story.
Kendall passed reception and headed down the hallway toward her office. She stopped short at the threshold. Detective Jacob Warwick stood in her office.
Warwick stared at the pictures on her wall, the paperweight from her desk in his hand.
He studied her space. She did the same thing when she entered someone’s office. Furnishings and styles revealed a lot about a person. Neat freak. Slob. Pack rat. Hobbies. She’d been careful to choose furnishings that telegraphed cool and sophisticated. All part of the Kendall Shaw persona that she’d nurtured for the last few years. She wasn’t sure why she now felt like a fraud.
‘Detective.’ She couldn’t decide if this was a stroke of luck or not.
He turned, unrushed and seemingly not caring that he’d been caught staring at her pictures. He set the paperweight down. ‘About time you got back.’
Kendall pulled back her shoulders and smiled. She refused to betray the flutter of nerves in her belly. ‘This a social call, Detective, or are you going to give me an interview?’
A second glance at him and she noted the dark circles under his eyes. She’d bet he and his partner had been working around the clock since the first body had been found. ‘No to both.’
That puzzled her. ‘Okay. Why are you here? I’ve got a story to write.’
Warwick hesitated as his gaze lingered on a picture of Kendall and her parents. ‘You look happy in this picture.’
‘It was taken at my high school graduation.’ She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain. ‘That was the last picture taken of the three of us. Dad died three months later.’
A hint of regret darkened his eyes. He understood her loss. He had loved and lost a foster father who had been just as dear to him as her father had been to her. Losing a parent left a wound that would never quite heal no matter how much time had passed. Suddenly, she felt sadness for Warwick.
‘You don’t look like your parents.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Mom always said I was a throwback to another generation.’ Her mother’s lie had been told so often that it rolled off Kendall’s tongue automatically. ‘Why are you here?’ Impatience had leaked into her voice.
He met her gaze head-on. ‘What I’m about to say has to stay off the record for now.’
Her senses perked up. ‘There’s no such thing as off the record.’
His gaze pinned her. ‘If you can’t give me your word that none of this will leak out, then I’ll go.’
Reporters were nosey by nature and she was no exception. Warwick had something important to tell her and not knowing would drive her nuts. But she could see in his expression that he would walk out of her office right now if she didn’t give him her word. Damn. There was no way around it. ‘You have my word.’
‘I mean it, Kendall. No leaks.’
That irritated her. ‘When I give my word I keep it. Period.’
He hesitated and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to read her or gauge his own words. ‘Did Phil White ever mention that you look like his wife?’
That took her aback. ‘I do not look like Jackie White.’
‘He did, didn’t he?’ He boldly studied her high cheekbones and her vivid green eyes. ‘She wasn’t as pretty as you are, but the similarities are there. I saw it even when she was lying by the river, pale and lifeless. You had to have noticed.’
Kendall drew in a deep breath. ‘Is that supposed to spook me?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘The second victim looks like you as well.’
Her stomach dropped. ‘Brown hair and green eyes are common traits. Whatever similarities you see are strictly coincidence. Now if you don’t have anything else to add, it’s late and I want to work.’
He pulled two Polaroid pictures out of his coat pocket and laid them on her desk. They were of the two murdered women. Unexpected sadness washed over her as she stared at the lifeless faces.
She swallowed. ‘The women look similar, but nothing like me.’
‘You don’t believe that, do you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
He tapped the desk with his index finger. ‘Have you had any odd e-mails lately? Obsessed fans? Irate ex-boyfriends?’
There had been the tipster who’d sent her the text message. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Some send me notes frequently but none have been menacing.’ She tried to look nonplussed. ‘I think you’re grasping at straws.’
He stared at her as if trying to read her thoughts.
Those thoughts flashed to the dreams she’d had. The unknown woman’s screams echoed in her head. She pushed aside the memory and focused on logic. ‘I’ve had no threats. No creepy guys. No odd phone calls. It’s been business as usual. You’d think if someone was living out some strange fantasy I’d have some sign.’
‘Not necessarily.’ He was a dog with a bone. ‘What about ex-boyfriends?’
‘My ex-boyfriend would like to patch things up.’ She folded her arms over her chest, not sure why she mentioned it. ‘I’ve been very clear we are not getting back together.’
Warwick raised a brow. ‘Did he say anything to make you concerned?’
‘No. I mean he was a little frustrated with me but Brett’s always frustrated with me.’
‘Brett Newington?’
Loyalty made her hesitate, but then she answered, ‘Yes.’
‘Why would he be frustrated with you?’
‘I’m too independent, I suppose. He likes his women a bit more biddable.’ She frowned. ‘I’ve known Brett for years. He’s stable.’
‘Right.’
‘Hey, this is the kind of thing that could really hurt his career.’
‘I can be subtle when I ask questions.’
She arched a brow. ‘You’re about as subtle as I am biddable.’
A smile tugged the edge of his lips and for a moment it transformed his face. He didn’t look so fierce. He looked attractive even.
She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. ‘You went out on a limb to tell me this.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
His face tightened. ‘I owe you.’
That surprised her. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’
‘That’s not how I see it.’ He shrugged. ‘Just keep your eyes and ears open, Kendall. Do you have an alarm system in your house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Use it.’
‘All right.’ She held out her hand to him, trying to prove to them both that there was no snap of energy between them. ‘Thanks.’
Strong powerful fingers wrapped around hers, and for a moment she felt a jolt zigzag through her body.
‘You’ll keep me posted,’ she said.
‘When it’s necessary.’ He released her hand, picked up the Polaroids and tucked them in his pocket, and left her office.
Kendall stood stunned and not quite sure what had just happened. If he’d come to her about anyone else, she’d have a dozen ways to crack the story without breaking her word to him. But the angle he’d brought her put her dead center in the middle of the story. She’d been there once. And knew that was a place she never wanted to be again.
Brett Newington sat in a chair and stared at the woman standing before him. She had a long, lean body and the dark wig he’d supplied draped her slender shoulders. The woman wore black heels, a pencil-thin skirt, and a silk blouse, all of which he’d supplied as well. In the dim light he could almost pretend it was Kendall standing before him.
‘Unbutton your blouse,’ he said.
She’d been instructed not to speak except when she was spoken to. And then she only said, ‘Yes, sir.’
Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned the blouse. He smiled. She was afraid of what was to come. The others had told her. Good.
She let the blouse fall to her shoulders and then slide to the floor. Full breasts rose up over the black lacy bra.
‘Now the skirt.’
She wriggled out of the skirt and kicked it toward the blouse puddled beside her.
The woman was curvier than he liked, her belly not as flat as it should be. But she would do.
Brett rose, walked toward her, and stopped when he was only inches away. She stared up at him. Under the heavy makeup he could see the pockmarks on her skin. He could see that she wasn’t Kendall. That she was a cheap imitation.
Rage rolled inside him. He raised his hand and slapped her hard on the face. The impact sent her to her knees.
She touched the back of her hand to her lips, now crimson with blood. But she didn’t scream or fight back. She’d been paid well for the violence as much as the sex.
‘Stand up,’ he ordered.
She rose up and faced him. Fear darkened her eyes. The money was good, but he suspected she was wondering now if it was worth the pain.
He grabbed her arm and yanked it back hard. ‘You’re going to earn every dime.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Brett smiled, pleased by her obedience. He slapped her a second time and then pushed her down on the bed.
Dana sat in her car and watched as Nicole drove off. In the dimming light, Dana smiled. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. ‘I need to buy a gun.’