SEE HER DIE (17 page)

“Jesus,” Gloria muttered on a shaky breath. “This just gets more bizarre by the minute.”

“I certainly can’t hazard a guess what Novak had on his mind, but I think we can all surmise that if the police don’t stop this murderer...” Annabelle allowed her words to trail off. She didn’t have to say the rest.

“What’re we going to do?” Gloria looked from Annabelle to Elizabeth. “If there’re only four others and two of them are us, we have to do something to protect ourselves.”

Her friend was right, Elizabeth agreed silently, dread slinking through her. And Gloria was her friend, her best friend. She wasn’t about to put any stock in anything Brian said. She trusted Gloria. To confront her with Brian’s accusations would be wrong. “How do we do that? And what about the other two women?”

“Do you have someone you could stay with at night?” This from Annabelle. She looked from one to the other. “I really don’t think either of you should be alone, especially at night.” She massaged her temples as if an ache had begun there. “I can’t believe the police haven’t noticed this already. They’re supposed to be trained to see these details. You should have police protection.”

Elizabeth suddenly wondered if MacBride had considered this possibility. If he had, then why hadn’t he warned her?
Because he thinks you’re a murderer
. Deep inside, where no one else could see, she felt off center… completely off balance.

“I could stay with my sister,” Gloria said uncertainly. “She has her husband’s gun.”

This time the tremble stayed with Elizabeth. “That’s a good idea,” she said thinly, trying hard to be steady.

“Elizabeth, you could stay with us, too,” Gloria urged.

Elizabeth shook her head. If the killer was after her, no way would she endanger Gloria’s family. She stilled. What if it was her he really wanted? What if all these other murders were nothing but a decoy? She could be the coup de grace.

Enough Elizabeth
.
Don’t make this about you. It’s about Ned... somehow.

“I’ll ask Boomer to stay over.” That would work. He’d be glad to. And he was tough. She wouldn’t have to worry with him around. “Besides, the feds are still watching me”

“I don’t trust your safety to them,” Gloria said, her voice still full of apprehension. “Get Boomer to stay with you, Elizabeth. That’s a good idea. I don’t think any of us should be alone.” She looked at Annabelle. “What about you?”

The attorney waved her hands in a forget-about-it gesture. “I’ll be fine. I have friends I can stay with. So you’ll be with your sister,” she said to Gloria, “and you’ll have
Boomer
to protect you?” She frowned. “Who, exactly, is Boomer?”

Elizabeth laughed, the quick burst of humor easing some of the tension choking her. “He’s my assistant.”

“An ex-con,” Gloria added. “She’ll be safe with him.”

Annabelle looked a little skeptical, but said, “No doubt.” She gave a nod of finality. “I’ll also come up with a legitimate reason to contact the other two women on the list and warn them as best I can.”

Until that moment Elizabeth hadn’t really felt comfortable with Annabelle but her determination to help had won Elizabeth over. Another scenario nudged at her though she was sure the police had considered this one already. “Annabelle, could Ned have been murdered for his money?”

The attorney weighed the question for a moment.

“I don’t see how. I’ve started his will through probate. His brother was to inherit everything—”

“His brother?” Gloria asked incredulously. “I didn’t know he had any siblings.”

Annabelle’s expression turned solemn. “Well, he did have a brother, but he died several years ago. With no other family, in accordance with Ned’s wishes, his assets will be distributed to various charities.”

Well, well, Elizabeth pondered. Who would have thought that Casanova Ned would turn into a philanthropist upon his death? Too bad he hadn’t shown that kind of compassion in life. She’d never once wondered if he had any family. He just seemed to
be
— as if he’d sprung forth fully grown with no need for any family.

All of them had work to get to, so the meeting adjourned and Gloria and Elizabeth walked out together. On the sidewalk Gloria, in vintage Gloria fashion, hailed the first cab that passed. At least a dozen always whizzed by Elizabeth before she could get one’s attention.

“Call me tonight,” Gloria ordered as she climbed in. “I want to hear Boomer’s voice coming across your phone.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t take any chances. And you’ll be at your sister’s.”

“Immediately after work,” Gloria assured her. The look in her eyes told Elizabeth there wasn’t any question. Gloria was as afraid as she was.

When Gloria’s taxi had merged with the traffic, Elizabeth walked slowly toward the garage where she’d parked her truck. Others, hurrying to work, brushed past her, and she moved closer to the curb to avoid them. She thought about the woman who’d been murdered last night and tried without success to understand why this was happening. Why would anyone want to kill Ned’s patients unless he somehow suspected one of them of being responsible for Ned’s death? And that was assuming the murderer was a friend of Ned’s.

Is that how Brian fit into all this? Had he killed Ned because of her? She shook her head. Brian didn’t care that much about anyone and neither did Ned. Playing sick little games appeared to be what the two had in common. Could their game playing have turned into murder? How did the Gentlemen’s Association fit into the puzzle?

If the killer had a list, she was certainly on it. If he knew about her fight with Ned and the visit to his apartment, was she the ultimate target? If that was true, why kill the others? Maybe he wasn’t sure and just wanted to be absolutely certain he got the right one.

She’d lived with Brian for months. Surely she would know if he were capable of murder. Then again, after what she’d witnessed last night she wasn’t so sure.

A car screeched to a halt at the curb, the abrupt sound jerking Elizabeth back to the here and now. Her heart slammed mercilessly against the wall of her chest and she readied to run.

Would he strike in broad daylight on a crowded street?

The emblem on the sedan registered and Elizabeth stalled. Her relief was so profound that her knees almost buckled. The passenger window lowered and MacBride peered at her from inside the dark sedan. She’d forgotten all about her private watchdog.

“Get in,” he ordered.

Elizabeth waited as a couple of pedestrians pushed past her, rushing for a passing cab. As soon as the last of her fear had subsided, irritation instantly replaced it. “What?” she demanded as she stepped nearer to the curb and his waiting car.

“Get in,” he repeated, his gaze every bit as fierce as his command.

She leaned down to peer inside the car. “Why?” she asked, uncomfortable with his whole demeanor. As grateful as she was at this point to have him watching over her, she could do without the attitude.

“Get in willingly or I’ll arrest you. It’s your choice.”

The edge in his voice sliced right through her annoyance, changing it to uneasiness. “If you insist.”

Elizabeth opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Before she had time to fasten her seat belt he barreled into the flow of traffic, earning himself squealing tires and impatient honks.

“I’m only going to ask you this once, Elizabeth,” he said without glancing her way. “What were you and Novak doing at Harrison’s office last night?”

Not that again. “We argued the way we always do. Satisfied?” That he didn’t look at her she could blame on traffic, but his stony profile warned there was more trouble and it had her name written all over it.

“Did he leave Harrison’s office before or after you?”

She held her breath, fought the urge to tell him everything but she couldn’t. She wanted to trust him. Dammit. “I left first. What difference does it make?”

“Because around that time, just a few blocks away from where I found you, Marissa Landon was being murdered.”

Chapter Ten

Mac drove for almost ten minutes without speaking. Elizabeth’s tension escalated with every passing second. She felt certain he planned to take her to his office, but he didn’t. Then she figured he planned to take her to the police station to face those two detectives again, Brannigan and the partner whose name she couldn’t recall. But he didn’t do that, either.

Instead, he just drove, finally stopping in front of a well-maintained, older building located in the vicinity of Ned’s office. The recently renovated architecture was ornate with intricate detailing around the windows and porte-cochere. For another trauma filled minute he sat without moving, forcing Elizabeth’s pulse rate into the danger zone, in spite of her best effort to focus on anything but his silence. She mentally listed the various elements of the structures looming just beyond the sidewalk and patches of grass, but every breath she drew was a struggle. Her heart pounded so hard she couldn’t imagine MacBride not hearing it.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he spoke. “You see that center window on the seventh floor?”

Elizabeth looked upward to the floor he’d indicated. She knew where they were, knew what he was trying to do. When her eyes focused on the center window, she answered, the hollow word a mere whisper, “Yes.”

“That apartment belonged to Marissa Landon.”

As Elizabeth stared at the dark window with its flower box overflowing with a bright spring mixture of blooms, the reality of what Annabelle had told her settled on her like a ton of bricks. Who would water those flowers now? Marissa was dead. Murdered.

“Do you know what arterial spray is?”

A hard knot formed in Elizabeth’s stomach. “I don’t want to hear this.” The shaking that had plagued her in Annabelle’s office started again.

“It’s usually found near the victim of brutal violence,” he went on cruelly. “The perpetrator has to inflict a wound that involves an artery. Like with Marissa. The slashing wound almost completely severed her head from her body. The carotid artery, as well as the jugular, were sliced clean through. Imagine the kind of evil it took to inflict that level of violence on another human being.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block the gruesome images his words evoked. “Please, just take me back to my truck. I don’t know anything.”

Without a word he swerved away from the curb and merged into the traffic again. Her body was ice, her senses numb. She fought back the tears and silently screamed at the indignity, the senselessness.

How could she know anyone—have cared about someone—who would do something so heinous? Surely Brian couldn’t be responsible for that kind of horror. But what if he was, and what if she did know something that would make a difference?

Could she live with herself if one more person died?

When MacBride parked once more, they were at Ned’s office. Elizabeth blinked as confusion amplified the painful mixture of emotions twisting inside her.

“Why are we here?” Fear raced to the forefront of all else, and she turned to face MacBride. His blue eyes were dark with emotion. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Get out,” he ordered. “We’re going inside.”

She reached for the door handle, but her hand shook so badly it took two attempts to open the door. Her head spun, making her movements awkward, unbalanced. What if MacBride had found the hidden door? What if he knew why she’d come here last night? She glanced quickly from side to side as he ushered her toward the front entrance. Had her being here last night somehow caused that brutal murder? Was Detective Brannigan waiting inside to interrogate her? Her chest ached with the floundering of her heart. She couldn’t drag in a deep enough breath. She wanted it to stop—the murders, the suspicions, the fear. She just wanted it to stop.

MacBride used a key to open the front door, then locked it behind them once they were inside. Elizabeth sucked in a shallow breath and tried to calm herself. She couldn’t let the panic take over now. She had to stay in control.

The reception area was only dimly lit by the sparse sunlight filtering in through the half-closed shades. The air smelled stale already. The owner was dead, whatever kind of jerk he’d been. Whatever good he’d done in his life, if any, it was over. He was dead and so were four of his patients. And somehow she was a part of it.

She had to sit down. Elizabeth stumbled toward a chair and collapsed into it. “I don’t want to be here,” she murmured for all the good it would do. MacBride apparently wanted to punish her, to make her tell him what she knew, which was nothing that would matter. She was certain of it. If she’d thought for one second that anything she’d seen or heard or done would matter...

Except that one thing.

Mac wrestled back the sympathy that rose immediately as she crumpled beneath the weight of fear and guilt. He gritted his teeth, bracing for the charge that would accompany touching her, and took her by the arm to haul her to her feet “This way, Elizabeth.”

She lurched forward, having little choice but to go with him or be dragged behind him. He took her into Harrison’s private office, the one where he saw his patients, and herded her toward the leather chaise. He leaned against the edge of the massive desk and crossed his arms over his chest, cranking up the intimidation as he glared down at her.

She sat like a statue except for the fine tremor she couldn’t hide. Before he could stop his traitorous eyes, he’d taken in every last detail of the way she looked today. She wore faded jeans and, unlike the overalls she usually donned for work, the jeans fit snugly, hugging her slender figure. The blouse was soft cotton, short-sleeved and buttoned up the front. One sneaker was about to come untied. But it was the way she wore her hair that unsettled him the most. It hung unrestrained over her shoulders. Her amber eyes stared up at him from behind those delicately rimmed glasses. She was scared to death, sick with dread at what she feared lay ahead.

By God, he intended to have some answers. Five people were dead. One might damn well have deserved a bad end, but the others were victims in the truest sense of the word. Whatever Elizabeth knew, whether she considered it relevant or not he would have it before they left this room.