Her social life had become nonexistent about eight months earlier. Which left a lot of time in the evenings to work on plans, but she wanted a social life. She wanted to find someone special. To be honest, she wanted that more than she wanted her designs to be picked. Why couldn’t she have both? Well, she might not be able to do much about her love life, but she could find out why Hoster had excluded her and what her future held at the Warner Agency. She turned down the hall.
“You look better today,” Kathy greeted as she approached.
“I feel better, just a little draggy.”
“Maybe you should’ve taken another day,” Kathy suggested.
“I’m fine. I’ll have the weekend to rest up. Is Hoster in?” Laken glanced at the closed office door.
“Yes, but he left a do not disturb for the next couple hours.”
A wave of frustration rolled over Laken. She wanted answers — now. Resigned, she looked back at Kathy. “Will you set up an appointment for me before lunch?”
“Sure, eleven-thirty good?”
“Yes.”
Laken didn’t think eleven-thirty would ever get there. The morning dragged on forever. At twenty after, she left her drafting table and went to the ladies room to freshen up and steel herself for the confrontation. At twenty-five after, she strode up Kathy’s desk.
“I’m so sorry, Laken, I just tried to call you. Mr. Hoster hurried out a couple minutes ago. He said he had an important meeting and wouldn’t be back until Monday.” Kathy sounded genuinely upset. “I tried to tell him you wanted to talk to him.”
Laken’s stomach churned. The snake! He had avoided her on purpose — she had no doubt. Her heart pounded with frustration. “Can you set me an appointment for first thing Monday morning?” She ground the words out.
“I’ll make it nine-fifteen. He’s usually here by then,” Kathy answered.
Of course, Laken thought, not like her eight o’clock or earlier. “Thanks.” She forced out a weak smile. The smile faltered as she noticed the newspaper lying on the corner of Kathy’s desk. In a flash, Laken saw the face looking up at her as the killer’s hand reached down. Laken staggered. Lights slashed through her mind. Buzzing rang in her ears. For a minute, she thought she would faint. Kathy must have thought so too because the next thing Laken knew, Kathy had her by the elbow, directing her down to the chair.
“You should never have come in today,” Kathy was saying.
“No, I’m okay. Sorry.” Laken drew in a deep breath and reached for the newspaper. “The woman.” She couldn’t get any more out, starring down at a picture of the woman in her nightmare.
“Oh, that. Mr. Hoster dropped the paper on my desk as he left. I was just reading it. Scary.” Kathy looked over to her in concern. “Did you know her?”
“I think I’ve seen her before.”
“She worked in the building across the quad. And, actually, she wouldn’t have lived far from you. She was killed only a couple blocks from her apartment.”
The word killed hit Laken like a blow of ice, chilling her to the bone. “How was she killed?” She knew with a sick dread what the answer was going to be.
“Stabbed. Listen, I think you’d better head back home. You look really pale again.”
“I’m fine. Do you mind if I look at the paper a minute?”
“No, go ahead.” The secretary handed it to her, still looking her over.
The article didn’t say much more than Kathy had told her. Except the body was found in an alley not far from where Laken lived, and the police were looking for anyone who had information about the attack. Images poured through her mind in vivid detail: the chase, the fear, the exultation of the hunter. Laken’s heart pounded in her chest bringing with it a wave of nausea.
“Laken, are you all right?” The words finally got through to her.
“Yes, but I think I’m going to take your advice and leave now.”
“Good. Get some rest and don’t come in Monday if you don’t feel all better.”
“I’ll be fine, and I’ll be here for the appointment.” The only way she would miss it was if she were dead. A shiver went through her, and she took one last glance at the newspaper.
Laken really had planned to go home when she gathered her purse and jacket, but when the bus stopped in front of her she turned away and started walking. Her mind locked on a vision of the murder as it played over and over. No conscious thought came to her about where she was going or what she was going to do until, over an hour later, she found herself standing in front of the old, gray brick building of the police station.
“No, no way,” she said to herself as she placed a foot on the step. She couldn’t walk in there and say she had seen a murder in her dream. They’d think she was a wacko who got kicks harassing police, or plain psycho and she’d find herself locked up in mental ward. She tried to make herself turn as she took the next step, but then the image of the woman in the paper came to her mind and she took the last three. At the door, she paused again and almost had won the battle to turn away, when a man came out and held the door for her.
Laken swallowed hard and managed to step inside. She felt sick again. She shouldn’t be there. Heat waved over her. She should be home in bed, instead of being ushered through a metal detector.
She stared around the large lobby, not sure where to go or what to do. To the side of the door was a large staircase, next to it a set of elevators. Chairs filled with people lined up in two rows, backs together, in the center of the room. Directly ahead sat a tall, hardwood counter; several uniformed officers stood behind it.
“May I help you?” one officer said directly to her.
She managed to pull her resolve around her and step forward. “I think so.” She forced a swallow as her voice shook. “I’d like to speak with someone about the murder.”
“Which murder?” the man asked off-handedly.
How many murders did they get? Laken almost asked, and then decided she really didn’t want to know. “The one in the paper, the woman who was stabbed and left in the alley.” Funny, she couldn’t think of the name but would never forget the face.
Chapter Two
“I was thinking last night. It might not be too bad, leaving police work.” Mac decided it was time to run the idea by his partner.
Jonesy hardly missed a beat before answering. “But that’s what you’re good at.”
“Yeah.” He turned the car into his parking place at the station. “But I want more out of life.” He waited until they were both out until he continued. “I’d like to find someone, get married and maybe have a family.”
“So you’re feeling your clock ticking? I thought that was a woman thing.”
Mac sent him a scowl. “Funny.”
Jonesy laughed then seemed to shrug it off. “Look, it’s natural. Your mortality’s kicking in. You got shot and could’ve died.”
“When did you become a shrink?”
“On-the-job training.”
Mac couldn’t argue that.
“Listen, give it some time before you make any drastic changes.”
“It’s not just that. It’s …” Mac paused. “I’m not going to pass the physical.”
“You don’t know that.”
Mac stopped and Jonesy turned to face him. “Yes, I do and I’m not going to be responsible for making Connie a widow.” Jonsey was about to say something but Mac stopped him by raising his hand. “I’m putting your life in danger every time we go out on a call.”
“I’d rather have you at my back than anybody.”
“Yeah, well.” He started walking again. “It’s more than that. It’s wanting a woman to look at me like I’m special to her. Coming home to someone, going to bed and sliding my arms around a woman and knowing she’s mine. Feeling love and being loved.”
“Regular sex isn’t bad either,” Marcus Jones added with a grin.
“I can only imagine.” Mac shifted his stride to take the stairs with his good leg leading.
“There’s nothing stopping you.”
“I’m not the casual sex kind of guy, and I’m way past the bar scene thing. Doing what I do doesn’t really give me many possibilities. And by the time I get home, I’m burned out anyway. You’re one of the lucky ones. Look around you.” He pushed through the station doors. “These are the people I meet every day.”
People crowded the room, most looking upset. Both men knew they were probably there to file a complaint. “And these are the live ones that I’m not trying to throw into a cell. How am I supposed to find a nice woman here?”
“How about that woman over there?” Jonesy laughed and pointed to a gray-haired woman that Mac figured stood all of five feet — if she could straighten her hunched shoulders. “She looks nice.”
“Oh yeah, thanks, and if I was twice my age it might be decent.”
Jonesy laughed again. “I bet she makes great cookies, though.”
Mac didn’t try to hold back another scowl as he pushed the elevator button. “Thanks a lot.”
“Come on. There are women around. What about that nurse? She liked you.”
“And had two other boyfriends she was juggling. No thanks.”
“Okay, what about the physical therapist? She seemed pretty decent and interested.”
“Until she found out I was a cop.”
“Has a thing about cops?”
“Oh yeah, had to work on too many of them. Doesn’t want anything personal to do with us, too high risk,” Mac said, stressing the last few words.
“You know Connie could set you up.”
“Nah, nah. That’s asking for trouble. I like your wife too much to get on her bad side. If I dated one of her friends, and it didn’t work out, what would…” His voice petered out as he saw the woman at the desk talking to Hammond.
“Hey, MacDaniels, this one’s for you.” It wasn’t until his mind answered, she sure is, that he realized Hammond had really called to him. When the woman turned toward him, he almost repeated the words out loud.
It only took a second for him to make an assessment: pretty, nice, lost. She looked totally out of place. There was an uncertain anxiety about her. She wanted to get out of there. Her eyes darted to the door, and Mac knew he was about to lose her. He moved into her path. The green eyes shifted right to him, and even at ten feet away, he could see the gold flecks in them. They were incredible eyes. There was no toughness about them, which meant she was a victim. That kicked up the protector in him, and he headed for her, ready to slay dragons.
Behind him he could hear Jonesy still talking. “You know Connie wouldn’t do that. Mac… Mac?”
The woman turned back toward Hammond. Several people moved in Mac’s path, but he kept a lock on the woman.
Jonesy moved beside him. “See something interesting?”
“I think so.”
Mac studied her as he approached. Her height would’ve been about five-eight, though she wore boots with about a three inch heel, perfect for him. She had on a brown sweater-jacket that hugged her curves and a swirly patterned skirt that flared at the top of the boots. Her light brown hair hung long and straight around her shoulders. He’d interviewed enough women to know the look was called dressy casual. For him, it was just appealing.
Her hands swung out as she talked, and his vision locked on the left one. No ring, he acknowledged with a surge of pleasure. Then her voice reached him, velvet soft, though it was laced with hesitancy. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. It isn’t important. I’m sorry.” She turned and stepped right into him. “Oh,” she gasped.
Mac caught her under her elbows and steadied her. Her green eyes came up to his face and stayed there. Obviously shocked, but he wondered if it might be a touch of awareness that held her like it did him.
Oh, yes, she was for him. “You wanted me?” He managed to get out.
“I—” She swayed slightly, and he steadied her again.
“Mac, she needed to talk to someone about the Chambers murder,” the sergeant spoke up behind her.
That got his attention. It shouldn’t have surprised him though, because if she needed to talk to him, it had to involve a murder.
“Won’t you come with me?” He kept a hold of one elbow, stepping to the side to direct her to the elevator.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She stumbled over the words.
He knew she was going to flee if he didn’t act fast. “No bother. I’m Detective Spencer MacDaniels. This is my partner, Marcus Jones.” Like a good partner, Jonesy maneuvered to the other side of her, effectively trapping her in between them. Luckier still, the elevator opened, and they were able to usher her in before she could turn away.
“Laken Williams,” she returned hesitantly. He figured she answered more out of manners than really wanting to say.
“Laken.” He let her name slide over him. “I like it. It’s different. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Laken before.”
“It’s not very common.” She glanced furtively over at him. “I really think it best I leave before I waste your time.”
“Why don’t you let me decide? First, let’s get settled at my desk and you can tell me what brought you here.”
Her eyes went from him to Jonesy and back again.
Mac could tell she wanted to decline but her shoulders slumped in resignation.
“I have a call to follow up on,” Jonesy announced as they approached their desks. “I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”
Mac sent his partner a look of thanks. Once they were settled, he turned to her. “Now, how can I help you? Were you a friend of Miss Chambers?” He felt a wave of relief when she shook her head. So he wasn’t dealing with someone torn up because of the loss of a friend. But she was — unsettled — that fit her he decided.
“Then,” he started gently, “you have some information for me.”
“I don’t know.” The words burst from her. “This is all a mistake. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Well, I was thinking maybe I could help, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I really need to go.”
Mac reached over the corner of the desk and caught her hand. It was soft. She had long fine fingers. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and she seemed to ease. “Let’s start with the basics. Name?”
“Laken Ann Williams.” It came out shaky, but she gave it to him and started to relax.
Across the room someone slammed a file draw and swore. She jerked and the nervousness flooded right back in.
“I’m not some nutcase,” she blurted out.
He couldn’t keep back a smile. “That’s nice to know. What are you?”
“An architect. I really am quite logical. I’m not sure how to explain this. But I’m not lying or making it up.”
“It’s okay. Why don’t you tell me tell me your address and phone number?” he urged softly.
“All right, I just want you to understand.” She steadied herself in the chair, and he saw strength under the nervousness.
A lot of people were anxious around police, like they were afraid they were going to be arrested. He’d have to get her to see him as just a man. His attention caught on her address. It was only three blocks from where they found the victim. “Good, now why don’t you tell me what you know?”
Again it was plain to read her hesitation and how she worked formulating what she wanted to give him. He felt a kick of sadness that she wouldn’t just open up.
She locked her fingers together in her lap. “I think I saw the killer.”
Her words took him by surprise. He had expected her to wash over things or lie. He leaned forward, feeling his excitement rise over his interest in her as a woman, and she became a witness. “You saw the killer?”
“I think,” she hesitated, “I did.”
****
Laken wasn’t sure what to say. She should never have come, but she had to do something. She couldn’t let him kill again, and she knew he would. He was a predator. She remembered that clearly.
&
nbsp; “Can you give me a description?”
She jerked at the question and looked at the detective, feeling a touch of longing. It would be easier if she hadn’t felt so… unsettled, since meeting him. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he disturbed her already unbalanced senses. She needed all her wits about her if she was going to come out of this without sounding like a fruitcake, and she was having trouble getting past how her heart jumped every time she looked at him.
She took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. Then he’d think she was nuts, and she would never see him again, but she had tried to do what was right. Still, she felt a sense of loss and pushed past it. “Not really, I couldn’t see much of him. He had a raincoat on and a hat with a wide brim. It was pulled down low on his face. He wasn’t as tall as you, six foot, maybe six-one.”
“And how tall do you think I am?”
“I’d say close to six-three.”
“Good, I’d like you to tell me everything. Where you saw the man, what you saw leading up to and what you witnessed?”
She took a deep breath. “Two nights ago, Wednesday, I was coming home late from work. I took the bus to Wilken. I’m not sure what time exactly, after eight–thirty but before nine. I wasn’t feeling good. I had a fever. All I could think of was getting to the pharmacy and getting some medicine. Just before I got there, I noticed a woman.” The tremor shook her voice. “She was the one from the picture in the paper. It took me awhile to place it, but it was her. She went into the pharmacy before me.”
“Did you recognize her? Had you seen her before?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me what she was wearing?”
Laken thought for a moment, suppressing the image of the attack as it tried to surface. “A tan raincoat, nylons, so she was wearing a skirt or dress.”
She waited while he made a couple notes.
“Continue, please.”
Temperature Rising Page 2