"You should ask if she has any friends. The list would be shorter."
Coop's jaws tightened. Duncan knew when Coop did that he was holding something back.
"Anybody hate her enough to want to harm her?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Marsha is difficult to work with. People in this business are often that way. If we went around killing every one of them, there would be no one left."
"So you don't think it's anyone in the business? What about her personal life?"
"I don't know much about her personal life. In the beginning Marsha and I were friends. That died shortly after I became part of this show."
"Do you think she has something against you personally?"
Duncan shook his head. He remembered the first day he met Aurora, and her profile of Marsha's actions. "Marsha's very insecure and expresses it by trying to exert power over other people. It just doesn't work with me."
Coop nodded as if he understood. He reminded Duncan of Aurora. Both she and Coop dealt in individual personalities. They looked at the psyche one person at a time. It was why Aurora could zero in on Marsha's behavior so quickly. Duncan looked at people as masses—the audience, what the collective group would do and how they would act.
"I think you should talk to Aurora," Duncan suggested.
"Why?"
"She doesn't believe Marsha's kidnapping happened the way Marsha reported it."
"Where is she?" Coop didn't bother asking him questions he was only going to have to ask Aurora.
"Makeup. Come on."
They went across the stage to the back area, where Aurora's face and hair were done each day before they began recording. Her back was to them when they came in. She sat in a chair while a woman in a smock chatted and worked with Aurora's hair.
The room smelled of hair spray and chemicals, sweet yet pungent, with an odor that spoke of female ritual. Duncan stilled his heart and his face. He didn't want anyone to witness how much Aurora affected him. He wasn't used to these feelings.
"Hi, Coop." Aurora smiled when he walked around to face her. Her makeup was done and the final touches were being put on her hair. She looked beautiful. Duncan wondered if he'd ever get used to seeing her. It didn't matter whether she was perfectly coutured or had scrubbed her face free of makeup. It didn't matter if she were under moonlight or stage light. She drove him to distraction.
"Would you excuse us?" Coop looked at the makeup artist. She smiled without a word and left them.
"You look great," Coop told her as the door clicked closed. Aurora checked her reflection in the lighted mirror in front of her.
"One segment of today's show has to do with makeup and hair care for the black woman. The other was cancelled. Apparently the child we had scheduled with the rare disease was taken to the hospital last night and won't be able to make it." Aurora looked at Duncan, then back to Coop. "What's this all about?"
"Coop wants to ask you some questions about Marsha."
She moved her gaze to Coop. Duncan perched on the arm of a nearby chair.
"I don't know Marsha. How can I help you?"
"Duncan tells me you have some theories on Marsha and her previous kidnapping."
Aurora threw a glance Duncan's way.' 'I told him your interpretation of her reaction the day of the attempted kidnapping," he said.
"They're theories."
"Just tell me what you think. It could help me." Aurora looked deep into Coop's eyes. She wondered if she should read more into the word than was there. He'd said she could help him—not that she might be able to help with the investigation. She knew Coop was interested in Marsha personally.
"I thought her reaction was a little too fearful for someone who hadn't really been kidnapped. I thought she was lying about it, and that something else happened, something unpleasant.”
"Any idea what that could have been?"
"Nothing concrete. I never talked to her."
"Give me a professional personality profile, then." Aurora slipped out of the chair. She stood in front of Coop. She took a while to begin speaking, collecting her thoughts. "She seems afraid. I suppose in this kind of industry and with her show being number one, fear is part of the territory, but it goes deeper than that I don't know what it is and I doubt she'd tell me. I don't even think she admits it to herself."
Aurora looked at Duncan, then quickly moved away. He distracted her. Keeping her mind on Coop and Marsha, she continued. "I'd say she didn't have an easy time getting to the number one spot on television. She's made a lot of enemies along the way, but I don't think she intended to."
"Why do you say that?" Coop asked.
"Her on-screen personality. The way she can elicit deep feelings from her guests. You can't fake that. I know how the audience likes it and I've seen her connect with them, not control them, be one of them. Down inside her is a woman who wants to be liked and needs to be loved. She can show that to the camera because she assumes we think she's acting. In truth, that's the only time she isn't acting."
"Then why isn't she here?" Duncan spoke for the first time. "Why is she allowing you to take over her show?" He paused. "Aurora is good, very good." He glanced at Coop. "I wasn't kidding when I said you'd be getting offers to do your own show. Marsha has to see that, too. She's not blind."
"There must be something else she's afraid of," Coop answered, speaking more to himself than Duncan. "Something more frightening than losing her show."
***
Coop sat in the township-issue detective's car inside the garage of The Princeton Medical Center. He'd followed Marsha there. She headed toward the entrance. Coop got out and quickly followed her.
Marsha walked purposefully. She knew where she was going. The sureness of her footsteps told him this was not her first visit. She had no appointment, no reason for being there. When he'd arrived at the place where she stayed she'd come out of the driveway alone. She wasn’t living in her home. Something had spooked her enough for her to move out. She was staying in a condo in Montgomery Township. According to township records the owner was Dion Barnes. Coop hadn’t found out who Dion was or what association she or he had with the talk show hostess.
Coop circled around and followed. He tailed her through the hallways of the new hospital wing. At his height it was difficult to go undetected, but Marsha knew where she was going. Her stride was confident. She looked neither left nor right. She stopped in front of a closed door and hesitated before going inside. Coop checked the number. Flashing his badge he asked for the name of the occupant. The nurse's answer meant nothing to him. She said the patient was a strong boy and that his crisis period was over.
A child? Coop wondered. What connection did Marsha have with this child? Coop took up position within viewing distance of the room. In fifteen minutes the door opened and two women came out—Marsha and, he assumed, the child's mother. Coop didn't recognize her.
"Thank you for coming," she said. "You've made Adam feel so much better. I'm sure he'll recover faster since you came to see him."
Marsha squeezed the woman's shoulder and smiled. "Call me if I can help."
Coop saw the tears in the mother's eyes as Marsha left her. He followed and fell into step with her before she reached the end of the hall.
She stopped, glared at him, then walked away. "What do you want?"
She would have tried to out-stride him, but Coop's height would have had her in a slow run. "I want to know why you're here."
"I can't see how that's any of your business." She skittered through the double doors and headed toward the exit.
"I'm investigating attempted murder." He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "Yours!" Anger replaced his usual calm.
She snatched her arm away and resumed walking. If she thought she was getting rid of him, she could think again. Coop let her get to the parking lot but put his hand on hers when she tried to open the car door.
She jerked it away and turned around. Mistake, he thought. He had her pinned be
tween his body and the car. She opened her mouth to speak. Making a lightning quick decision, he buried his hands in her hair and sealed his mouth to hers.
***
Sighing, Aurora slipped down in the tub. She smiled, feeling good, relaxed. She took more baths since she'd met Duncan than she had since discovering as a child that the water in the shower wouldn't hit her in the face. That first day he'd suggested she take a bath, and Megan had come over to check on her. Now bubbles came up to her chin. She'd liberally poured the bath salts into the water and luxuriated as the hot water massaged her screaming muscles. The day had been long even without the second part of the show. Now she had relax time. She never planned to move again. Closing her eyes, she let the water take her away. She floated, thought of nothing but the smell of the salts and the feel of the water as she communed with it.
In the other room the phone began to ring. She groaned. It would happen when she took a bath. The phone never rang while she showered. Standing up, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to answer it. It could only be Duncan. If it had been anyone else she'd have ignored it.
"Duncan, couldn't you wait just a few more minutes?"
"So it's Duncan now," a strange voice said.
"Who is this?"
"I'm for you, Marsha," he said. "I watched you today."
Cold fear shivered down her spine. She knew who it was—the man who'd tried to kidnap her. The one she felt following her, the one she looked for over her shoulder, her stalker, her attempted killer.
"You don't think I believe that story, do you?"
She couldn't speak. Her voice was paralyzed in her throat.
"I know television, Marsha. You can use any name you want, Rory." He said it as if it were distasteful. "You'll still be my pearl."
"What do you want?" she whispered, her voice climbing over her heart and coming out with a hoarseness that made it sound small and fearful.
"I want you."
"Why?"
"It's nothing personal. I'll just unravel you like the necklace. How' d you like the pearls? You looked good wearing them."
Aurora's hand went to her throat. Soap dried on her skin.
"I'll make sure they bury you with them."
The phone clicked in her ear. Aurora dropped the receiver and backed away from it as if it were a snake on the floor. No sound came out. She tried to scream but voice was denied her. Her heart thudded against her chest like a stampede. Her knees buckled under her. Had her falling to the floor. One scream escaped, but no others came. She felt the loud, horrifying, sound reminiscent of a dying animal in her throat , fighting for release, but Aurora held it in. Her body trembled and she shook, but no sound further sound ebbed from her mouth.
That's how Duncan found her when he burst through the door. The towel had slipped away and she lay naked on the floor. He quickly checked for any injuries or bleeding, then pulled her and the towel into his arms and tried to stem the terror that had holding her still.
"Aurora!" he shouted. “Are you hurt?”
She looked at him, her eyes dry and dazed. "Aurora!" The words reached her.
“I’m all right,” she said. “I’m alone. No one is here.” Duncan hadn’t asked the questions, but he wondered why she’d screamed. And why she was lying on the floor. He put her on the bed and sat beside her. It was then that he saw the phone laying on the floor. He pulled it up and listened. A disembodied recording spoke in his ear. He dropped it in the cradle and continued to hold Aurora.
She shivered. Duncan pulled the bedcovers over her. She still shivered.
“What happened?” he asked. Why did you scream?
"He called," she said through trembling lips. Her hand tightened on his sleeves, but the shaking continued. "I was in the bathtub."
"Don't talk yet," Duncan said. He wanted her to tell him, but she needed to be calmer. She was fighting fear, one that was deep within her. "Take a few deep breaths."
She did as he advised.
"Don't try to stop the shivering. Just relax, let go, and it will stop."
Again he proved right. After a few moments she was no longer as afraid as she’d been when the voice on the phone had spoken to her. Pushing herself up, she kept the covers in place. Her arms and shoulders were cold, but she ignored them. Duncan moved the spread up to her neck. Intuitively, he understood her need for warmth.
"He called,” she said. “The man who tried to kidnap me. He said he was going to...kill me."
Chapter 13
Marsha Chambers blew into her living room like a whirlwind, throwing her coat aside and turning to give Cooper Dean a withering glare he was sure many people had been repulsed by. Coop let it roll off him. He'd kissed her and he knew secrets she hid from the world.
"You had no right to kiss me," she ranted.
"I didn't notice you fighting me off." Coop stood in one spot. He removed his coat and dropped it over a chair. She fascinated him as no woman had ever done.
"You're a big man."
"I wasn't forcing you." She was gracious enough to turn away but not before he saw the dark flood of emotion in her eyes. He crossed the room and stood behind her. He made no move to touch her. "Your problem is that you enjoyed it and you don't want to admit it, not even to yourself."
"Don't you have an investigation to conduct?"
Coop did. He should be asking her professional questions, finding out who had singled her out as a target and why. But he was busy controlling his breathing, trying to keep his heart inside his chest, and letting his mind fantasize over her.
She's afraid. Aurora's words came back to him. "Do I make you nervous?"
She swung around. "No." She had to look up at him. Then she tried to step back and tripped. Coop's hands automatically came out and took her arms. His intention was to prevent her from falling. Instead he pulled her against his chest.
"You make me nervous," he said, and lowered his head. He didn't touch her mouth. He let his breath mingle with hers. If she wanted to refuse him, turn her head, twist out of his arms, he gave her ample time. She didn't. Instead she melted against him.
"You don't want to be involved with me," she whispered, her voice dark and sweet as chocolate cherries.
"You're right," he said. "Unfortunately, it's too late for that." His mouth closed over hers. Coop was lost the moment he felt her hands sliding around him. He bent, fitting her into his body and crushed her there, crushed her mouth, dove into her as if she were a pool. "Use restraint," his mind said, but he pushed the thought aside. The force driving him was nowhere near his mind. He didn't want to listen. She'd driven him crazy for too long, since the first time Duncan had introduced them. Now he had her in his arms and he was holding on. Her arms climbed, too, her body shifting against him, her leg wrapping around his.
Coop wanted to take her, here and now, on the floor, on the sofa, even on the window seat, but somehow his official role asserted itself and he pushed her back. He didn't let go, but separated enough to let air flow between them.
"I need to talk to you," Coop said when he could trust his voice. He led her to the sofa and they sat down. Marsha let her head rest on his shoulder. Coop found it hard to think with her touching him. "I want you to tell me about your kidnapping."
That got a reaction out of her. She sat up and moved away from him. Coop let his breath go and hoped his blood would return to the normal paths of his body.
"Something more happened than you reported. I want to know what it was."
"Why do you think that?"
"I had a talk with a psychologist. She told me a lot about people and how they react. You've got classic symptoms."
"Symptoms of what?"
Coop hesitated. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that Aurora told him she'd seen.
"Symptoms of a woman being blackmailed."
Marsha recoiled. A second later she laughed. Coop stared directly at her, not moving, not reacting to her. She had no way of knowing how often he'd seen people react to his com
ments. He'd read the lie in her voice and the lie in her laughter.
"You weren't kidnapped by a fan, but by someone you knew. Someone who knows something that can ruin your career. And you've been paying him ever since. It's why you didn't want the police called, why you asked Duncan to hire Aurora Alexander, and why you're hiding out here."
"I am not hiding out."
"Cut it, Marsha. I'm not stupid. Now tell me the truth." He stood up, towering over her.
She sat back, closed her mouth.
"Who's the kid?"
"What kid?"
"Is he yours?"
"No."
"Do you have any children?"
"No."
"Have you ever had any?"
"No."
"Ever been pregnant?"
"No."
"Ever killed anybody?"
Her head snapped up. "No."
At least he knew she was listening to him. "Then what does this man have on you?"
"There isn't anyone, and there's nothing to be had."
"Come on, Marsha, you're no child. Anyone over the age of puberty has something in their past they want to keep hidden. And you're a public figure. You've got more to lose than most.”
"If I did have something to lose, what makes you think I'd tell a cop?"
That tone was back in her voice. The one that she used to as protection. Coop pulled her up to face him. He'd fired questions at her. This time he changed his tactics. His voice was soft when he spoke. "I think you'll tell a cop because you want it to stop. You want someone to know. You've shouldered this burden alone for three years and you want it over and done with."
"Let me go."
She tugged on her arm. Coop kept it securely in his hand.
"You'll tell a cop because a cop is the best person. I'll keep your secret, Marsha, no matter what it is. And I'll collar the guy who's doing this to you."
Tears formed in her eyes. She was going to talk. He knew it. She opened her mouth. No sound came out. He waited, knowing he'd pushed her enough. She was going to tell him.
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