by Rita Herron
Then an odd look had crossed his stoic face. Not just surprise, but as if he might be pleased at what he saw. As if he found her attractive…
She swiped at a drop of perspiration beading on her upper lip.
Ridiculous. The heat and lack of sleep must be getting to her.
Not only would he laugh at the idea of her being attracted to him, but she didn’t want any part of the limelight.
She’d had enough of that after her mother’s death. Plain Jane in front of the camera, news reporters dogging her, strangers staring and prying, whispering and gossiping.
How could that odd little girl be the model-beautiful Genevieve Cameron’s daughter?
“We’ll transport this man’s body to the morgue for an autopsy,” Sheriff Wolf said, interrupting her trip down memory lane. “And we’ll need contact information so we can request his medical records to verify his ID.”
“Of course,” Fahad said. “I will make the necessary calls immediately.”
Jane noticed Ralph speak to the coroner as he arrived. Prince Stefan visually scanned the area where the vehicle had exploded. Remnants of metal, plastic and glass littered the asphalt, filling the air with the stench of smoke, charred metal and burned rubble.
“Did the driver suffer?” Prince Stefan asked quietly.
Jane studied the dead man’s remains. “The explosion probably killed him instantly, then the body burned post mortem.”
The prince nodded. “Have you discovered evidence of another victim inside the vehicle?”
“Let me examine the limo and I’ll let you know.” She frowned. “Why the interest?”
Prince Stefan gave her a cautious look, then lowered his voice. “Our group used this limo earlier. It is important we know if this bomb was intended for us.”
“You think you could have been the target?”
Prince Stefan shrugged. “One of our men took it after the rest of us retired. I need to know if he was inside.” He touched her arm gently. “But we do not wish this news to be public. You understand, Miss Cameron? It could cause panic, and we do not know who we can trust.”
His fingers sent a jolt of heat through her. A sexual kind of heat that she didn’t want. Yet his words stirred caution. Had they received threats?
“Call me Jane,” she said. “And don’t worry, Prince. I dislike the media myself and will protect the investigation. They won’t learn anything from me.”
He studied her for a long moment as if debating whether or not to believe her, but finally gave a clipped nod.
More disturbed by his presence than she wanted to admit, Jane pulled away. “Now, I need to examine the vehicle. We might find clues as to the identity of the killer from the type of bomb and material used.”
“And the detonation device,” Prince Stefan said.
Jane raised a brow. “You know about detonation devices?”
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “My military expertise was with explosives. But I’d rather you not make that public, either.”
Jane bit back a sardonic smile. Dammit, he wasn’t only sexy as hell, he was intelligent. She felt as if he’d lit some kind of fire in her belly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
She spotted Ralph eyeing her and strode to the limo. Hopefully, she’d be able to assure the prince that this bomb had nothing to do with the royals, then he could leave, and she wouldn’t have to deal with him again.
He was far too dangerous and tempting for a girl like her. Drooling over him would do nothing but lead to heartache, rejection, and put her in front of the media.
One place she never intended to be again.
STEFAN TENSED as Jane pulled away from him and rushed over to the limo to examine it. Something had passed between them when he’d touched her. A charged heat that had surprised him.
One Jane obviously didn’t feel. In fact, she seemed unfazed by him and unimpressed with his position.
He started toward the vehicle, but Sheriff Wolf stepped between him and Jane. “I’m sorry, Prince, but this is a crime scene. You’ll have to stay back.”
Edilio lifted a hand. “Sheriff, the prince is well educated in explosive devices. He can assist your people.”
Sheriff Wolf scowled. “We can handle it on our own. Ms. Cameron is one of our best.”
Jane pivoted from where she was examining the car, then crossed the distance to them. “The passenger seat in the front looks clean, but the backseat has blood on it.
Her expression turned grave. “I’m sorry, but it does appear that there was a second person in the car when it exploded.”
Chapter Three
Stefan’s chest constricted. Had Amir survived and escaped, or had he been blown to bits in the explosion?
Sheriff Wolf followed Jane back to the limo, and Stefan tailed him, hoping Jane was wrong. But Jane pointed to the seat and floor where she had sprayed Luminal, and Stefan saw the blood. Not just a few drops either. Enough to indicate someone could have been seriously hurt.
Sheriff Wolf spoke into his radio. “The blood suggests that a passenger was injured in the explosion. I want the search teams to cover a three-mile radius of the area.”
Jane waited until he finished issuing his orders, then waved her lab assistant over. “Tomas, we need to find the blast point, then let’s move out one foot at a time and collect everything we can find. Gum wrappers, pieces of metal, cigarette butts, glass—anything could have traces of the residue on it. Photograph and catalog it, then we’ll take it to the lab for analysis.”
The younger man nodded, hoisted his camera and went to work.
A balding man with a drooping left eye and a cheap suit approached Jane, then gestured toward Stefan. “What’s he doing here?”
Stefan tensed at his surly tone, but Jane simply gave him a level look. “The dignitaries traveled in a similar limo earlier. Security team is just covering their bases.”
Stefan hated compromising Jane by forcing her to lie, but security measures required it. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Prince Stefan of Kyros. And you are, Sir?”
“Ralph Osgood, CSI and Jane’s superior.”
Stefan disliked the man immediately. Most likely he used his rank to bully Jane and anyone else around him.
Osgood stuck a toothpick in the side of his mouth and chewed on it. “Prince Lutece, you need to stay behind the crime scene tape. You could be compromising evidence.”
Edilio stepped up to defend him, but Stefan shook his head, warning him to let him speak for himself. “As you suggest,” Stefan said with more politeness than he felt.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped back behind the crime scene tape. But what he really wanted was to examine the bomb himself.
He’d have to consult with Jane at the lab after she analyzed their findings.
Perhaps if he used his charm, she’d allow him to look at the evidence.
JANE FELT the tension radiating from the prince in his forced politeness to Ralph, but the smile he graced her with twinkled with an unspoken camaraderie as if he knew his good looks and smooth voice had won her over.
She had agreed not to share news with the press, but that was because she didn’t trust the media not to mess up a good case.
Not because of the prince’s mesmerizing green eyes.
Because she was a professional. And no one, not even the prince himself, would dissuade her from following protocol and doing her damnedest to solve this case.
Thankfully he moved behind the crime tape out of her direct vision, but she still felt his eyes watching her, studying her movements. Did he know something more about this bomb than he’d revealed?
If one of the royals had been inside when the bomb ignited, why wouldn’t he want them to alert the police?
Tomas was searching for forensics on the north side of the vehicle so she stooped to examine the underside of the car. The easiest bomb to make was one that involved gunpowder, a plastic bag and a wire. A blast-off mechanism was required, but the bomber
could have used something as simple as a kid’s rocket toy. He would have put it near the engine, then run wires from the ignition to the bag. When the car started, the electrical spark would ignite the gunpowder, which would have ignited the bomb.
Except the limo didn’t explode when the engine started.
This bomb exploded mid-ride, meaning someone must have set a timer or been nearby watching to trigger the device.
She inspected the ignition, the engine and the gas tank and collected trace from all areas. The scent of burned metal and copper permeated the air along with the lingering odor of charred metal, burned rubber, blood and human skin.
Ralph was processing the car’s interior, so she used her flashlight to scan the ground along the deserted road. A cigarette butt caught her eye, and she bagged it, then gathered several pieces of metal, wires and plastic that could have been part of the explosive.
When she glanced up, Prince Stefan was still trailing her with those intense eyes, and she had the uncanny feeling that he was holding something back.
A glint of metal suddenly flickered in the moonlight. She frowned, waved her flashlight across the sagebrush and prickly pears, and spotted something that looked like a cell phone in the midst of a patch of Indian paintbrush.
With her gloved hands, she knelt, pushed apart the scarlet leaves and foliage and retrieved the phone, then flipped it over. It could have belonged to the passenger from the limo. Maybe they’d lift some prints that would lead to the bomber.
Or at least the name of the passenger. Then they could look at motive.
Unless the driver had been the target.
They couldn’t dismiss that possibility, although if this limo had transported the royals earlier, the more likely prospect was that the intended target had been all or one of the dignitaries.
She punched the connect button to make a call, but the battery on the cell phone was dead. The lab would have to do its magic, search for prints, the phone log history.
She bagged the phone and carried it to the evidence box. Prince Lutece’s eyes flared with interest as their gazes connected, and he wove along the edge of the crime scene tape until he stood only inches from her.
“You found something?” he asked in a gruff voice.
She nodded. “A cell phone. Could be nothing, or it could have belonged to the missing passenger.” She held up the bag and his jaw tightened.
“You recognize the phone?” she asked quietly.
A muscle worked in his throat. He was stalling. Debating whether to lie or how much to reveal.
Well, damn. Maybe the missing person was a friend of his. But she was not here to play games.
“Listen, Prince,” she said, purposely inflecting sarcasm into the title. “I don’t care what your position is. If you know the identity of the second person in the car, you need to speak up. Withholding information about a crime is a crime itself.”
Anger sharpened his tone when he spoke. “I do not need a lecture on the laws of your country.”
“And I don’t need you breathing down my neck if you aren’t going to cooperate. Do you know who this phone belongs to?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. He simply breathed deeply, so deeply that the sound sent a tremor through her. He was afraid he did know.
And he also feared that he couldn’t trust her.
The image of the panic on his face in the earlier news clip of his arrival rose in her mind in vivid clarity, sending a chill through her. He had received a threat. Maybe all of them had.
“I told you that I wouldn’t reveal information to the press,” she said in a low voice. “You have my word that I will be discreet.”
“It is not just the media that concerns me,” the prince said.
He didn’t trust the police?
She didn’t know how to assure him. Their last sheriff had been corrupt. Others had been rumored to be dirty, too, but she had no idea how deeply the corruption went or who might be involved.
And the prince’s arrival, along with the other leaders of the Middle Eastern and Mediterranean nations, had stirred distrust and suspicion on numerous levels.
He stroked her arm, and her gaze fell to his hand. His fingers, his touch felt so gentle, yet his military background and leadership role indicated he possessed a steely strength and determination. That he would do whatever necessary to protect his people and his friends.
“We believe Sheik Amir may have been in the limousine,” Stefan said in a tortured whisper. “But this news cannot be made public. And I do not want it shared with any of your law officials, even your boss.”
Jane gave a clipped nod. She hated to lie to Osgood or other police, but she also understood the delicacy of this matter. Lives were at stake. “I just want to get to the truth,” Jane said. “If your friend was involved, talking to me might help us find him.”
“You will do your job,” he finally said. “I just ask that you discuss any leads you find with me and get clearance with our security before you go public with information.”
He sounded so sincere that against her better judgment, she agreed.
Suddenly the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, and her cop skills kicked in. Oftentimes criminals showed up at a crime scene and insinuated themselves into the investigation, so they could keep abreast of developments. That and a morbid sense of watching the police scurry around searching for clues.
She turned and studied everyone at the scene and the surrounding area to see if anyone looked suspicious.
STEFAN GRITTED his teeth. He did recognize the cell phone. It was Amir’s. Which meant the blood in the back of the limo most likely belonged to him, too.
Frustration knotted his insides. He did not like lying to Jane, but the earlier text made him extremely cautious.
Something about her tough-girl act impressed him. She wasn’t trying to be coy or use him. She was simply doing her job.
A refreshing change from the manipulative, seductive women who had tried to lure him into bed—and into marriage—and earn a position by his side on the throne.
But he did not have time to analyze his odd attraction to her. Finding Amir was of utmost importance.
“Was gunpowder used as the explosive?” he asked.
Jane adjusted her cap. “I will release my results once I’ve analyzed the samples at the lab.”
“But no signs of C-4 or another military ex plosive?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You do know explosives, don’t you, Prince?”
He nodded. “Among other things.”
Swinging the flashlight in a wide arc, Jane studied the angle of the limo, then shined the light on the edges of the asphalt next to the dirt.
Stefan followed the tracking light, and frowned as he noticed skid marks made by the limo. Then more tire tracks…
“There was another vehicle here,” Jane said. “Either the bomber himself or a witness.”
A witness would be invaluable. But if so, where was this person? “Perhaps someone found Amir and drove him for medical help.” At least he prayed that was the scenario. Not that this person had kidnapped Amir.
“I’ll have the sheriff check local hospitals.” She traced a gloved hand over one of the tire tracks. “I’m going to take plaster casts of these.”
“You can distinguish the make of the automobile by these impressions?” he asked.
Jane nodded. “If we look at the tread and wear, we can match them to a particular tire. There are databases that list which tires are installed from the factory on specific vehicles. And if there’s a hole or cut in the tire, that makes it even more unique.”
Stefan nodded, impressed.
“Let me get my supplies,” she said.
He watched as she spoke with the sheriff, then rushed to the crime lab van. Seconds later, she returned with a camera and supplies. She took photographs of each tire track at a ninety-degree angle, then from various angles, then measured the width and the circumference of the wheels as well as the distan
ce between the front of the tires and the rear tires.
She also knelt and collected samples of the rubber left on the asphalt and dirt and bagged it to transport to the lab.
Stefan noted the meticulous way she handled each piece of evidence, logging it into an evidence log to ensure proper treatment.
There were also shoe prints on the dirt by the second car. She measured and cast those as well.
Finally, she stood and returned to him, looking up at him beneath the brim of her hat. “We need to take a sample of your foot impressions.”
He gaped at her, anger rising. “You cannot honestly believe that I had something to do with this bomb.” It was a statement, not a question.
Jane gave him a sardonic smile. “You tell me. You were here within minutes of the crime. You refuse to be open with me. You’ve asked me to cover up anything I find from the press. I know that you recognize that cell phone.” She sighed. “And you are a bomb expert. Do the math.”
“There is no math to be done,” he said, his voice hardening. “I am Prince of Kyros, here to make peace deals with your country and the limo my friends and I rode in earlier was blown up. I explained my reasons and you must accept them.”
Jane planted her hands on her hips, her expression defiant. “I don’t care who you are. I’m a crime scene investigator, and I’m going to find out what happened here. And whoever is involved is going to answer for this crime.”
Stefan’s cheeks burned. Edilio glanced up in concern from the car where he stood, and Jane’s superior, Osgood, did the same. Furious, Stefan jammed his hands in his pockets to keep from shaking the insufferable woman and finding himself handcuffed by the local law like a common criminal.
Osgood strolled over, scratching at his arm where it appeared a rash lingered. “Something wrong?”
“I just explained that we’ll need to take the prince’s foot impressions.” Jane smiled tightly. “For elimination purposes, of course.”
Stefan’s gaze met hers. He saw the challenge. But heat rippled through the air, a charged tension that made his body burn with desire.
