by Molly Rice
Dana stood and went around her desk to pace the small bit of space in front of it. From now on she was going to have to keep a lock on who she interviewed for this case, and if, as they were all praying, an actual eyewitness came forward before trial opened, the person would have to be taken into protective custody.
She glanced up at the clock. Eleven forty. Lunchtime soon. But the thought of food caused her stomach to twist savagely. She wished she could cry, maybe that would let out some of the impotent rage, the frustration she was feeling.
God knows, Vale deserves to have a few tears shed over him, she thought.
A knock at the door stopped her midthought and Yearling came in, a grim look on his face, the newspaper rolled under his arm.
“Dana, I know how you must be feeling, but you have to get used to this sort of thing, it’s part of the agenda in this business,” he said, slumping into a chair.
She returned to her own seat behind the desk. “Still, I can’t help but question my methods and—”
“Those kinds of thoughts are unproductive,” her boss interrupted. “You need to be thinking objectively now. You can’t bring Vale back, but you can damn well vindicate his death in court.”
He got to his feet, wearily, Dana thought, concern for the older man obliterating her confusion and frustration.
“John, are you all right?”
He had started for the door. He looked over his shoulder and smiled sadly. “I will be when you nail that bastard in court and this case is closed for good.”
It was a vote of confidence she badly needed. She smiled as the door closed behind Yearling. With renewed vigor and a burning desire to justify her boss’s words, she pulled out the witness list and set to work.
She was still working when Nico knocked and entered the room.
They hadn’t seen each other since he had moved out of her house and returned to his own apartment. If Dana wanted to fling herself into his arms, she hid it well by removing her glasses and rising to greet him with an impersonal smile. Fleetingly she thought of that last night when their lovemaking had been aborted by the arrival of Heather Wilson. She could see by the expression in his eyes that he was remembering, too.
There was an awkward moment of silence and then Nico’s glance fell to the newspaper on Dana’s desk.
He shook his head, sighed, and fell onto a chair. “I feel as if it’s my fault,” he said, his voice grim. “Maybe if I hadn’t kept after him…”
“Why should you get all the blame?” Dana asked. “Didn’t I initiate the interview with him?”
Nico looked distressed, rubbed his hand across his forehead. “He was a really nice guy, you know?”
Dana nodded. “I was just thinking that. And ironically, he was no real threat to anyone.”
Nico did a double take. “What?”
“He didn’t have any real evidence, wasn’t an eyewitness to the shooting, didn’t even have anything concrete on the action going down at the warehouse. I was using him to substantiate rumors and speculation, hoping the jury would be moved to add that to the circumstantial evidence we have.”
“Do you hear yourself, Dana? You’re saying the guy died for nothing!”
Fresh pain throbbed in her throat and left Dana speechless. Finally she shook her head and rasped, “That’s why I feel so guilty. But I told you why we had to build a case with anything we could find. Do you think I’d have elected to take this case to trial with so little proof?” Her voice grew stronger. “Dammit, I was following orders.” She pounded the desk so hard it made Nico jump.
“Take it easy, Dana, I was just caught unawares for a moment. I’m not blaming you for anything.”
She gestured her apology with a wave of her hand. “Okay, so what’s next?”
“I’ve got some leads to follow up on. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something significant to report.”
The door had almost closed when it opened again and Nico stuck his head back into the room. “How’s Krystal doing with Heather?”
She misses you, Dana thought. Out loud she said, “they’re thick as thieves already.”
Nico nodded but his face showed his disappointment. “Yeah, well, give the kid my love.”
Dana put her head in her hands when she heard the gentle snick of the door closing.
What would be the point of telling him that Krystal was moping around, that it took real effort on Heather’s part to get her to open up at all to Nico’s replacement, that Krystal curled up in Dana’s bed at night and talked nonstop about Nico and about his family.
She couldn’t have told him how sad that made Dana feel, and how it reminded her of her own sense of loss. He was just a business associate now and they would continue to meet in circumstances that were purely professional.
Still she was too depressed to work. She decided to take an early lunch break and get some errands done. She jotted a short list of things she’d put off for one reason or another and noticed that she could accomplish all of them right in the area of the government building. It was a great day; moderate temperature, zero humidity. Perfect fall weather. She decided she’d walk.
Half an hour later she’d been to the post office, the bank and Dayton’s department store. She checked her watch as she came out to the mall again, pleased with her efficiency. She stood for a moment, wondering if she could make it to the computer store and back within an hour. Any minute now, she’d be running out of toner for her printer at home, and surely that software she’d ordered would have come in by now.
Suddenly that sense of being watched returned. She looked all around but saw no one she knew, no one who looked the least suspicious, no one who appeared to be paying special attention to her. She shook her head and turned in the direction of Third Avenue. The computer store was about seven blocks away, and out of the stream of pedestrian traffic that clogged the mall. She ought to be able to make it in good time.
In no time at all she was a block from the store, its neon sign in her sights just as she started across Tenth Street.
The taxi seemed to come from out of nowhere, barreling around the corner, bearing down on her at top speed.
Instinctively Dana took a step backward.
The hand at her back pushed her forward, and she fell to her knees as the taxi screeched to a halt with a squealing of brakes.
The scream stuck in Dana’s throat as a hand pulled her roughly to her feet.
“Din’t you see the light change, lady?” the taxi driver shouted as he climbed out of the cab. Dana flinched and started to explain.
“Think how much it costs us taxpayers when city officials don’t watch where they’re going,” a low voice said from behind her.
She spun around at the familiar voice, shocked, but not surprised, to find Marcus Caprezio at her back.
This explained the feeling of being followed, the sensation that she was being watched every time she walked anywhere in the vicinity of her office. And then she recalled that hand at her back just as she’d fallen.
“You’ve been following me,” she accused. “You pushed me.”
“Hey, Ms. Harper, what kinda gratitude is that, I just saved your life.”
The cabdriver came up beside them, nodding his head. “That’s right, lady, I saw him pull you up outta the street This guy’s a hero, you owe him big-time.”
Dana stared suspiciously at the driver. Were they in cahoots, was this a setup? But there was nothing she could charge the driver with. He hadn’t hit her, after all, and she couldn’t see trying to accuse him of anything when no one had been hurt.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, “and I can’t see any reason to detain you. Thanks.”
The driver looked at Caprezio, a question on his face. “Yeah, thanks, buddy,” Marcus said. He handed the man a bill. “And thanks for the backup.” He turned an oily grin on Dana as he added, “I wouldn’t want the lady to think I’d do her any harm. Wouldn’t want her to think I’m some kind of murderer for inst
ance.”
Dana watched the driver get back in the car and drive off at a more reasonable speed before she turned back to Marcus.
“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” she rasped.
“Come on, Ms. Harper, if I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. We both know that.” He brushed imaginary lint off his suit jacket front and gave her a menacing look from under his beetled, black eyebrows.
“But you’re never going to feel safe, are you, lady lawyer?” And in a low, guttural snarl, added, “And you’re never going to be safe, either.”
Dana was struck dumb by horror as the man turned on his heels and strolled away.
For a moment she thought about reporting the incident to her boss but the more she thought about it, the more uncertain she became.
Yearling had put such trust in her capabilities. She had to maintain a sane and sober manner. She couldn’t run tattling to him with every little threat, couldn’t give him reason to regret leaving her on the case when just a short time ago he’d suggested turning it over to another attorney—a man, at that.
Anyway, it would be her word against Caprezio’s and a case could certainly be made for the paranoia Marcus had accused her of, especially since she’d never reported the other threats to her boss. Not only that, but she had a feeling Caprezio would have no trouble locating the cabdriver who would back up his protestation of innocence. Especially if Marcus had set up the whole scenario just to create a new way of delivering his threatening messages. He would come out looking like a hero, wrongly accused, and Dana would come off ungrateful, paranoid, vengeful. The press would have a field day at her expense.
She looked around as she got her bearings and remembered she’d been on her way to the computer store. There was no point in wasting the trip now that she was only a block away. She’d be late getting back but she’d just stay a little longer at the office to complete her day’s quota of paperwork. Feeling better, she straightened her shoulders and set her chin at a brave angle, her eyes focused on the neon sign at the end of the next block.
But she looked around carefully before stepping off the curb to cross the street.
IT WAS AFTER SEVEN, already growing dark, when Dana interrupted her work to check the time. She’d meant to be home before Krystal went to bed but apparently she wasn’t going to make it
Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she dialed her home number with the other.
“Heather, it’s Dana,” she said when the detective answered on the second ring. “It doesn’t look as though I’ll make it home before Krystal’s bedtime. Can you cover for me?”
“Sure thing, Dana, no problem. We’re watching Wizard of Oz and I suspect Krys will be zonked by the time it’s over.”
Dana laughed. “Is she repeating every line of dialogue word for word?”
“Yeah, you’d think she wrote it.”
“She’s watched it maybe a zillion times since she was two years old,” Dana admitted, still chuckling. “Well, tell her I’m sorry about tonight but that I love her and I’ll make it up tomorrow.”
“Will do. Oh, hey; I left a plate of dinner for you in the warming oven.”
The mention of food brought Dana’s attention to her empty stomach. She’d missed both lunch and dinner and hadn’t even thought of it until now. She thanked Heather for her thoughtfulness and hung up, anxious to be done so that she could get home to the dinner that awaited her.
It was a quarter to eight when she called it a day. The offices were dark as she made her way through the corridor toward the reception area, the only light the lowwattage wall sconce beside the elevator. Suddenly she heard the sound of movement behind her.
She spun around and peered into the shadows at the end of the hall. She couldn’t see anything. She picked up her pace, nearly running through the gloomy passage. Once again she thought she heard a noise but when she stopped to listen, she heard nothing.
Still, she sensed she wasn’t alone. If someone was back there, he was keeping out of sight, making sure he wasn’t heard. Maybe she could get away without him knowing it. She slowed her step, took off her shoes and tried to move soundlessly to the elevator.
She was about to turn the corner at the end of the hall when she felt someone rush up behind her. She tried to spurt forward, but an arm closed around her throat, halting her movement.
She had time for only one scream before the grip tightened to a choke hold. She was sure she was going to black out any minute, positive death was only one more twist of that arm away when she heard another sound and then a voice shouting her name.
The arm fell away from her neck and she heard a grunt as the man pushed her forward and took off at a run.
She tried to focus and get to her feet. A wave of dizziness swept over her just as a strong pair of arms swept her up and a familiar and welcome voice begged to know she was all right.
“Go after him,” she croaked, urgent fright outweighing the pain.
“Not till I know you’re all right,” he repeated.
“Fine, I’m fine. Go after him, Nico, he tried to kill me.”
She could hear him opening doors, searching offices, running from one work area to the next, slamming doors shut, as she slowly limped to the water fountain that hung on the wall across from the elevator. She splashed cold water on her face and throat, using a cupped hand to hold the water. It helped ease the pain a little.
Nico ran back to her yelling, “He’s gone. I’ll call down to the lobby, see if the guard saw anyone running out of the building.”
“You saved my life, Nico,” Dana said hoarsely as he hung up the phone at the receptionist’s desk, shaking his head.
“All I did was show up,” he muttered, studying Dana’s neck in the light from the wall sconce beside the elevator. Angry red marks were already blotching her skin.
“But your arrival scared him off,” she insisted. “If you hadn’t shown up just then, he’d have killed me.”
She shuddered and Nico enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly until she moaned softly.
“Pain?” Nico asked.
Dana nodded. “I could use some cold compresses in strategic places,” she admitted.
Nico held her face between his hands and shook his head. “Are you ready to concede now that you need a bodyguard, Dana?”
“There’s nothing to show the attack was personal,” she argued. “He might have attacked anyone who worked late and threatened his mission.”
“Which was what?” Nico demanded.
“Burglary?” Dana said weakly.
“Of the County Attorney’s offices?” Nico scoffed. “I don’t think so. What would he have been after? Paper clips?”
Dana gingerly caressed her throat, the pain suddenly welling up again as if to remind her of what could have happened if Nico hadn’t shown up.
“You can’t ignore the facts, love,” he said, his voice gentle, soothing. “It’s not safe for you to be alone anymore, and certainly not here, at night.”
She had to admit, to herself at least, that she was suddenly attracted to the thought of Nico covering her back.
She hadn’t even told him about what had happened in the street earlier in the day.
“I don’t want you to give up your investigation,” she rasped.
“I can do that after I see you safely to your office every morning and then safely home at the end of the day. We both have pagers, you can always beep me if you’re going to leave the office for any reason during the day.”
Dana agreed, recognizing that to refuse to accept his guardianship would, at this point, be sheer foolishness.
“I don’t want anyone else to know,” she warned, “especially no one in the department. And,” she added, pushing to make her tone as firm as possible under the circumstances, “I don’t ever want to hear the term ‘bodyguard’ used in connection with our association.”
“Done,” he agreed, affection apparent in his chuckle. “So unless you want to stop at the hospital t
o have them give you the once-over, let’s go to my apartment so I can pick up my bag.”
SHE FELL IN LOVE with him as she moved around his living room while he was in the bedroom packing a bag. She clutched an ice bag, concocted from a plastic bag and a hand towel, to her throat, strolling from one area of interest to the next
His bookcases were stuffed with the broadest array of titles she’d ever seen outside of a library. The books overflowed to other surfaces in the room and even to stacks on the floor near a leather recliner. A stereo system offered the choice of LP, cassette or CD; there were plenty of each in evidence on the shelves and here again she noticed his eclectic taste.
There were pictures of people on the walls and on the table in front of the window. From that window she had a clear view of the Mississippi River and Harriet Island on the other bank. She recognized those members of his family she had met, including his parents. In almost every picture that included Nico, he was holding or playing with a child, his expression one of simple joy.
A battered old saxophone was peeking out of a partially open case, suggesting long years of use and recent use at that. She could visualize him blowing bittersweet jazz on the horn and she opened the case all the way and caressed the dull brass of the instrument with gentle fingers.
She went to the couch and settled into a corner, looking around at the general decor of the room. Early Salvation Army, she thought, smiling, but pulled together into real hominess by Nico’s personal stamp. Books, music, family photos, odd little ceramic pieces that had probably been humorous gifts from his siblings and cherished without self-consciousness, and plants everywhere, obviously well cared for.
There was no sign of the cop here, nothing that said this was strictly a man’s home, no sense that there were things hidden from the casual eye that would suggest another persona lurking beneath the domestic facade. It was strictly “what you see is what you get,” and she liked what she saw.
She had her head twisted at an odd angle, trying to read the title of a book on a table at the other end of the couch, when Nico reentered the room, his suitcase and a small matching travel kit in one hand, his briefcase in the other.