Judy wasn’t some passing attraction, some easy fix for a lonely night . . . she was the real deal. The woman you took home to meet your parents, the woman you wanted to have your children.
Somewhere between Utah, Washington, and California, he’d fallen in love.
He held her even closer, kissed her sleeping head, and drifted off.
“I told them I’d come in for half a day and be back to work tomorrow. I’ve got to go,” Judy argued while she towel-dried her hair and walked between the bathroom and the closet. “They’ve been really understanding but I can’t keep disappearing. It’s not like they have to keep me there.”
She could tell by the scowl on Rick’s face he wasn’t happy with the thought of her going to work. “If it makes you any happier, we’ll be taking the Ferrari.” She knew how much he enjoyed driving Mike’s car, and in light of the fact that Rick’s constant need for an alibi was in question, everyone thought it was best he drive the flashiest car in Mike’s garage. The Ferrari won.
Rick grumbled. “I don’t like it.”
“You’re dropping me off after lunch and picking me up at five. I won’t even leave the office.”
His grumble now sounded like a growl.
“I can’t hide.” She walked back into the bathroom and talked through the door. “I’m no more or less safe than I was last week when you dropped me off and picked me up every day.” Though she knew eventually she’d have to hike on her big-girl panties and make the trip solo. “Putting my head into my work will help clear it up . . . make it easier for me to consider who might be doing all this.”
“You said you felt he was coming back for you.” Rick had left his perch from the side of the bed and now stood in the doorway of the bathroom.
“I do. One of the many things I looked up while you were away was the mindset of a psychopath. It isn’t often they actually give up the object of their obsession. This guy isn’t going to corner me in a garage, or catch me taking the stairs at work.” She brushed out her hair, put a handful of mousse into the locks. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and some of the pictures you and Neil will be looking over this afternoon will point someone out.”
“Maybe.”
“If he’s after me, he’ll get frustrated not getting close and eventually screw up.”
Rick’s lips twisted to the side. “You’ve been watching crime TV again, haven’t you?”
She applied a layer of mascara and pointed the tip of the brush at him through the mirror. “First, those shows aren’t completely based on fiction, but no. Actually, Meg and I have been burning up the Internet. We’ve been professional students for the last four years. Everything you ever wanted to know about anything is on the Internet, all you have to do is know where to look.”
Rick walked up behind her and slid both hands around her waist before nuzzling her wet hair. “I still don’t want you to go.”
“C’mon. Aren’t you the one who said it would get easier every day?”
“That was before someone was murdered.”
She didn’t like that either. “I’m not going into the dark basement alone, Rick. I’m going to work. Lots of pencil-pushing geeks who draw for a living. I’ll be fine.”
“We just got married.” He ran a hand down her arm and feathered his thumb over her ring finger. “You don’t even have a ring.”
She twisted around and offered a smile. “Then that’s what you do today . . . go find me a ring.” They hadn’t yet consummated the marriage either, but she wasn’t about to point that out or he’d never let her leave.
“Trying to get rid of me?”
She pushed him toward the bathroom door. “What was your first clue?”
The rest of her bathroom ritual went without complaint. Rick drove the Ferrari, keeping a constant eye on the road behind him.
The eyes on them had doubled since the last time they walked into the office. Most of the staff of Benson & Miller had yet to return from lunch, but there were a few people milling about the office when she walked in.
“See, safe and sound.”
Rick conceded and dropped a kiss to her lips. “You need anything—”
“I’ll call. Go.”
He turned to leave, and she called out to him. “And cubic zirconia looks just as good as the real thing. No need to do anything crazy.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Judy dropped her purse in her desk and left the plans for the Santa Barbara project in the corner of her cubicle before working her way toward a cup of coffee. The lack of sleep the night before didn’t have a chance of being made up by sleeping in.
By the time she made it back to her desk, the office was filling with employees.
“It’s the lady in red,” she heard José say with laughter in his voice.
“It’s been a very crazy weekend.”
“Tell me about it. Ever since you’ve been here, we’ve had nothing but excitement. Every day my wife asks me what’s new.”
She knew José wasn’t referring to the actual attack, but the media, the famous brother . . . the parts she could smile and laugh at.
Nancy’s voice sounded from down the hall. “You can’t go down there.”
Sure enough, a small flash mob of media was walking down the hall, past Judy’s desk, and straight at her.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
“How did they get up here?”
Judy rolled her eyes and stood her ground. “They have their ways.”
“Mrs. Evans?”
“Judy?”
She actually glanced behind her when she heard Mrs. Evans a second time. Then it dawned on her that they were talking to her.
She placed her hands on her hips and glared. “Brilliant. The best way to get me to say anything is to corner me at work.”
Flashes of light came in all directions. All Judy could see was spots and a sea of opportunistic reporters and paparazzi.
“Is it true you married the prime suspect in the assault that happened to you?”
“No comment.” She turned to José. “Don’t we have security around here?”
“What about the rumors about your brother taking on a movie role about this case?”
Now she’d heard it all.
Along with more employees returning from lunch, security finally showed up and nudged everyone with a camera and an unfamiliar face out of the office.
Mr. Archer stood beside Nancy while the media walked by.
Judy held her breath for a moment, wondered if the reaction to the media was going to end her internship sooner than she’d planned. The constant chaos of her presence might be great watercooler fodder, but for the boss . . . not so much.
“Place a note in the lobby, Nancy,” Mr. Archer said so everyone heard him. “Uninvited media presence will not be tolerated and trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” He smiled toward Judy, turned on his heel. “Welcome back, Judy.”
Her shoulders sank in a heavy sigh.
José patted her back. “Get settled. I need help on the Fullerton project.”
Despite the crazy beginning of her day, Judy smiled on the way to her desk. She set the coffee down and sifted through a couple of the papers her colleagues had placed on her desk. She really did look good in the red dress, she decided.
She opened the top drawer to clear off her desk and froze.
There, sitting on top of drafting pencils and magazines, sat her driver’s license. The one that had been in her purse her attacker made off with.
She lifted her hands off her desk as if it burned and nudged the drawer closed with her knee.
Forcing her lips into a smile, she cautiously stood and walked away.
After swallowing her first instinct, the one that told her to call the police, tell her employer what she’d found, she did neither.
Eyes followed her around the office. Only Judy now looked at everyone differently. Had someone in the office attacked her? If so, why? Or did the man responsible
slip in the office over the weekend . . . with the media?
The Fullerton project received a fifth of her attention, but it didn’t seem José noticed . . . or if he did, he didn’t care. An hour in his office and Judy made an excuse to leave his desk. In the small kitchen, she found a box of sealable plastic sandwich bags, grabbed one, and returned to her desk. Using a tissue, she opened the top of her desk, carefully removed her driver’s license, and placed it in the bag. I really hope those crime shows on TV are right about collecting evidence.
She removed her cell phone from her purse, snapped a quick picture of her license, and dropped the bag inside, where she could get it to Rick.
She attached the photo to a text message.
Found this in my desk. It was in my purse the night of the attack. Don’t panic. Don’t call.
She hit send.
Her phone buzzed within ten seconds.
I’m coming to get you.
No! Don’t. Come a little early when it’s time to pick me up. Bring something to bug my office, small video, something. It’s time we find this guy and stop running from him.
She glanced up, didn’t notice anyone around her cubby. Her very stark space with very little room to hide anything. Her thumbs worked overtime with the next text. Send me flowers, a teddy bear . . . something. We need to hide what you bring somewhere.
When he didn’t text back right away, she thought he’d blow off her idea and barge in the front door. When her phone buzzed, she read his message and smiled. Don’t leave that office for any reason.
I won’t.
And text me every hour.
She blew out a breath. Fine.
Her insides shook, but she plastered a smile on her face and acted like nothing had happened.
Nancy allowed the kid delivering the flowers into the back office. Heads turned when he found her in José’s office. Yellow roses with white lilies.
Judy attempted to act surprised while she accepted the flowers. “Oh, wow.”
Before the kid could run off, she told him she needed to get her purse for a tip. “All taken care of, Mrs. Evans.”
The name kept pulling her back. The card simply said Thank. After arranging them on her desk, she sent a quick text to Rick. THANK?
He replied with a winking emoticon.
Not forty-five minutes later, the same kid arrived with a bouquet of sunflowers . . . big and beautiful. The card said You.
A small table in the corner of her cubby housed the sunflowers.
A dozen white roses arrived next, and José gave up having her in his office. Nancy walked with the delivery kid away from her office. Judy placed the card next to the other two. Thank You For . . . Safe to say Rick wasn’t done.
It was hard to concentrate on work with her office looking like a florist exploded nearby. She was reminded of the time when Karen and Mike had fought and Mike had over a dozen flower deliveries sent to her childhood house in Utah. The difference was Mike was apologizing with gifts, where Rick was just following her suggestions. Still, the smile on her face was having a hard time going away, despite the reason for the flower deliveries.
Her phone buzzed at four o’clock. “Judy Gardner,” she answered.
“Don’t you mean Evans?” Nancy asked with a laugh.
“Oh, my . . . is the delivery guy back?”
“Yes, and I have to tell you . . . I’m so freakin’ jealous right now I can’t stand it.”
Judy laughed. “Send him back.”
There were two teddy bears holding hands and dressed in wedding attire. The delivery came with a card. Marrying. The bears were cheesy, but so stinking cute. She sent a picture of the foot-tall bears to Rick.
Ten minutes before the hour, a hand appeared around her cubicle wall; in it was a single red rose with a card.
“Another delivery?”
Rick’s arm was too thick to mistake for anyone else’s.
She stood and peeked around the corner to see him grinning in the silly way only he did. Boy, man, and mischief all rolled in one.
“You didn’t have to.”
He waved the flower and handed it to her, but didn’t say anything.
The single stem smelled lovely. The small envelope held more than a piece of paper, but she looked at the card first. Me.
“Awww, Rick.” It might be all for show, but she couldn’t help but love it.
She took a step toward him and he lifted her hand with the envelope. “There’s more.”
Judy tilted the envelope and poured out a wedding ring. The single round stone caught the light and made her smile. A completely girlie part of her giggled. “Oh, babe.”
Rick took it from her hand and placed it on her finger. The fit was perfect, the ring lovely. It was large enough to be hard to miss. She really hoped he’d taken her up on the zirconia option. Buying diamonds for a temporary ruse seemed a bit much for the pocketbook.
She held her hand out and admired the ring. “I love it.”
“C’mere.” He beckoned her with one finger.
His lips met hers and lingered.
“You’ll have everyone in the office talking,” she told him.
He shrugged. “They were already doing that anyway.”
José walked by, pushed his hand into Rick’s. “Damn glad my wife won’t be stopping by anytime soon. You put the rest of us to shame.”
The two of them spoke for a minute before Mr. Archer walked by on his way out. Handshakes and congratulations were passed around.
Judy purposely left a drawing on her desk and ignored it until after nearly everyone had left the office. Nancy was one of the last to leave. “You sure you don’t have a brother?”
“Sorry, darlin’.”
“Damn shame,” Nancy mumbled as she left.
“I’ll just finish this up,” Judy said for anyone left listening. Acting as if she were on a mission, she walked around the office checking for lingering employees.
Even Debra Miller had left on time, leaving the office bare for them.
“We’re clear,” she told Rick.
Out of his inside jacket pockets, he removed a couple of small devices. One looked like a thick black ring. Rick removed his cell phone and clicked a few things. “Here. Hold this.”
She glanced at the screen, noticed her own image standing there.
“That’s a camera?”
“Yeah.” He tied the small camera into the ribbons of the sunflowers and angled it toward the desk. Happy with that, and without a smile, he took the second device. This one had a wire on the end of the camera. He feathered the wire on the stems of the roses and pointed the device toward the entry to her cubicle. “This one has sound.”
“Why two?” she asked.
“If housekeeping moves one, the other will pick up something.”
She hadn’t thought of that.
“Now, show me what you found.”
Judy tucked into her chair, removed her purse from the drawer, and opened the top to show Rick where she’d found her license. “It was just lying there. No way I could miss it.”
He removed the license from her fingertips, looked at it through the plastic bag. “You placed it in the bag?”
“I did.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “Nice thinking, Utah.”
“Figured all the crime shows couldn’t be wrong.”
He looked beyond her inside the drawer. “Did you find anything else?”
She pushed her chair back. “I didn’t look.”
Rick grabbed a pencil from her desk and shuffled things back and forth in the drawer, though she didn’t see anything out of place. “Right after I showed up, a boatload of reporters marched into the office. Some walked right by my desk.”
“How many of them would know this is your space?”
“None, I guess.” She shivered.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll get this to Neil. Maybe we’ll find a clear print, see if Dean can come up with something
.”
He pressed the red raid button, knew he beat her once again. He ran the tip of the knife in his hand down the length of her picture. The red dress smacked of insubordination. She mocked him with the color, made him want to help her bleed all over it.
The fake blood splattered on the screen wasn’t enough . . . not since he’d smashed his fist into her that first time. That was so much more rewarding than this one-dimensional screen with beeps and whistles. His talents went well beyond this game. The badge-wearing police were arresting the wrong guy, sniffing around the wrong places. So stupid.
The only thing he hadn’t anticipated was the security surrounding Judy now. Toying with her before he took her out was proving much more difficult than he first thought.
The raid button flashed along with a sign reading Bring the Pain. The edge of the blade pushed against his finger, bringing blood to the surface. He watched in utter fascination as a drop of blood splashed on the magazine picture. His fascination with the image made him remember another one. She hadn’t put up much of a fight, however. He hadn’t meant to kill her. The thickness of her skull must have been a defect. No, he only wanted to remind Judy that he was out there. She shouldn’t be smiling in any of the pictures . . . she shouldn’t be in front of a camera at all. Even today, she laughed at the media and shooed them away as if they were her minions.
His finger pressed into the photograph.
She shouldn’t have made what should have been the most painful time in her life memorable by getting married. What sane person got married when a killer was after them? Who did that?
A cocky bitch.
Three-star general my ass.
He no longer could identify the image under his finger.
But he knew who it was . . .
After leaving his present for her today, she wouldn’t be back at her day job. She’d be the coward she was . . . hiding behind her game, behind the walls of her brother’s house.
Then he’d just have to wait. Her fortress wasn’t as secure as those around her believed.
Meg ran out of the house before Rick put the Ferrari in park.
Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) Page 21