I wish I had his faith. His concern warmed her heart, but did nothing to ease her trepidation. “I will not live in fear.”
“You were always stubborn.” He took her arm, and escorted her to the sofa. “There’s living in fear, and there’s taking sensible precautions. If not for your own sake, then for mine and Agatha’s.”
“We’re all taking it very seriously,” Ray offered, still standing by the door. “And I agree with Katie. Canceling the tour wouldn’t help in this case. Our best chance at protecting her is to predict how the unsub will come at her.”
Once again, he’d relaxed into the carefree charmer, but Katie wasn’t fooled by it any longer.
She took control of the conversation. “As new information comes in, I’ll make changes as needed. I promise. Now please, sit down, and tell me why you’re here.”
Patrick stared at her for a long moment, a sign he wasn’t ready to give up the argument. In the end, he made the same decision he always had. He would trust her to ask for what she needed. “We have a problem with Bernice.”
“How bad?” Possibilities flashed through Katie’s mind. A lawsuit? Sexual harassment charge? She never did know when to keep her mouth shut or her hands to herself.
“She’s selling stories to the tabloids. And she forged a cheque from Aggi,” Patrick replied. “We only learned about the cheque because she insisted on cash, and the bank didn’t have sufficient funds. Once I saw it, the signature was obviously forged.”
“She asked Aggi for forty-five thousand last night. Aggi’s refusing, but you know how persistent Bernice can be. Does anyone know why she needs that kind of money?”
Patrick drew a sheaf of papers out of his battered briefcase. “I asked the same question.”
Katie hadn’t even noticed it before that moment, but Patrick always carried the leather case. It was as much a part of him as his gentle smile or white pocket square. The consistency reassured her.
“The bank records show she’s been spending money at an accelerated pace for months as well as withdrawing large amounts in cash.”
“Shit.” Katie rubbed at her forehead.
Movement drew her attention back to Ray, lurking quietly in the background.
Patrick rubbed his lips with a long, lanky finger. “Vulgar language is the sign of a lazy mind. However, in this case, the sentiment is appropriate.”
“Did you talk to Dr. Lonsdale?” Katie asked.
“She stopped showing up for drug tests six months ago.”
She shuddered, remembering the long manic stretches with her stepmother chattering away. Bernice would demand they go chase the moon, or jump off the hotel balcony into the pool below. Katie bit her lip. “Why didn’t he call us?”
“She blackmailed him.” Patrick sighed. “I wish I had investigated earlier.”
“Me, too.” The math of the ledgers didn’t lie, detailing massive debts. “Honestly, with this I’m surprised that she hasn’t come begging for money earlier. Aggi’s going to be devastated.”
“I know,’ he said softly. “But it will be worse if Bernice keeps playing on her sympathy and her wallet. Sooner or later, she’s going to do something we can’t hide. I’d rather Aggi go through this in private than in the public eye.”
The weight of one more task crushed her shoulders. “You’re right.”
“I’ll get myself settled in.” Patrick clasped her hand. “And I’ll talk to Agatha. I’ve locked down the accounts, which gives us time to focus on your situation.”
My situation. The phrase sounded far too commonplace and mundane.
Patrick aimed a piercing stare. “And you, young man, concentrate on keeping our girl safe. The world can’t afford to lose her light.”
“Absolutely,” Ray promised.
“Don’t try to do this alone,” Patrick warned her before leaving.
As soon as he was gone, Ray flashed her a cheeky grin. “Gorgeous man. Is he single?”
Despite her worries, Katie smiled. “Happily married for thirty years. His wife is amazing.”
“Ah well. Easy lust, easy go.” Ray shrugged. “How are you doing?”
“Scared. Confused. Angry.” Katie’s thumb rubbed between her eyes.
“All understandable. I meant what I said. You’re coping well. Much better than my partner.” Ray leaned in, “If he invites you to inspect a tower with no visible exits, run away. I have a feeling that he’s not going to be happy until you’re in some secure facility with a small army guarding it.”
Laughter tickled the back of her throat. It seemed impossible to stay upset around Ray. He was like an eternally cheerful and irritating little brother. The lyrics from earlier were still floating in her mind. Pulling out her notebook, she wrote swiftly. Is there room inside a heart scarred by time? Were you lost to me before you were mine? Plaintive woodwinds would play a soft counter-melody.
The ghosts of your past have built you a wall. I’m shouting your name, but you never call. Please let me inside, just give me a sign. She broke your heart, but don’t shatter mine. Katie paused. “Too needy.”
Ray peered over her shoulder. “Will this be yet another hit single?”
“Probably not. About two-thirds of what I write will never be recorded. Writing songs helps me to think things through.” She used to get frustrated with herself for throwing away potential songs until her father told her his mantra. Effortless art had no substance to hold the mind of an audience. Without the work, it couldn’t hold the artist’s soul, and thus couldn’t speak to anyone else’s soul.
Ray tilted his head. “It would make me cry. Does this mean Ben has a chance, if he’s smart enough to take it?”
Katie wasn’t sure what to answer. She liked Ben. He was attractive in a brooding hero kind of way. And the chemistry between them threatened to be explosive. Do I want to be in an explosion? Things were easier when people didn’t have their emotions tangled together.
“You’re overthinking it. Forget all of the complications. When you think about kissing him, is it a yes or a no?”
“Yes,” she blurted.
“Then why not give it a try?” Ray glanced out at the magnificent city skyline view. “Even if it doesn’t last, you’ll get to experience the feelings which have inspired songs forever.”
His assumption stung her. “What makes you think I haven’t experienced them already?”
“Because from what I’ve seen, this is far more intense than the usual affairs of the heart.” He put his hand over his chest in a melodramatic tribute.
Katie stood up, and paced to the window. “Expecting one person to fill your emotional and physical needs for the rest of your life is like expecting to retire on the lottery. Great if it happens, but most of the time, it doesn’t. And I’m not in the habit of chasing after aloof men. I don’t need a broken heart on top of everything else in my life right now.”
“Well, it’s up to you. My matchmaker skills only go so far.” Ray shrugged. “But if you write a hit song from this, I fully expect a percentage of the royalties.”
She laughed again. “How about VIP passes instead?”
“Deal.” He grinned at her. “What’s next in the glamorous life of a pop princess?”
Chapter 12
“Are we done brooding? Or should I turn off the lights and draw the curtains to keep the atmosphere consistent?”
Ben glared at his partner as Ray sauntered into their room in the mid-afternoon.
“Don’t worry.” Ray held up his hands in surrender. “Your damsel is taken care of with a half-dozen watchful eyes. She’s shut down VIP access. No one but the crew will be backstage. Multiple locks and security scans.”
Not enough. Ben didn’t trust Orlund, though Lucy’s tale gave him a little more sympathy for the FBI agent. Still, part of Ben wanted to keep Katie s
afe personally. Or rather, all of me wants her to be safe, I’m just of two minds on how to accomplish it. Stay away to focus, or keep a physical eye on her.
Ray heaved a dramatic sigh. “Still choking on alpha male toxicity, I see. Ah well. Should we order lunch?”
Despite his irritation, Ben chuckled. “You never give up. Peter was like that.”
His partner went still. “He was?”
The question was too deliberately casual, and Ben abruptly realized what he had said. Everyone knew about Peter’s death. People whispered behind his back, but no one mentioned it to his face. Ben’s eyes fell on the gray and black jacket lying on the edge of the bed. He found himself remembering how often Peter teased him for brooding too much, and taking life too seriously.
“I’ve seen the articles,” Ray said quietly. “He was heroic.”
Heroes don’t retire, they get early funerals. They’d argued often about reckless behavior, and whether the risk was worth it. For Peter, if he could save a life, he didn’t care about his safety. How many people could he have saved in the last three years if he hadn’t run into that building?
The sourness boiled in the back of Ben’s throat. “Lucy shared some interesting things about Orlund and our unsub.”
“She called you herself?” Ray raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “How unlike our little computer geek.”
“I don’t think she wanted it in the official report. And you know Adler would have insisted on transparency.” Maybe I should, too.
“Or maybe she wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
“Maybe she talks to me because I don’t make comments like that,” he snapped.
“No need to get testy, partner. After all, you won’t pursue Katie, so there’s no reason why you couldn’t ask Lucy out on a date when we get back to Denver.”
Ben shook his head in an automatic denial before he could catch himself.
Ray’s grin got even wider.
“We’re not talking about this again,” Ben warned. “We have work to do.”
“Catch a killer. Save the girl. Trust me, I’m clear on the to-do list.” Ray took a seat. “And you still think the best way to succeed is to hide away in here?”
Ben picked up a folder. “We need to go through the case files again.”
“We’ve been through them. Shuffling more paper isn’t going to help.” Ray poked at him. “Katie deserves Investigator Benedict Morgan on his top game.”
Except I can’t give her my best. Without objective distance, he couldn’t see things as clearly. His mind was too wrapped up in emotion to make the connections.
“Seriously, ease up on the looming protective act. This unsub is already taking away Katie’s choices. She doesn’t need you doing it, too.” Ray’s grim pronouncement struck dead in the black.
“It’s not that simple, dammit.” He regretted the harsh words, but the stakes were too high for wistful emotional complications. “What do you want me to say? That I like her?”
Ray lounged on the chair. “It would be a start.”
“Fine. I like her.” He stood up, scraping his fingers over his scalp. “I think she’s attractive, and interesting, and smart, and a whole lot of other things. I wish I’d met her under any other circumstance, but I didn’t. I met her when a narcissistic serial killer targeted her, and it’s my job to stop him.”
“Tell her how you feel. Get it out in the open. It’ll be better.”
“Because there’s nothing creepy about the guy assigned to catch her stalker ending up with feelings for her.” The bitter words choked him. He’d become one of those guys.
“You’re not extorting sex for protection. You’re an adult telling another adult you like her. It’s less creepy than you glowering and snapping at everyone out of jealousy.”
Tell her. It was tempting. The way she smiled at him, how she’d trusted him, all evidence he could use to believe she felt the same spark. Except she hadn’t said that she was attracted to him.
Ray shook his head. “You’re deep into protective silent male territory, aren’t you? Hiding in the cone of silence won’t help.”
Taking a deep breath, Ben tried again. “The idea of something happening to her is already making it hard to think. Trying to concentrate on the case files is hard enough when I’m away from her. When I see her, my brain short-circuits. I’m like a teenager again, with nothing but her on my mind. Except I know better. I know what’s out there, waiting to take her if he has an opportunity.”
“As tempted as I am to reply crudely, I won’t. Falling in love is generally considered to be a good thing,” Ray said.
“Sure, let’s assume the best. The feelings are already overwhelming me. They would grow even bigger because I somehow got lucky, and she felt the same way about me.” Ben lifted his head to stare directly at his partner. “What happens if the Director gets her because I selfishly focused on what I wanted instead of what she needed?”
There was no answer. There couldn’t be one. Even a relentless optimist and romantic like Ray couldn’t argue with Ben’s position.
Ben sank down onto one of the beds, staring at his clasped hands. “Don’t ask me to risk her life because I like her. I couldn’t live with myself.”
~ ~ ~
Katie cursed as she missed her entrance cue for the third time. She’d booked the rehearsal room, hoping the physical effort would distract her and allow her to relax. But today her mind wasn’t on choreography. Not with Razel filming every move or the brooding Special Agent Orlund standing with his arms crossed in the corner. She turned off the playback. “That’s it for today.”
The unblinking glass eye of Razel’s camera lens followed her from the rehearsal. I can imagine the voiceover. Stuck up star refuses to put in the work. She plucked at the damp spandex clinging to her skin. Forget her. Take a shower, and sort yourself out.
Orlund fell into step behind her as she walked through the door. She rubbed the back of her neck to scrub the sense of eyes boring into the back of her skull. They stepped off the elevator and crossed the hall to her room.
Katie opened the door. “Can you make sure it’s safe, and then give me some privacy?”
He lifted his chin, considering her request.
Katie felt grubbier and angrier with each passing moment. Why am I asking permission to be alone?
“Very well.” Checking the suite didn’t take him long.
She gratefully closed the door behind him and threw the privacy locks. Now she had her little kingdom all to herself.
Stripping off the sweat-soaked leotard, Katie headed to the luxurious walk in shower. As hot water cascaded over her, washing away the sticky residue, it restored her to herself. She wasn’t someone who buckled under life’s challenges, she met them head on.
Pulling on the hotel’s terry cloth robe, she padded into her bedroom. If she were at home, she could have used her private music studio. But she wasn’t entirely without her basic comforts.
Kneeling, she flipped the latches on a worn black guitar case, opening the lid to reveal a treasure nestled in red velvet lining. Her very first guitar. Nicks and scrapes marred every inch of the instrument. Its slick varnish had vanished with time, but she cradled it with loving hands as she tuned the strings.
This was the first instrument she’d ever owned. She’d saved up her allowance for weeks, and her mother helped to pick it out. She could afford fancier instruments now, but the mellow tone was like an old friend, the kind who knew every embarrassing mistake and every inside joke. When she needed comfort, and the space to explore her inner mind, there was no substitute. This guitar traveled with her everywhere she went.
She opened the small storage box inside the case, and plucked out a guitar pick. She wasn’t ready to tackle her feelings about a certain taciturn Investigator. Just pra
ctice. As she curled up on the plush armchair near the window, wistful chords emerged out of the tuning tests. She remembered an old interview with an actor, talking about how brief life could be, and how each person only experienced finite number of moments. Only so many sunrises, or so many times to remember a perfect childhood afternoon. He’d urged listeners to cherish those moments. He’d been killed shortly thereafter in an accident on set.
Have I seen my last sunrise? My last Chinese takeout? Even if she crammed all of her favorite experiences into the next few days, it wouldn’t help. I should talk to Patrick, and make sure my legal stuff is up to date. She shivered. I could really be dead next week.
The music shifted to an eerie and otherworldly melody. Why had this man picked her for a death sentence? I don’t want him picking someone else! It seemed so bizarre for another person to decide her life needed to end. It’s like winning the worst lottery ever.
Her fingers picked out a new menacing tune. It would be even stronger on an electric guitar with underlying organ chords. Ordinary days, just living my life, until the day you decided I had to die. The stiff rhyme bothered her, but she let the unfolding song carry her with it. You hunted me down, tried to swallow me whole, but you’ll never succeed in breaking my soul.
It would be a good power anthem. Stadiums full of fans would shout along with the lyrics. She could see the outlines of a stage performance and a music video. It would resonate with a lot of women.
“I guess I’m not ready to give up yet,” she said to the empty room.
She wrote down the lyrics in her omnipresent notebook, making notes about the music flooding her brain. The whole situation was frightening, but she wouldn’t assume that these were her last days.
Notes complete, she leaned back in the chair again, fingers caressing the strings and frets in a new languorous melody. Investigator Ben Morgan. He was attractive. A thread of heat snaked through her gut, igniting banked coals of desire.
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