Danger and Desire: Ten Full-Length Steamy Romantic Suspense Novels

by Pamela Clare

  “No question.”

  “What about the Rohypnol? Any leads there?”

  “’Fraid not. Not surprisingly, nobody’s being real forthcoming about who they might have sold some roofies to. Guy at the tat parlor tells me it’s mostly adolescents who use it.”

  Quigg shook his head. “Damned stuff put you in a coma if you wash it down with a couple of beers, and kids can buy it with their lunch money.” He yanked at his tie. “Have we looked at her client list?”

  “Yeah.” Ray shoved a sheet at him. “As far as I can tell, there’s no one loose who has reason to fault her for her defense. And definitely no one behind bars who’s got the kind of bling to go after her from inside.”

  Quigg scanned the list, stopping at the fourth name.

  “Halliday?”

  “Convicted, sprung and born again. He’s now a lay minister in Brockville, Ontario.”

  “Denton?”

  “Deceased. OD’s his second week outta prison. Guess he coulda benefitted from a community-based methadone maintenance program.”

  “Rosneau?”

  “Nah. He was acquitted on appeal. Remember? You were fit to be tied.”

  “Yeah, I remember. But I also remember he was a pretty creepy proposition. We popped him for touching a minor for a sexual purpose.”

  “Yeah, I know, but the guy never turns up again in our database. And you know pedophiles. They will re-offend.”

  Jesus. Maybe Rosneau was innocent after all. Maybe Suzannah was right. Maybe he’d been doing this too long… He shook off the thought. “Okay, what about the flower shops? Still nothing?”

  “Nothing,” Ray confirmed. “The particular arrangement he favors is too generic. Every blessed flower shop makes the same one. Same roses, same ferny stuff, same green glass vase. But Stevie came up with an idea that might help in future, presuming our perp continues to communicate via this live posy, dead posy routine.”

  Of course. “Mark the vases to discriminate between shops.”

  “It’ll have to be on the inside of the vase, of course, probably below the water line. Something real discreet. Even at that, I’m not sure this guy wouldn’t find it.”

  Quigg rubbed his forehead. “What about Suzannah’s friends?”

  “We’re looking at ’em. Along with dumped boyfriends, dweebs she might have blown off in high school. Hell, we’re even looking at other lawyers she might have embarrassed in the courtroom. You name it, we’re trying it.”

  “There’s one avenue you haven’t tried.”

  Razor shot him a look. “What’s that?”

  Seeing no way to sugarcoat it, Quigg just spit it out. “Remember that barbeque you invited us to?” At Ray’s nod, he continued. “Bruce Newman made a comment to Suzannah about leaving her drink unattended. He made specific reference to Rohypnol.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, just a minute.” Ray surged to his feet. “You’re not suggesting Bruce is our stalker?”

  “I’m saying Constable Newman made a direct comment to her about the possibility of getting Rohypnol slipped in her drink.”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed. “A legitimate warning.”

  “At a cop party?”

  “Anywhere, anytime. As a matter of practice, a woman shouldn’t leave her drink unattended, period.” Ray’s hands disappear into his pockets to jangle the coins there, a sure sign of agitation. “Maybe Newman just wanted to get a rise out of her,” he said. “Just because she never disemboweled him personally on the witness stand doesn’t mean he might not want a little payback for the grief she’s caused some of the guys.”

  Unlike some people, Newman knows how critical it is to be tight with the boys. The unspoken message hung between them.

  Quigg sighed. “Look, for what it’s worth, I think you’re right. That’s what Suzannah thinks, too, that he was just trying to throw her off balance, make her uncomfortable.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem,” Quigg said, “is that if a civilian had made that remark so proximate to the assault, we’d be all over him.”

  Ray swore, but it was an acknowledgment of the truth of Quigg’s assertion.

  “Look,” Quigg said, “I’m not asking you to investigate Newman. I’ll look into that angle myself. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “This won’t make you any new friends.”

  “No kidding?” Quigg resisted the urge to rub at his right temple to quiet the nerve that had started jumping there.

  “You know, it was one thing when the guys thought you were just doing her. There was a certain level of … I don’t know … approval there, a little of that give her one for me mentality.”

  “Cripes, Razor.”

  “But this is different. This is –”

  “What if it was Grace getting menaced? Huh? Wouldn’t you pull out all the stops, do whatever you had to do?”

  Ray blinked. “So it’s like that.”

  Ah, hell. Quigg rubbed the tic-ticking nerve at his temple. “I don’t know how it is.”

  “You’d better figure it out soon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Hey, I like Suzannah. If you two are gonna have a happily-ever-after, great. We can double date on Fridays. The guys’ll come to accept the situation eventually, and it will all have been worth it. But,” he said, “if she chews you up and spits you out after we’ve collared her number one fan, you’re gonna be left with one helluva hard row to hoe, my friend.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Razor. Might as well save your breath.”

  “’Kay. But can I ask just one more question before we leave the topic of Suzannah Phelps?”

  Quigg suppressed a sigh. “Would it do any good to say no?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then fire away.”

  “She got anything to do with you looking to be a desk jockey?”

  Quigg scowled. “Who said anything like that?”

  Ray rolled his eyes. “Gimme a friggin’ break, here. You leave a book like The Complete Preparation Guide for Police Sergeant Exam laying around, a highly-trained investigator like myself might hypothesize that you’re gonna take a run for Sinclair’s job when he finally takes that early retirement he’s been talking about.”

  Trapped. That’s how he felt. Cornered.

  Hell with it. It was time Ray knew, anyway. Past time. “Okay, you got me. I’m busted. Satisfied?”

  “Not yet. You didn’t answer my question. How much does Suzannah figure into your decision? She want to get you off the streets? Into a higher income bracket, better social circle?”

  “She doesn’t know.” But she’d come damn close to knowing last night when she’d caught him reading some study material. Even now, the thought of her knowing made him weak at the knees. This whole business of wanting to be … what?—something more?—for her made him more vulnerable than he was ready to deal with. Besides, what if he didn’t make the grade? How humiliating would that be? No, much better she didn’t know.

  “But she does factor in there somewhere?”

  Quigg shifted under that damned all-seeing gaze. “What’s wrong with wanting to further my career? I got a few years on you, if you’ll remember, junior.”

  “Not a thing, if you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

  “I’m satisfied with my reasons.”

  “Good.” Ray dug car keys out of his pocket. “By the way, you’ll make a great sergeant.”

  Great. Ray was going out. Quigg was off the hook, for now.

  Then Ray’s phone rang. He nabbed the receiver. “Morgan.”

  Quigg went back to perusing the coroner’s report, but his concentration was fractured again when Ray swore. One look at his friend’s face and Quigg didn’t have to follow the clipped, one-sided conversation to know he’d caught something hot. Anything that called for the forensic identification team was smoking. “What’s up?” he asked, when Ray hung up, his stomach taking a
queer dive at the look on his friend’s face.

  “It’s Suzannah. Our guy just made a move on her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Quigg leapt up, sending his chair reeling backwards on its casters.

  “Relax, she’s okay,” Ray said. “Rattled, but okay.”

  “She was going to spend the whole morning in the Record Office doing some kind of search. Hell, I made sure she got there myself, checked it out. The place is quiet as a friggin’ library. And Vince was gonna pick her up at lunch time. She swore she wouldn’t set foot outside the building until Vince came for her.”

  “Happened right there at the Record Office. Our guy slipped into the building, followed her to the washroom, which is a little bit removed from the records area.”

  Quigg swore. “Did he hurt her?”

  “No, didn’t lay a hand on her, but it sounds like she hurt him. I’ll have to get the details, but I gather she stabbed him.”

  Quigg’s knees went weak. “Stabbed him.”

  “Uh-huh. With a ballpoint pen. At which point he fled.”

  Another wave of stomach-turning fear. Quigg sagged against his desk. “She had to fight him off, hand to hand? Dammit, why didn’t she use the personal alarm?”

  “I have no idea. But Quigg, buddy, this could be the break we’ve been looking for. We’ve got physical evidence. Blood.”

  Quigg grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Fine by me.”

  *

  Suzannah couldn’t stop shaking. She was safe here in the employees’ break room with a constable posted outside the door. She knew she was safe, but it didn’t seem to matter. She regarded her reflection in the mirror over the kitchenette’s sink and despaired. Her eyes looked huge and haunted, her face pinched and frightened. God, she had to get this trembling thing under control before Ray Morgan showed up. Bad enough to look like an emotional basket case in front of the young patrolman who’d responded…

  The door to the staff room flew open and John burst into the room, followed by Ray Morgan.

  “Are you okay?”

  She met burning brown eyes. “I’m fine.”

  It was all she could do to get the words out before he crushed her in a bear hug. Twenty-four hours ago, she might have thought the gesture was intended as much for Ray’s benefit as for hers, but she knew better now. This was real. It had to be.

  “Oh, baby, you scared me.”

  “Scared me, too.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you here if I thought there was any risk.”

  “I know.”

  Ray cleared his throat and John released her.

  “Think you could answer some questions for me?” Ray said.

  Suzannah brushed her hair back and took a deep breath. “Of course.”

  They sat, she and John on the couch and Ray in a worn chair. For the next half hour, she related the details, reliving the ordeal. She’d almost finished the title search Vince had sent her to do—a multi-million dollar corporate mortgage transaction, he didn’t trust it to the title abstractors they usually used—when the two coffees she’d had throughout the morning drove her to seek out the washroom.

  The sound of her own footsteps had echoed hollowly as she strode down the abandoned corridor. However, soon after entering the washroom stall, she’d heard the room’s door open and close. She was instantly gripped by a sense of disquiet. Yesterday’s experience fresh in her mind, she groped for her personal alarm, only to realize she’d clipped it to her briefcase which she’d left in the main records area. She never carried a purse when she carried her briefcase, and it never occurred to her to lug her briefcase to the washroom.

  Telling herself she was letting her imagination run away with her, that there was no one out there lying in wait to pounce on her, she straightened her suit. But no matter how she tried to steel her spine, she couldn’t bring herself to open the stall door. Humiliated by her fear but still frightened, she decided to out-wait the other patron.

  Then a hand came up to grip the top of the stall door. She screamed, a small, involuntary reaction. But he didn’t try to kick the door in or rip it off, or any of the dramatic things she envisioned. Rather, he held it firm as though to trap her, to make her aware that she was cornered, at his mercy.

  “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” she cried.

  “Because you owe me,” came a hoarse whisper. “Because I want you to suffer like I’ve suffered.”

  She owed him? What did that mean? If she only had her alarm. It had scared him away once. She blinked. Maybe it could scare him away again.

  “I’ll activate my alarm!”

  “Nice try, but I know you left it out there.”

  Oh, shit. He’d been watching her! “I’ll scream.”

  “I know you will.” The voice held genuine pleasure, no fear. “But I’m willing to bet no one can hear you from here over that noisy air conditioning unit. And I didn’t see many females who are likely to come along and disturb us.”

  God have mercy, he was right. Was she going to die here?

  Or was he just trying to terrify her some more?

  And omigod, he was wearing latex surgical gloves.

  Her hands contracted into fists. A weapon. She needed a weapon. Her hands flew to the pockets of her lightweight suit. Yes! A pen, shoved in there absently and forgotten.

  Before she could rethink her decision, she drew the ballpoint pen from her pocket, lifted her arm and drove the pen point as deeply as she could into the flesh of the back of his hand. He yowled, part pain, part anger, and cursing her viciously, jerked his hand back. She heard him rip paper towels from the dispenser.

  “This isn’t over, bitch.”

  Then the door opening and closing behind him.

  She waited a few heartbeats, until she was sure her legs would bear her, then let herself out of the stall. Heart hammering against her ribs, she pulled the washroom door open and risked a look up and down the corridor. Just as deserted as before. Taking a deep breath, she raced straight to the Registrar’s Office.

  Now, here she was.

  Quigg breathed a word that was usually a profanity on his lips, but it sounded more like a prayer this time. Then he took her hand and squeezed it. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

  “Okay, a few questions, if you’re up to it.”

  This from Ray. She turned to face him, nodded, felt the reassuring squeeze Quigg gave her icy fingers. “Of course.”

  “Did you get a glimpse of him at all, or just the hand?”

  “Just the hand.”

  “What’d it look like?”

  “Through the surgical glove? Clean, I guess. Blunt fingers. I got the impression the nails were on the longish side, maybe. Like he might enjoy the occasional manicure.” She watched him make a few scribbles in his notebook which must have meant something to him.

  “Caucasian?”

  “I think so, but the latex may have influenced that impression.”

  “How tall, do you think?”

  “Not exceptionally tall. Not tall enough for me to see the top of his head over the stall’s door when he gripped it.” At the memory, her fingers flexed in Quigg’s grip and he gave her a hand an answering, reassuring squeeze. “Of course, I don’t know how far away he might have been standing, or whether or not he might have been crouching down…”

  “It’s okay. We can work with that.” Ray made another hen-scratch, then looked up at her again. “What about his voice?”

  She thought for a moment. “It’s hard to say. He talked in a harsh whisper, like he was disguising his voice. At least until I stuck him with my pen. He dropped the whisper then.”

  “Don’t suppose you recognized it then?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “His words sounded thick, guttural, but I think it was rage that made his voice that way. I have no idea what his normal speaking voice might sound like.”

  “Anything else you can think of?”

  “Just that I can’t f
igure where he came from. I mean, I really didn’t feel at risk here with so many legitimate people milling around—abstractors, lawyers, articled clerks—but I was … I don’t know … aware of comings and goings. I swear I didn’t sense anyone out of place. And he had to have been lurking, watching me,” she pointed out. “He knew I’d left my alarm with my briefcase.”

  She saw Ray and Quigg exchange a glance over her head.

  “Could you identify everyone who came and went?”

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “The men, anyway. A few women came and went, but I didn’t take particular note, although I could probably name most of them if I thought about it. As for the men, if I can’t dredge up all their names, I certainly know who they’re affiliated with. Names wouldn’t be hard to get.”

  “Good. Include Record Office staff, too. Hell, include the Pope if he happened to hobble past. Your mother, your neighbor, your old law professor. We need to look at everybody, okay? Everybody.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’ll need you to produce a list of those people for me, everyone you can remember. And I’ll need a statement.”

  “I’ll produce both, list and statement, and send them down to you.” Anything to wind this up.

  “That’ll work.”

  God, she needed to crawl onto John’s lap, feel his arms tighten around her, lose herself in his heat. “Are we done for now, Ray?”

  “You are. I’m gonna go get a progress report from the forensic investigation team.” Ray closed his notebook and secreted it in an inside pocket of his suit. “By the way, great work with the pen. Nothing like blood and tissue.”

  On that cheerful note, he left.

  *

  As soon as the door closed behind Ray, Quigg did just what he’d been longing to do. He scooped her up to straddle his lap, crushing her within an inch of cracking her ribs. Still, it wasn’t close enough, safe enough.

  “You left your alarm on the damned brief case.”

  She pulled back, reached between them and lifted the gadget from between her breasts, suspended from a thin nylon cord. “It’s around my neck, now. I’ll wear it all the time, I swear.”