When the Storm Breaks

by Heather Lowell

  She looked him over from head to toe. “Now that’s truly a pity.”

  The key was still in the lock. Claire had the apartment door opened and closed in Sean’s face before he could think of anything to say. Automatically he tugged the light jacket he wore into place. It covered his holster just fine, but did nothing to conceal his hard-on.

  He walked uncomfortably down the hall, hoping he didn’t meet any little old ladies taking their trash out.

  Chapter 23

  As soon as Claire closed the door in Sean’s face, she walked straight to the kitchen for some cold water, spotted the open wine, and poured herself a huge glass instead. Gulping half of the rich Merlot in one desperate swallow, she followed Olivia and Afton’s idle chatter as they prepared brunch. Claire hoped they would be too busy to notice her own appearance. She was sure her cheeks were on fire, and her lips felt both chapped and swollen.

  When she licked them, she swore she tasted spearmint. Groaning, she took another gulp of the red wine.

  “Fettuccine Alfredo with garlic bread and Caesar salad coming right up. Not the usual brunch, but that’s what I get for going shopping when I’m starved,” Olivia said.

  “How was work?” Afton asked.

  “Fine,” Claire said. “I caught up on some things.”

  At least she thought she had. Right now she was having a hard time remembering her own name, let alone what she’d done at the office before her world had tilted on its axis.

  “Good,” Olivia said. “Oh, the concierge downstairs received a package for you today. I put it on the buffet in the dining room.”

  Claire wandered in that direction, her mind still focused on kissing Sean. He’d acted like it was wrong. But all she could think was that thirty years was a long time to go without ever being kissed in a way that made her toes curl.

  She sighed and set her wine down on the buffet next to the white box wrapped with red ribbon. A foil balloon bearing the message “Thinking of YOU” was attached to the bow. Claire undid the ribbon and looked inside while the helium balloon drifted slowly toward the ceiling. A folded card sat on top of white tissue paper, which hid the gift.

  Wondering if a client had sent the box, Claire picked up her wine and drank as she flipped open the card.

  Marie Claire,

  I so enjoyed our last meeting.

  I look forward to seeing you again soon.

  She frowned as she tried to think which of her clients would send her a package without identifying himself. She set aside the card, then pulled out the wadded tissue paper to see what was inside the box. A black leather clutch purse lay at the bottom of the cardboard container, wrapped in what looked to be a rust-colored piece of cloth.

  Claire leaned closer. Her breath came in hard when she recognized her own purse, lost since the night of the murder. Breath froze in her chest as she saw that the cloth wrapped around her purse wasn’t really rust-colored, but had once been a white floral sash that was now stained with dried blood.

  The wineglass slipped from Claire’s nerveless fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor and splashing crimson streaks on her pale legs. Her eyes darted to the card, open on the smooth wood surface of the buffet. The once-innocent words became a malevolent threat.

  Olivia came out of the kitchen. “Was that breaking glass? Are you all right?”

  Dark eyes huge in her ashen face, Claire looked at Olivia but couldn’t force any words past her paralyzed vocal cords.

  Olivia rushed toward her, ignoring the shards of glass and wine on the floor. “What is it, honey?”

  “Claire, do you feel faint?” Afton asked.

  “The gift,” was all Claire could manage.

  Olivia reached toward the box.

  “Don’t touch it!” Claire said quickly. “It’s from him.”

  “Who?” Olivia and Afton asked.

  “The killer.”

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

  Afton grasped Claire’s hand in silent support.

  “It’s my purse,” Claire said. “The one I lost the night of the murder. And there’s some kind of fabric wrapped around it with…God, I think they’re bloodstains. And the note. Read the note.”

  Silence grew as both women read the note without touching it.

  “I’m not imagining things, right?” Claire said. “That’s a threat.”

  “Come away from here,” Afton urged, tugging Claire toward the living room.

  Claire looked down at the floor as broken glass gritted under her feet. “I should clean that up,” she said automatically.

  “Later.” Afton tugged again at her hand. “Come sit down. You’ve had a bad shock.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Olivia said. “Do you still have Sean’s card?”

  “In the pocket of my raincoat,” Claire responded numbly. “Use the cell number.”

  Within moments Olivia was dialing. She waited impatiently while it rang three times. He answered on the fourth, sounding like his mouth was full.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “This is Olivia Goodhue. Something’s happened. How fast can you get here?”

  “I’m at a deli just down the street. What’s wrong?”

  “Someone sent Claire a package. Inside is the purse she lost the night of the murder, along with a pale piece of cloth that looks like it’s been splashed with blood. And there’s a note saying how he can’t wait to see her again.”

  “Christ. Listen, don’t touch anything! That’s very important. Lock all the doors. I’ll be right there.”

  “Hurry,” Olivia said.

  Sean didn’t answer. She was talking to dead air.

  Chapter 24

  Washington, D.C.

  Saturday afternoon

  Sean made it in three minutes flat because he didn’t wait for the elevator. Half-eaten deli sandwich in hand, he ran up five flights of stairs and hammered on the door.

  “It’s Detective Richter. Let me in.”

  The sound of locks opening pleased Sean—good locks and lots of them—even as it irritated him. Come on, come on, open the damn door.

  When a crack of light showed, he didn’t wait for an invitation.

  “Where is she?” he demanded as he pushed past Olivia.

  “In the living room.”

  “Dump this somewhere,” he said, shoving the sandwich in her hands. “And lock the door.”

  “Please, thank you, you’re welcome,” Olivia muttered. Again, she was talking to herself. Sean was already gone.

  Claire was sitting stiffly next to Afton on an overstuffed couch. Squatting on his heels, Sean took Claire’s icy hands in his. Her pale skin and rigidly composed expression made him realize how vibrant she had been earlier in the hallway, when she’d kissed him like she’d just discovered sex.

  “Claire? You okay?” he asked roughly.

  “Fine.” She noted his rapid breathing. “You took the stairs again. There was no need to come storming up here.”

  “Just doing my job, ma’am.” He said it in his best cop voice in an attempt at humor.

  She smiled briefly, then looked in the direction of the dining room. “It’s in there.”

  Sean studied her for a moment longer, seeing the effort she was making to remain calm. Good girl, he thought admiringly.

  With a gentle squeeze he released her hands and went over to the white box on the waist-high wood buffet. He saw the spilled wine and broken glass Olivia had started to clean up, and stepped around as much of the mess as he could.

  Looking down into the box, his jaw clenched when he recognized the bloodstained fabric wrapped around the purse. It matched the dress Renata Mendes had been wearing the night she was murdered. He’d been right—the killer had taken a trophy to remember his latest victim.

  Sean carefully examined the black purse. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he used it to shift the fabric aside and open the purse’s leather flap. A cursory glance showed a wallet and compact, but no keys. Next to the box was an
open white note card. After Sean read the short message, he began cursing viciously.

  When he took a breath, he smelled Claire’s delicate floral perfume. She was standing very close.

  “Now would be a really good time to tell me I’m getting paranoid and letting my imagination run wild,” she said without much hope.

  He turned and met her dark gaze, wishing he could give her that reassurance. He couldn’t. All he could do was offer a comforting squeeze of her shoulder before he pulled out his cell phone and called Aidan. When his partner answered, Sean could hear loud conversation and music in the background. Claire wasn’t the only one who liked midday parties.

  “Sorry to crash the fun,” Sean said, “but I need you and a crime scene unit at Olivia Goodhue’s apartment ASAP.”

  “What—are they all right?”

  “Yeah. Looks like the killer sent Claire a little present.”

  “Shit. Not good.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sean hung up and steered Claire back over to the couch. “When and how did the package come?” he asked her.

  Olivia answered. “The building concierge said it was delivered for her during the morning.” She glanced at the clock. “Their office closes at noon on Saturday. It won’t open until eight on Monday morning.”

  “They’ll open for me,” Sean said.

  “How did the killer know Claire was here?” Afton asked from her seat on the couch.

  “I suppose he could have followed me from work or something,” Claire said unhappily. “My business cards have my work address, and I always carry some in my wallet.”

  The thought that she had put her friend at risk chilled Claire. She shot to her feet. “That’s it. I’m going home. I won’t have Livvie in danger.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Olivia said loudly, hands on hips.

  “I’m leaving and that’s all there—”

  “No way in hell you’re going home.” Sean’s deep voice cut through the argument.

  Claire turned on him. “Somehow I’ve led a killer right to Olivia. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Think,” Sean shot back. “He’s still got your keys, and he knows where you live. But you’re right about leaving here. You’ll have to stay at a hotel. Staking out a public place like that will take a lot of manpower, but…” He shrugged. “Has to be done.”

  “She can stay at my place,” Afton said. “I have a house in Georgetown, which would be much more comfortable than a hotel. There’s an alarm and new locks.”

  “No. I won’t put anyone else at risk,” Claire said.

  Sean ignored Claire and spoke to Afton. “That would be better than a hotel. Much easier to secure.” He turned to Claire. “Can you arrange for time off?”

  “They owe me three weeks of comp time and three weeks of vacation, but—”

  “Good. Take care of it with your boss.”

  “You really think that’s how he found me? He followed me from work?”

  “Did you have business cards in your purse?” Sean cut in.

  Claire shuddered. “All right. I’ll arrange to work from home for a while, wherever ‘home’ is.” She looked at Olivia. “I’m so sorry to drag you into this.” She glanced back at Sean’s grim features. This icy, analytical man wasn’t anything like the one who had pressed her up against the front door and kissed her until her toes curled.

  Dangerous territory. Hormones kill brain cells. She took a deep breath and tried to be as analytical as he was. “What about Afton and her babies? It’s too big a risk.”

  “We’ll stay with my mother,” Afton said quickly. “She’ll be thrilled. She never wanted me to buy my own house in the first place.”

  “I can’t let you—” Claire began.

  “Hush,” Afton said. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

  Sean turned to Olivia. “I don’t know how long you’ll be out of this apartment, but it will be at least a week.”

  Olivia was already making lists in her head. “I’ll start packing.”

  Claire’s objection was lost as the doorbell chimed and Aidan’s voice called out. “Detective Burke. Let me in.”

  Sean went through the locks faster than Olivia had.

  “Forensics team is right behind me,” Aidan said, breathing more deeply than usual. “They took the elevator with all their stuff.”

  “The box is in the dining room if you want to take a fast look.” Sean shut the door behind Aidan. “And watch out for the broken glass.”

  Aidan raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He went into the apartment, talked briefly with everyone, and walked to the dining room to study the package.

  With a sense of unreality, Claire watched as Sean opened the door again for several evidence technicians, each carrying cases of equipment. Very quickly the apartment was a hive of activity. She started when she realized that Sean was calling her name in a patient voice.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We’ll take a formal statement from you later. For now, pack your things. An officer will be here in half an hour to take all of you to Afton’s house.” He didn’t add that an unmarked car would make sure no one followed, and that he really hoped the killer was stupid enough to try it.

  “An escort,” Claire repeated. “Great. Just great. What’s happening to my life?”

  Sean opened his mouth, only to be cut off.

  “Oh, never mind,” she said. “That’s what I get for letting my toes curl.”

  She stalked off to pack her suitcase.

  Chapter 25

  Aidan locked the door as the last of the evidence technicians left Olivia’s apartment. “Okay,” he said to Sean. “Talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Whatever is making you look so sour. The women are safe, nobody followed them, so what’s chewing on you?”

  “The fact that I was right about our killer fixating on Claire.”

  Aidan didn’t buy it. “What else?”

  Sean sat on Olivia’s couch and scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I’ve screwed things up.”

  “How?”

  “Claire. I drove her over here and we talked. Argued. Then I got kind of distracted.”

  “Distracted?”

  “I stuck my tongue in her mouth.”

  Aidan managed not to laugh out loud. “So? Did she bite it off?”

  “You’re laughing, and I’ve fucked up the case.”

  “Sean,” Aidan began.

  “I never should have done it, never should have let my dick take over in a professional situation. She’s a witness. One who is now in need of police protection.” Sean stood up and started pacing. “Did you see how upset she was at finding that box? If I’d stayed, if I hadn’t run out of here like my ass was on fire after kissing her, I might have been able to spare her some of that.”

  “Anyone with half a brain,” Aidan said patiently, ignoring everything but the main point, “could look at the two of you and see a hell of a lot more than a kiss in your future.”

  Sean glared at Aidan. “No way I’m that obvious.”

  Aidan just shook his head. “Hopeless.”

  “Shit. Maybe I should just take out a full page ad in the Washington Post about how I come on to witnesses.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Did she mind?”

  Sean stopped pacing and almost smiled.

  This time Aidan laughed. “Lighten up, cousin, and thank the gods for a break in the case.”

  “What break—the techs were muttering about not finding anything worth their trip out here.”

  “We know who the guy’s intended victim is. We have her under twenty-four/seven guard. She knows what he looks like—or probably will if she sees him again. So let her go looking.”

  “No.” Sean’s voice was hard. “Too dangerous.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “No.”

  “Then how can—”

  “No! Weren’t
you listening? I can’t think like a cop when I’m near her and if I’m not thinking like a cop I could get her killed! This whack job is playing with her, with all of us. That’s a change in his pattern. We need to get a real psychologist in on this ASAP, instead of tinkering with a profile ourselves.”

  Aidan rubbed a hand over his stubbly jaw. “You’re right about that part. I’ll secure the apartment and follow up with the management company. You jack up the shrink and check out the security arrangements at Afton’s house.”

  “Security is your specialty,” Sean shot back as he headed toward the door. It slammed behind him as he left.

  Aidan sighed. It had been worth a try.

  Chapter 26

  Washington, D.C.

  Sunday

  “I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Olivia’s voice echoed in the deserted lobby of the office building. Claire ignored her friend, showed her passport as ID to the security guard, and continued to the elevator.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the police?” Olivia asked.

  “I left a message on Sean’s voice mail. If he wants to join us here, he’s welcome to.” She didn’t mention the fact that she’d deliberately called his office number and left the message there, instead of on his cell phone.

  Olivia’s silence was almost accusatory as they rode up to Camelot’s floor in the elevator.

  “Besides, all I am doing is reactivating my dating service membership after a brief lapse. This has nothing to do with the investigation,” Claire said.

  “Bullshit. If you’re going to come up with excuses to stick your nose into police business, at least make them good ones.”

  Olivia marched out of the elevator and went to the door of Camelot Dating Services, Inc.

  Claire followed and knocked on the door. “Afton? You in there?”

  “Hang on.”

  The door opened, and Afton appeared. She looked stylish and carefree, dressed in a pretty summer outfit on a hot Sunday afternoon. But as soon as she locked the door behind her friends, she started in on Claire.