Guarding Kelsey ((Books We Love Romantic Suspense)) (3 page)

"Maybe she was blackmailing him?"

Wolf drew his brows together. He would have sworn Martinez thought the woman was a saint, the way he defended her.
"What makes you think that?"

"She carries a micro-recorder in her purse.
Not a necessity you’d think a woman would need at a charity ball.
It was with her possessions when you brought her in."

"Do they have it?"

"No.
They handed her things back when she left."

Wolf pounded his fist against the desk.
If there was something incriminating on the tape, she might go home and erase it.
The information should have been brought to his attention earlier.
His old partner wouldn’t have let something like that slip out the door.

Haunting memories resurfaced, bringing the accompanying fire of anger and guilt.
Mark was gone.
Dead at the age of thirty, by a bullet that was meant for Wolf.
He balled his fingers into tight fists.
His stomach cramped with the same feeling of nausea he’d suffered that night.

If he had called for back-up like he was
supposed
to
.
.
If he had stopped Mark instead of following him into that warehouse
.
. If he had gone in first
.
. There were a thousand scenarios that might have been, but only one outcome that happened.
Mark had died that night.
A loving wife had lost her husband and two little boys would never know their father.

"Why the hell did you let her leave with it?"

Martinez lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Because I removed the tape."

Wolf swallowed a groan.
By now he should have more faith in Martinez.
But he didn’t want to rely on anyone and he didn’t want anyone depending on him.
Since the screw-up that had taken Mark’s life, Wolf hadn’t allowed himself to trust anyone, least of all himself.

Chapter
Two

At one o’clock the following afternoon, Wolf waited on the sidewalk outside the large condo complex.
He'd checked the city tax records.
The penthouse apartment belonged to a man named Richard Carlyle.
Once he got back to the station he would run a check to see Carlyle’s connection to Kelsey Winston.
Wolf assumed the obvious; that she was his mistress.
How else could an unemployed woman afford a place like that?

Martinez met him in front of the building.
“You look like hell.
Did you get any sleep?”

Sure he did.
Right after he interviewed several other hotel employees, checked with the crime lab and made an out-of-the-way run past Ms. Winston’s apartment to see that the building had adequate security. He didn’t want the only person who could identify the shooter, ending up with the same fate as his first victim.

“Let’s get this over with,” Wolf said.

They entered the lobby together.
As they waited for the elevator, they were joined by the most striking blond he'd ever seen.
Her tailored skirt-suit emphasized her narrow waist and mile long legs.
He inhaled the floral scent of her perfume.
The woman had style.
From the gold jewelry she wore, it was evident that she had money too.

He couldn't see her eyes behind the wide rimmed
sunglasses
she wore and, to his dismay she didn't remove them even in the darkened elevator.
He got the impression she stared at him behind those designer lenses. He flashed his most seductive smile but received a conciliatory nod for his efforts.
His ego was way out of control.

The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor and they all exited together.
Wolf found the apartment number he wanted and paused in front of the door to allow the stunning woman to pass.
To his surprise, she didn't pass, but stopped behind him.

For several strained moments no one moved.
Finally the woman removed her glasses and spoke. "Do you intend to let me into my apartment, Detective Krieger or were you planning to question me in the hall?"

His jaw dropped the minute he saw her blue eyes.
The dark make-up she wore the night before gave her a distinctly Mediterranean look.
In the daylight, her clear white skin screamed of peaches and cream. A Nordic beauty if ever he saw one.

"Detective Krieger?" Kelsey repeated, to catch his attention.

He snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. "Sorry." He stepped back to allow her to open the door.

She showed the two men into the large, modern apartment.
The living room furniture was covered in beige leather.
Lacque
red tables held matching crystal
lamps.
He would bet the art work hadn’t come from a garage sale.
The woman liked fine objects and obviously someone indulged her every whim.

She removed her shoes at the front door.
After a quick glance at her mail, she dropped it on the small desk in the foyer and joined the two men in the living room.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" she offered politely. She might not welcome them in her home, but someone had taught her manners.

They declined.

She took a seat and crossed her shapely, stocking clad legs at the ankles.
"I'd like my tape back."

Wolf shrugged and lowered himself into the chair across from her. "When our lab is finished with it."

Her eyes narrowed. "It’s just an interview for a paper I’m working on. It has nothing to do with this case."

"It does if it relates to blackmail," Wolf countered.

"Blackmail?" she stammered out. "Who am I
supposed to
be blackmailing?"

"I didn’t say you were.
I’m pointing out that the tape contains some incriminating charges.
We’ll need to know who the other voice on the tape belongs to."

Kelsey shook her head. “I can’t tell you.
I promised that woman complete anonymity when I interviewed her.
I thought you wanted to question me about what I saw last night."

"Yes.
But we need background on our material witness, Miss Winston.
How effective will you be in court if the defense can assassinate your character on the stand?"

Kelsey arched her eyebrow. "I don’t have to wait for a defense attorney to assassinate my character.
You seem to want to do it on your own."

His body tensed.
Was he pushing too hard or covering all the bases?
He didn’t want any surprises in this case.
She might look like an angel with that halo of silky blond hair framing a deceptively innocent face, but things weren’t always what they appeared.
Trust no one
had become his motto.

"How can I get in touch with Richard Carlyle?" he asked.

Kelsey let out a choked cough. "What?"

"Richard Carlyle.
The owner of this condo you live in. I’d like to talk with him, too."

She blinked back the tears that pooled in her eyes.
"Richard Carlyle died three months ago in a car accident."
Her choked words were barely audible.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
Okay, he was pushing too hard.
She’d witnessed a murder the night before and then was used as a human shield by the gunman.
A lot to handle for anyone.

Martinez shook his head.
"Miss Winston.
My partner is a little short on tact.
Why don't you tell us what you can remember about last
night?
"

Kelsey nodded.
She directed her focus on Martinez.
“There really isn’t that much to tell.
I didn’t see the man walk in.
He came from the crowd of people and just shot Mr. Harrison.”
Her stomach cramped again. The gunman’s ruthless disregard of life reminded her of just how violent men could be.
Violence
she had once experienced
firsthand
and had hoped never to know again.

“Take a moment, Miss Winston.”

Inhaling deeply, she struggled to regain her composure.
“The next thing I
remember
is being dragged out into the hall with a gun pressing into my side.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Martinez asked.

“Not a word, but he made his point with the gun.
He dragged me for a couple of hundred feet. Then I realized I still had a dinner knife in my hand. I jabbed it into his leg and he turned me loose.”
She nervously twisted a strand of hair around her finger.
”I must have been clawing at him, because I ended up with his mask in my hand, but I don’t recall how.”

“And then?”

“And then I ran away.
Through the corridors, down the stairwell, and right into your partner.”

“Where you tried to stab me as well,” Wolf reminded her with a tight grin.

She tipped her head.
“And what would you have done in my position, Detective?”

Before he could answer, the phone rang, startling her.
She stared at the offending machine without moving.

“Are you going to get that?” he asked as her prerecorded voice invited callers to leave a message.

With a shake of her head, she stood up and crossed the room to answer.
"Hello?"

"Miss Winston.
Look in your mirror.
The one next to the lamp at your right," ordered a cold, deep voice. Static grated against her ear.

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"Look in the mirror.
You'll see a dead woman's face."

"Is this some kind of joke?" she asked angrily.

"The police are there with you right now, aren't they, Kelsey?"
He said her name so intimately that she shuddered.
"Well it won't do them any good.
Their star witness will never make it to a courtroom."

The line went dead.
Kelsey remained riveted in place, holding the receiver in her hand.
Quite suddenly, as if the phone was on fire, she dropped it on the floor.
She wiped her sweaty palms against the bottom of her suit,
and then
wrapped her arms protectively around her body.

"Miss Winston?
Are you all right?"

Kelsey wasn't sure which man spoke.
She turned and stared blankly at the two detectives.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the mirror.
Right next to the lamp.
How did he
know?