Now You See Me (3 page)

With a shrug, Aaron conceded that portion of the argument. “Guy is small, isn’t he?” He sighed and rocked back in his chair. “What do you want me to do, Kate? I know this guy is still behind bars but he had long enough arms to get someone to send you flowers in his name. I don’t trust what he might do next, and you should be a little more concerned in my opinion.”

“Aaron, I know it’s hard for you and my father to believe this, but I really can take care of myself. Just because this note has me uneasy doesn’t mean I need to be coddled or comforted. And I’m not going to let you take this story away from me!” Her voice rose several decibels.

Red suffused Aaron’s face and his stone-cold gaze finally whipped back to hers. “Hold on there a second. I still call the shots here. You don’t
let me
do a damn thing.”

She smacked the top of his desk so hard his stapler jittered. “You’re right. This is your decision, but it’s my decision what paper I choose to work for.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?” He breathed through his nostrils like a taunted bull.

Gaze clashing with his, she stared him down. “What do you think?”

He released a huff of air and sank back against his chair. “Dammit, Kate. Why do you have to be so difficult?” Searching through the top desk drawer, he mumbled until he located a lighter and, with a glare, lit his cigar.

Kate relaxed a little, knowing she’d played the ace and won. “Because I’m good at what I do and I’ve never backed down from a story.”

“The last threat you got wasn’t from a serial killer.”

“True, but I have gotten death threats before. I handled them.” But it was true none had left her so shaken. So she’d be a little extra careful until the story was over.

A plume of smoke spiraled into the air. “Okay. You stay on the story on one condition.”

She folded her arms, silently preparing to continue the battle. Aaron’s conditions were usually as difficult as the man. “Which is?”

“You notify the warden about this little gift. If there’s anyone who can find out if those flowers really came from Ramsey, it’s him. If they did, he needs to keep a better eye on his prisoners. Can’t do that unless he knows there’s a problem.”

“If I tell the warden, there’s no way he’s going to budge on the second interview.”

“Then you’ll have to make the story work with what you got.”

“What happened to all the encouragement you were giving me yesterday? I believe you were the one asking if I’d told the warden to go to hell.”

“That was before this morning’s delivery, and that bastard of a warden might just know a thing or two about John Ramsey you can use to prevent future unwelcome sentiments.”

“I don’t have enough for a solid outline, Aaron, much less any kind of publishable piece. Ramsey tells me death isn’t going to take him and I’m supposed to write a story without any facts to substantiate it? Come on. You and I both know you’re not going to approve a story that’s just John Ramsey blowing wind.”

He scratched his cheek, tipped his chair back a bit farther. “True.”

Kate waited, hoping he’d change his mind.

When he fixed her with his bullheaded gaze, he dashed her hopes. “Then I guess you’d better figure out a way to sweet-talk the warden because he needs to know this.”

She cursed under her breath. Sweet-talking wasn’t in her arsenal of weapons, but she always thought fast on her feet. She’d come up with something. “I’ll have Jessie make the call.” At least she wasn’t off the story. Relief surging through her, she sailed toward the door.

“Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“I believe I said
you
notify him.”

She stopped. “What difference does it make who tells him?”

“If the guy has questions, Jessie won’t be able to answer them. It’s not up for discussion.”

Another look at Aaron’s face told her he wouldn’t back down from this one. Her ace was played, and she’d have to give in. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

On her way out of the door, she smiled. Aaron hadn’t given her a deadline to make the call to Mr. Jericho. So she’d just slip that on her to-do list for tomorrow.

“Kate!” Aaron bellowed from his office.

She stopped, wincing without responding.

“That call had better be within the next ten minutes, or you’re going to be writing obits for the next month.”

David Downing, the efficient, hardworking deputy warden of Marsden Correctional Institution, looked flustered. That was Brad’s first clue something was wrong. In the three years he’d known him, David had never looked anything but in control.

Brad’s guard went up, and when David’s usual morning greeting was replaced by “We’ve got a problem”, he laid odds the news wasn’t going to be good.

Not the first words Brad wanted to hear before he had even one cup of coffee but David’s face told him to pay attention. “What is it?” He passed through security with a nod to the guard on duty.

“That reporter, Kate Elliott, called. She said John Ramsey sent her flowers this morning.”

The information kicked Brad’s memory into overdrive. Ramsey had a thing for roses, always liked to send them to his victims a few days before the abduction. Somehow he managed to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Did she leave a number?”

“She did, but you know the last time—”

“I’m aware of what happened the last time John Ramsey sent a woman flowers, David, but if he sent this batch, we’ve got bigger problems than the past. I’m assuming you’re already on this.” Brad led the way down the tiled hallway toward his office, his heart as fast as his feet.

“I am. Ms. Elliott didn’t remember the name of the florist but she said she’d call back when she got home and looked at the card again.”

Brad loosened the knot in his tie, figured he’d ditch it before the morning ended. “This can’t wait until she gets home. If Ramsey’s got someone on the outside…” He stopped, shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Toss his cell. Let’s see what he’s hiding.”

David flipped through a battered notebook, his index finger scanning each line along with his gaze. “Other than his attorney and Miss Elliott yesterday, he hasn’t had a visitor in over a year, since his mother died. And he hasn’t made any friends in here either. If he’s found an ally, I’d hate to think what Ramsey promised him.”

Silently Brad agreed. A deal with Ramsey might as well be a deal with the Grim Reaper. He stopped outside his office, key in hand. “Get me the records for all outgoing calls in the—” He broke off, his head swiveling. The door stood slightly ajar. “Have you been in here?”

David’s face colored and he took sudden interest in the tops of his shoes. “That was what I was going to tell you before we got off track. When she couldn’t reach you by phone, Miss Elliott decided to meet with you in person.”

Brad swung his gaze toward the opening and caught a glimpse of high heels and long legs. His senses came to attention. Damn. He didn’t bother correcting David for allowing the reporter to enter without his permission. No doubt the woman steamrolled right over top of his deputy warden.

“Ask my assistant to bring in two cups of coffee, please. And David,” Brad called out before the man could disappear, “if this conversation isn’t over in fifteen minutes, send in backup.”

The deputy warden grinned. “I’ll send S.W.A.T. unless I see a white flag hanging out the door.” He took two steps away, paused and added, “Before I forget, I won’t be there tonight. The wife’s got me on a short leash, wants the garage cleaned out and all that.”

Brad waved one hand, his attention already focused on the woman behind his door. “Your team’s used to losing anyway. I’m sure they can do it even better without you.”

David clasped a hand to his heart and groaned. “You’re killing me. But you and I both know who has the better jump shot.”

Letting him get the last word, Brad widened the gap in the doorway and walked into his office. “Miss Elliott, sorry to keep you waiting.” He couldn’t be faulted for the slight edge of sarcasm in his voice. Very few people insisted on waiting in his office before he arrived.

Kate turned her legs to one side. “I apologize for not remaining in the lobby, Mr. Jericho, but I’m sure Mr. Downing told you about this morning’s delivery.”

Was that a tremor he heard in her voice? Brad removed his jacket, tossed it over a vacant visitor’s chair before hitching one hip on the corner of his desk. “He said you didn’t remember the name of the florist.”

“I didn’t, but once I went back to get the card I realized why. The flowers didn’t come from a shop, at least not one that was identified.” She dipped one hand into her purse and extracted a card that she passed to him.

Brad scanned the handwriting. “I’ll have my deputy warden compare this to some of Ramsey’s letters, see if we can get a match on the handwriting.” The fragrant smell of coffee captured his attention and he waved his assistant into his office. “What about the delivery guy? Did he look familiar?”

Kate frowned and accepted the mug of coffee from his outstretched hand. “I didn’t really pay much attention to him, and that doesn’t sound like a question a prison warden would ask.” She tipped her head to one side and studied him long enough to make him uncomfortable. “My guess would be detective.”

He waited until his assistant left before responding. “In another time, I was.”

“How does one go from being a detective to overseeing a prison? I understand the logistics, but the jobs couldn’t be more different. Don’t you miss the adrenaline rush from capturing the bad guys?”

Brad folded his arms. He felt like he was being interviewed. “Do you have a recorder going in your purse?”

She smiled, just a slight twisting of her lips, but it punched him in the stomach like a clenched fist. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.” For a moment she lowered her guard, giving Brad a brief glimpse of the woman behind the reporter. Then she looked up and the mask was firmly back in place. “John Ramsey couldn’t possibly have sent me those flowers.”

“You’d be surprised at what prisoners can do. Those serving long sentences have a lot of time on their hands. They usually put it to use coming up with ways to skate around the system and get things done on the outside.”

Kate’s nibbled her bottom lip, drawing Brad’s undivided attention. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not easily scared away.”

The nuance in her voice had him straightening, moving away from the desk. Though he’d chosen another career path he’d never fully left the detective behind, and years of practice had him hearing things she hadn’t yet said. Kate couldn’t seriously want another interview with Ramsey after this.

“Since I’m here anyway, I’d like to have another chat with Mr. Ramsey.” She slipped a polished smile onto her face and directed lethal hazel eyes up at him.

He almost hated that he’d been right because he could watch that smile for hours. “I gave you my decision on your last visit, Miss Elliott. Learning that one of my death row inmates managed to send you flowers certainly hasn’t given me any reason to change my mind.”

“Mr. Jericho, it’s obvious that Mr. Ramsey wants to get under my skin, and I don’t know why he chose me. But he did, and I need answers I can’t get from you or a police officer standing guard outside my house.” She finished the last part of the sentence with a glower.

Brad chuckled. “Overprotective father?”

“Boss.”

“It might not hurt to have someone keep an eye out for a couple of days, just to see where Ramsey’s going with this.” Brad removed his coat from the chair next to hers and sat. She didn’t shrink back or seem unnerved by his presence, which told him she could hold her own. That would have worked if she weren’t dealing with a psychopath, but if she thought she could take on Ramsey and come out the winner, she couldn’t be more wrong.

Kate turned to one side in the chair, directing her legs toward him. Her posture relaxed, she didn’t look to be in any hurry to leave, which didn’t surprise him. She intended to use whatever weapons she had in her arsenal to convince him to let her see Ramsey.

“Do you really think ignoring this is going to make Ramsey back down?” Kate tapped her trim nails on the arm of the chair.

“No, but neither will seeing him. If he’s playing some kind of game you’ll know the rules soon enough. Confronting him could only agitate him.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”

Definitely not a woman who was used to taking no for an answer. He couldn’t say that was a bad thing. “I’m listening.”

“You allow me to see Ramsey again, and not only can you sit in on the interview, but I’ll let you read my story before it goes to print.”

Brad smiled. “What happened to the editor not liking previews?”

She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “He’ll go with me on this. In the end, the story is what’s important.”

He hated to kill the light dancing in her eyes but he wasn’t willing to negotiate no matter how many tactics she tried. He knew that animal masquerading as a man better than Kate ever would with one or two interviews. If Ramsey had chosen her as his next obsession, giving him free access to Kate made as much sense as tossing a lit match into a room full of newspapers.

“I’m sorry, but my answer is still no.” He stood, sensing she’d put an abrupt end to the conversation now that she hadn’t gotten her way.

Kate got to her feet to face him. “Would you consent to a telephone interview?”

The woman had more tenacity than kudzu. “Doesn’t have quite the same impact, does it?” He crossed his arms. Keeping his gaze glued to her face, he watched for a tell. Even something as quick as a flicker in her eyes could reveal whether her request was genuine or a smokescreen, though she didn’t strike him as the type of newshound who would be anything other than brutally honest.

“I’ll take what I can get.” She adjusted the beige coat that hugged her waist and favored him with another smile designed to disarm. “When the big bad wolf comes knocking at your door, you need to make sure he’s not in disguise. But it’s entirely possible Mr. Ramsey didn’t send me those flowers. Either way, I’d like the opportunity to ask him.”

Damn.
Brad’s resolve waivered. In her place, he’d want to confront the bastard too. He silently congratulated her on a game well played. She’d saved the ace for last.

“Fine. I’ll give you two minutes face-to-face, but I’m in the room, and this isn’t an interview.”

She was here. Ramsey’s skin tingled as he passed the pack of cigarettes to the prisoner mopping the floor outside his cell. The flowers had brought her right to him like ants to a picnic. Just not close enough.

His fingers itched to comb through her hair and he wondered if she’d be like all the others. Would she fight for her last breath? Anticipation quickened his heart rate and he quickly scribbled a note and handed it off to the worker.

Ramsey curled his fingers around the bars, watching the prisoner push the yellow mop bucket down the hallway. He didn’t have any friends in prison or even on the outside, but what he did have was a knack at sniffing out fledgling killers, those who wished they had the spine to do what he did. And those underlings would do whatever was necessary to learn from a master.

Kate didn’t feel victorious as she walked down the long hallway with the prison warden at her side. In truth, the interview had taken a backseat to the questions racing around in her mind. She did want to confront Ramsey, and once she was in the room with him the reporter might take over, but all she could think about were those roses.

Had he sent them? How? Why? And had the first interview just been the chance for him to see her in person, to build on an image he’d created of her in his head?

“He’ll be chained.”

Kate jerked her head to the side and let out a breath. “I’m not worried about him jumping over the table, Mr. Jericho.”

“It’s Brad.”

She accepted the invitation with a nod, though for some unknown reason his tone made the suggestion sound like an intimacy. Her nerves jangled already, she put the idea out of her head. She didn’t have time to get close to anyone, no matter how well they filled out a suit or how good they looked. And Brad Jericho definitely looked good.

He embodied both power and strength and, walking beside him, she felt small. Even though she was five-eight, Brad easily topped her by at least six inches. Even with three-inch heels she barely reached his chin. Add his height to the massive width of his shoulders and Kate couldn’t imagine anyone
not
being intimidated by him.

Still musing over the giant beside her, it took a few seconds for the sound of an alarm to register. Brad had her by the arm and was hustling her toward the closest door before she caught on that a siren inside a prison was never a good thing.