Текст книги "Tall, Dark and Deadly"

Автор книги: Lisa Renee Jones

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Mark picked up a stack of papers and asked Lindsey to start passing them around the table. “The requirements for each partner’s performance are detailed in this literature. If you can’t meet your billing requirements, you simply won’t be here. We’re not a nonprofit and we do not do charity work,” he paused for a beat, “contrary to what our current caseload indicates.”

Heads dropped in concentration as each partner read the material. Mark let his eyes trail around the table and then stopped on Lindsey. “Questions thus far?” he asked the room without looking away from her.

Lindsey met his gaze squarely, her eyes full of respect. It wasn’t difficult to see why Paxton needed him. His tactics were hardcore, but she admired his ability to control the room and the firm. There was an inner strength, a power to Mark that drew her like a magnet. Sitting in the midst of a room of her peers, Lindsey understood why he rose to the top. Others found him as compelling as she did. His enemies found him dangerous, a true threat. His clients found him competent, a true defender. His lovers found him caring, as she did. The thought made her pulse quicken as vivid images of their bodies naked and wrapped together swirled through her mind.

Mark’s eyes narrowed as he watched her, as if he sensed her mind was on their relationship and not the business of the meeting. For a moment, they sat absorbed with one another. It was Mark who broke the eye contact as he looked around the room.

“No questions?” he asked again.

Todd Walker, a gruff-looking man Lindsey guessed to be in his fifties, spoke up at that point. “What does Lindsey have to do with this?”

Mark answered. “Lindsey will take over in six months. I won’t be staying. Next question.”

The man sneered. “What? You are going to leave us with some young broad who appears more into style than law?”

Lindsey opened her mouth to offer a tongue-lashing, her eyes throwing daggers at the man, but Mark was already responding. “I assure you, Ms. Paxton’s exterior assets only work as an added plus in the courtroom. She is not only a fine attorney, she’s a member of the FBI. Cross her and you might find yourself learning more about her skills than you’d hoped.”

The room filled with laughter. Lindsey sat dumbstruck by Mark’s sharp response on her behalf. Clearly considering the subject closed, Mark began reviewing case files. It was several hours later when he adjourned the meeting. Lindsey was one of the first to leave as several partners stopped to speak to Mark. She walked through the lobby, ready to get some alone time, deep in thought.

“There you are Lindsey.” She looked up to find Greg. “I was afraid you might have backed out of our date.”

Lindsey stood face to face with Greg, wondering how she’d forgotten something she so dreaded. “No,” she said in a strained voice. “I just need to get my stuff. I’ll be right back.”

Lindsey walked with a quick, long stride, nervous as hell that Greg and Mark would cross paths. And her worst fears were confirmed as she found her way back to the lobby. Mark and Greg were talking. She tensed the minute she saw them, Mark’s stiff demeanor telling her all she needed to know. He’d condemned her without knowing the whole story. Rigid coldness etched his features, and he refused to make eye contact with her. She wished she could explain, but somehow she doubted he would listen. The cobra had not stayed in the conference room. He was alive and well in the lobby.

Greg smiled as she joined them. “There you are, Lindsey,” he said. “I was just asking Mark what your father did to convince him to come back.”

Lindsey’s eyes darted to Mark’s face, but he still didn’t look at her. “What did he say to that?” Lindsey asked tentatively.

“Actually, I don’t believe he answered me.” Greg said.

Mark stared at Greg a moment and then turned his gaze on Lindsey. She hated the coldness in those dark eyes of his. She longed to see them tender and aroused like the night before. And when he spoke, his voice was downright frigid. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I’ll let you two be on your way.” He turned on his heels and disappeared without another word. Lindsey felt her stomach churn with downright nausea. It took Herculean strength to fight the urge to run after Mark and explain. Yet she also knew she shouldn’t have to explain. Should she? She had no commitments to Mark Reeves, and he had no commitments to her. Yet she couldn’t shake her need to explain things to him.

“Well, let’s go, Lindsey.” Greg smiled with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. As if he knew what he had just done.

Only a few minutes later, Greg and Lindsey settled into the coffee shop chairs. Lindsey felt a ping of displeasure as Greg ordered her a drink, no request for her preference. Steve had done the same thing, and it felt like a friendly, courteous gesture. From Greg, it felt like he was assuming. Try as she might, when he set it in front of her, she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.

“So Lindsey, how have you been?”

She couldn’t manage to hold back a biting response. “Well, my father has cancer, I am handling a murder trial similar to the Hudson case, and I’ve given up my career at the FBI. How do I sound?”

He leaned back as if slapped, but his eyes looked more amused than anything. “Touché.” She could feel his eyes on her even as she averted her eyes to the table.

“Perhaps,” she said, but she wasn’t about to apologize.

“You look beautiful,” he said. She lifted her gaze, but she didn’t speak. There was an uncomfortable silence between them. He leaned back in his chair, one arm dangling behind him. “I thought Mark left your father’s firm for good. I even heard it was a nasty departure.”

“I asked him to return.”

Greg raised a brow. “Why?”

“I was, and still am, not prepared to take over the firm.”

“Why didn’t you come to me, Lindsey?” There was irritation, even a bit of heat, in his voice.

“Greg, please don’t make things more difficult than they have to be.” It took all of her willpower to make the words sound civil.

“I would have helped you.”

Lindsey knew his form of help, and it was all about power and control. She wanted no part of it. She leaned forward, using every bit of mental fortitude she owned to hold back full-blown anger. “I didn’t need help. I needed experience at Paxton, which Mark has. In case you didn’t notice, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.” Though he’d tried damn hard in the past to make her feel she couldn’t.

“Lindsey . . .” he started to speak, but Lindsey held her hand up to stop his speech. “Greg, stop. Let’s change the subject.”

He was silent a long moment, shifting in his chair. “I tried to call you in Washington. You never returned my calls.”

“I know.”

He looked pointedly at her left hand, which cupped her coffee. “I take it you’re not married.”

“No, not married.”

“Me either. I’m still waiting on you, Lindsey.” His voice was a seductive purr.

Lindsey’s eyes narrowed on his, her discomfort heavy. “We are the past. Gone. We both know that.”

“You never even told me why you ended our engagement. I deserved, correction . . .” he leaned forward, “deserve, to know what happened.”

She shrugged, and leaned back in her seat wanting distance. “It wouldn’t change anything, so it’s pointless.”

A wave of vulnerability flashed through his eyes, surprising her. “Two people in love can deal with whatever comes their way.”

Lindsey shifted in her seat and cleared her throat, not liking the direction he was going with this. “Greg, please drop this. Tell me about the Williams case. Seems pretty circumstantial to me.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “So does my guilt at this point.” He lowered his voice and put his hand on hers. “Lindsey, I love you.”

She stiffened and pulled her hands to her lap. “No you don’t, Greg. You never even knew me.”

He ground his jaw tightly. “What?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. His eyes narrowed. “If anything, I knew you better than you knew yourself.”

She shook her head from side to side. “No,” she said adamantly. “You knew the Lindsey my father created, the Lindsey you helped him feed and keep alive.” She pointed at her chest with her finger. “I am not that person.” She enunciated each word.

He glared at her. “Lindsey, this is crazy. We were in love.”

She met his gaze with an unblinking stare. One of the things she always hated about her relationship with Greg was the way he told her what she felt. Didn’t she deserve to decide her own feelings? “No,” she said with ruthless intention. He didn’t understand any other tactic. “We were not in love.”

Greg just stared at her like he didn’t comprehend her words. After a long moment, he fell back in his chair as if the wind had been knocked out of him, emotions darting across his face in wild array. His face settled into hard lines of anger. “I see,” he said through clenched teeth. Squaring his shoulders, he continued, “Obviously you came here to talk business, so let’s talk business. Williams is guilty. Life, with no parole. That will spare him the death penalty. Take it or leave it.”

“Circumstantial evidence is all you have. That’s not going to fly,” Lindsey shot back.

“You have to make the offer to your client,” he pressed.

“He will decline,” she retorted.

“You can’t win,” he declared immediately.

“I will win, you can count on it,” she stated firmly. Lindsey stood abruptly, pushing her chair back from the table. “See you in court, Greg.” She turned and left the coffee shop without a look backwards.

Seconds later, Lindsey stepped hard on the pavement, still feeling the sizzle of anger as she walked towards her apartment. Only she wasn’t sure if she was angrier with herself or with Greg. She had thoroughly screwed up any chance to get cooperation or information from him. If only she had controlled her feelings until she had picked his brain. Instead, she turned winning the case into a more important issue to Greg than ever. Winning was now about his ego.

“Damn,” she mumbled.

How was she going to tell Mark she’d played the wrong game, and lost?

* * * * *

The words on the page began to drift together, and Mark tossed his pen onto the desk. Rubbing his eyes with his fingers, he tried to clear his view and then glanced at his watch. Exhaling loudly, he realized it was nine o’clock. No wonder he couldn’t see straight. Working was the only way he knew to keep his mind off Lindsey with Greg. Only it wasn’t working. Looking at the clock, he double-checked the time. It couldn’t be this damn late and he’d made so little progress with his work.

Swiveling the chair around to the window, he stared out, a full moon a huge light in the dark sky. Like Lindsey was too in the darkness of his blank mind. After last night, he would have thought Lindsey would be in his arms about now, snuggled to him, safe and warm. Instead, he felt like the walls between them were bigger, wider, and taller than ever.

Backing out of their deal wasn’t an option. He was too involved. Besides he cared about her too much to leave her with the mess she would inherit. Being a fool wasn’t on his list either. Seeing her with Greg had made him downright furious. He’d been ready to walk. Now, a bit calmer, he thought distancing himself from Lindsey was the smart thing to do. He needed a clear head, and he most certainly didn’t need to be thinking with the one in his pants.

He sighed. What was it about Lindsey that drove him to distraction? He walked with a perpetual hard-on. But it went beyond the physical attraction. His life in general had been put on hold for Lindsey. He’d dropped his business plans and ran back to Paxton to help her. He snorted. And she was off with some other man. Correction, off with her ex. That was even worse.

Pushing to his feet, he decided on a beer at his old stomping ground, the Tavern. Royce would be there, and he wouldn’t mind bending his ear. If there was anyone he trusted, it was his pal Royce Walker. And then tomorrow he would make some phone calls and let the rest of the world know he was still alive. A drink with the guys would do him good. Anything to keep his mind off Lindsey.

He walked to his car, determination building in his mind. Distancing himself from Lindsey was necessary so he could get a grip on reality. No way was he letting this kind of control slip out of his fingers any longer.

Chapter Nine

Stepping to her apartment door, she could hear the ringing of her phone through the wood. Hoping it was Mark, she quickly rammed her key into the keyhole. Slamming the door behind her, she raced across the room and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

Click.

“Damn,” she muttered and slammed down the phone, wishing she had signed up for the caller ID she’d insisted she didn’t need. If she knew it had been Mark, she would call him back. But she didn’t, so she couldn’t, and she wasn’t even sure why.

Then her eye caught on her blinking message light and silently she cheered. Three messages, surely one of them was from Mark. She hit the playback button and leaned against the desk. The first two were hang-ups, making her frown. Would Mark hang up without leaving a message? The third was from her father.

Shuffling to her bedroom, she quickly stripped down and put on a t-shirt and boxers before settling on the bed. With a sigh of resignation, she dialed the hospital. Her father was full of cheer. “Lindsey, where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

“I work for a living, remember?” she shot back, feeling defensive.

“I tried the office,” he stated.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Building a case is often in the field, you know that. Do I now have a curfew, Daddy?”

He grunted and then paused. “Look about today . . .” His voice trailed off. Lindsey knew how hard it was for him to apologize. That was as close as it got.

Lindsey softened. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I hope you will forgive me for talking to you like I did. I just need Mark’s help.”

“I’ll let him stay, but I warn you he is not to be trusted,” he retorted. “In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and bed you to get the firm.”

“Daddy!” Lindsey gasped indignantly. Her father never spoke of such things. The fact that Mark had, in fact, already been in her bed only made the statement more raw and hard to swallow.

“He wanted the firm, and I’m sure he still does. He has a reputation for getting what he wants, no matter what it takes.”

Trying to ignore the warning bells in her head, she defended Mark. “He told me he doesn’t want the firm anymore.”

“Of course he did. He has to play things just right to get me to cooperate.”

She mulled over his words, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. “Look Daddy, you thought a lot of Mark for a long time. Ease up on him,” she pleaded, and then added, “please? We both need him right now.”

He grunted. “Just be careful. I hate being stuck in the bed like some kind of invalid, not able to handle things.”

“I know you do,” she said with understanding in her voice. “I wish I could make things different for you. But you’re tough and you’ll make it through this. We both will.”

“I will, and don’t you forget it,” he ordered.

Lindsey smiled into the phone. She had definitely gotten her stubbornness from her father. “I won’t, Daddy; just make sure you don’t. Now get some rest.”

Lindsey’s smile was gone the minute she hung up the phone. Sitting on the edge of her bed, unmoving she replayed the conversation. Was she blinded by her attraction to Mark? Maybe he really did want the firm and she had given him the perfect chance to take it.

It was hard to be objective. The things she felt for Mark . . . things. What things? She hardly knew the man. Yet she felt as if she had known him a lifetime. Their sexual chemistry was nothing shy of exceptional. An added plus for Mark if he really was just using her. Like getting his cake and eating it too. She squeezed her eyes shut. The thought of Mark using her hurt far more than she wanted it to.

She needed to get some distance from what she felt for him.

When she finally settled under the covers, sleep was impossible. Eyes open or shut, her mind danced with pictures of Mark. His betrayal would be the ultimate pain. She had spent years getting her life under an iron thumb. Control, it seemed, had flown straight out the window. Mark had taken it from her as easily as stealing candy from a baby.

Now she had to decide how much she was willing to risk of herself where Mark was concerned.

* * * * *

Mark tipped back a long neck beer, and took a long swallow. Royce sat beside him, a smart enough guy to let him brood a while before asking questions. They’d met on business. Mark had been defending a client falsely accused of international terrorism. Royce had been with the FBI then, and it had been him who finally made the prosecutors see the light—they had the wrong guy.

“I can’t believe you’re back at Paxton, man,” Royce said, shaking his head. “Should I wait until you down another beer before I ask why?”

Mark smiled wearily. “I’d say two more beers, because I still need an answer myself.”

“Sounds like you need yourself a nice little female distraction. Too much work and no play is bad for the heart.” He nodded towards an attractive blond at a nearby table. “Chelsea is always asking about you, man, and I can tell you first-hand she has a very nice way of offering comfort.” He paused to take a drink of his beer and then added, “Commitment-free.”

Mark looked at the voluptuous blond who once would have had him licking his lips, and realized with surprise he no longer wanted her. He turned away from her and flagged the bartender, ready for another beer. Maybe then Lindsey would stop messing with his head.

“What do you say?” Royce asked after Mark ordered them both another drink. “A little loving on your mind?”

“Nope. Not tonight.”

Royce raised a brow. “Ah,” he said with understanding. “I sense woman troubles. Want to talk?”

Mark shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Royce smiled. “Since I have the good fortune of remaining unattached, I have all night.” He let his gaze linger on Mark a long moment. “Who is she, man?”

Mark sighed as he allowed his fingers to drum against the bar. “Paxton’s daughter.”

A scuffle erupted across the bar. Two drunks were shoving each other. Royce shoved his barstool back, and straightened to his full height of six foot four. Mark already knew what was coming, but he twisted in his seat to watch the show.

“Hey,” Royce bellowed as he stormed towards the two men, who had no idea what was in store for them. No one caused trouble with Royce around. Mark smiled. Royce’s broad shoulders were stiff with tension as he stopped in front of the two men.

“Hey,” he blurted again. Both men stopped arguing and looked up at Royce. Up being the operative word, because neither of them were over five foot ten.

The looks on the two men’s faces—as if they were about to be stomped by the Jolly Green Giant—launched Mark into a burst of laughter. Mark took a long slug of his beer and prepared to enjoy the show. Several minutes later, Royce returned to the bar, the general peace of the bar restored. He slid onto the barstool and offered Mark a grin. Mark shook his head in a combination of disbelief and amusement.

The bartender slid a cold beer in front of Royce as a reward for his actions. Royce tipped back the bottle. After making a sound of satisfaction, he fixed Mark in a watchful gaze. “Now, where were we?”

Mark sighed as reality slipped back into view. “Paxton’s daughter.”

Royce’s eyes went huge. “Didn’t expect that one, I must say. So what exactly are we talking about here?”

He spent the next hour telling Royce the entire story from the day Lindsey showed up on his doorstep. By the time he left the bar, he felt better for voicing his feelings, but no less confused. Avoidance seemed his only strategy. With Lindsey there could be nothing personal until Paxton was behind him. Then and only then could he and Lindsey look objectively at their feelings for one another. And although Royce had offered to help with their investigation, Mark had declined his offer. Royce was as big a control freak as he was, and that on top of dealing with Lindsey, it was just too much to contemplate. No, he would deal with this on his own.

* * * * *

Lindsey woke the next morning in a dark mood.

After tossing and turning the entire night, she felt irritable, and more than a little edgy. Every time she’d managed to slip into sleep, the phone would ring. Three separate times she had received hang-up calls. It had gotten downright creepy.

The fact that she had woken not once, but twice, with the same horrid nightmare hadn’t helped matters. Hazy memories of the dream filled her thoughts. Replaying it over and over in her head, she tried to make sense of the dark images. Just like before, someone had been chasing her, and she had been trying to get to Mark. She wondered at the significance of Mark in the dreams. Was it about the case, or about her life?

The new light of day brought with it uncertainty. She wasn’t ready to face Mark again. She felt too much like a vulnerable, open book. She was afraid she had no ability to control her emotions where he was concerned. Some time away from him would give her a chance to build a defense, to get back to her normal steadfast independence. She’d go to Vegas and look for leads. Decision made, she handled her travel arrangements and packed. Once she was in a cab on her way to the airport, she called Maggie.

No way was she going to tell Mark where she was going. He could hear it through the grapevine.

* * * * *

Mark’s nerves were as sharp as a knife. No matter how he tried to concentrate on other things, Lindsey with Greg popped into his head. Once he had left the bar, he’d paced his bedroom, trying to understand the strange enticement Lindsey held. Finally, around three o’clock that morning he admitted he was falling in love with her.

That admission opened up a whole new can of worms.

Concentration was impossible. It frustrated the hell out of him that a woman, even Lindsey, could impact his work. Hell, he’d even let her create the very work he was trying to get done. He was here at Paxton for Lindsey, and no other reason.

He needed to talk to her, to clear the air, and decide where they stood. He pushed to his feet, and dogmatically walked towards her office. They needed to get some sort of understanding in place. Defining their relationship might allow him to get some work done.

Finding her office dark, he felt an instant of fear. First, that she had been out late with Greg, but then immediately after, that something had happened to her. He knew Lindsey wouldn’t come in late because of Greg. Forcing a slow breath, willing himself to calm, he walked towards Maggie’s desk.

“Maggie, where’s Lindsey?”

Maggie inspected him with a tilt of her head. “My, my, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Mark took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. “Where’s Lindsey?” he repeated in a steady voice.

“You mean you really don’t know?” she asked cautiously.

Of course he didn’t know or he wouldn’t be asking. Quelling his irritation, he asked, “Know what?”

Maggie spoke slowly, as if she were preparing for the storm ahead. “She headed to Vegas this morning.”

“What?” His eyes went wide, and anger began to take over fear.

Maggie stuck her pencil behind her ear and folded her hands together in front of her. “Yes,” she said with a disapproving tone. “I assumed you approved the trip, though I was a bit nervous about her going alone, this being a murder investigation and all.” Then she let out a short laugh. “Of course, she is in law enforcement. I just can’t stop thinking of her like a little girl.”

Mark couldn’t agree more. “Damn that woman,” he mumbled under his breath as he paced the floor several times, and then stopped in front of Maggie again. “Book me on the next flight out. Get me her hotel information as well.”

Maggie shook her head in approval. “Do you want me to book you a room?”

Mark turned towards his office and spoke over his shoulder. “No, I’ll call on my way to the airport. Just make my flight reservations while I cancel some appointments.”

An hour later, Mark arrived at the airport with a hastily packed bag. Leave it to Lindsey to pull a stunt like this. He wanted to throttle the woman. They were going to have a long talk—that was for sure. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was running from him, not her past. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t about to let her chase after leads alone. Not on a murder case where she fit the victims’ profiles.

* * * * *

By the time Lindsey’s plane screeched to a halt on the Vegas runway, she was feeling downright sick. She loved flying over the Grand Canyon, but had hardly glanced out the window, too absorbed in her own regret.

Mark was going to be pissed, and she couldn’t blame him.

Her stomach felt like it had lead in it, and her emotions were getting the best of her. It would be easy to cry, which was something she rarely did. Plain and simple, she’d come to Vegas without Mark, in an effort to lash out at him. It had been stupid and childish. But now it was done.

After a lot of thinking, she had decided she had overreacted. She trusted Mark. He wasn’t using her, and she kicked herself for letting her father get to her. The night before, being around Greg hadn’t helped. It had given her an overdose of men who wanted to control her. And she had allowed herself to put Mark into that same category.

During the entire flight, she had tried to justify her actions, but it wasn’t possible. As the plane pulled into the terminal, she contemplated calling Mark. Perhaps if she told him she was wrong. No, she dismissed that idea. She couldn’t call. It would be impossible to explain what she was going through over the phone. She could only hope that her actions hadn’t damaged the bond that had started to form between them. She didn’t believe Mark was after her for the firm. There was never any real doubt in her mind about Mark’s motives. If she was honest with herself, she was just looking for an excuse to run from him.

It was going to take time and patience for her to be fully comfortable in a relationship with Mark. And she wondered if he had the patience to deal with her internal battles. Maybe she’d already pushed him away. Not that there was much hope of a long-term relationship between them. There were just too many obstacles, like her life in Washington. Still, Mark made her want more than a passing fling, and that scared her to death. She didn’t want to lose who she was as a person. Every relationship she had allowed to be a part of her life had taken a part of her and destroyed it.

An hour later, she entered her hotel room, sank onto the edge of the bed, and reached for her briefcase. No more self-pity allowed. She’d come here for a reason. Finding the number for the local detective in charge of the Nevada killings, she dialed. After a few minutes of conversation, they agreed to meet. Since it was already late, they set up lunch for the next day. She could already tell she wasn’t going to like the man she was meeting. When she’d described herself, he’d made a smart remark about her looking like the victims.

As if it was funny. Looking like a serial killer’s profile wasn’t ever funny.

Pushing to her feet, Lindsey stretched right and then left, trying to revive her stiff body. Hours on a plane had left her ready for a nap, but she needed to get to a library and do some research. Archived material on the local homicides should be easy to come by. She wanted to arm herself with all the facts she could before the next day’s meeting.

A few minutes later, she stood in the hallway, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Her gaze floated to the large window at the end of the hall. For the first time since she arrived, she enjoyed the spectacular view of the mountains, so much a part of the Vegas experience.

A ding signaled the arriving elevator and Lindsey stepped onto the car, only to find it occupied by a man and woman curled together in a lovers’ embrace. Great. Just what she needed. Another happy couple to remind her how damn alone she was. Lindsey stared at the metal doors in front of her as the couple whispered to one another, making kissing noises to boot. Clenching her teeth, Lindsey managed to make it through the ride to the bottom floor with feigned indifference.

A flood of cool air and bustling noise washed over her as she stepped into the main casino. Slot machines chanted loudly throughout the room, with occasional whoops and yells from players. Lindsey took a deep breath, soaking in the energy of the environment, hoping it was contagious. Following a carpeted path much like the yellow brick road, Lindsey made her way to the lobby. After receiving directions to the local library, she darted to the cab line.

Hours later, sitting in the library, flipping through archived news stories, she felt more confident than ever that the cases in Vegas were linked—not only to the Williams attacks, but to the Hudson victims as well. The similarities between attacks were uncanny and downright eerie. The more she studied, the more convinced she became, and in turn the hotter her temper flared. There was simply no way the Vegas attacks should have been discounted before charging Williams.

The girls all matched the physical profile, the marks on the arms were the same, they were all college students, and the timing of the attacks worked. Yet the Vegas cases would have proven Williams wasn’t guilty, and put someone’s head in a noose for the unsolved crimes. Now, she knew, someone wanted a fall guy and Williams had been the unlucky candidate.

Greg, Lindsey thought. He had been pining for political office, and he needed the conviction. Damn.

Shoving a strand of hair behind her ear, Lindsey yanked open her calendar and started charting dates. When she was done, she sat back and scanned her work. Just as she suspected, a single perp could have been responsible for all of the attacks. The timelines fit and the aggressiveness of the attacks, if reviewed from the first Hudson rape, had progressively gotten more violent. It was typical for a repeat offender. They tended to get more confident with performance and therefore more aggressive. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lindsey fought the suffocating feeling, fear-based, threatening to consume her.