“You were rattled,” David said. “You still are.”
“Of course I am,” she said irritably. “Two women I recruited to my study are dead.”
He studied her face shrewdly. “And Noah Webster cares for you.”
Eve sighed. “I know. I wish he didn’t. I tried to tell him to go away.”
“Now why would you do a foolish thing like that, Evie?” David asked gently.
“Not gonna happen.” She sat in her chair and grabbed her pasta, now cold.
“Which? You and Webster or you and me talking about you and Webster?”
So what good is it to live in the real world all alone? “Yes. Either. Both.”
He shrugged. “All right. Any of your scripts finding loose bricks in ShadowCo?”
She opened her laptop. “Not yet.”
“Then I’ll make coffee. I guess it’s going to be a long night.” He puttered in the kitchen, then returned holding two cups, and it was then she noticed what looked like a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. A baby pink walkie-talkie.
“What the hell is that?” she demanded when he put a steaming mug in her hand.
He lifted a dark brow. “Coffee.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, that. What the hell is that?” She pointed to the device.
“Oh, this.” He unclipped it from his belt and turned it toward her, showing her a small screen that was murky and dark. “Baby monitor. This is the receiver.”
He put the receiver on her lamp table, then sat on her old sofa and pulled his laptop from a backpack as if nothing was strange about a grown man having a pink baby monitor when there were no babies in the house. And never would be.
“Why? And where did you get it?”
“It was going to be Dana’s baby shower gift. I’ve had it in my truck for a week.”
Eve studied the receiver, fascinated. “Where’s the camera?”
“It comes with two. One is above your front door and one is outside the building door, downstairs. Wireless, range is almost four hundred feet. Infrared night-vision.”
“Freaking cool. When did you install it?”
“One after I walked Callie to her car and the other just now, after Webster left. I activated the receiver while the coffee brewed. It’s not rocket science.”
“What did Webster say to you?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.
“What I already knew. That you don’t think you’re in danger, but he thinks you are.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes not leaving hers. “And that he’s interested in you.”
Briefly Eve closed her eyes. “David, please.” He made no apology and she sighed, turning her focus back to the camera. “If I were in danger and some killer did come after me, a baby pink camera would tip him off, don’t you think?” she said and he frowned.
“Give me some credit, Evie. I put the one downstairs where it couldn’t be seen. And if he comes close enough to take the camera out, we’d get his face.” He connected a video cord from his laptop to the receiver. “We’ve got streaming video and an alarm that screeches if either camera is disconnected. Gotta love it.”
“On a baby monitor? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“All for under three hundred bucks. Technology meets parental paranoia,” he said, then shrugged. “And my paranoia, too. I thought it would give Dana a little peace of mind to have the cameras versus the old audio monitor. She has all those foster kids, coming and going. Most are good kids, but all it would take would be one bad one.”
Eve’s throat tightened. He still loves her. What a waste of a life. Of a good heart. “Amazingly thoughtful,” she said roughly. “A little used by the time she gets it, but…”
He didn’t smile. “I’ll get her another. Tomorrow I’ll install something less noticeable for you than a baby pink camera, but it’ll work for tonight. A woman living alone should be careful. A woman living alone who’s tied to two dead women should be terrified.”
Alone pierced like an arrow so that she almost didn’t hear the rest. “I have a gun.”
“Then give it to me. If anyone comes through your door tonight, I want to be ready.”
A chill chased over her skin. “You’re serious.”
“About your safety? Deadly serious. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Tuesday, February 23, 12:35 a.m.
Noah quietly let himself into his house, considering the way he’d left Eve, and the fine line between pursuit and harassment. He didn’t want to cause her pain, stress, grief, any of those bad things. Just yesterday he’d been all set to protect her from himself. But she’d said she didn’t want to be protected. He wanted to believe her.
She’d said she was broken. That he didn’t want to believe, but understood. He sat down on the edge of his bed. Out of habit he picked up the photo he’d held so many times and remembered how broken he’d felt when he lost Susan and the baby.
He thought about how he’d handled his grief, compared it to how Eve had coped. They really weren’t that different. They’d both hidden, escaping reality, Noah into the bottle, Eve into the virtual world. They’d both set themselves free.
And for what? To work. To protect the innocent. He thought of Eve’s Nemesis avatar. He put the picture back, and got ready for bed, wondering how Eve punished the guilty in her world. She’d told him that some of her red-zone cases had relationships in Shadowland that spanned from the casual one-night stand to marriages.
His knee-jerk reaction was to wonder what possible satisfaction a man could have in a pretend relationship. Then he considered the relationships he’d had over the years. They’d been cordial, but empty, and when they were over, he’d walked away as had the woman, whichever woman it had been at the time. He’d missed the sex and the occasional benefit of sharing a meal, but other than that, there’d been nothing.
Pretend relationships were a relative thing.
And now, sitting in his silent house, on the edge of his empty bed, he understood the lure of a virtual relationship. If one was lonely, sometimes a conversation could mean more than a quick roll across the sheets. He smiled grimly. Well, at least as much.
He stretched out in his empty bed, but again, sleep would not come. He tossed and turned. And when he finally did fall asleep, he dreamed again, this time of Eve in an ambulance, while paramedics brought her back from death with the paddles.
His eyes opened and he stared at his ceiling. That wasn’t a dream. He’d read it online in a newspaper archive. She’d died twice on the way to the hospital after having been discovered by her guardian, Dana Dupinsky, who saved her life.
Greer the Guardian. The name took on new meaning. Eve’s real-life guardian had protected battered women and in working with her, so had Eve. Now she protected the subjects in her study who were being stalked by a man they thought was fantasy.
Noah’s sigh echoed off the walls of his empty room. He’d been given the role of guardian and protector once, so long ago now. He’d failed his family, abysmally.
And now you’re alone. He did, however, have purpose. He had a badge. He’d catch this killer, then he’d do the paperwork and move on to the next homicide.
A depressing future. He’d been sober for ten years, but at this moment wanted a drink so badly he could taste it. He rolled over, grabbed his phone, hesitated.
I hurt Brock last night. He couldn’t do that again. Wouldn’t.
The phone in his hand rang, startling him. It was Brock. “What’s wrong?” Noah asked.
“Nothing. I, uh, didn’t see you at Sal’s tonight and I got worried.”
“I’m working a case. Besides, I said I wasn’t going back,” Noah added, annoyed.
“Well, forgive me if I doubted you really meant it this time,” Brock flung back. “Eve wasn’t behind the bar tonight. Sal said she had an emergency.”
Subtlety had never been Brock’s strong suit. “I know. She was with me.”
“That’s good then,” Brock said cautiously. “Isn’t it?”
/> Noah’s temper flared. “No. She’s got a goddamn target on her head. And she wasn’t with me. In fact she told me she wasn’t with anyone, including me.”
“Ouch. You need another bout in the ring?”
Noah thought of the harm he’d wreaked the night before. “No, but can you meet me for coffee? I need to get out of my house.” Out of this empty shell of a house.
“Of course,” Brock said. “Usual place?”
“Yeah. In a half hour?”
Tuesday, February 23, 2:00 a.m.
That Hunter guy was still there. Sipping coffee in the frozen seat of his SUV, he glared at the red pickup truck with Illinois plates from a block away. They’d turned out the lights in the living room. It appeared David Hunter was staying the night. No matter. It would be easier to shoot him in bed anyway.
Webster had come, then gone again. What did Eve tell him? What did she know?
It doesn’t matter, he told himself. Even if she knows about Shadowland, she can’t know about me. Still, the clock inside his mind was ticking. He needed to move.
But carefully. Hunter had hidden something behind the bush next to the door to Eve’s building. Let’s see what it was, shall we?
He approached from the side of the building, grimacing when snow went in his shoes, wet and freezing. Another pair of shoes, ruined. He came up on the bush, his head down, the lapels of his coat pulled around his face.
Whatever it was, it was pink. He picked it up then furiously turned it lens down, grateful he hadn’t approached from the front. Stay calm. The camera had not captured his face, only his thumb as he’d grasped it. And he was wearing gloves. It’s all right.
He placed the camera in the snow and ground it under the sole of his shoe. What the hell kind of surveillance camera comes in pink?
He’d put his hand on the downstairs building door when he heard something inside. Footsteps, muted murmurs. Someone was coming. Hunter and Eve. So? Kill them.
Finger on the trigger, he retreated to the shadows, waiting for them to emerge. But they did not. He crept as close as he dared. Through the door’s leaded-glass side panels he could hear arguing in loud whispers, but he could see no one.
“Call 911.” It was Hunter. “Just do it. For God’s sake.”
“Okay, okay, I’m dialing, but don’t go out there. David. No.”
“I thought you said it was just a dog,” Hunter hissed. “Stand back and let go.”
“Maybe it is. If it’s not, I don’t want you hurt. Hello? We may have an intruder outside.” She gave the address. “Yes, I’ll stay on the line… No, we won’t go outside.”
“Give me your phone and take mine,” Hunter demanded. “Call Webster and tell him to get his ass over here. I’ll hold with 911.”
He couldn’t see them unless he stood straight in front of the leaded glass, where he could be seen as well. If they took even a few steps toward the stairs, they’d be in range. Just shoot the glass, break the window, then you can see.
And wake the neighborhood? That would be the best way to get caught. The police were on their way. Dammit. He was running away for the second time tonight. Hating Hunter, he crept back the way he’d come, destroying his footprints as he did so.
Unfortunately, now Eve would be watched all the time. Protected. He had to lure her away. Climbing into his SUV, he was two blocks away when he saw the cruiser in his rearview. He gripped his steering wheel and twisted viciously. It should have been Eve’s throat in his hands.
He jammed one hand into his coat pocket and felt the syringe that had been meant for Eve. His mind was racing. He’d been all primed. Ready. I’ll never sleep tonight. Just one. One to take off the edge.
He turned the SUV toward the city. He knew where to find what he wanted.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday, February 23, 2:25 a.m.
Noah received Eve’s call as he and Brock had finally gotten around to the topic he’d really wanted to discuss. Eve. He’d sent Brock back to Trina and a warm bed and with a combination of dread and anticipation, he’d come back here. Again. For the third time in one night.
Noah looked up at the pink camera over her door. There would be an interesting story to that. The door was opened by the officer who’d responded to the 911. Eve was sitting in her chair, arms around her knees. She met his eyes with weary resignation.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “David made me call.”
Hunter was on the sofa, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Damn straight I did.”
“Who put up the pink camera?” Noah asked.
“I did,” Hunter said grimly.
“Why are you here, Detective?” the older officer said. “This isn’t a homicide.”
Noah flicked a glance at Eve. “It’s personal. Did you find evidence of an intruder?”
“Somebody was out there,” the younger cop said. “Footprints were wiped out. One of the other cameras was pushed into the mud. Should we go door to door?”
“CSU will check the perimeter at first light. We may do door to door then. Send me a copy of your report.” The cops left and Noah closed the door. “What happened?”
Hunter told the story while Noah examined the pink video receiver.
“The system triggers an alarm,” Hunter finished, “if the camera loses a signal. When the guy ground it into the mud, the alarm woke me up.” He hesitated. “Eve has a registered gun. She’d given it to me. I started down the stairs, but she followed.”
“It’s my apartment,” Eve said stubbornly. “My problem and my goddamned gun.”
Hunter shook his head. “And that’s it. We didn’t hear him or see him.”
Noah met Hunter’s grim eyes. “Good thinking. And fast action.”
Hunter shook his head again. “I should have gone out after him.”
Noah watched Eve roll her eyes, but she said nothing. “We don’t know if this guy is armed,” Noah said. “We’ve got three dead. We can’t be taking chances.”
“Told you so,” Eve muttered.
Hunter made an annoyed sound in his throat. “Now what?”
“Now we watch Eve like a hawk,” Noah said. “Eve, you don’t go anywhere by yourself until we know exactly who and what we’re dealing with.”
“Told you so,” Hunter muttered and Noah knew a small moment of relief. If nothing else, these two behaved like brother and sister.
She rose, briskly. “David made coffee. Do you want some to go?”
He realized for her, none of this had changed anything personal. “No thanks. I’ve had enough coffee tonight. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
“She won’t,” Hunter said flatly, then softened his tone. “Thank you for coming.”
“Yes,” Eve said, not meeting Noah’s eyes. “Thank you. I’m tired. David, can you see Detective Webster out?” Without waiting for an answer she went back to her room.
Hunter puffed out his cheeks. “Well.”
Noah frowned. “Well? Well what? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re under her skin.” He walked him to the door. “Give her time.”
“I have lots of that,” Noah murmured, then narrowed his eyes. “Why pink?”
“It was a baby shower present. Do you know a Detective Sutherland?”
Noah was surprised at the sudden topic change. “Olivia? Damn fine cop. Why?”
“Her sister Mia’s one of my best friends,” he said. “Another damn fine cop. Olivia and I were both in Mia’s wedding. When you see her, tell her I said hi.”
“I will. And, I meant it. That was good thinking. You may have saved Eve’s life.”
Hunter’s eyes hardened. “This guy knows Eve’s involved. How does he know?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Noah said grimly. “Keep me on speed dial.”
“I will. Don’t forget your hat.”
“I’ll leave it here for a while.” If it was here, he had an excuse to return. “Thanks.”
Tuesday, February 23, 2:2
5 a.m.
Lindsay never would have wanted her to see this side of humanity. Too late, sis, Liza thought dully, as she waited for a bus to the next neighborhood. She’d been searching for three hours and she was already ready to give up. Most of the prostitutes hung out in bars and hotels this time of year. The bars wouldn’t let her in because she wasn’t twenty-one. And nobody in the hotels had seen Lindsay.
A well-intentioned bouncer had let her into one of the bars long enough to get warm. A waitress gave her a coffee. Neither had seen Lindsay. In her pocket was the napkin on which the bouncer had written directions to another place she might look. She had enough change for bus fare there and bus fare home.
And if you find nothing? Then what?
I don’t know.
Numbly she watched as a girl came out of the bar she’d just left, picking her way over the ice in five-inch stiletto heels. The girl’s legs were bare, her short skirt barely covering her butt, her wig teased big. She pranced to the end of the block and leaned against a light pole. A minute later a black SUV slid to a stop, rolled down its window.
“Don’t do it,” Liza murmured, as if words could help. The girl climbed up into the SUV and it did a U-turn in the street, headed back the way it had come.
Tuesday, February 23, 3:25 a.m.
He drew a deep breath, the climax shuddering through him. Slowly he released the hooker’s throat. He relaxed, lowering his body to sit on the body he straddled, his seed glistening on her skin. Under her wig she’d had short dark hair and a long neck and as he’d choked the life out of her, he’d imagined her face was Eve Wilson’s.
It should be Eve lying here, on this disgusting, foul-smelling bed. Dead, her open eyes staring at nothing at all. It was supposed to have been Eve. But it wasn’t.
But the words he’d whispered in the hooker’s ear as she’d slid into her little ketamine stupor would drive terror into Eve’s heart when she finally lay here beneath him on this bed. Twine around your throat, pulling tighter, you can’t breathe. You’re going to die.