Текст книги "Tall, Dark and Deadly"

Автор книги: Lisa Renee Jones

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

“So,” she said stretching out the word. “Have you had time to make any assessments today?”

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. The look on his face said he didn’t want to tell her what was on his mind. He hesitated, and then, “The books are a wreck, and I still don’t know what Edward thought he was proving by choosing some of these cases.”

She shook her head and swallowed. “What exactly is the problem?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Over the last few years, Edward started taking on cases for people who had zero financial means. It has gotten worse, not better, since I have been gone.”

Her eyes went to the space above his shoulder as she thought out loud. “I noticed the oddity of the cases.” Then, refocusing on Mark, “I was hoping you could offer some insight. Daddy was always about money.”

“He took on a new philosophy this past year. Work for free is what it basically boils down to.” The pure frustration in his voice was enough to set her on edge. He started rolling up his sleeves. Like he needed to get ready for some serious work. “Let’s set the subject of the books aside for now. Tonight we need to focus on the Williams case. He happens to be one of the few clients who actually can pay his bills.”

A puzzled expression filled her face. “Yes, he does, which is odd considering the rest of the caseload.”

He agreed. “Right. A professor at NYU who comes from a wealthy family.”

“I can’t figure out how he fits in with the other cases.” She frowned. “If I understood the logic of the case choices, I might feel a little better.”

Mark seemed to want to say something—she could see it in his eyes—but then he withdrew, as if he had talked himself out of whatever it was. She frowned, wondering what he was thinking and not saying.

“I reviewed the file today and nothing has been done,” he said. “We don’t have a choice but to file for a continuance.”

Even a quick glimpse at the file had told her as much.

“I already have the papers being drafted.”

He didn’t acknowledge her words. Instead, he gave her a level stare and cleared his throat. “I’ve changed my mind. I want you to second chair.”

“Wow,” she said putting on the brakes. “Why the sudden change of heart?” She felt the pinch of indignation. “You think I can’t handle it now?”

Surprise filled his face. “I thought you would be happy.”

She waved off his words. “That’s not the point.” She jabbed her pen against the pad of paper in front of her as her agitation grew. “There’s something you’re not saying, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. Are you afraid I’ll collapse during trial or something ridiculous like that?” She didn’t give him time to respond. “I won’t, you know.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I do not think you will collapse in trial. Damn, woman, what does it take to please you?”

Lindsey grimaced, not liking the idea of being considered incompetent one bit. No, she didn’t want to go back to court, but she wanted to fail even less. “Look, after you dropped your little bomb on me, and then ran out the door unwilling to face me, I might add, I spent all afternoon getting myself prepared to face this damn case. So don’t go turning back the clock now.”

He laughed in disbelief. “First of all, I did not run off. I had a meeting.”

She smirked and crossed her arms in front of her body. “Uh-huh.”

“To be clear,” he said, his voice now more intense, his eyes direct as they held hers, “I trust your abilities in and out of the courtroom.” He let the words linger a moment. “Probably more than you trust yourself.”

“You have a terrible way of showing it.”

Mark opened the file that sat in front of him. He spread five pictures out on the table, and leaned back in his chair. Watching her. “What do these girls have in common?”

The dark reality of the images made her swallow hard. She’d seen plenty of crime scene photos, but these brought back memories she preferred to avoid. “They’re dead,” she said flatly, her eyes lifting to his. She’d seen enough.

“What else?” Mark shot back.

She swallowed, and forced herself to look down. “They all fit a profile, of course.”

“What profile, Lindsey?” he pressed.

“I’ve seen the file,” she said in a clipped tone, giving him a hard stare. “I know these are the women Williams is accused of killing.”

“They fit another profile too, though, don’t they?” He was challenging her. Waiting for her reaction.

She glanced up at him and then back down at the photos, her stomach churning with realization. Her response was a harsh whisper. “They fit the Hudson profile.” She dropped her pencil and ran her now-damp palms down her thighs.

His eyes narrowed. “We both know the other obvious factor.” It was a question, but not really. They both knew the answer.

He wanted her to admit it out loud, and she knew it. Why, she wasn’t sure. She stiffened, feeling the tension of the moment. And frustration, even a hint of anger. She didn’t want to deal with this, but he was making her. “You think I don’t know they all look like me?”

He leaned forward. “Then you understand why I am going to first chair.”

She snapped, heat filling her gaze. “Stop trying to protect me. I am perfectly capable of handling this damn case.”

* * * * *

Lindsey was, if nothing else, unpredictable.

Just this morning, she had all but refused to first chair the Williams case. She’d been ready to choke him when he had made his announcement. He’d seen it in her eyes. Who would have figured she would now be accusing him of being protective?

“You can scream, throw things, do what you will, but I am not—I repeat, I am not—letting you first chair.” His eyes dared her to argue. She wanted to, too. After a long, tension-filled moment, he asked, “How well have you read the file?”

The question took the wind out of her sails. The truth was, and they both knew it, she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to read it cover to cover. “I started to . . .” her voice trailed off.

“But you didn’t.” He let the words linger in the air. “I’ll first chair. You can ease back into the courtroom, and deal with the implications of the past with less pressure. It’s for the best.”

“Just this morning—”

He cut her off. “I hadn’t seen the pictures of those women.” He reached for the photos, ready to get them out of sight. The way they resembled Lindsey was downright scary. “Now, I have. Now you second chair.”

A knock sounded. Ms. Moore, her father’s assistant, peaked around the door. “Sandwiches are here,” she said in her normal, cheerful voice.

“Come on in Maggie,” Mark said, waving her forward as a boyish grin filled his face.

Mark had a soft spot for Maggie. She was like everyone’s grandmother—a sweet, older woman with a nurturing tendency. Near sixty, she needed to retire, but refused. She liked being busy. Even seemed undaunted by Edward’s constant harsh ways.

Maggie was smiling at Mark as she rushed into the room. “I have your favorite, Mark,” she said smiling. “And I remembered: no mayo, extra mustard.” Then she held up a bag of cookies. “And I got oatmeal raisin cookies. I know how you love them.”

“Thanks Maggie,” he said. “You are always so good to me.” She’d been one of the few bright spots at Paxton.

Maggie turned her attention on Lindsey. “I remembered what you liked, too. Egg salad on wheat.”

Lindsey blinked. “I’m impressed. It’s been years.”

Maggie patted Lindsey on the back and winked. “I had to have a good memory to handle all the things your father threw at me, honey. Besides, how could I forget my little Lindsey? Seems like yesterday you were a little one running around here with your Barbies.”

Lindsey laughed. “Yes, well that was a long time ago. I was always at your desk bugging you though, wasn’t I?”

Maggie buzzed around the table like a busybody, giving them each napkins. “Yes,” she sighed. “I miss those days. You both,” she waved a finger between Mark and Lindsey, “work far too hard, but I will shut up because neither of you will listen anyway.” She sighed with regret as Mark and Lindsey exchanged an amused glance. “You both have tea to drink. I’ll be leaving now, unless there is anything else either of you need?”

Mark chuckled. “I think we are fine now. Thanks again, Maggie. Have a nice evening.”

“Okay, don’t stay too late. See you both in the morning.” Maggie started towards the door, but turned back. “It’s nice to have you both back.”

Lindsey smiled. “Thanks Maggie,” she said, with a hint of emotion in her voice. “Goodnight.”

Maggie waved and left the room, humming as she pulled the door shut. Lindsey stared at Mark as he opened his mouth to bite into his sandwich. He stopped midway to his mouth and sat his sandwich down on the wrapper. “What?” he asked as a puzzled look settled on his face.

She motioned with her head towards the door. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked holding up his hands in question.

“Maggie?” she questioned in astonishment. “Daddy never called her Maggie.”

He grunted. “I’m not Edward. Never was, never will be.”

“You were quite nice to her,” she commented as she started opening the paper around her sandwich.

“And that surprises you?”

Guilt registered in her expression. “I’m sorry. That was bad of me. Your reputation says you like to win, not that you like to be mean while you do it.”

“I guess you have a lot left to learn about me,” he said, only half-kidding. Part of him was bothered that she would have thought him capable of being anything but nice to Maggie.

A few minutes passed as they busied themselves eating. Lindsey scribbled some notes as Mark thumbed through the file. “It really is amazing how she remembered what I always ordered so far back,” Lindsey commented.

He gave her a half-smile “That’s Maggie for you.”

“Yeah, I guess so. She is one of the few things about this place I missed.”

He rested his elbows on the table and watched her a long moment. “I bet there is more than you realize.”

She glanced at him. “I doubt it.” Changing the subject, she said, “We were talking about the Williams case. There has been no research whatsoever completed to date that I could see. Is that your take?”

Mark shook his head in agreement as he took the last bite of his sandwich and crumpled up his wrapper. He swiveled in his chair and shot the balled-up paper into the trashcan. Swoosh, it went into the can. “Yes,” he said, about his success.

Lindsey rolled her eyes, and laughed. “King of trashcan basketball. Just where do your skills stop?”

He smiled, seeing an opportunity and taking it. “I’m good at lots of things.” He leaned in a little closer to her, a sudden awareness between them. “Spend some time with me and you might be surprised what you discover.”

She didn’t seem to know how to respond. They sat here, attraction lacing the air, eyes locked, until she averted her gaze. “I was thinking I would do some field investigating tomorrow. We don’t have time for someone else to do it. I’ll hit the streets bright and early.”

“We’ll hit the streets,” he said, drawing her gaze. “You aren’t going without me. This is a murder investigation, remember?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said with irritation lacing her words. “I make my living protecting others.”

He held up a finger. “Did you ever go out into the field alone while you were investigating a violent crime?”

She fidgeted in her chair. “Well . . .”

“Exactly. I’ll pick you up in the morning. Write down your address for me. It’s that or I’m hiring a buddy of mine to do the field work.”

“We don’t have time for someone else to get up and running.”

Mark’s tone was confident. “Royce Walker doesn’t need time to get up and running.”

“Royce Walker, as in the state security liaison?”

Mark grinned. “Yep, the one and only.”

“I still think I can do a better job in less time.”

He shrugged. “Then you will have to put up with me tagging along.”

Lindsey grimaced but wrote down her address and phone number. “If you get lost, call me.”

He gave her a ‘you’re-kidding’ look. “I won’t get lost.”

“Of course not. Not Mark Reeves,” she mocked.

Mark ignored her. “Nine o’clock.”

She nodded her agreement. “Lose the suit,” she said pointing to his jacket.

Mark stood up and started to take off his jacket.

“Stop!” Lindsey shouted. “What are you doing?”

“You said lose the suit,” he said, playfully dumbfounded.

“You knew what I meant,” she insisted. “Don’t wear a suit for the field work.”

He frowned. “You sure? I’ll be happy to lose it now.” Amusement danced in his eyes.

She harrumphed. He rubbed his hand on his jaw. “What does that mean?”

Her brows went up. “Nothing,” She paused a second. “Not really. I just didn’t see you having a sense of humor, that’s all.”

He wasn’t sure he liked that. In fact, he knew he didn’t. He sat back down. “Let’s back up here. Your early assessment didn’t seem very flattering. Do you mind telling me exactly what you thought of me?”

She studied his sexy brown eyes, wondering what parts of her first impression she should share. “You know they call you a cobra in the courtroom. I thought they were right.”

“I see.” His words were long and drawn out. “A cobra.”

He picked up the Williams file and started flipping through it, not one bit pleased. He’d put his life on hold to help a woman who thought he was a damn snake.

Lindsey frowned. “Mark?”

“Yes?” he said, without looking up from the file.

She reached out and touched his arm. Heat shot up his arm. His eyes lifted to hers. He was losing his freaking mind. No woman impacted him like this. He looked at her lips. Kissing her was on his mind.

“I was only teasing you about the cobra stuff, just because of the reputation you have. I admire you for your achievements. I told my father he was wrong about you.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. She’d talked to Edward about him. “I turned down your offer. Why would you defend me?”

She gave him a rueful smile. “Believe it or not, aside from the Hudson mess, I have always been a good judge of character. Just because you ticked me off doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. That’s just one of the many differences between my father and me. He can’t separate the two. Besides,” she added, “if there’s a cobra around, I want him on my side.” She playfully poked his arm.

He smiled. Then, before he could respond, she added, suddenly serious, “I do appreciate you coming back, even if it isn’t exactly on the terms I had hoped for.”

“So,” Mark said in a slow, playful voice. “How much do you appreciate it?”

She eyed him. “What?”

“How much do you appreciate me being here?” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Why do I know you are being bad, Mark Reeves?”

He laughed. “I’m good when I’m bad, baby.”

She gaped at him. “You’re out of control.”

A glimmer of heat sparked in his eye. “Hmm, I am. I think you should do something about it.”

She shook her head. “That,” she said sharply, “would be dangerous.”

“I thought you liked danger, being FBI and all.”

She glowered at him. “Will you be serious?” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Please. Now, I want to know how bad the books really are.”

He longed to pull her back into her playful mood. But it was too late. With a brief moment of regret, he answered. “I do my job well. It will be fine.”

“That bad?” she asked apprehensively.

He sighed. “It could be worse.”

“Oh,” she said flatly. “That bad.”

“Don’t worry, it will be fine.” And it would be. He was going to make sure of it.

Irritation flickered in her eyes. “Mark, don’t protect me. I hate being coddled. Tell me how bad it is.”

“I’m not protecting you. I’m simply not done with my analysis,” he countered.

Her eyes narrowed. “You are too. You’ve said as much.”

He laughed. There was no fooling Lindsey. “I’m sure. Look, let’s make a deal.”

“Another one?” she asked incredulously.

He slanted her a plaintive look. “I never make a promise I can’t keep, so let’s compromise.”

She jumped in. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Let’s try this again,” he said with forced patience. “Where I come from, a compromise is better than a lack of one. Should I continue?” He crossed his arms in front of his body and waited for her answer.

She made a face. “Fine.”

“When it comes to business matters, I’ll tell you the cold, hard facts. However, I can’t and won’t promise not to be protective in matters involving rapists and murderers. It’s just not in my chemical makeup.”

“Fine. I’m too tired to argue.” Her tone was tense. “Do you have the Hudson file?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just want to look through it tonight,” she said quietly.

He studied her expression. “The similarities are bothering you?”

“The marks on the girls’ arms.” Lindsey grabbed the file and pulled the pictures out again. She held up several pictures, one at a time, and pointed to each girl’s arms. “The markings on their skin, the similarities in the girls’ appearance . . .” she paused deeply in thought, “I don’t know. It just bothers me.”

It bothered him too. The way Lindsey resembled the victims bugged the hell out of him. “Yeah, I have to admit something doesn’t feel right. I did some research after you left my apartment the other day. There are too many parallels in the two cases for comfort.”

Her face was filled with concern. “Yeah, I know. I think we should go interview Williams before we do anything else tomorrow.”

“A good plan,” Mark said.

She glanced up at him. “I scheduled the partners’ meeting. Everyone had a lot of questions, but I put them off for the most part. I figured you might have your own approach to things.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the arms. “Yes, actually I do.”

* * * * *

Exhausted both mentally and physically, Lindsey stepped in the front door of her one-bedroom apartment and wearily discarded her belongings on the foyer table. She started walking towards the living room when a sudden wave of unease stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned and walked to the door and flipped the locks into place. She pushed to her tiptoes and looked through the peephole.

Nothing.

An inescapable shiver slid down her body. This damn case was messing with her head. She turned away from the door, determined to shake whatever was rattling her. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror, and paused. Leaning forward, she examined her image. She exhaled heavily. Okay, so it was a little creepy to look so like the victims. With Hudson, she was so certain of his innocence she had never given it much thought. She should have, of course, because his innocence meant the responsible person was still free. But that was rape, and this was murder. That changed things.

What have you gotten yourself into, Lindsey?

She shook her head and turned away from the mirror, refusing to spend one more moment acting like a frightened kitten. A few minutes later, with sweats and a t-shirt replacing her business attire, she sat down on her bed with her briefcase in hand.

Scouring the Hudson and Williams files for some semblance of answers took hours. She’d been so certain Hudson was innocent, and looking through his file those old gut feelings about him came roaring back to life. Tunneling her fingers into her hair, she made a frustrated sound.

He couldn’t be innocent. It was crazy to even think such a thing.

Determined to handle the Williams case without flaw, she began scanning his file. Thus far, there were four dead women, all of whom were students at the college where Williams taught. The evidence was all circumstantial. She frowned. Williams could be a fall guy, as her father had suggested.

Or he could be a cold-blooded killer.

And he was a common denominator. He’d tutored each and every one of them at some point. In two cases, the girls were killed on nights he had met with them. Sounded like guilt. Yet there was no physical evidence.

Reaching for the Hudson file, she laid it on top of the Williams file and flipped it open. Hudson’s situation had been similar in many ways. He managed a restaurant near the NYU campus, a hotspot for late nights. The victims had all been visitors the night of their attacks. Yet not one could identify Hudson. Their attacker had worn a mask. But, the police needed a conviction, and he had been a common denominator with no alibi.

Lindsey had all but chewed her pencil in half. “Damn, I am far too tense,” she murmured, dropping the pencil on the bed as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Shoving her files back into her briefcase, she decided to attempt to sleep. It was, after all, two in the morning. Her mind was racing with many uncontrollable and unsettling thoughts. She wondered if Mark was awake. The urge to call him was strong. Which was crazy. Why would she call Mark?