by Lydia Burke
Jessie used their trek through a series of corridors to marshal her equilibrium. Ben had only touched her hair, a simple
nonsexual gesture. Yet, coupled with the unmistakable message in his gaze, its impact was as erotic as if he had reached under her skirt. Something had changed. Somehow she had the feeling that, on a basic man-to-woman level, he'd claimed her.
Before she had a chance to decide exactly what that meant, Ben guided her into a small, shabby office. Two men rose simultaneously at her entrance.
"Jessie, this is Cal Leutzinger," Ben said, indicating the man behind the desk.
"Miss Webster.'' Leutzinger held out his hand and Jessie shook it.
"And this is Rory Douglas." Ben touched her waist and turned her to the carefully groomed man nearest her. Douglas smiled broadly, eyeing Jessie with masculine approval.
He was almost as tall as Ben, she noted. His dark hair was sedately graying at the temples and showed early signs of receding in points from his forehead.
"Rory just told me that you two are old friends," Leutzinger said to Ben as Jessie placed her palm against the one Douglas offered her.
Douglas's hand was large but almost womanly soft to the touch. He pressed her fingers a little too warmly and held on longer than necessary. A feeling of mild revulsion snaked down Jessie's spine.
"We went to high school together," Ben said, "but since then our paths haven't crossed much. Rory."
The handshake that followed was brief. Douglas said congenially, "It has been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Cal tells me you've been assigned to take over Simmons's cases," Ben said.
"Yeah, the poor bastard. I hear he's in a coma. Still, the wheels of justice must grind on. I don't mind telling you I'm glad to finally have the chance to prove myself in the U.S. Attorney's Office. Up till now they've given me penny-ante stuff to work with."
"You always were ambitious, Rory. I guess one man's misfortune is just another man's opportunity."
Douglas raised neatly trimmed eyebrows. "In this case, yes, though of course I regret that Mr. Simmons fell asleep at the wheel of his automobile and crashed into a tree."
"I'm sure you do," Ben replied.
"Well." Douglas rubbed his hands together. "It's getting late and I need to get going. I'll get back to you, Cal, after I've researched the issue we discussed. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me informed about any new developments in the case."
"Of course," said Leutzinger. "Thanks for stopping by."
"No trouble. Good to see you again, Ben. Miss Webster, it's been a real pleasure. Perhaps we'll meet again."
Not if I can help it, Jessie thought as she smiled her goodbye. She'd take Ben's arrogance over oily charm any day.
"It sounds as though there's some history between you two," Leutzinger said when Douglas was gone.
Ben waved his hand dismissiveiy. "Just kid stuff. You wanted to talk to Jessie?"
Leutzinger reclaimed his seat and made himself comfort* able. "Yes, I do. Sit down, both of you. Your twin sister is causing us a few problems, Miss Webster."
"Yes, I know." Jessie sat down, hoping she didn't sound as intimidated as she felt under Leutzinger's penetrating gaze.
"Ben has told me about this journal she claims to have. I understand she has shown some reluctance to give it to the police."
Jessie looked at Ben accusingly before answering. "That's not exactly correct," she told Leutzinger. "What AlUe said was she wants to deliver it to you in person. She fully intends you to have it."
"Did your sister tell you anything she'd read in the journal?"
This was ground Jessie had already covered with Ben, but she patiently repeated the information Allie had given her on the phone. When she'd finished, Leutzinger leaned forward and rested his folded hands on the desk.
"I don't want to alarm you, Miss Webster, but evidence like this in your sister's possession could place her in danger. If s vital that she turn it over to the authorities as soon as possible."
"I agree."
"We may need your help with that."
"My help? I don't understand."
"Right now you're the only link we have to that journal or to your sister," Leutzinger said. "If she calls you again, I'd like you to find out exactly where she is. Try to persuade her to drop the journal at the nearest police station. Tell her she can call me from there and Til arrange for her safe return home. Then, even if she refuses, I want you to call me immediately. Will you do that?"
Uncomfortably aware that the full weight of the United States government rested behind his request, Jessie asked, "What will you do if she refuses?"
"Do you think she might?"
"It's possible. Allie is a good citizen, Agent Leutzinger, but she's also a reporter who's just lost her job. Remember, Ben already suggested that she give the journal to the authorities in Kansas. Her answer was she didn't want to chance being cut out of the story. She wants you to guarantee her an exclusive."
"Or what?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Or what, Miss Webster? If your sister doesn't get what she wants, do you think she'll be foolish enough to hang on to that journal and risk charges of withholding evidence and obstruction of justice? I will bring charges, make no mistake."
"Now, wait a minute, Cal—" Ben said.
"My sister is not a criminal, Agent Leutzinger." Jessie was angry.
"I'm glad to hear that, Miss Webster. A good citizen cooperates with law enforcement officials out of a sense of duty. She doesn't cut deals like an informer on the streets."
Jessie gathered her dignity around her and stood up. Infuriated by the unexpected threat to her sister, she was hardly aware that Ben rose beside her.
"I see your point," she said in a stilted voice. "I'll do what I can if Allie calls, but I can't promise anything."
"Your effort will be greatly appreciated," Leutzinger said amiably. "Ben knows how to reach me."
"All right. If there's nothing else, then—"
"One more thing, Miss Webster. Ben believes your resemblance to your twin places you at risk from certain unknown and undesirable sources. I'm inclined to agree. Until we learn
otherwise, I've assigned him to stay with you for your protection."
"Stay with me!" Jessie looked up and Ben's eyes burned into hers. "But-"
"If s only precautionary," Leutzinger said. "He'll watch out for you until we know there's no further threat."
Jessie tore her gaze from Ben's, engulfed once again, as she'd been at the cabin, by the overwhelming feeling that she was a powerless pawn in a game where someone else was moving the pieces.
"Very well. Goodbye, Agent Leutzinger." She struggled to keep her voice even. Then she turned sharply and left the office, not caring whether Ben accompanied her or not. The ring of Leutzinger's phone followed her out the door.
She had reached the end of the long hallway and realized that she didn't know the way out, when she heard Ben call, "Hold up a minute, Jess."
Impatiently she waited, barely able to control the roiling emotions that demanded release, while Ben stood at the open door of the office she'd just vacated, talking in muted tones to Leutzinger. He seemed in no hurry to leave.
She was contemplating whether to brave the maze of corridors on her own or to simply give in to her frustration and kick the wall beside her when Ben called to her again.
"Jessie, do you have call forwarding on your phone?"
"No," she called back. "Why?"
She flinched when she heard her amplified voice. There were dosed doors all up and down the hallway. How many people had heard her shouting down these dignified corridors like a rowdy child?
Ben turned his head and spoke again to Leutzinger. Hurry up/ she urged him mentally. / want to get out of here/ Finally he joined her, his face grim.
"Whafs the matter?" she asked.
Grabbing her by the elbow, he muttered, "Later." He practically dragged her down the right-hand corridor, his
stride long and purposeful. By the time they readied the reception area, Jessie was winded from trying to keep up. Sandy, the friendly gray-haired receptionist, had apparently left for the day, and a security guard sat in her place behind the desk.
"Slow down a little, will you?" she gasped. "I may be anxious to leave, but I'm not diessed for a marathon/'
"Sorry/ 9 Ben undipped the identification tag on his jacket collar. "You should have said something sooner/'
"I'm saying it now. I hate all this. I fed like slugging somebody."
Ben grinned and flicked the tip of ho* nose with his finger, "Hold your fire, Jess. Give the man your pass and sign your name."
"Orders, orders, orders," Jessie mumbled, pleased and a little flustered by his affectionate gesture. She did as he said, then faced him, placing her fists on her hips in not-quite-feigned pique. "When am I going to get some say again in running my own life?"
"Come on, princess. Let's blow this low-class joint." Ben circled the back of her neck with his big hand, pulling her to his side, and hooked his arm casually across her shoulders as they walked to his car. This time she kept pace with him easily.
Jessie felt giddy as a schoolgirl with Ben's arm around her in public. And confused. Where was the man who issued orders like a field marshal and delighted in goading her to madness? Had he stopped fighting the attraction between them? If he had, she was going to have a hard time resisting. This gentle possessiveness was far too tempting.
Still, she made no effort to step away from his loose hold. She was even sorry when they reached the car and he withdrew his arm to open the door.
Jessie's bemusement fled soon after Ben pulled into traffic and turned onto a southbound expressway. She looked at him quizzically. "I assume you know this isn't the way back to Oak Park."
Ben kept his eyes on the road. "I'm not taking you home, Jess "
"Why not?"
"Leutzinger got a call from Ed in Port Mangus as we were leaving his office. Some employees at Club Duan reported Mai missing this morning. Nobody's seen or heard from her since Wednesday night, when Ed tapped into that call about Allie."
His answer puzzled Jessie. "So? Maybe she spent Thanksgiving with her family and is late getting back. What does that have to do with me?"
"No, she's Vietnamese, remember? She doesn't have family here in the States. She had arranged to eat Thanksgiving dinner at a cafeteria with some of her girls but didn't show up, not at the restaurant yesterday or this morning for work."
Suddenly Jessie thought of the journal her sister had taken from Mai's office and quailed. "What do you think it means? That she went after Allie?"
Ben took his hand off the wheel and wrapped it around hers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "No, honey, the police there suspect foul play. Both Mai's office and her apartment upstairs were trashed when they went in to investigate. Plus, wherever she is, she didn't take her car. It was sitting outside where she always parked it." Ben's hold on Jessie's hand tightened. "They also found Allie's name written on a notepad in her office, Jess. There's no question now that she knows exactly who your sister is."
Jessie's heart lurched.
"Other people—dangerous people—probably know now, too," Ben wait on, "and Allie's trail is going to lead right to you. That's why I'm not taking you back to Oak Park. We're going to my house instead. Leutzinger is sending someone over to your place to fix the phone so all your calls are forwarded to my number. That way, if Allie phones again, you won't miss her."
Jessie absorbed this new information in numbed silence. Her head was reeling.
"Hey," Ben said after several minutes had passed. He wiggled her hand. "You still with me?"
She sighed tiredly. "This doesn't seem real, Bra. Things like this don't happen to ordinary people like me."
"If only that were true. Nobody is immune from the thieves and pushers and murderers in the world. Sooner or later everybody is touched in one way or another by their dirt."
"That sounds so cynical." In spite of her circumstances, Jessie didn't want to believe he was right.
"Hell, Jessie—I am cynical. Most cops are. The real world is not a pretty place."
He took his hand away, and Jessie regretted the loss. She wondered what memories he'd buried to give him such a bleak outlook on life. So far he'd told her very little about himself.
Uncomfortably she was reminded of Antonio, who, even after two years of marriage, had remained a distant stranger. Not once had he shared anything of emotional significance with her. She'd been an adjunct to her ex-husband's life, not a real part of it.
To be fair, she hadn't known Ben very long, so maybe she hadn't given him enough of a chance to open up to her. Or was she just making excuses for him, the way she had for Antonio for so long?
In spite of the brevity of their acquaintance, she cared for Ben far more than was good for her. How on earth would she protect herself against him now that they'd be together in the same house for heaven only knows how long? Especially if he kept acting as though they were a couple. It was hard enough guarding her emotions when they were at odds.
Jessie was beginning to feel doomed to repeat her mistakes. Maybe it was already too late to save herself.
Perhaps she'd been too pleased with herself for gaining her independence after her divorce. Maybe somebody up there was showing her she'd been fooling herself to think she commanded her own destiny. There was certainly no way out of her current predicament.
"Am I going to be like a prisoner now?" she asked abruptly. "If I can't go home, how am I going to work? What about clothes and things? This is the second time you've whisked me away with only the shirt on my back."
In contrast to his brooding silence a minute ago, a grin tugged at Ben's lips. "You're not going to start arguing with me again, are you?"
"That depends," she warned. "I'm used to doing as I please. As I told you before, having my every movement dictated reminds me of a very unpleasant period in my life. Don't be surprised if I get a little testy."
He laughed outright at that. "No, I won't be surprised."
Chapter 8
jttl half hour later Jessie got her first glimpse of Ben's home and realized her image of him would have to be adjusted.
"This is where you live?"
'This is it."
"It looks like a farmhouse."
Ben threw her an amused look. "It is a farmhouse. Though the farm around it has long since been cut into little pieces for all the other homes in the neighborhood."
Jessie had to look through the rear window to see the homes to which he alluded. His property was set back from the others by a long driveway and nearly hidden by a copse of winter-naked trees. She could see that this residential area on the southern outskirts of the city was an old one, less urban than rural in character. With the exception of Ben's, though, all the houses were crowded together on city-sized lots.
Ben's yard was huge by contrast, dotted with large trees that had long ago spread their roots and established their ownership of the rich Illinois soil beneath their branches. The house itself, wearing dignified white siding and black trim, exuded the stately permanence of an old society matron, comfortably out of fashion with the times.
The sole discordant note—and the only outward evidence that a security-conscious cop might live here—was the high, forbidding chain link fence enclosing the property.
Ben stopped the car outside the gate to retrieve a complicated-looking control mechanism from the glove compartment.
"What's that?" Jessie asked.
"A remote for my alarm system." He pressed a succession of buttons on the device and a red light in the top comer flashed. Then he punched in another code, the light blinked again, and the wide gate separated in the middle. With smooth efficiency, the two parts of the barrier slid on runners into retaining pockets.
"Pretty slick," Jessie commented as Ben drove through. She turned in her seat to watch the gate close behind them. "Is this a high-crime are
a?"
"It used to be. But we started a community program several years back involving both residents and the police department. The number of personal and property crimes has dropped off a good bit since then."
"Oh, like Neighborhood Watch. We have that where I live, too."
Ben nodded. "Something like that. Neighborhood Watch is good as far as it goes, but our program expands on it. We have more interaction between cops and civilians. The police here have bases throughout the community, two men to a substation, instead of everybody at a central location. One guy mans the substation with a phone and a car, while the other patrols the neighborhood on foot or on a bicycle."
"like the old beat cop?"
"Right. Plus there are regular meetings where the police give tips on home security and personal safety. There's also a free exchange of information about crime in the area. I thought if cops got to spend more time around the good, honest folks they're protecting, and if the residents got to know the decent men and women who joined the police force because they wanted to help people, it would be a natural thing for everybody to join forces against the real bad guys. And it worked."
Ben pulled around to the back of the house and parked in the carport.
"The program was your idea, then?" Jessie asked.
He looked at her. "Did I say that?"
"You said you thought it would work that way, as though you came up with the plan."
"You don't miss much, do you? Wait there, I'll get your door."
Jessie recognized a diversion when it smacked her in the face, but Ben left the car before she could call him on it. Perhaps he was being modest. She was afraid, though, that his refusal to talk about even so impersonal a matter as a crime prevention program he'd conceived was his way of keeping barriers in place.
