The Lady in Red & Dangerous Deception

by Linda Turner

  Not surprisingly, he didn’t follow her into her driveway, but parked at the curb two houses down and across the street. By the time she stepped out of her car, he had already shut off his motor and slumped down in his seat. If she hadn’t known he was there, she would have never seen him.

  “Hey, gorgeous! Where you been hiding out? I ain’t seen you in a while.”

  At Joe Gomez’s sexily growled greeting, Sabrina turned to find him pushing a battered Harley toward her down the street, his brown eyes, as usual, sparkling with devilment. As far as Sabrina knew, he didn’t own a motorcycle, and there was a good possibility he’d burrowed this one from a friend without asking, but he looked so refreshingly normal that she wanted to hug him. Restraining herself, she grinned fondly at him. “Hey, yourself,” she said, striding down the driveway toward him. “What do you mean, hiding out? I’ve been around.”

  “Yeah, right. And I’m the Easter bunny.” Hurt, he gave her a chiding look, his eyes, for once, dead serious. “Do I look like I’m stupid or what? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always come home at night. The word on the street is that dude killing all those women has got it in for you.”

  Alarmed, Sabrina stiffened. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I’ve got my sources, don’t you worry about it. And they’re right, aren’t they? You’re in deep—”

  “Joe!”

  At her sharp warning tone, he widened his eyes innocently. “What? All I was going to say was you were in deep trouble.”

  “Sure you were.”

  He grinned. “I don’t know why everyone jumps to the conclusion that my mind is in the gutter….”

  He would have said more, but before he could, a black Chevy pickup came roaring around the corner at the end of the street and slammed to a stop in front Sabrina’s house. A split second later, Blake was striding toward where they stood talking, so angry steam was practically pouring from his ears. Sabrina took one look at him and felt her heart start to knock in her breast. She didn’t have to ask how he’d found her—her watchdog had obviously called Adam Martin, who had reported to Blake.

  “If you’ve come to chew me out, you can save your breath,” she began quickly.

  That was as far as she got. “There’s been another murder,” he said tersely. “Apparently the killer made good on his promise to you in his note. The body was found less than three blocks from here.”

  Chapter 9

  The murder scene was a particularly gruesome one. The victim, Denise Green, a florist who had just opened her own shop and was still struggling to get the business off the ground, had been shot in the head and the heart in her own kitchen and had died immediately. Then the killer, going on a rampage, had ransacked her house with a viciousness that he’d made no attempt to hide. In his rage, he had paid particular attention to the bedroom, ripping the sheets and mattress with a kitchen knife, then shredding every piece of clothing in the room.

  There was no note, but none was necessary. Denise Green’s general description was the same as Sabrina’s…she was slender and petite, with curly black hair and brown eyes. And the similarities didn’t stop there. Not only did she live in the same neighborhood in a house that was almost identical in style to Sabrina’s, she also, as a florist, loved flowers. Her yard and front porch, like Sabrina’s, were overflowing with them. And though her body had only just been found, she had, apparently, been dead for several days. Her neighbors thought she had gone to a floral convention in Phoenix and only started to wonder if something was wrong when they noticed that her dog was still in the backyard instead of at the kennel.

  The police wouldn’t know for sure until they got the report from the medical examiner, but she appeared to have died the night Sabrina went with Blake to the awards ceremony at the convention center. The same night the killer had slipped into Sabrina’s house and left that note on her kitchen table. He had, to put it mildly, had a busy evening.

  Stricken, Sabrina stood in Denise Green’s bedroom with Blake and Sam and stared at the bed, at the ruined clothes, and felt the rage that had been directed squarely at her. Chilled to the bone, she hugged herself, nausea backing up in her throat. It should have been her, she thought numbly. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t miss what was right there in front of her eyes. She should have been the one lying stone-cold dead in her own kitchen with two bullets lodged in her head and her heart. She was the one the killer had been furious with, the one he’d struck out at, the one he would have killed if he could have gotten his hands on her. But she hadn’t been available, so he’d gone out and murdered an innocent woman instead just because she’d had the misfortune to remind him of Sabrina.

  Dear God, when would this end?

  “We’re still going through the house for prints,” Sam said, breaking the shocked silence that had fallen over them at the sight of the bedroom. “The perp’s been damn careful up to this point, but it looks like he lost it when he did this. If we’re lucky, he slipped up and made a mistake.”

  And if they weren’t, there would be more deaths, more of the same, before the killer was caught. “What about the neighbors?” Sabrina asked stiffly. “Did any of them see or hear anything? Whoever did this didn’t do it quietly.”

  “Not that we’ve been able to discover so far, but the body wasn’t found until after most people had already gone to work. We should know more later in the day.”

  Noting the condition of the bedroom in his notebook, Blake glanced up with a frown. “What about signs of forced entry? Whoever this bastard is, he can’t have keys to all these women’s houses.”

  “No, there was no key this time,” the detective said flatly, leading them back to the kitchen. The body had already been removed and taken to the morgue, but there was still dried blood everywhere. Motioning toward a bouquet of wildflowers on the counter, he said, “We think that was how he got in.”

  “You mean the flowers?” Sabrina asked in surprise. “Like a delivery boy?”

  He nodded. “The card was still on the flowers, unopened, and the body was found right by the counter. She was still clutching her open purse….”

  “Digging for a tip while he shot her right between the eyes,” Blake concluded, creating an image of the murder that they could all see with sickening clarity. “God, that’s cold.”

  Sabrina shuddered. “If he had to use a delivery to get in the door, then he didn’t know her.”

  “Probably not,” Sam agreed. “Which means he’s changed his M.O. slightly, and I don’t like the sound of that. Up until now, he’s taken out his rage with you on women he appears to have known who remind him of you—that makes it personal. Now he’s killed a stranger, someone he knows nothing about and really can’t pretend is you, and that can’t give him nearly as much satisfaction. That’s only going to increase his rage, which might be what he needs to finally work up the nerve to come after you. For your own safety, you really do need to get out of town for a while.”

  As the last of the blood drained from her cheeks, Sabrina had to give him credit. When he issued a warning, he shot straight from the hip and didn’t pull any punches. “Believe me, Sam, nobody would like to do that any more than I would, but I just can’t afford to walk away from my job and hide out somewhere until this weirdo is caught. Anyway, you said yourself it’s me he wants. I’m the one he really wants to kill. If I just disappear, he might go underground until I show up again.”

  “If you’re thinking of offering yourself up as a decoy, you can just forget it,” Blake said harshly before the detective could so much as open his mouth. “It’s not going to happen.”

  Just days ago, she would have bristled at his tone, but the loving they’d shared last night had changed her, and to her horror, she couldn’t stop her heart from lurching at the possessive, protective glint in his eyes. What had he done to her? She should have been setting him straight on the fact that only one person was in control of her life and it wasn’t him, but all she wanted to do at
that moment was walk into his arms.

  Instead, she said huskily, “Nobody said anything about being a decoy.”

  “Good. Just so we understand each other.”

  His eyes, as green as a high-mountain forest, snared hers and held them captive, setting the pulse at her throat jumping crazily. The rest of the world faded from her consciousness, and for a split second in time, it was just the two of them, alone and needy.

  Clearing his throat, Sam said dryly, “Now that we’ve got that cleared up, we still have the problem of keeping Sabrina safe. Considering how reckless this bastard’s getting, I think he’s ready to snap. I wouldn’t put it past him to go after her in broad daylight.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem,” Blake said, never taking his gaze from Sabrina. “From now on, I don’t intend to let her out of my sight.”

  “What?” she exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me. You’re not going anywhere from now on without me.”

  “But you’ve already hired a P.I.—”

  “And he’s doing a good job,” he replied. “But he can’t watch over you the way I can.”

  His lips twitching, Sam glanced from the grim resolve in Blake’s eyes to the sudden flush stinging Sabrina’s cheeks and had the good sense to cut and run. “Well, I can see you two need to discuss this. I’ll just get out of your hair and let you at it.”

  Blake never spared him a glance. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he told Sabrina flatly once they were alone, “so don’t even think about arguing with me.”

  “The hell I won’t,” she hissed, keeping her voice deliberately low so it wouldn’t carry to the policemen in the other rooms of the house. “Dammit, Blake, have you lost your mind? You can’t go with me everywhere I go!”

  “I don’t know why I can’t. Who’s going to stop me?”

  “Well, my boss, for one,” she snapped. “What are you going to do when I report to work in the morning? Go with me?”

  Not the least daunted by the idea, he nodded. “Every morning until the creep who’s after you is behind bars.”

  “But that could be weeks! Months! Do you honestly think Fitz is going to sit back meekly and let me bring someone from the Times into the city room when we’re in the middle of the biggest subscription war ever? He’ll have a fit!”

  Grinning, he pushed away from the counter to sling a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Better watch it, Jones,” he teased. “Anybody hearing you just might think you’re worried about me.” When she only sniffed at that, he chuckled and steered her out the door. “I can take care of myself and you, too, sweetheart. Are you through around here? Good. So am I. Let’s get back to work.”

  He followed her back to his apartment, left her car there, then drove her downtown to the ninety-year-old building that housed the Daily Record. In spite of that and his claims at the murder scene, Sabrina still didn’t expect him to go inside with her…until he got out of the truck and started to follow her toward the employee entrance, his hand riding protectively at the bow of her back.

  Fighting the sudden need to melt back into his touch, she stopped in her tracks. “Blake, this is crazy! Even if you can somehow get Fitz to agree to this, what about when you need to report in at the Times? Your editor’s not going to be exactly pleased to see me, you know.”

  “Don’t worry about Tom. He’s an old friend. I’ll square it with him.”

  “But what if you can’t?”

  His green eyes twinkling with devilment, he teased, “In the words of a talented writer I happen to have the good fortune to know, ‘We’re in the middle of the biggest subscription war ever.’ Do you really think your boss or mine is going to fire either one of us when we’re the two best reporters they’ve got?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “I rest my case.” Reaching past her shoulder, he pulled open the heavy steel door for her and waited for her to precede him. “Let’s go.”

  Stepping inside, she was sure that they’d be stopped any second for an explanation. But Blake’s presence didn’t raise so much as an eyebrow. The few reporters that they did encounter who recognized Blake only nodded and went on about their business, and those in the city room didn’t even glance up from their computers. Relieved, Sabrina dropped into her desk chair and sighed like a woman who had just made it through an obstacle course.

  Chuckling, Blake took the chair opposite her desk, out of sight of her monitor, and pulled his notebook out of his pocket. “Go ahead and work, honey,” he said, shooting her a smile that would have made her grandmother’s heart jump in her breast. “I’m going to organize my notes. Then when you’re finished here, we’ll go over to the Times so I can write my piece.”

  Sure she wouldn’t be able to write a word with him sitting right there, Sabrina cast him a suspicious look, but he was frowning at his notes and never noticed. Turning her attention back to her computer screen, she didn’t even have to close her eyes to find herself back in Denise Green’s bedroom, the carnage there sickening her. Suddenly, her fingers were flying over her keyboard as the words just flowed.

  Lost in her own thoughts, Sabrina never saw her boss walk into the city room, but suddenly he was standing three feet away from her desk and scowling from her to Blake and back again. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on here, Jones?” he growled.

  She jumped, her heart in her throat, and sent a line of Ss running across her computer screen. “Fitz! You scared the life out of me! This is Blake—”

  “I know who it is,” he said curtly. “What I want to know is what’s he doing here?”

  “He’s with me—”

  “I can see that. Any particular reason why? And this better be damn good.”

  He had that look on his weathered face, the one that warned Sabrina that he had already made up his mind not to like what he was about to hear, and it was all she could do not to shake him. “Now don’t go getting your back up before you’ve even heard what’s going on, Fitzy. I know this looks odd, but I can explain everything if you’ll just give me a chance—”

  “I didn’t give her a choice in the matter,” Blake cut in, pushing to his feet to tower over the elderly editor. Quickly and concisely, he filled the other man in on the latest developments. “The psycho’s obviously after her and I’m not letting her out of my sight until he’s caught. So you’d better get used to seeing me around, Fitz,” he warned with a cocky grin. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of me. From now on, Sabrina and I will be going everywhere together.”

  Known more for his bluster than his bite, the editor scowled. “Let me get this straight, Nickels. You’re telling me you’re going to waltz into my paper whenever you feel like it and I’m supposed to get used to it?”

  Even to his own ears, it sounded damn arrogant, but Blake had no intention of backing down to Fitz or anyone else when it came to Sabrina and her safety. His jaw set like stone, he nodded. “You are if you expect Sabrina to come in personally to file her stories. Otherwise, she can call them in from my place. The choice is yours.”

  His cheeks flushing with temper, Fitz opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with those choices, but something in the depths of Blake’s eyes must have warned him he was making no idle threat. Closing his mouth with an audible snap, he expelled his breath in a huff. “You really think she’s in that kind of danger?” he asked gruffly.

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Blake replied quietly. “Detective Kelly asked her to leave town but she refused because she knows how you need her right now.”

  Sabrina sniffed at that, frowning. “You don’t have to make me sound like a martyr, Nickels. I had other reasons for staying besides that—like the fact that I happen to need this job. And no coward of a murderer is going to run me out of my town.”

  She might as well have saved her breath. Neither man spared her a glance. “I don’t like the idea of anyone from the Times walking in and out of here like they own the place, but if I’ve
got to put up with one of Edwards’ crew, I guess I’d just as soon it be you. I can trust you not to use any insider information you pick up while you’re here against us.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Blake treated it as one anyway. Lifting his hand to his heart, he said solemnly, “On my word as a Boy Scout.”

  The old man nodded. “Good enough. Jones, don’t take any more chances than you have to. That’s an order.”

  Giving her one last stern look to make sure she got the message, he strode off, leaving Sabrina staring after him in amazement. He’d practically given Blake carte blanche to come and go as he pleased. She never would have believed it if she hadn’t heard it with her own ears.

  Shaking her head, she frowned up at Blake. “Were you really a Boy Scout?”

  Shrugging, he grinned. “What do you think?”

  Over the course of the day, they covered a robbery involving a tourist near the River Walk, a bank hold-up, investigated the rise of gang activity in one of the city’s more affluent high schools and looked into a money laundering scheme among some businesses near Fort Sam Houston. Half expecting Blake to hover over her like an overprotective parent, Sabrina was pleasantly surprised at the first crime scene when he gave her plenty of space to do her job. Interviewing the investigating officers while she spoke to the victim, he kept an eye on her, but never got close enough to overhear her questions.

  Walking back to his truck with him when they were both finished, she couldn’t help but tease him as he opened the passenger door for her. “You know, Nickels, I think there really must be some truth to this Boy Scout stuff. I gotta tell you—I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”