by Joanne Rock
Silence followed, but her quick, quiet footsteps brought her to his side almost instantly. He really needed to take some precautions to protect any evidence the intruder might have left, but first she had to see the collage on the very slim chance she’d posted the articles herself or had let a friend post them as a joke.
Her scent floated under his nose and he regretted that they hadn’t met under different circumstances when they might have been able to keep things more simple. More elemental.
“This wasn’t here last night.” Her words hitched on a small tremor. “I’ve never seen half of these articles since I tried to avoid this stuff.”
“No wonder.” The articles had been intrusive on her private life at best and downright cruel at worst. He’d seen most of them online when he’d done his homework after meeting her, but a couple of these were new to him, too.
“I want to get out of here.” Tabitha’s arms were wrapped around her body, her shoulders rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.
He felt like an ass for standing here reading tabloid smut.
“I’ll need to call this in so we can see if there are prints. I’ll have it all taken down, but we need the lab guys to do it so we don’t compromise the scene.” He pulled out his phone and dialed the numbers to move things along. “I can take you to my place as soon as we get some backup and I can fill the guys in on what we’re looking for, okay?”
Nodding, her expression looked far away and distant, an expression Warren remembered from that magazine article of her in the white living room, an expression that meant she was disconnecting in a big way. He hated to think she would retreat from everything—even him—if they couldn’t get a handle on who was following her and why.
Yet he could understand the need to distance herself. If he could haul ass out of their personal relationship now, he would do it in a minute for both their sakes. His professional reputation—hell, his whole career—was on the line along with his personal sense of commitment to the force. He hadn’t been investigating a case when he’d first propositioned Tabitha. But it had quickly turned into an investigation he couldn’t ignore. And aside from what anyone in the NYPD thought about his investigative techniques, he had his own reasons for wanting to see justice tied to every bullet that was fired under his nose.
But there was no going back now. Even if their relationship was turning far more intense than they ever planned, he couldn’t let her out of sight until he caught her stalker.
* * *
HER WHOLE LIFE was on display.
Tabitha sidestepped a uniformed officer in her living room, doing her best to stay out of their way even though there were four cops besides Warren crawling all over her place to collect evidence. They’d searched the alleyway outside and peered inside her trash bin in case the intruder had tossed something away. They did some sort of shadow-rubbing test on her notepad in her bedroom and only discovered her shopping list from last week had been the last thing written on the sheet of paper above. Now everyone in the room knew she bought Weight Watchers by the truckload and needed to restock her tampons. Charming.
Somehow stripping away her privacy seemed far more invasive than stripping away her clothes on the set. She’d steeled herself to bare her body. But in the wake of her hellish year, she hadn’t quite reached the mental fortitude to have all her layers of personal protection dispatched. Her life under a microscope. The questions about her past and her crappy marriage were the worst, however. Didn’t they understand she didn’t want to rehash it all? That they were exploring down the wrong avenue by looking at her ex?
Although, she had to admit, the latest note from her stalker seemed to draw a connection to her past. A connection she didn’t have the slightest idea how to understand.
Now she checked her phone messages with a cop standing over her, copying down a terse greeting from her mother and a request from Manny’s attorney to meet with her.
Great.
What the hell did Braeden want with her now? The blood-sucking leech had already made sure Manny took everything in the divorce. She erased the messages with the cop’s okay and then turned away from her machine.
Another detective headed her way and Tabitha froze, thinking maybe Warren wanted to double-team her on the questions. She remembered the woman—Detective Donata Casale—from the night she visited Warren outside the John de Milo murder scene.
“How are you holding up?” the lady cop asked, her petite stature and wild platinum blond curls debunking every stereotype Tabitha had about cops.
“I’m okay. Mystified, but okay.” Tabitha tunneled her arms into the sleeves of a long sweater since her front door had been open ten different times in the past half hour.
“Meaning you don’t have any guesses about who might have done this?” Detective Casale gestured toward the bedroom where other officers were brushing powders on the wall and examining the newspaper clippings.
“None.”
“Even though—no offense—your ex seems to have it in for you?”
“None taken. And as much as I agree about my ex, this kind of thing isn’t his style when he is skilled at exacting revenge in more socially acceptable forms, like slander in the papers and making sure all his colleagues know not to hire me.”
A police radio squawked from another room at the same time someone’s cell phone rang. Another officer passed through the hallway and out the front door. The noise and activity reminded her of the murder scene, creeping her out and making her all the more determined she wouldn’t be next.
“But your stalker obviously doesn’t like you being in the papers. Any secret admirers who might be upset with all that media attention?”
“Not that I know of. I haven’t dated anyone since the divorce until—” Was it okay to mention her relationship with Warren? They hadn’t really talked about that.
“Until Warren,” Donata finished for her. She drew Tabitha over to the quietest corner of the living room. “He told me you’re staying with him. And I think it’s pissing off your stalker, who obviously knows your level of involvement since he e-mailed you about it last night.”
Tabitha hadn’t made that connection, but suddenly she felt more responsible for the whole mess.
“You think I should stop seeing Warren?”
“Hell, no.” She flashed a humorless grin. “You couldn’t have picked a better time to get involved with a detective, hon, because this guy sounds dangerous.”
She nodded absently, hating the idea of hanging around Warren for such purely selfish reasons. But then again, she wouldn’t admit to her growing affinity for the man who’d shown her so much pleasure and—if she was honest with herself—a hell of a lot more tenderness than she’d known in her life.
“Tabitha.” Warren’s voice called to her from the bedroom. “Can you take a look at this photo?”
She and Donata both hurried into the bedroom where the articles were in the process of coming off the wall to be bagged as evidence. One of the tabloid articles contained a large picture that hadn’t been visible before under the collage of other pieces.
“This guy turning his head.” He pointed to a tall man at the back of a table during a dinner party.
She remembered the event, remembered the meal with excruciating clarity since she’d begun to suspect Manny’s affair with Evelyn during those martini-filled hours that were part business and part schmooze. She did recall being propositioned for a skin flick during the meal, a career low point that helped her realize she needed to make better headway on her goal to be behind the camera.
“That’s John de Milo.” She remembered him cracking more obnoxious jokes with each new round. “He didn’t really have any connection to the business we were discussing that night, but he came to the dinner with Manny’s attorney.”
Donata leaned closer to the photo and frowned as she pointed to the young woman on John’s right.
“I recognize this girl as one of the underage chicks who sold private shows
from her bedroom when we were investigating the webcam scam last month.”
She turned to Tabitha. “We still haven’t located the distributor who’s taking illegal webcam movies and mass-marketing them. You think there’s any chance your ex could have been involved with underage porn?”
Underage porn? As in girls, not women? Tabitha hoped she wouldn’t throw up, her stomach rolling in response. She’d known her ex had made a few skin flicks in the early days, but as far as she knew, he’d only hired adult actresses.
“If he is, you would have heard about it long ago from me. It’s one thing for him to make my life a living hell, but if he ever did anything to compromise a minor with my knowledge, I would have retaliated in the most painful ways imaginable.”
Donata hid a smile while the uniformed officer nearby cleared his throat. Warren held her gaze. Calm. Reassuring.
“There are no concrete leads showing a connection, but since de Milo and your ex both have ties to the industry and the girl in this photo prostituted herself for the same kinds of private shows that are being mass-marketed, I think we’ll want to take a close look at everyone in this picture.”
Donata nodded. “Maybe it’s no coincidence that our guy is growing active now in the wake of all the arrests I’ve made in the last couple of weeks on the underage porn case. If there’s a connection between de Milo’s death and Tabitha’s stalker, I think we need to find out who would be threatened by the two of them and why. He might think we’re coming close to an answer if he’s being bold enough to keep resurfacing in such a short span of time.”
“I’m taking Tabitha out of the city for a few days,” Warren announced, his gaze back on the collage of newspaper clippings. His eyes never even cut over to hers for a cursory questioning glance.
“I can’t leave.” She’d said it half to herself, so it was no surprise that no one heard her since the detectives burst into conversation as they divvied up responsibilities in the casework, agreeing that Warren should make the most of the time with Tabitha to question her about Manny’s business associates while Donata looked at de Milo’s background until lab results came back on the material the stalker left in Tabitha’s apartment.
“Look, I understand I can’t stay here. But is it really necessary to leave the whole city?” Tabitha’s raised voice finally slid into a conversational hole.
Two sets of eyes turned toward her before the uniformed officers busied themselves with their work and Donata excused herself to speak with the officer who’d been making notes on the answering machine messages.
Leaving her and Warren staring at one another in a silent showdown she hadn’t meant to create.
“You need to put distance between you and this guy.” Warren’s voice was steady and even, not exactly raised, but not exactly warm and fuzzy, either.
Not that she needed warm and fuzzy, damn it.
“That’s why I was staying at your place.” She had no choice but to lower her own voice since she was pretty sure that wasn’t standard police procedure and she didn’t know how much Warren would want the fact advertised.
“But that’s not safe enough anymore now that this guy is ratcheting up his presence—and his threat level. He’s not just a stalker with the potential for violence. He’s already proven deadly.” Warren allowed the last word to linger.
“I understand that.” Although she had to admit that hearing Warren say it made it all the scarier. She’d gotten used to thinking that as long as she was with him, she’d be safe. “But I don’t know how to make it work since I won’t have a place to live next month if I don’t show up for my jobs.”
She wished she wasn’t in that kind of predicament, but there it was. Her mother had made it clear to her a long time ago that she wasn’t a source for help. Having worked her tail off to support her daughter and finance her education, Mom strictly subscribed to the idea of fixing your own problems. Sadly, the fact that Tabitha might have a deadly lunatic on her trail didn’t sound like the kind of thing that would sway her mother in the least.
“I’m sure your landlord would rather receive a late check than have his apartment be the site of another crime scene since that can make a piece of real estate look damn undesirable.” He slid his hand under her arm and guided her around the stack of oversize books that served as her end table. “I was sure to mention that to him, in fact, when I questioned him about seeing anyone around the building in the last twenty-four hours.”
“You already talked to my landlord?” She tried not to raise her voice, but the conservative apartment owner and his wife had expressed doubts about having Tabitha in the building in the aftermath of her divorce. An obstacle she’d overcome by practically begging for a shot at the apartment.
Had Warren inadvertently guaranteed her eviction? She didn’t mean to sound like an ingrate, but life had taught her that she needed to fight her own battles and forge her own path or she’d lose sight of her goals. For that matter, she could lose sight of herself.
“I damn well did.” He picked up the bag she’d packed while waiting for the police to arrive. “And you can tell me all about why that sucks while we’re in the car on the way to the Catskills.”
* * *
WARREN WAS JUST AS GLAD Tabitha didn’t take him up on his offer to argue about their trip on the way up Interstate 87. He had enough reservations of his own about this plan, but he couldn’t see any other way to ensure her safety. When he pulled over at a convenience store outside of Rye, New York, he picked up a few groceries and called into the precinct to make sure his department chief understood the need for his absence.
The call had been tense since the lines of professional duty had blurred into his personal life. No doubt he’d hear more about this down the road and the possibility of facing a professional review committee made him tense. He’d hoped to avoid ever having his integrity questioned again in this lifetime.
By the time they got to their exit in the mountains, he was ready to set aside those concerns, however, and focus strictly on the job. Tabitha’s safety came before everything else.
He flipped off the ignition in his driveway, hardly taking note of the house he’d neglected for the past six months as he let Buster out to run around the yard. Time to draw enough boundaries to get them through this enforced time together.
“Look.” He turned in his seat to face her even though she stared resolutely out the windshield. “You obviously have trouble with anyone trying to take charge—I get that.”
“I’m not angry with you,” she assured him. “I’m just reeling with how to deal with this. The danger. The lack of privacy. The inability to work. Things are pretty upside down right now.”
Amen to that.
“You know I’m not just telling you to get out of town for the hell of it, right? I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“I know. And I’m grateful. I’m just sorry that things have gotten so convoluted between us since I’m sure you don’t bring many stalking victims to your mountain place for safekeeping, do you?”
She might not have been aiming to hit him where he lived, but she did a damn good job of it anyhow.
“I don’t work in the field too often, Tabitha. They keep me locked up in ballistics most of the time.”
“But seriously. Have you ever put yourself out on a limb like this for someone you were protecting?” Tilting her head sideways, she seemed to assess him. The pile of hair pinned up with a silver stick toppled cockeyed.
“No.” Time to bail out of this conversation. They had bigger problems to deal with than his work world. “But I’m not backing out on you now.”
“It would have been fun if we could have made good on the idea of ‘desserts only.’” She cracked a smile then. “I’m sorry I turned out to be so much more trouble than you bargained for.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry.” He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her, tucking a knuckle against her cheek to stroke the silky soft skin. “We couldn’t have known thing
s were going to get so out of hand after that first bullet.”
Or so he kept telling himself. He hated the idea that whoever was on her tail had surprised him at every turn. And yet, the stalker hadn’t touched Tabitha. That in itself was a victory.
When she didn’t say anything, he felt compelled to lighten the mood before he scared her even more.
“Besides—” he leaned closer to breathe in her scent “—no one said we had to give up dessert.”
She shifted in her seat and his pulse kick-started at the warmth in her eyes. But despite how much he wanted her, he knew they couldn’t go back to a strictly physical relationship. There was far more at stake here.
And with no dead bodies to distract them or stalkers showing up on her doorstep there’d be nothing to distract them from the meaningful morning-after conversations she’d tried to have with him last time.
As long as he kept the talk focused on her, he’d be fine. Because no way in hell was he walking down his own memory lane again anytime soon.
CHAPTER 10
IF SHE HADN’T BEEN so intimidated by Warren’s obvious wealth and the power he could exercise over her life for the next few days, Tabitha would have been bowled over by the property Warren called a cabin that—to her mind—was more like a mansion.
“How many rooms are there?” She peered around another of the seemingly endless nooks and corridors in the sprawling historic farmhouse that looked as if it had been added on to with every successive generation. Buster ran around the front yard below, his excitement to be in the country obvious.
Warren’s demeanor was far more subdued, however, and Tabitha tried not to take it personally. He was worried about the stalker on her heels, right? She hoped that was the cause of the tension in the car ride on the way up here and not a new awkwardness between them since they were suddenly sharing a house in the middle of nowhere.
“Eight real bedrooms. There are a few extra rooms that were joined together here and there so that some of the bedrooms have sitting rooms.” He cracked a few of the windows in an upstairs hallway even though he’d turned on the heat. “It’s kind of a strange layout, but the real estate lady told me it had character.”