Текст книги "Tall, Dark and Deadly"

Автор книги: Lisa Renee Jones

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Chapter Four

Lindsey sat straight up in the bed, hand going to her chest.

A loud noise filled the air, penetrating her sleep-fogged mind. Her heart was beating a million times too fast, and her t-shirt was damp. She eyed the nightstand, and let out a breath.

The alarm.

She reached over and turned it off, as images began to form in her mind. As she shoved her hand through her bed-ruffled hair, she felt frustration build. Even in her sleep, she was battling the past. She’d been having a nightmare. A man was chasing her. She tried to make out his features but couldn’t. Running . . . she’d been running from him.

Desperate to get to Mark.

Mark? Why was Mark in the equation? It was strange. She struggled to bring back the images, but her memory failed. Her mind was a blur where she wanted it to be vivid. But the feeling of fear, of being in danger, was as clear as the new day now here. She shoved the blankets aside and eyed the clock, determined to shake the darkness of her feelings.

Coffee. She needed coffee. It was her first-line cure for most things. If it didn’t work, she went for the sure fix. Chocolate. Once the pot was brewing, she took a speedy shower and dressed. She wanted to call her ex-partner from the bureau before Mark arrived.

Dressed in faded jeans, a tan, fitted knit shirt, and boots almost the same color, she walked to the living room, coffee cup in hand. A few moments later, she leaned against a small walnut-stained desk and dialed the phone.

A moment before she heard his voice, she felt a sick feeling of dread. She’d been a crappy friend and knew it. “Steve here.” Hearing his answering voice only made that feeling worse.

“Steve,” she said a bit too softly, “it’s Lindsey.”

She could hear his smile through the phone. “Hey partner, or maybe I should say, stranger?”

There was a reprimand in his tone, but it didn’t lessen his welcome. It only served to make her feel guiltier. “I should have called before now.”

“Yes, you should have. Don’t expect me to say anything different. I’m just glad you are calling now.”

“I’m in town.”

“You’re kidding? For a visit or to stay?”

Talking about this was hard. In the past, Steve had been one of the few people she told about her life. It should have made it easier. It didn’t. “My father has cancer. I’m running his firm until he is through the worst of it.” She stopped there. What if he didn’t get through it? A moment of silence passed and she knew Steve was thinking the same thing. “Or until someone else takes over.”

“I had no idea,” he said with sincere emotion in his voice. “I’m sorry. I wish you would have let me know. I know this is hard for many reasons.”

His understanding nature made her guilt flare again. “I’m sorry, Steve.” And she was. He was a good friend, and she had turned her back on him along with the city. It wasn’t necessary to explain what she apologized for. They both knew.

He was silent for several moments. “If anyone knows why you needed out of here, it’s me.”

“But it didn’t mean I had to turn my back on you. I . . .”

“Don’t have to explain,” he finished for her. “I’m happy to hear from you now.”

She sighed. “I won’t repeat the past. Hearing your voice is like a breath of fresh air. A needed one.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m going to hold you to that. How about lunch today? Let’s start catching up.”

“I wish I could, but I have a case. It’s a problem.”

“I’m listening.”

She smiled into the phone. He expected her to want his help. It was the partners thing. There was a bond that never went away. “Williams is the guy’s name.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Accused of killing a group of women. The profile, well, the profile fits . . .”

“Fits what?”

Her doorbell rang, and she was thankful for the reprieve. Talking about the similarities of these two cases was harder than she would like.

“I need to answer my door. Hang on for me.”

With his quick approval, she sat the phone down and rushed to the door. She pulled the door open and waved Mark forward, but not before she felt a rush of awareness. A quick look told her he looked as he had the first day they met, James Dean casual, and way too sexy to be safe.

For her.

She turned away from him, not wanting to keep Steve waiting. “I’m on the phone,” she told him, looking over her shoulder. “There is coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.”

Lindsey grabbed the phone again. “I’m back.” She turned to find Mark standing in the archway overlooking the living room. Propping one shoulder against the wall, he studied her with a watchful eye. She studied him back. Didn’t mean to. It just happened. When they looked at each other, she seemed to forget everything else.

Steve had said something. Damn. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“What about this case?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Mark’s eyes narrowed at her words. She turned and gave him her back. “It’s a lot like the Hudson case.”

A moment of quiet. “How like it?”

“Very.”

“Can’t someone else take the case?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“I’ll be fine, Steve. The problem is—Lewis, the male chauvinist pig himself, has been assigned to help the local authorities.”

“Lewis?” He laughed. “You won’t get much information from him, that’s for sure. I told you to be nice to him.”

“I tried.”

“Calling him a red-faced, perverted pig was nice?”

She sighed. “He deserved it, Steve, and you know it. He treated all the females in the bureau like they were ornaments, not professionals. And may I remind you he had played a nasty little joke on Rebecca—who happens to be a damn good agent—and almost got her fired in the process.”

“I know, but you do tend to speak your mind a little too bluntly at times.”

“But I tell the truth,” she argued.

“Yes,” he said with a smile in his voice. “That you do. I’ll see what I can find out and call you later today.”

“Thanks Steve.” She gave him her number and said a quick goodbye.

Lindsey turned to lock gazes with Mark. The impact was nothing less than magnetic. So much so that there was simply no use fighting it. The attraction was too magnetic, too powerful. She’d spent a good hour in bed the night before thinking about this thing between them.

To act on it or not had been the question she battled to answer. Finally, she had decided to act . . . only on her terms.

* * * * *

Don’t you want some coffee?” she asked with a nod towards the kitchen.

He didn’t care about the damn coffee. He wanted to know who she had been on the phone with. He followed her, his eyes admiring the soft little sway of her curvy hips. She looked like pure temptation in her snug jeans. He’d thought she looked amazing in business attire. In casual wear, she was even more alluring. Perhaps more approachable.

The woman lit him up like a match. Never, ever had he wanted someone the way he did her.

Mark never mixed business with pleasure. In Lindsey’s case, he wouldn’t be at Paxton if it weren’t for her. In his mind, that justified pursuing Lindsey. And he had every intention of seeing where their attraction would lead.

He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, feeling the unwelcome, but undeniable, white-hot flare of jealousy. “Friend?” he asked, unable to keep the question from flowing from his lips.

A puzzled expression filled her face. “What?”

“On the phone.”

“Oh,” she said. “My old partner.” She sat her cup on the counter and reached into the cabinet and pulled out another as she added, “Before I moved to Washington.” She poured coffee in both cups, and turned her attention to Mark. “Cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine. Thanks.” He stepped forward and took the cup from her. “Partner or boyfriend?”

“What?” she asked, acting confused. It seemed sincere. He wanted to believe it was. “Boyfriend? You mean Steve?” She laughed. “My old partner, my boyfriend?” She reached for her cup, seeming more amused than angry at the questions. “He’s married. In fact, his wife’s a dear friend. Steve’s digging up some insider info on the case for us.”

“That’s good.” Mark relaxed a bit. “Anything would be helpful at this point.”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, and sat his cup down, surprised when she did the same. They faced one another, the look they shared like a live charge of electricity. Her soft smell floated across the steaming coffee, carrying with it a sensual wave of heat.

A silent understanding passed between them, a mutual need that surpassed words. The question was—did either dare cross the line of business and pleasure? For Mark, he had already decided, yes. He could only hope she too would allow them to explore what was so evidently, so potently, a mutual attraction.

He knew the moment she reached for escape. Something—a hint of fear—flashed in those way too alluring eyes. And then she spoke, and he knew her intent was to change the mood. “I’m going to call him back and asked him to run a national search for crimes that match our profile since Hudson went to jail.”

“Hudson?” he arched a brow.

She shrugged. “The two profiles fit—Williams and Hudson. Who knows at this point? I even considered they could both be innocent and the real criminal is still at large.”

He had been afraid she would revisit the past rather than focus on the present. It appeared she was. “You think Hudson is innocent?”

Lindsey looked down at the floor, and he could tell she fought with her emotions. “Just covering my bases.”

“Lindsey?”

She raised her eyes and looked at him. The rich color of green took his breath away. Or maybe it was the simple awareness he felt each and every time their eyes locked. He watched with admiration as she reached for control and overcame her emotional state.

This time he changed the subject. “You look good today.”

Surprise lit her eyes, but, to his satisfaction, not displeasure. Then, to his utter amazement, she let her eyes roam down his body and back up. A bold move no doubt meant to send him a message. She was considering . . .

“I suppose you pass inspection,” she teased.

He raised an eyebrow, laughter in his eyes. “You suppose?”

“You’ll do,” she said, and started to walk past him.

He sidestepped, blocking her way into the small kitchen. “Perhaps I should show you how well I will do?” His voice was low.

“Do you always feel the need to prove yourself?” she challenged.

He gave her a hot look. No way could he hide what he was feeling. Not that he intended to. He wanted Lindsey, and he wanted her to know it. And yes, he had an agenda. One he wasn’t hiding anymore than he was his desire. “With you, it seems I do.”

Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks, dark crescents against the ivory of her skin. As if she was thinking, perhaps struggling with her response. She looked up at him, her eyes now darker. Hotter. “Why, Mark? Why do you want to prove anything to me?”

He never blinked, nor did he hesitate in his response. He’d given this very question a lot of thought. “I admit, I can’t explain it. I’m not one to dance around a subject. You do things to me, Lindsey. I came back to Paxton for you, and only for you.”

Her eyes widened. “And your reputation, of course.”

No more games. He didn’t like them, and he wanted the air clear. Honest. “I could have dealt with the reputation thing without coming back, and we both know it.”

There was a long, drawn-out silence as they stood there, so close they were practically touching, staring into each other’s eyes. He wanted to kiss her so damn bad it was like a need as critical as his next breath. He swayed towards her, his head tilting downward, closer to her. Lindsey’s lips trembled ever so slightly, and he could almost taste his anticipation.

But then she stiffened, and he knew she had talked herself into getting spooked. The dismissal came next. She delicately cleared her throat. “We need to get going, Mark.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to offset the rage of his body with the movement. “You and I both know what’s between us, but if you need time, I’ll give you time.” With that said, he stepped aside to let her pass.

She appeared stunned by his statement, standing there, staring, unmoving. When she started walking, he let her come parallel with him, and then he grabbed her arm. His face moved very near hers, his eyes fixed on her face. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m not what caused those shadows in your eyes. I’m here now, not a part of the past, and no matter how hard you push me, I won’t run.”

His eyes bore into hers, his intent to let her know he meant business. He’d decided he wanted Lindsey, and he was going to do what it took to earn her trust. After several potent seconds, he released her.

And she took off like a scared cat.

Chapter Five

The décor-free, musty room surrounded them like an empty shell.

A single metal table and four chairs sat in the middle of the lifeless walls. Lindsey impatiently tapped her pencil on the table, which in turn made a loud thud every time it hit the metal.

Mark reached out and grabbed the pencil. “Why don’t you sit down? It might calm your nerves a bit.”

Lindsey shot him a glowering look. “My nerves are fine. I just hate wasted time. I wish they would hurry the heck up. It’s not like we have all day.”

Mark eyed her, opening his mouth to comment, but lost the words when the wide, steel door opened. A burly, toothless guard held Roger Williams by the arm. The guard grunted and pointed at a chair, watching with stone-cold eyes as Roger sat down. Then the guard stepped to the hallway, never saying a word, leaving Lindsey and Mark alone with their client. Roger Williams was a slight man, not taller than five feet seven inches, with sunken cheekbones and weary green eyes. Lindsey studied him, seeking an answer.

Guilty or innocent?

She had seen the eyes of many criminals, in fact, looked into some of the deadliest eyes known to man. Roger Williams had gentleness in his. And fear. Not guilt. Of course, she had said the same thing about Hudson. Frustrated at her own thought, she shoved away her self-doubt. If she was going to defend this man, she had to stay focused on this case and this case alone.

“Who are you two?” Roger asked, his fingers entwined on the table. His nervousness was like a live charge in the room. It laced his words and made him fidget.

“I’m Mark Reeves, and this is Lindsey Paxton,” Mark offered. “We will be representing you.”

“Yes,” Lindsey added. “We’re your new attorneys.”

Roger’s face clouded with confusion. “Where is Mr. Paxton?”

“Mr. Paxton, my father, has taken ill,” Lindsey explained. “Mr. Reeves and I will be taking over.”

“Excuse me for being blunt, but I trust Mr. Paxton. How do I know I can do the same with the two of you?

Lindsey was a bit surprised by the question, considering the meekness of his exterior. “I understand your concerns.”

Mark reached inside his portfolio and slid a piece of paper onto the table. “I brought a copy of a resume for you, Mr. Williams. It includes credentials for both Ms. Paxton and me.”

Roger picked up the paper and started reading. Mark continued, “There are a lot of questions we need answered. If you accept our representation, then we hope to get started today.”

Lindsey was irritated that she didn’t know what it included, and made a mental note to have a little talk with Mark. “You both appear more than qualified,” Roger said, looking up from the paper. “I don’t mean to be difficult. This has been a horrible experience, being accused of such horrible acts.”

“Murder,” Mark said. “You’ve been accused of murder. I think it’s important we speak frankly about what we are up against.”

Lindsey gave Mark a warning look. She was quite sure Roger knew what he was accused of, and didn’t need to have it crammed down his throat. “Mind if we sit down?” she asked, indicating the table with a wave of her hand. Roger nodded, and Lindsey and Mark sat down, side by side, directly in front of Roger, each pulling out a legal pad and pen.

“The first thing we need to do is get the facts straight and get your side of the story. Forgive me, but I really have to ask this question. Did you kill those girls?”

His eyes widened. “No,” he said vehemently, hands slamming the table. “I did not kill anyone, Ms. Paxton.”

“Then why do they think you did?” Mark asked, leaning forward, a challenge in his voice.

Roger sank back into his chair, his fight seeming to evaporate. “I guess they need someone to blame.” He exhaled loudly and then rested his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to them. “Look, I would like to think my own attorneys have confidence in my innocence. Mr. Paxton believed me. What do I need to do to prove to you that I’m innocent?” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice.

Mark sat the pencil he held on the table. “I assure you, we are aware of Mr. Paxton’s feeling on the matter.” Mark paused and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you because you are facing some tough times and you need to be ready. A jury will want to believe you’re guilty.” When Roger started to speak, Mark held up a staying hand. “Just hear me out.” Roger sat back in his chair and reluctantly nodded. “The jury will want vindication for those girls. Crying parents and friends in the courtroom will only make matters worse. We,” he waved a finger between him and Lindsey, “are human, just like the jury. The only difference is that we have a job to do. And that job is to provide you with the best defense available. In the end, guilty or innocent, we are protecting the system that protects the people of our nation by offering you our best. We are good at our jobs and neither of us like to lose.”

Roger started shaking his head, distress in the depths of his eyes. “You think I’m guilty.”

Lindsey leaned forward, giving Roger a direct look. “We don’t have any opinions at this point. None. But in reality, our opinions don’t matter. It’s what the jury thinks that counts. Our job is to make sure they vote not guilty.”

“But if you believe in me, it will affect how you represent me. Do you deny that as fact?” he challenged.

Lindsey swallowed. He was right, but an attorney never admitted that out loud. Mark saved her the discomfort of answering by jumping in with a quick reply. “Actually, I do. You will get the best defense possible, regardless of our opinions.”

“That’s right,” Lindsey said in quiet agreement. It was really true. Lindsey and Mark were both good at their jobs, a lot better than a lot of attorneys ever hoped to be. Years off the job made her no less confident in her ability to deliver results.

When Roger didn’t reply, Mark flipped open his notebook and pulled out a piece of paper, then slid it in front of him. “This is a list of questions. I need you to take the time and answer them in detail. Today if possible.”

Roger picked up the paper and scanned it. Lindsey discreetly eyed it herself. She didn’t know Mark had prepared the questionnaire, but she couldn’t help but be impressed. Still, she would have liked to have known in advance.

“There’s a lot of questions here,” Roger commented.

Mark nodded. “Yes, there are. Everything I could think of, up to this point, that opposing counsel will target or ask in any way, shape, or form. There are some key questions we need to go ahead and discuss. Once we review the completed questionnaire, we will be likely to have a lot more to discuss as well.”

Lindsey cleared her throat. “That said, let’s get those key questions answered. She looked at her notes. “Did you know any or all of the victims?” She knew the answer already but it was good to hear it from him, the way he would tell the prosecutor.

“They were students in my classes,” Roger responded.. A flash of pain dashed through his eyes.

“Two of them died on nights that you tutored them,” Mark commented.

“I know, but I didn’t kill them. Someone must have been watching. I tutored all of them at least two times, but not during the same semester.” He looked from Lindsey to Mark. “I swear, I feel like someone is framing me.”

His response did little to help his defense, and Mark dismissed it with his next question. “Is there anyone you suspect? A student who knew them all, another teacher?”

“My classes are huge,” he said in a defeated tone. “We are talking a major university here. I don’t even know all of the students’ names. The ones who take advantage of tutoring are really the only ones I know well.”

Mark’s expression remained indiscernible. “Where can we get a list of everyone you tutored?”

“I’m required to key tutoring information into a database at the university, but I keep records at my house as well. My sister is watching over my place, so if you need the list, she can help you.”

Lindsey was desperate for some sort of bone, a tidbit to help her defend him. “We need another common denominator other than you. A place the girls hung out, a person they all hung out with, something, anything?

He shook his head as he spoke. “There are popular hangouts for the campus crowds, but as I said, NYU is a big school with a massive student body,” he said in a defeated tone and then added, “and a multitude of hangouts to match.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “What about the last victim, Elizabeth Moore? You were seen going into her home the night of her murder.”

Roger ran a hand through his hair. “She was getting over losing her mother to cancer. I was like a father figure to her, I think. She was having trouble with her grades and really life in general.” He frowned, his eyes seeming to replay the past. “She started crying during the tutoring session that night, so I offered to walk her home. To be honest, I was worried that she was on the brink of a real disaster.”

Lindsey interjected, “What do you mean disaster?”

“She was partying a lot, drinking too much. I knew because she was late to class several times, and she had fallen asleep during lectures, that kind of thing. I confronted her during a tutoring session and told her she was making it hard as hell for me to pass her.” He shook his head. “The girl was headed for trouble.”

“Do you know where she usually partied?” Lindsey asked.

He grimaced. “I’m afraid not. It was out of character for me to even speak of personal matters with a student.” He glanced from Mark to Lindsey as if he was trying to read their thoughts. “It doesn’t look good for me, does it?”

Lindsey responded in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, carefully avoiding promises of any sort. “The evidence is fairly circumstantial from what we can tell.” She held up a finger. “However,” she said with emphasis, “it would help if we had another angle on the murders, another suspect perhaps. That’s what we’re going to look for over the next few days.”

“Mr. Williams,” Mark said and then paused. “Roger,” he corrected before continuing. “We do need you to know, people have been convicted on far less evidence. Though Lindsey is absolutely correct, the evidence is fairly circumstantial, the reality still stands as mentioned before; the jury will want justice for those girls. You are the common denominator, and without anything else for us to latch onto, it will be hard to create doubt in their minds.” Mark spoke the cold, hard truth. Though she had gotten Hudson off in similar circumstances, he hadn’t had some as incriminating as the visit to Elizabeth Moore’s house.

“Do you have any enemies?” Mark asked.

“No, none,” he said adamantly. “I keep to myself.”

Mark’s expression held skepticism, as did his tone. “None? Come now, everyone has some enemies.”

“Really,” Roger insisted. “I keep to myself.”

Lindsey thought he seemed a bit of a hermit. “Have you ever lived out of state?”

“No, why?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

“Just being thorough,” she commented. “Can you think of anything else we should know?”

“No,” he said in a defeated tone. “I wish I could say I did.”

Mark stood, and Lindsey followed his lead. Roger’s head flew up to watch their movement, but he didn’t stand. “We’ll be in contact,” Lindsey told him. “We’re filing a continuance to get more investigation time. We feel optimistic we’ll get it under the circumstances, but we’ll keep you posted.”

Mark added, “Finish that questionnaire.”

Walking around the table, Mark knocked on the door as he hit a buzzer. Lindsey frowned. The double-kill action indicated impatience, but upon examination of his features, Mark was nothing but calm.

Something had him uptight. She wondered . . .

* * * * *

Mark hated interrogation rooms.

Walking, Lindsey by his side, he was damn glad to be done with Roger Williams.

Opening the passenger’s door to his black BMW, he let his hand drift to the small of Lindsay’s back as he guided her into the car and tried not to stare at her very long, very addictive legs. A much-needed distraction from the edginess that had built during their little chat with Roger. He shut the door and walked to his side of the car, Lindsey on his mind.

Damn, how he wanted to pull down her walls and see the real woman. There was no doubt in his mind they would sizzle together.

Working by her side only seemed to ignite the heat he felt for her. Something about the way she handled herself . . . her confidence was sexy as hell. And he’d taken every opportunity possible to touch her, to remind her of the attraction between them. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, she twisted around to face him.

“What do you think?” she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

He rubbed his temple and sighed, intentionally turning away from Lindsey. He needed to focus on Roger Williams rather than getting Lindsey undressed. “I think,” he said, “I have a headache.”

“Is that why you were so impatient to get the door open?”

Mark’s head jerked around in surprise. “How did you know that?”

Lindsey smiled. “Never underestimate me, Mark Reeves. Have you always been claustrophobic?”

His eyes narrowed. No one had ever guessed his phobia. He was very good at hiding it. That Lindsey had, only served to make her more alluring. “Since I was five and got locked in a cellar for four hours. Those interrogation rooms always seem to bring it back. I know damn well I wasn’t obvious. How did you guess?”

She shrugged. “I had a friend in high school who was claustrophobic. When you knocked and hit the buzzer at the same time, it set off a light bulb.”

A slow smile filled Mark’s face. He had to respect her sharpness. No wonder she had been so successful in the courtroom. Mark flipped the air conditioner on high and then turned his attention back to Lindsey. “You know what I think, Counselor?”

She gave him a questioning look.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” he said, and then reached out and ran his fingers down a strand of her long blond hair.

“How would you know?” she questioned. “You’ve never even seen me in action before.”

Mark’s eyes danced with a dangerous challenge. “I’d like to,” he said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from hers.

He saw her swallow, and knew she was nervous. But he also had seen the flare of heat in her eyes. Abruptly, she looked away. “Is he innocent, Mark?”

He chuckled lightly at her change of subjects, letting her know he was onto her. “What do you think?”

She turned her gaze to him and frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not comfortable going with my gut anymore.”

“You think he is innocent,” he stated flatly. He already knew the answer.

She shrugged. “My instincts—for what that’s worth—tell me he is innocent.” She refocused on him. “What’s your gut reaction?”

His lips firmed. “I never go with gut feelings. As for facts, we don’t have enough for me to make an educated guess.” He turned towards the steering wheel and then glanced back at her. “We need that list of students.”

Lindsey pulled her briefcase from the backseat and removed a small file. When she’d finally gone to bed the night before, she hadn’t been able to sleep. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, she’d gotten up and done something productive. “I printed maps and directions off the Internet last night for anyplace I thought we might need to go.” Lindsey shuffled the papers in the file. “Here,” she said pulling out a map. “Home address and a map.” She handed the paper to Mark.

His brow arched up. “You’re quite thorough, aren’t you?” His lips turned up.

Lindsey cocked her head to one side and peered at Mark, a smile slipping onto her lips. “Did you expect less?” A hint of flirtation laced her words.

He smiled, feeling a wave of satisfaction. “Oh, no, definitely not.”

Her smile widened. “Well then, let’s start at our client’s home.”

* * * * *

They arrived at the townhouse, finding it to be only a few blocks from the NYU campus, in a quiet neighborhood. Roger Williams’ home was located on street level with a small patio entrance. Lindsey scanned the streets as Mark pushed some ivy aside to punch the buzzer on the door. When there was no response immediately, Lindsey reached across Mark and punched it again.

He gave her a look. “Now who’s impatient?”

She shrugged. “I admit it,” she said, and reached out and jiggled the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn,” she muttered.

Mark shot her a scowl. “That’s breaking and entering,” he reprimanded.

She shrugged again. Years in the FBI had taught her to push the envelope at times. A lot of agents did, they just didn’t admit it, and they damn sure made sure they didn’t get caught. “Arrest me, but . . .” she paused and wrinkled her nose, “get the charge right. It was attempted breaking and entering. And . . .” she held up a finger, “if it had been unlocked, there would be no breaking-in to be done.” Lindsey scanned the street and then turned back to Mark. “Watch the sidewalk for me for a minute, and tell me if anyone is coming.”

She headed for a window with a cluster of bushes offering coverage. Mark reached out and grabbed her arm. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

She shot him a glowering look and yanked her arm free. “Getting that list.” She pointed towards the street. “Watch for people.”

“Lindsey, no,” he said in an abrupt voice. She rolled her eyes, and darted away before he could grab her again. Men. Steve had hated some of her tactics, but he’d eventually learned to accept who she was. No way was she letting a criminal get away because she was afraid to push the envelope. She’d let Hudson escape, and that was her one and only mistake.