“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.
If she got in trouble for going above and beyond, so be it. Better that than the guilt of seeing a killer go free. She had every intention of getting this case right. No way was she letting it turn out like Hudson’s. Stopping in front of the window, her hands planted on her hips, she looked at Mark, her instincts telling her he was going to be a problem. “Mark, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
When she turned back to the window, she heard him grumble something inaudible. No doubt a complaint. This had to be done. She pulled the screen off the window and then jiggled the bottom of the seal. A smile slipped onto her lips the instant she found it unlocked. In a quick jerk, she raised the window and climbed through it.
Once inside the house, she leaned out of the window. She peered out at Mark who was scanning the street, his body stiff with tension. “Psst,” she whispered. “Mark.”
He looked up, his eyes sharp with anger as he moved towards her. She pointed to the screen beneath the window. “Put it back in, and I’ll let you in the front.” She shut the window before he could refuse and headed towards the door.
Lindsey found herself in a small, quaint, living area with a rock fireplace, and filled with high-back, woodsy furnishings and lots of bookshelves. She grimaced. Didn’t look like a psychotic killer’s home to her. Of course, what do the homes of psychotic killers look like?
Moving through the room with a swift, catlike motion, she was at the front door in seconds, unlocking the deadbolt. Pulling the heavy wooden door open, she frowned when she didn’t see Mark. Peeking outside, she found Mark messing with the window screen. She rolled her eyes at his back. “What are you doing?” she asked in an irritated whisper. “Just leave it!” He dropped the screen to the ground and started moving towards her. “Are you trying to look suspicious or what?”
“If you wouldn’t have bent the damn thing, it wouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a whispered reprimand as he shot her a glowering look. In a few crisp steps, he followed her through the door, pulling it shut behind him. “You’re killing me, woman,” he said through clenched teeth.
Lindsey gave Mark her back, moving through the hall to look for an office area. She could feel Mark’s eyes on her back as she disappeared into a room, and almost feel his frustration across the distance. She was already sitting at a small computer desk booting up a computer when he entered the room. A plump, white Persian cat came up and started rubbing on her leg.
“Oh, damn,” she muttered with irritation. She looked at Mark. “I’m allergic to cats,” she explained as she shoved the animal away with her leg just as the first sneeze hit her, followed immediately by two more. She sniffed, feeling the itching in her eyes already starting. “Damn, I’ll be sneezing all night.”
Mark didn’t comment. He was just standing there, staring at her. His expression said she was a major pain-in-the-ass. She didn’t care. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mark said, watching her tab through computer files.
She glanced up at him and then back to the computer screen. “We’re trying to help our client,” she reasoned. “He told us to get this information from his computer.” Then to herself, “Let’s see, what would this be called . . .” Her voice trailed off as she quickly thumbed through the files.
“Here,” she said, punching Enter. “I think I found it.” She shot Mark a look that said I told you so, which only served to deepen the scowl on his face.
A few more keypunches and Lindsey sent the document to print. Mark sighed behind her and started rummaging through the desk. Lindsey smiled to herself. She turned to look at him. “Find anything?” And despite her effort, a hint of laughter slipped into her voice.
He straightened and eyed her. “No, nothing.” He rubbed his jaw. “In fact, the guy seems pretty darn uneventful.”
Lindsey pushed to her feet and pulled the papers off the printer. “Ten names,” she flicked the paper with her thumb and forefinger. “Only two of them are men. We have names, addresses, and phone numbers. Mission accomplished.”
Mark nodded and reached for her hand. “Perfect, let’s get out of here.”
Lindsey dodged his hand and made a face. “Let’s dig around a bit more.”
Before Mark could comment, Lindsey buzzed past him and disappeared into the hall. Lindsey found what she thought was the master bedroom, and slipped inside, flipping on the light switch as she entered.
Surveying the room, it appeared normal enough to her, with all the basics, and nothing exceptional. Bed, dresser, lamp, Ansel Adams pictures. On the surface, nothing stood out. She headed towards the dresser, intent on checking out the contents.
Mark’s voice drew her eyes to the doorway. “What are you looking for?”
She gave him a look of disbelief. “Even if you weren’t a criminal attorney, there would be no excuse for that question.” She plopped her hands on her hips. “The bedroom or the
closet is where the weird stuff always is.” She dropped her hands. “If there is any.” She pointed to the closet. “Looks like a manly place to start your search, if I ever saw one.”
He made a frustrated sound, but didn’t argue, moving towards the closet. Lindsey figured he just wanted to get it over with. Lindsey searched drawer after drawer. When Mark finished the closet, he turned to face her. “Nothing.”
Lindsey sighed. “Same here.”
“Good, then it’s time to go,” he said firmly.
She tried to glare, but it was lost in the midst of another sneeze. “The damn cat must sleep in this room.”
Mark’s expression was dark. “Let’s go.”
Lindsey knew she had pressed her luck with Mark. It was time to do what he wanted. Besides, her nose was killing her. “Fine, let’s go.”
They made it to the hallway when the lock on the front door started to rattle. “The sister,” Lindsey whispered.
They scanned the room for their best escape route. Mark grabbed her hand. “Quick, the kitchen,” he whispered tugging her behind him. “Maybe there’s a back door.”
They stopped in the center of the kitchen. “Nope,” Lindsey said. “No exit.”
Mark yanked open a small door to reveal a tiny, well-kept pantry, barely big enough for one person. He reached for Lindsey, pulling her with him as he stepped into the closet and pulled the door shut. They were standing face to face, their thighs pressed together. Mark leaned against the wall, shifting Lindsey with him, and Lord help her, she felt it in every inch of her body.
He looked down at her, and despite the dimness of the light, she could see the desire he felt, just as she had seen it in her kitchen. She’d talked herself out of acting then, a flare of second thoughts making her bolt. Afraid he would be as controlling as the men in her past. Afraid she was lost to him if she gave in to her attraction. But there was no way to hide from this moment.
Flattening his hands on her back, pulling even closer, he molded them together. And she didn’t fight him, silently giving her approval of his actions. Her heart was racing, pounding so loudly in her chest, she wondered if he could hear, or at this proximity, feel it.
Her hand settled on his chest, fingers spread. They stared at one another, a mutual understanding, a need, shared in those moments. Both knew what the other wanted.
“Hey there kitty, how are you?” A woman’s voice made Lindsey stiffen as she listened, never taking her eyes from Mark’s. The voice was loud. Close. “I brought you your favorite food. You miss Roger, I bet, huh?”
Mark slowly moved his hands up her back, sliding them around her waist, and then up her sides, barely skimming her breasts. Lindsey almost gasped from the sudden, intimate touch. Mark smiled down at her with a challenge in his eyes. Surely, he knew he’d already won. She was ready to surrender.
It was pure madness, but standing in a closet, about to be caught for breaking and entering, his every little move impacted her with such intensity, it took Lindsey’s breath away.
His eyes were full of suggestion, and Lindsey felt her body responding with a resounding YES. The only thing keeping Lindsey from completely losing control and attacking Mark was the voice on the other side of the door.
“Little kitty, eat up! I can’t stay tonight. I have to go see your Daddy.” The woman was talking in a baby voice to the cat. Lindsey started to roll her eyes, but then she heard the sobs. The woman was crying. Lindsey’s heart sank. She felt the pain of Roger’s sister as if it were her own.
Suddenly Lindsey felt the tickling of a sneeze. Panic formed and overwhelmed her as she struggled to stifle her urge. Just as suddenly as the sneeze had snuck up on her, so did Mark’s lips. Hungrily they met hers and she accepted them, her sneeze disappearing without a trace, passion replacing it in equally uncontrollable dimensions.
It was a long, sweet kiss that tasted of desire and temptation. His flavor was perfection, even better than she remembered, and she wanted him to keep kissing her. God, she wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss.
For a few moments she forgot they were in a stranger’s house, forgot the investigation, and even forgot Paxton. His kiss was like a drug, making her out of control, consuming in its potency. Whatever walls her mind built to protect her from Mark, her body dismissed. The chemistry between them was like a live charge. Leaning into him she could feel every inch of his long, hard body. The sound of a door slamming jerked their lips apart. For several seconds they stared at each other, both breathing heavier than normal.
“She’s gone,” Lindsey whispered but didn’t move out of his arms.
His answer came slow. “Yes, I believe she is.”
“Uh, we should get out of here.” She all but stammered the words. Still she didn’t move.
“I suppose we should,” he said, in a husky voice as he pulled her tighter against his body and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then, nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Mission accomplished.”
And she knew he was talking about winning her surrender.
* * * * *
Standing at the door of Elizabeth Moore’s apartment, now maintained by her former roommate, Lindsey felt a tightening in her chest. One of the things she hated the most about her involvement in criminal law was the pain of the family and friends of the victims. At the same time, it was that very thing that had driven her to get out of bed each day. Fighting for justice was the only thing that could be done to help. And if that meant getting an innocent person set free, then so be it. At least, then, attention would be turned to finding the real criminal.
The door opened, revealing a young woman with dark hair and eyes, and a less than welcoming expression on her pale face. “Can I help you?” Her tone mimicked the look on her face. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt she appeared to be in typical college hangout attire.
“Ms. Vicky Kencade?” Mark asked.
“Who wants to know?” she shot back, propping one foot on top of the other, arms hugging her thin body.
“Au-choo.” Lindsey sneezed, covering her mouth in an abrupt action. “Excuse me,” Lindsey said with a sniffle. “Cat allergy,” she explained trying to fight off another sniffle. “We are investigating the murder of Elizabeth Moore. I’m Lindsey Paxton,” she said and waved a hand towards Mark, “and he’s Mark Reeves.”
“I’ve already told the police everything I know.”
Lindsey really wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Telling her they were defense counsel wasn’t likely to help. “Can we just ask a few more questions? We’re attorneys and it’s our job to go to court and help the jury make a good decision.” Lindsey hoped Vicky would assume they were prosecutors.
When the door was suddenly opened to them, she was relieved. Success. She and Mark exchanged a look before Lindsey stepped into the apartment with him at her heels. Quickly scrutinizing her surroundings , Lindsey found it typical college living: small, with homemade wall hangings and posters, as well as second-hand furniture.
Feet planted in the middle of the living room, Vicky faced them. “I’m so glad that freak is in custody. I want him to hang for what he did to Elizabeth. Tell me what I can do to help.”
She motioned towards a plaid, worn couch, and Mark and Lindsey sat down. Vicky dropped to the floor as if to gain a comfortable distance from them. She pressed her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“Ms. Kencade, did you ever meet Mr. Williams?” Mark asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, the night Elizabeth was killed. He came in for coffee after a tutoring session.”
“You were here when Mr. Williams came by?” Lindsey asked, as she pulled a pad of paper and pen from her briefcase.
“Yes,” she said with a deep sigh. “He seemed nice enough. I would never have guessed what a real bastard he was.” Her voice reeked with bitterness.
“Why did you think he was nice?” Lindsey asked.
“He seemed to really care about Elizabeth. She was hurting over her mother’s dea
th and had these crying spells. Something set her off in the tutoring session. She was upset. He seemed really concerned that she get home safely.”
“Were you here when he left?” Mark questioned.
“Yes, actually I was.”
Lindsey’s expression held surprise. “So you saw him leave, and Elizabeth was unharmed?” Mark put a hand on her shoulder as if in warning. She understood. Vicky might decide they were the enemy, if she wasn’t careful, and then they wouldn’t get anything more from her.
Vicky was frowning. “Well, yeah, but Elizabeth decided to go out after he left that night. I guess he followed her.”
Mark raised a questioning brow. “Out?”
“Yes, to a club called the Pink Panther,” the girl stated.
“Did you two go there often?” Mark asked.
Vicky nodded. “Yeah, it’s the spot we hang at, if you know what I mean.”
“Did you know any of the other victims?” Lindsey asked.
“I knew of one of the other girls. I saw her around a lot. Mandy Gibson. We didn’t hang or anything.”
“Was Ms. Moore seeing anyone?” Mark asked.
“Her and her boyfriend broke up a few months before . . . um,” she paused and looked down at her hands which started to shake, “you know, she died.”
Lindsay’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I know how difficult reliving all of this can be. We’ll try and hurry.” When Vicky nodded, seeming to pull herself together, she continued, “This guy she was seeing, was the breakup easy, hard . . . ?”
“As good as breakups can go, you know,” she said with a shrug. “He was a nice guy. Elizabeth just wasn’t the same after her mother’s death.”
“What’s his name?” Mark asked.
“Tom, Tom Maloney. He goes to school with us.”
“This Mandy Gibson, you said you saw her around,” Lindsey said. “As in where?”
“School, out,” the girl stated.
Mark frowned. “Out?”
Vicky opened her mouth to answer but Lindsey interrupted, “Ah-choo.” Lindsey covered her mouth and sniffled. “Sorry, again. Go on, you were explaining what ‘out’ means.”