I Can See You

by Karen Rose

  Looey. He was a semi-regular at Sal’s, a Michelob man who was about fifty. The Buckland she’d met wasn’t yet thirty. “What does your Kurt Buckland look like, Officer?”

  Michaels put his pen down. “Why?”

  “I’m wondering if we’re talking about the same man. The man who grabbed me last night was about thirty, maybe five-eleven, with brown hair and brown eyes.” She was studying Michaels’s eyes as she spoke. “Not your Kurt Buckland.”

  “No.” Michaels had the same bad feeling, she could see. “Let me take your statement, Miss Wilson, then I’ll check on Kurt. I mean, Looey.”

  The man who’d threatened her was not Kurt Buckland, mild-mannered Metro reporter. That made his threat all the more bizarre and terrifying. And suddenly even more personal against Noah. “Do you have a pencil and paper?”

  Michaels gave them to her and quickly she sketched the man she’d seen. It wasn’t nearly the level of work she might have done before her hand was slashed six years ago, but it was a passable facsimile. “This is him,” she said. “Just in case.”

  “Not bad. I’ve never seen him, but I’ll take this with me when I go see Looey.”

  Wednesday, February 24, 9:40 a.m.

  Noah got back to his desk to find Jack angrily throwing his own belongings in a box. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Jack looked up, tight-lipped. “Moving.”

  He grabbed Jack’s arm to keep him from tossing a book in the box. “Why?”

  Jack faltered. “I thought… I assumed you’d be asking Abbott for a new partner.”

  Noah blew out a breath. “Dammit, Jack. He was yelling at me, not you. I should have told you about Amy Millhouse, but I just found out about her this morning.” He told Jack about the latest on Kurt Buck-land. “Abbott’s gonna take care of it.”

  Jack puffed out his cheeks. “Is Eve reporting him?”

  “She should be doing that right now. Did you get a new cell phone?” It was an olive branch, albeit a skinny one.

  “On my list to do today. There’s a store near Marshall University. I’ll get one after we talk to Donner and Lyons.” He met Noah’s eyes. “I really only had one drink, Noah.”

  Noah lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes one’s all it takes. Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Jack pointed over Noah’s shoulder and Noah turned.

  Eve was walking toward them. For a few seconds Noah just let himself look. Her dark eyes were shuttered and there was no sign of her little sideways smile. Something was wrong. Something new, that is. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked Jack.

  “Sure. I’ll wait in the car.”

  Eve nodded to Jack when he passed, then fixed her eyes on Noah’s, and he knew it wasn’t going to be good. “I just finished filing my complaint against Kurt Buckland.”

  “Good.” He led her to an unoccupied room and closed the door. Taking her arm, he pushed up her sleeve. “Did you show the officer this bruise?”

  She tugged her hand free. “Yes. Listen. Last night I researched Buckland, found this article on your case is his first front-page article ever. Everything he’s ever done has been in Metro, just like that first article about Martha’s suicide.”

  “So he bullies and blackmails to get ahead? Extreme, but it’s been done.”

  “I thought so until I came here today and filed my complaint. Guess what? Officer Michaels knew him. Turns out Kurt is about fifty and that everyone called him Looey.”

  Noah frowned. “I know Looey. He’s good at darts. He’s Buckland?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “So, then… who is the guy who took all the pictures? And who threatened you?”

  “That’s what somebody needs to find out. This is personal, Noah. Against you.”

  “Wonderful,” he muttered. “Another distraction.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “About Buckland or whoever he is? I want to find this guy and make him pay, but right now I can’t. Right now, I’m going to let the officer you talked to do his job. And right now I’m going to follow you to school. Jack and I have to talk to Donner.”

  “Then we need to go, because I’m late.”

  But neither of them moved. “I never got to kiss you last night,” he murmured.

  “You did, at Sal’s.”

  “That was a little one-sided. You never kissed me back.”

  “I was too surprised,” she said, shivering when his thumb caressed her jaw.

  Jack was waiting for him and they had so much work to do, but Noah needed a minute, just one minute for himself. For Eve. For both of us.

  “Consider this fair warning then.” He covered her mouth with his, willing her to respond, and after a few pounding beats of his heart, she did. Lifting on her toes, she kissed him as she had in the coffee shop, nothing held back. Her arms wound round his neck and he pulled her closer, fitting her body to his. It was sweet and it was hot and he wanted so much more. But this wasn’t the place, so he forced himself to stop.

  She was breathing hard, her eyes closed. Her fingers trembled as they trailed down his arms. Pressing his palms together, she rested her brow on the tips of his fingers.

  “Why?” she whispered so softly he had to lean forward to catch it.

  “Why which?” he asked, gruffly.

  She lifted her head, her expression devastated. “Why me? Why do you want me?”

  “That’s a longer answer than I have time for now. Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I have to work.”

  “Then after. I’ll wait.”

  “All right.” She pushed his folded hands gently to his chest. “I need to get to class.”

  Wednesday, February 24, 10:25 a.m.

  “Detectives, I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday. Please have a seat.” Dr. Donald Donner waved at two chairs on the other side of his very disorganized desk.

  “You’re a hard man to find,” Jack said. “We looked for you yesterday.”

  Donner smiled distractedly. “My wife and I went to see her mother, who’s been ill.”

  Noah kept his expression mild—a hard thing to do when he thought about Donner’s last interaction with Eve. But after getting his first look at Donner, Noah had crossed him off his list. Donner might have access to the list, but he didn’t have the physical strength to hoist a woman from her ceiling. “We’d also like to talk with your assistant, Mr. Lyons, but we can’t find him either.”

  At this Donner frowned. “He took the afternoon off yesterday and didn’t come in this morning. That’s not like him. He’s very reliable. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  You’d have to get another weasel to do your dirty work, Noah thought with contempt for the older man. But he and Jack were after alibis and for now would play nice.

  “One of your studies has come up in the course of an ongoing investigation,” Jack said. “The study in which participants play a game called Shadowland.”

  “Yes. That’s the work of one of my graduate students, Eve Wilson.” His lips thinned. “But I guess you already knew that. No matter. How can I help you?”

  “You can start by telling us where you were last night,” Noah said. “All night.”

  “Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused, and Jack frowned.

  “We’re investigating murder, Professor. Four women have been killed.”

  “What does that have to do with my study?” Donner asked.

  “All four victims were participants,” Noah said, wondering if the man’s confusion could possibly be real. “All four were heavily into the Shadowland game.”

  Donner sat back heavily, disbelief etched in his face. “You’re joking.”

  “We don’t joke, Professor,” Jack said, “especially not about something like this.”

  The color drained from Donner’s face. “Four women?” he whispered. “In my study?” Then Noah’s first question seemed to catch up to him as twin flags of crimson appeared on Donner’s sallow cheeks. “Am I correct in und
erstanding I am a suspect, Detective? That you want me to provide an… an alibi?”

  “We’re asking everyone connected with the study, Professor,” Noah said. “It would make our jobs a great deal easier if we could just cross you off quickly.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, distractedly. “I was with my wife asleep.”

  Noah jotted it down. “What about Monday morning between midnight and five?”

  “Asleep. With my wife.”

  He was becoming agitated. “All right,” Noah said calmly, and Donner appeared to try to regain control. “We think whoever is killing your subjects has access both to your participant list and to the questionnaires they filled out when the study began.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “He uses information from the questionnaires to torture them,” Jack said flatly.

  Donner flinched. “Torture them? He tortured them? Who are the four women?”

  Noah frowned. “Don’t you read the paper, Dr. Donner? Three of the victims were listed yesterday. On the front page.”

  Donner gestured weakly to his journals. “I don’t read much news.”

  Okay. “The four victims are Samantha Altman, Martha Brisbane.” Noah stopped when the remaining color drained from Donner’s face. “Professor?”

  “Martha Brisbane, did you say?” Donner asked unsteadily. “Dear God. I thought she’d committed suicide.” He abruptly went silent, as if realizing he’d said too much.

  “How did you know that, sir?” Jack asked quietly. “You don’t read the paper.”

  “My graduate student, Eve… she told me. I didn’t believe it was related to our study at the time. The others? Who were they?”

  “Christy Lewis and just last night, Rachel Ward,” Jack said.

  “I see.” He looked at Jack. “What do you need from me?”

  “Anybody who would have had access to the list and those questionnaires.”

  “I… I don’t know. My assistant entered the names, but the committee separated them into groups. I only saw results by subject number. Nobody was supposed to see everything. That’s the purpose of a double-blind study.”

  “What about the questionnaires? How were they used?” Noah asked.

  “They’re part of a baseline measure. They form a profile, a personality index.”

  “Did anybody read them?” Jack asked.

  “Various students,” he said. “But nobody ever saw the subjects’ real names. They were to input the answers in a standardized protocol.”

  There was nothing here they could use, Noah thought. He and Jack stood. “Thank you,” Jack said. “We’re trying to keep Marshall and Shadowland out of the press. We’re hoping the killer doesn’t know how much we know. We’d appreciate your cooperation.”

  Donner nodded, his face gray. “Of course,” he murmured. “If you see Miss Wilson, tell her… Tell her I’m sorry. I should have listened to her.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Noah said. “If your assistant calls you, let us know immediately.”

  “Of course.” They left Donner with his head in his hands, trembling.

  “Well?” Jack said when they were back at their cars.

  “He’s too… frail to have done these murders.”

  “Mentally or physically?”

  “Both.”

  Jack nodded. “I agree. Let’s confirm Donner’s alibi and find Jeremy Lyons.”

  Noah gritted his teeth. “Dammit, I wish I’d grabbed that little weasel yesterday.”

  “I think we’ve all been a little distracted,” Jack said. “Let’s pull LUDs on both Donner and Lyons and pay their wives a visit.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wednesday, February 24, 11:20 a.m.

  Callie, it’s all right,” Eve said, setting her lunch tray on the only empty table at the Deli. She sat down and slid her computer bag safely between her feet. “None of this is your fault. I should have called you, but I had no idea this guy would come to you.”

  An irate Callie had intercepted Eve coming out of Abnormal class, saying she had information about Noah Webster, that Eve needed to know. More “Buckland” lies.

  “I can’t believe I talked to him. He said you were having an affair with a married man, that Webster had a wife named Susan.”

  So that was her name, Eve thought. She’d died, Sal had said. More than ten years ago. With a sigh she patted Callie’s hand. “Chill. I have to send a text to Webster, let him know I’m okay.”

  “I am chilled, knowing that guy grabbed you. You’re texting? Why not just call?”

  Eve hated text messaging. Even short messages made her thumb throb. “He’s working. I don’t want to bother him during an interview.”

  “Give me your phone. I’ll do it for you. What do you want to say?”

  “Um… at the Deli with Callie. Was walked over by a large ex-wrestler named Jose. Currently surrounded by at least six cops. Am quite safe. Don’t worry, Eve.”

  Callie shot her a curious look, then dutifully input the message. Then frowned. “What’s this one from this morning?” She raised angry eyes. “Did this Buckland poser text you?”

  “Yeah.” And Eve was still shaken from it. “Look, I know how he found out about me. He was following Noah and I happened to be there. But how did he find out about you?”

  “I don’t know. A hell of a cool-headed attorney I’m going to make. He just made one false allegation and I bought it, lock, stock, and barrel.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Cal. You can hardly be expected to be objective when it comes to your best friend. How did he contact you?”

  “My cell at first, but I had it turned off because I was in class. He left me a voicemail asking if I knew you, but I didn’t hear it till after I saw him.”

  “He approached you? Did he touch you?”

  “No. He was waiting for me when I came out of my last class. Then he stuck Noah Webster’s wedding picture under my nose, told me you were having an affair with a married man. I told him no way, you weren’t seeing anyone and definitely not a married man. He gave me his card. Told me to call if I heard anything.”

  Eve leaned forward. “But he called you. On your cell.”

  Callie’s brows went up. “Who would give him my number?”

  “That would have been the guy you were talking to yesterday,” a voice behind them said, and Eve and Callie twisted to see who spoke. It was the barista Eve had talked to the day before, when she bought the copy of MSP while she’d waited for Noah to come.

  “What did he look like?” Eve asked.

  “Short with round glasses,” he said. “The one who was giving you a hard time before your boyfriend came in and kissed you.”

  Jeremy Lyons. Eve started to ask more, but Callie jumped in. “What kiss?”

  “One of the cops from the magazine article,” the barista told her. “Not the cover guy. But one of the guys inside the article.”

  Eve felt her cheek grow very warm when Callie started to grin. “Never mind that,” Eve said briskly. “So after we left, the reporter talked to the short guy with glasses?”

  “He did. The short guy was all too happy to dish. He told the reporter he didn’t believe you and the cop were really a couple and he could prove it. He said he’d get your friends to tell the truth. Even said he’d get your phone number.” He directed the latter statement to Callie. “The reporter gave him his card and took off.”

  “Took off where?” Eve asked.

  “He got in his car and started driving the same way you all went.”

  Eve frowned at him. “You saw which way I went when I left here?”

  “Sweetheart, when you two left, everybody watched which way you went.”

  Eve covered her burning face with her hands. “Oh my God. How embarrassing.”

  “How fascinating,” Callie said with relish. “What happened next?”

  “She and the Hat guy left, his arm around her, real tight,” the barista said, conspiratorially. “And that yummy Dete
ctive Phelps was in the passenger seat. That made my day.” He gave Eve a mock glare. “You never said you knew him.”

  Eve shrugged, still mortified. “Sorry, but I don’t think you’re Jack Phelps’s type.”

  “I figured as much. What a waste. Look, I gotta get back behind the counter. I saw how upset you were and I wanted to let you know what I saw.”

  “Thank you,” Eve said, sincerely. “Truly.”

  When the barista was gone, Callie said nothing, just sipped her coffee and waited.

  Eve rolled her eyes. “I wanted to throw Jeremy Lyons off the trail. He was sure I was cooperating with the cops or the papers or both. I wanted to give him the wrong idea.”

  “So it was a ruse,” Callie said, obviously enjoying the moment. “Just one kiss.”

  Eve dropped her eyes to her fidgeting hands and Callie crowed in delight.

  “More than one?”

  Eve’s lips still tingled from it. As did every other square inch of her body. “Oh, yeah.”

  Callie sighed. “And you’re going to find a reason it can’t work. It’ll be a stupid one and you’ll cling to it like a drowning man clings to one of those… circle… things.”

  Eve had to smile. “You mean a life preserver?”

  “Shut up,” Callie said, but without heat. “Tell me you’ll give him a chance.”

  “Now you sound like David.”

  “Who appears to be as smart as he is sexy. So what is your reason, Eve? Why have you convinced yourself this thing with Webster won’t work? Don’t you trust him?”

  Eve shrugged uneasily. “That’s the problem. I trusted him the first time I saw him.”

  “How is this a problem?” Callie asked, exasperated.

  “Because… I don’t just trust people. Especially men. Who look like him.”

  “Which is how? Impossibly handsome?”

  “No. Trustworthy.” Eve winced. “I know that sounds stupid.”

  Callie’s expression softened. “Maybe you trust him because he’s the one.”

  “I’d like to believe that.” She thought about what she’d really wanted to do when he’d kissed her in that office and her face heated. “It’s not wise.”