by Debra Webb
Elizabeth was already out of bed and searching for clothes. The question stirred the dread that had settled like a rock in her stomach. “We can talk about that when we’re all together. Where should we meet?”
“My office.” She gave Elizabeth the uptown address. “I’ll be waiting.”
After disconnecting, Elizabeth punched in Gloria’s number and jumped into her clothes as she waited out the rings.
Four murders. Ned had been dead for just over a week and already four of his patients were dead.
Dear God, who would be next?
~*~
Mac was at the office when the call came in. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d come in to dissect what he had on the murders that had been dubbed the Socialite Murders, since all the victims had been Manhattan society elite.
All three of the women were young, all were beautiful and wealthy, but other than that the only true connection among them was that they’d been patients of Ned Harrison. After the second murder, Brannigan had started checking female victims against Harrison’s patient log as a matter of course. Mac hadn’t asked for lead on this case, but he’d asked for cooperation. Detective Brannigan seemed happy to give it, since he was more than aware Mac could take the case if he wanted it.
Each victim had been bound to her bed and gagged with a pair of her own panties. The ritual was the same each time—she was sexually assaulted and then murdered with a single slash to the throat. No sign of a struggle in any room other than the bedroom where the victim was found. Who was this man that the women would allow him into their homes without question? Did he force his way in with a gun?
At each scene numerous prints were lifted, but it would take forever to crosscheck them all. The killer’s seminal fluid was left behind in each case. DNA testing and cross-matching with CODIS—the FBI’s bank of DNA profiles on convicted offenders—was in the works. Mac had made all the right calls to ensure a speedy response on the DNA results.
But now there was a fourth victim. It wasn’t that Mac hadn’t anticipated additional victims. Unfortunately, he had. Whether Brannigan was ready to admit it or not, this was the work of a serial killer. And somehow the killings were connected to Harrison. Being a current patient of the deceased psychiatrist and a star in one of his sex videos appeared to be the common links. NYPD would have its hands full warning the potential victims as well as offering some level of protection to those who needed it.
The one thing about the latest killing that startled the hell out of Mac was the location. The victim was found in her home less than six blocks from Harrison’s office—where both Elizabeth and Novak had been the night before. According to the ME she’d been dead long enough to be in full rigor mortis, which indicated the victim had been dead twelve to fourteen hours.
Mac glanced at the digital clock on his desk as he prepared to head to the crime scene. It was seven now. That would, roughly speaking, put the time of death at sometime between five and seven the previous evening. He’d discovered Elizabeth and evidence of Novak at Harrison’s office at approximately seven-thirty. He was still furious that the surveillance team monitoring Harrison’s office had somehow missed Novak’s presence. They’d spotted Elizabeth and called him immediately, but they’d missed Novak entirely. The wily bastard couldn’t be that good. Catching someone with motivation to get inside Harrison’s office had been the whole point of surveillance versus locking down the damn place. They needed a break in this case. With the proper surveillance he could have pinpointed Novak’s exact time of arrival. Hell, maybe he’d just beat it out of the guy.
Mac was still investigating Novak, but there were several things he already knew about the man. He’d been born to wealthy parents who were still movers and shakers in the financial world. His father had been immensely disappointed when his only son chose to go into architecture and design, rather than mergers and takeovers. Novak had never been in any real trouble, other than one petty drug bust in college and a charge four years ago of soliciting. Like Harrison, Novak had a sick little obsession with the seamier side of sex.
Until now Mac hadn’t had any evidence to warrant the subpoena of DNA evidence from either Novak or Elizabeth, but things were different now. They had both been in the vicinity of the crime, were guilty of breaking and entering at the office of a recent murder victim whose case was ongoing, and the two were definitely hiding something.
One way or another, Mac intended to know what that something was.
He would push Elizabeth until she broke.
Before he could stop it, the memory of kissing her erupted inside him, yanking the rug right out from under him and sending his senses reeling all over again. He’d worked hard every waking moment since that damned kiss not to think about her that way or to recall the taste of her lips. To forget the insane move he’d made kissing her. But he couldn’t seem to keep it pushed away. The taste of her, the smell of her, kept haunting him.
He shook his head as he exited his office and headed for the elevators. He couldn’t stop thinking about her when what he needed to be focusing on was the facts.
Fact one: Elizabeth Young was supposed to meet Ned Harrison the night he was murdered.
Fact two: the murder weapon was a gift from Elizabeth.
Fact three: an illicit affair between Elizabeth and Harrison had ended badly. Already several of their mutual friends had given statements to that effect.
Fact four: Elizabeth had a record of drug possession and felony assault with a knife, no less.
Fact five: she had no alibi for the night of Harrison’s murder.
Finally and the most damning of all: Elizabeth knew he was attracted to her. She’d said as much. I see the way you look at me. Which meant he wasn’t being objective where she was concerned.
Even in light of all those glaring facts he still wanted her. The idea that she could have been the one murdered last night when she’d given his partner the slip turned his blood cold.
He was in trouble here.
~*~
Elizabeth sat adjacent to Gloria in one of the matching wing chairs flanking Annabelle’s desk. The office was nice, not quite as luxurious as Ned’s, but on that order. She had an uptown address that spoke of money and prestige.
Elizabeth had no idea what kind of attorney Annabelle was, since she hadn’t met her until yesterday, but if accommodations were any indicator, she must be doing well for herself. Elizabeth appreciated any time a woman could flourish in a man’s world.
“Look at the last names.” Annabelle pointed at the list she’d made of the victims, all former patients of Ned’s.
“Damn,” Gloria breathed the word. “They’re in alphabetical order.”
Annabelle nodded in confirmation. “Bumbalough, Dell, Fowler and now Landon. I checked the log of patients and there are four more, including the two of you.”
Elizabeth scrubbed at the frown creasing her forehead. “I’m sure Ned had a lot more than eight patients.”
“Definitely,” Annabelle hastened to agree. “But these are the ones who had a more personal relationship with him.”
Elizabeth and Gloria exchanged uncertain glances.
Annabelle sighed. “Yes, I’m aware that Ned sometimes broke the rules with his patients.” She folded her hands atop the clean blotter on her desk. “I didn’t really have a problem with his less-than-savory involvement with the Association and the darker side of sexuality.” She paused, her expression intent, thoughtful. “But I fear this Association business and crossing the line with his patients delved into far more dangerous territory than he intended.”
“How did you figure out he had become sexually involved with,” Elizabeth swallowed tightly, “some of his patients?”
Annabelle leaned back in her chair and fixed her gaze on Elizabeth. “To be perfectly honest with you, I suspected as much months ago.”
“What did you do?” Gloria seemed to steel herself in anticipation of her answer.
“I confronted him, of cou
rse. Gave him my professional opinion whether he wanted to hear it or not.”
“But he didn’t want your advice,” Elizabeth said, knowing how Ned would have reacted to being told what to do by anyone. He was far too arrogant to allow anyone to rule any aspect of his world.
Annabelle looked down for a moment before saying more. “He was my friend,” she said when she again met their gazes. “I didn’t agree with what he did, but I couldn’t just walk away, either.”
Elizabeth blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. Ned had used them all. Furious with herself, she glanced at her cell. Nine-thirty already. Boomer would be wondering where she was. He knew to get started without her, but she couldn’t put off leaving for the job site much longer. Getting behind wasn’t an option. She needed to fulfill this contract. She needed the money.
“Did you find the hidden door?”
The unexpected question startled Elizabeth back to attention. With the news of another murder, she’d completely forgotten about the previous evening’s mission, even though she’d promised Annabelle an update and had expected the question.
She shook her head. “Brian followed me there or stumbled upon me there, and I couldn’t do anything.”
Annabelle straightened, clearly surprised. “Brian Novak?”
Elizabeth nodded. “He...” She frowned, trying to remember his exact words. “He accused me of killing Ned and then urged me to tell him what I know.” Her gaze connected with Annabelle’s. “Do you think he was talking about the Gentlemen’s Association?”
“Brian was watching Ned’s office?” Gloria asked, her voice, as well as her expression, revealing her shock.
“Apparently.” Elizabeth couldn’t think of any other explanation for why he was there at precisely the same time she was. The whole encounter had been way creepy. “He kind of scared me.” As furious as it made her that MacBride had her under surveillance, the sight of that nondescript sedan parked outside her place this morning had been reassuring. It hadn’t been him, but it was one of his men.
“Jesus,” Gloria muttered on a shaky breath. “This just gets more bizarre by the minute.”
“I certainly can’t hazard a guess what Novak had on his mind, but I think we can all surmise that if the police don’t stop this murderer...” Annabelle allowed her words to trail off. She didn’t have to say the rest.
“What’re we going to do?” Gloria looked from Annabelle to Elizabeth. “If there’re only four others and two of them are us, we have to do something to protect ourselves.”
Her friend was right, Elizabeth agreed silently, dread slinking through her. And Gloria was her friend, her best friend. She wasn’t about to put any stock in anything Brian said. She trusted Gloria. To confront her with Brian’s accusations would be wrong. “How do we do that? And what about the other two women?”
“Do you have someone you could stay with at night?” This from Annabelle. She looked from one to the other. “I really don’t think either of you should be alone, especially at night.” She massaged her temples as if an ache had begun there. “I can’t believe the police haven’t noticed this already. They’re supposed to be trained to see these details. You should have police protection.”
Elizabeth suddenly wondered if MacBride had considered this possibility. If he had, then why hadn’t he warned her? Because he thinks you’re a murderer. Deep inside, where no one else could see, she felt off center… completely off balance.
“I could stay with my sister,” Gloria said uncertainly. “She has her husband’s gun.”
This time the tremble stayed with Elizabeth. “That’s a good idea,” she said thinly, trying hard to be steady.
“Elizabeth, you could stay with us, too,” Gloria urged.
Elizabeth shook her head. If the killer was after her, no way would she endanger Gloria’s family. She stilled. What if it was her he really wanted? What if all these other murders were nothing but a decoy? She could be the coup de grace.
Enough Elizabeth. Don’t make this about you. It’s about Ned... somehow.
“I’ll ask Boomer to stay over.” That would work. He’d be glad to. And he was tough. She wouldn’t have to worry with him around. “Besides, the feds are still watching me”
“I don’t trust your safety to them,” Gloria said, her voice still full of apprehension. “Get Boomer to stay with you, Elizabeth. That’s a good idea. I don’t think any of us should be alone.” She looked at Annabelle. “What about you?”
The attorney waved her hands in a forget-about-it gesture. “I’ll be fine. I have friends I can stay with. So you’ll be with your sister,” she said to Gloria, “and you’ll have Boomer to protect you?” She frowned. “Who, exactly, is Boomer?”
Elizabeth laughed, the quick burst of humor easing some of the tension choking her. “He’s my assistant.”
“An ex-con,” Gloria added. “She’ll be safe with him.”
Annabelle looked a little skeptical, but said, “No doubt.” She gave a nod of finality. “I’ll also come up with a legitimate reason to contact the other two women on the list and warn them as best I can.”
Until that moment Elizabeth hadn’t really felt comfortable with Annabelle but her determination to help had won Elizabeth over. Another scenario nudged at her though she was sure the police had considered this one already. “Annabelle, could Ned have been murdered for his money?”
The attorney weighed the question for a moment.
“I don’t see how. I’ve started his will through probate. His brother was to inherit everything—”
“His brother?” Gloria asked incredulously. “I didn’t know he had any siblings.”
Annabelle’s expression turned solemn. “Well, he did have a brother, but he died several years ago. With no other family, in accordance with Ned’s wishes, his assets will be distributed to various charities.”
Well, well, Elizabeth pondered. Who would have thought that Casanova Ned would turn into a philanthropist upon his death? Too bad he hadn’t shown that kind of compassion in life. She’d never once wondered if he had any family. He just seemed to be— as if he’d sprung forth fully grown with no need for any family.
All of them had work to get to, so the meeting adjourned and Gloria and Elizabeth walked out together. On the sidewalk Gloria, in vintage Gloria fashion, hailed the first cab that passed. At least a dozen always whizzed by Elizabeth before she could get one’s attention.
“Call me tonight,” Gloria ordered as she climbed in. “I want to hear Boomer’s voice coming across your phone.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t take any chances. And you’ll be at your sister’s.”
“Immediately after work,” Gloria assured her. The look in her eyes told Elizabeth there wasn’t any question. Gloria was as afraid as she was.
When Gloria’s taxi had merged with the traffic, Elizabeth walked slowly toward the garage where she’d parked her truck. Others, hurrying to work, brushed past her, and she moved closer to the curb to avoid them. She thought about the woman who’d been murdered last night and tried without success to understand why this was happening. Why would anyone want to kill Ned’s patients unless he somehow suspected one of them of being responsible for Ned’s death? And that was assuming the murderer was a friend of Ned’s.
Is that how Brian fit into all this? Had he killed Ned because of her? She shook her head. Brian didn’t care that much about anyone and neither did Ned. Playing sick little games appeared to be what the two had in common. Could their game playing have turned into murder? How did the Gentlemen’s Association fit into the puzzle?
If the killer had a list, she was certainly on it. If he knew about her fight with Ned and the visit to his apartment, was she the ultimate target? If that was true, why kill the others? Maybe he wasn’t sure and just wanted to be absolutely certain he got the right one.
She’d lived with Brian for months. Surely she would know if he were capable of murder. Then again, after what she’d witne
ssed last night she wasn’t so sure.
A car screeched to a halt at the curb, the abrupt sound jerking Elizabeth back to the here and now. Her heart slammed mercilessly against the wall of her chest and she readied to run.
Would he strike in broad daylight on a crowded street?
The emblem on the sedan registered and Elizabeth stalled. Her relief was so profound that her knees almost buckled. The passenger window lowered and MacBride peered at her from inside the dark sedan. She’d forgotten all about her private watchdog.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Elizabeth waited as a couple of pedestrians pushed past her, rushing for a passing cab. As soon as the last of her fear had subsided, irritation instantly replaced it. “What?” she demanded as she stepped nearer to the curb and his waiting car.
“Get in,” he repeated, his gaze every bit as fierce as his command.
She leaned down to peer inside the car. “Why?” she asked, uncomfortable with his whole demeanor. As grateful as she was at this point to have him watching over her, she could do without the attitude.
“Get in willingly or I’ll arrest you. It’s your choice.”
The edge in his voice sliced right through her annoyance, changing it to uneasiness. “If you insist.”
Elizabeth opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Before she had time to fasten her seat belt he barreled into the flow of traffic, earning himself squealing tires and impatient honks.
“I’m only going to ask you this once, Elizabeth,” he said without glancing her way. “What were you and Novak doing at Harrison’s office last night?”
Not that again. “We argued the way we always do. Satisfied?” That he didn’t look at her she could blame on traffic, but his stony profile warned there was more trouble and it had her name written all over it.
“Did he leave Harrison’s office before or after you?”
She held her breath, fought the urge to tell him everything but she couldn’t. She wanted to trust him. Dammit. “I left first. What difference does it make?”
