Chapter Fifteen



Regan had really made a mess of her knee. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t put off the surgery any longer. She called the orthopedic surgeon’s office Monday morning, fully expecting that, because of his busy schedule, he wouldn’t be able to get to her for at least a month or two. That would give her sufficient time to get ready mentally and physically. As it turned out, he had a last-minute cancellation Tuesday morning. She didn’t tell anyone except Henry, her assistant, because she didn’t want her brothers or her friends worrying about her.
The doctor was able to do arthroscopic surgery, which meant a much shorter recovery time. She only had to use crutches for two days, and after two additional days of taking it easy, she began rehab.
She had just finished a workout to strengthen her knee when Sophie and Cordie stopped by her suite in the hotel.
“I’m still angry with you, Regan,” Sophie said. “We had to find out you had surgery after the fact.”
Cordie agreed. “You’d be furious if Sophie or I did that to you.”
“You’re right. I was wrong,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to worry, and it was no big deal.”
“I don’t care if it was a big deal or not. You should have told us,” Sophie argued.
“I don’t know what irritates me more. That you had surgery without us, or that you bailed on that godawful seminar where we had to listen to that quack doctor do one stupid exercise after another. It was the most miserable weekend of my life.”
“It was pretty awful,” Sophie agreed. “After the seminar, I talked to Shields’s people about refunding your fee, but they refused. I told them you had hurt your knee, but they weren’t at all sympathetic. The woman told us Shields has a strict policy. No refunds. How come I’m not surprised?”
“I demanded to talk to the doctor himself,” Cordie said. She had spotted a candy dish on the credenza and was sorting through the hard candies looking for peppermints.
“And that’s when we found out Shields has gone to his vacation home. Debbie said he needs his alone-time to rejuvenate. I translated that to mean he needs time to come up with more idiotic exercises.”
Regan nodded. “I don’t think he can top the people-I-want-dead list.”
Sophie grinned. “That one was really kind of fun.”
“Who did you put on your list?” Regan asked. “Anyone I know?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Of course not. That would have been… barbaric. I made up names. And they all rhymed.”
“What about you, Cordie?”
“The Seven Dwarfs,” she said.
Regan’s face was turning red. Cordie noticed. “You wrote real names, didn’t you?”
She didn’t have to answer. They both knew she had. She waited until they’d stopped laughing and said, “Okay, it’s official. I’m a complete idiot. It just never occurred to me to make up names. I guess I was feeling stressed at the time.”
“Which brings me to my proposition,” Sophie said. She gave her friend a sly grin and continued. “I think we should take a vacation. I’ve rented a condo, and it’s right on the beach. It would do us all good to get away. You could use a rest, Regan.”
“Where is this beach?”
“The Caymans,” she answered. “So, what do you say? I’ve called the airline, and we can leave this evening.”
Regan glanced at Cordie, who was looking sheepish, and then turned back to Sophie. She recognized that look in her eye.
“So, what’s the real reason, Sophie?” Regan asked. “Something’s up. I can tell.”
Sophie confessed. “Well… I did some digging. And guess where Dr. Shields’s vacation home is?”
Regan caught on quickly. “The Caymans,” she answered. She turned to Cordie. “And you’re in on this?”
Cordie nodded. “I know. I can’t believe I’m just dropping everything and running off to the Cayman Islands.”
“Daddy says that lots of people use the Cayman banks to hide their money from their spouses or creditors—”
“Or the IRS?” Regan asked.
“Definitely the IRS,” Sophie said.
“And you’re sure that Shields is in the Caymans now?” Regan asked.
“He’s been spotted on the beach behind his house,” Sophie answered confidently.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s been spotted’? How would you know—”
“Daddy gave me the name of a guy to call, and he was happy to check. Shields is there, all right.”
“How long are you going to be gone?” Regan asked.
“We’ve got the condo for two weeks,” Sophie said. “It all depends.”
“Can you take that much time?”
Cordie answered. “Why not? Sophie’s a good two months ahead with her column, and I’m officially through with school until next term. I’ve got the entire summer off to work on my dissertation, but I’m not going to take any work with me. I plan to sit in the shade and relax. This constant rain is depressing, and when I get depressed, I eat.”
“I wish I could go with you, but I can’t,” Regan said. “The art auction is coming up. I can’t miss it, and I’ve got to get ready for the annual family meeting.”
“I don’t know why you bother,” Sophie said. “Your vote doesn’t count for anything. Spencer always votes with Aiden, Walker abstains, and you’re always the dissenting vote. You don’t have any power—“
Cordie interrupted. “You know that’s not true. Aiden can’t start another hotel without all four signatures. She has the power to stop any kind of expansion. Without her vote, everything comes to a complete standstill.”
“But I won’t do that,” Regan said. “I want more money for the art projects Henry and I started last year. You’ve seen the response. It’s been phenomenal.” She sighed then. “We’re getting off the track. I’ve got to write a report to justify the increase I want, and that’s going to take time. I really wish you’d go somewhere else for a vacation.”
“This isn’t a vacation,” Sophie said.
“It is for me,” Cordie countered.
“Shields could be dangerous. If he did send his bodyguards to Mary Coolidge’s house—”
Sophie interrupted. “I know, but I’m not going to back away from this. I’m going to nail him, one way or another.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Regan said. “Don’t do anything illegal. And please be careful.”
Sophie shrugged. “He stood me up, you know.”
“Excuse me?” Regan said.
“The last day of the seminar, he asked me out… to dinner,” she said. “And I agreed. We were supposed to meet at the top of the Hyatt, and I waited for over an hour. He never showed.”
“You agreed to go out with that creep?” Regan asked.
“I didn’t agree to go to bed with him, so stop looking so horrified. We hadn’t been able to get into his computer or find any records at the seminar. I just wanted to get close to him so I could—”
“Get to his records?” Cordie asked. “Sophie, you need to start thinking things through.”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“What will you do when you find him in the Caymans?” Regan asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Sophie answered, “but I’ll think of something.”

Chapter Sixteen



It was Regan’s first full day back at work and Henry was driving her nuts trying to pamper her. He hovered like a doting grandmother. He wouldn’t even let her reach for a pencil. Fortunately, he had a full schedule and several errands to run that morning. As he was leaving, she asked him to stop by the parking garage and get her cell phone from her car. She was sure that’s where she had left it.
The second the door closed behind him, Regan turned back to her desk. She was determined to clear her e-mails as quickly as possible. She’d finished thirty without interruption, took a break to answer phone calls and eat lunch, and then went back to her task.
The next e-mail was from Henry. Whenever he received anything he thought Regan would be interested in, he forwarded it to her computer. The subject line was blank, and when she scrolled down, there was just an attachment, but no typed message from Henry. That was a bit peculiar. She assumed he’d been in a hurry.
She clicked on the paper clip icon and waited.
Henry walked into her office just as the picture appeared on the screen.
“Your phone wasn’t in your car. I looked under the seats, between them… hey, Regan, what’s the matter. Are you sick?”
“Oh, my God…” She was so repulsed by what she was looking at she couldn’t go on.
Henry ran around the desk. He stopped short when he saw the screen. In front of him was a picture of a dead man, hanging by a thick rope from a beam in a basement somewhere, his face grotesquely swollen. His eyes were wide open, and his flabby skin was a chalky gray.
“Gross,” Henry whispered. “What kind of pervert would send…”
“The e-mail came from you,” she said.
“No way would I send anything like this.”
She nodded. “Someone must have gotten hold of our private e-mail addresses.”
Henry pointed to the screen. “It’s not real,” he said. “Someone’s just playing a sick joke on you. Get rid of it,” he added as he reached for the delete key.
She pushed his hand away. “I know this man.”
“What?”
“I know him.”
“People can do a lot of things with a photo and a computer,” he said.
“So he might not really be dead?”
“Maybe not,” he said. “I think we ought to call the police and let them figure it out.”
She pointed to the screen. “He is the police.”

Chapter Seventeen




Alec headed over to the Hamilton Hotel to talk to Regan Madison, the nutcase who had called the office and asked to speak to Detective Benjamin Sweeney. When told by the operator that Sweeney wasn’t available, she’d asked if that was a permanent or a temporary situation. And that’s when Detective John Wincott and Detective Alec Buchanan got involved.
The operator had told him that either the woman who’d called or her assistant would meet Alec in front of the elevators on the south side of the lobby. He spotted a young man dressed in khaki pants and a navy Hue blazer shifting from foot to foot in the elevator alcove and headed toward him. He looked like a bodyguard, maybe even a former linebacker with the Bears, or some other pro football team, but when Alec got closer to him, he saw how very young he was. Hell, he was just a teenager.
“Detective Buchanan?”
“That’s right.”
The young man stepped forward and thrust out his hand as he introduced himself. “My name’s Henry Portman, and I’m Regan’s... I mean, I’m Regan Madison’s assistant.”
The kid was nervous. Alec didn’t make any attempt to put him at ease. “So where’s…” he began, and then stopped. He’d almost called Henry’s employer a nutcase. Not too diplomatic, he decided. “Where’s Mrs. Madison?” he began again.
“Oh, she’s Miss Madison,” he corrected. “She isn’t married. I thought she might get engaged a while back, but it didn’t work out, and I was real happy about that.” He grinned and added, “I guess that isn’t important, is it?”
“Probably not,” Alec said. “So tell me. Why were you happy she didn’t get engaged?” He thought maybe Henry had a crush on his employer and wondered if he’d admit it.
“The guy was only after her money.”
“She has lots of money?”
Henry realized he was speaking out of school. “You’ll have to ask her about that. She’s waiting for us in her office on the third floor. She’s making sure no one touches her computer. If you’ll accompany me—”
“She’s guarding her computer?”
“Yes, sir.”
Henry was wearing a key on a long silver chain. As soon as they’d stepped inside the brass-plated elevator, he inserted the key into a lock and pushed the button for the third floor.
“All the offices are on three,” he explained. “And no one can get off on that floor without a key. It’s for security purposes. There’s a lot of expensive equipment up there.”
Alec filed the information away. At six foot three inches, he stood shoulder to shoulder with the kid, but he felt dwarfed by him. Alec had the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms, but Henry had about fifty pounds on him. Still, Alec felt he could take him down if he had to.
Something was making Henry nervous.
“How old are you?” Alec asked.
“Nineteen.”
“You still in high school?”
“No, sir. I go to Loyola here in Chicago.”
“Loyola doesn’t have a football team.” He spoke the thought out loud.
Henry smiled. “I get asked what position I play and for what team all the time. A big African-American man with a twenty-inch neck. People make assumptions, like I’m a football player or sometimes even a rapper. My sheet’s clean now, by the way.”
Ah, there it was. Alec didn’t smile, but he came close. “Yeah?” he said as the elevator doors opened on the third floor.
“You’ll probably find out anyway,” Henry blurted. He stepped off the elevator and turned to face Alec. “Even though my file is sealed, you’ll figure out a way to read it like they do on those cop shows, so I’ll save you the trouble and just tell you. I had a couple of problems when I was a kid, and I spent some time in juvie. I was hanging with the wrong people. That’s not an excuse. Just fact.”
“Okay,” he said. “So how come you’re so nervous?”
“You,” he stammered. “Well, not exactly you. Cops make me nervous. That’s not so unusual. They make my friend Kevin nervous too. And he doesn’t have a record.”
“Your boss called us,” he reminded Henry. “So stop sweating it.”
Henry smiled. They had stopped and were now standing in the hallway. “Our offices are down that corridor and around the corner.”
Alec took his time following. He paused at each office door along the way to look inside. When Henry realized what he was doing, he backtracked.
“That office belongs to Regan’s brother Spencer. He’s rarely here, though.”
“That one?” Alec asked nodding toward the office on the opposite side of the corridor.
“That one belongs to Walker.”
Alec made the connection. “Walker Madison, the race car driver?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
They continued on, turned the corner, and then Alec stopped again in front of another suite.
“That one’s Aiden’s office. He’s the oldest brother. There’s four in all. Three boys and one girl.”
The hall was as luxurious as the lobby. There were fresh flowers in beautiful vases on each table along the corridor. The carpet was a deep red, the walls a white damask.
“Tell me about your boss.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s she like to work for?”
“Oh, she’s great.”
“How did you get this job?”
“A teacher in my high school had me fill out some forms for an intern program here at the hotel, working with computers. I thought it was a joke because I didn’t know much of anything about computers back then, didn’t even know how to do e-mail. We had computers in my high school, but they didn’t work half the time. Anyway, Miss Madison chose me and had me working day and night all summer long. I even slept at the hotel while I trained, until she found me a family that had an extra bedroom and didn’t mind having an extra kid around. I’ve worked here ever since.”
It sounded to Alec as though the teacher and Regan Madison had worked together to save the kid’s ass.
“Are you still living with that family?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
There was a set of double glass doors directly ahead. “That’s my office,” Henry said, pride radiating in his voice. “Miss Madison’s office is behind mine.”
“So anyone wanting to see her has to go through you.”
“That’s right. Except when I’m in class. Then she fends for herself. We do okay.”
“What is it you do for her?”
“Oh, just about everything.”
“Okay. And what is it she does?”
Henry flashed a smile. “She gives money away.” Then he laughed, a deep belly laugh. “I love saying that.”
“Yeah?”
“And it’s true. She really does give money away. Miss Madison runs the family’s charitable foundation.”
Alec opened the door and motioned for Henry to go first. The kid rushed ahead to stand behind his desk. “This is my work area, my domain,” he said proudly. “It’s kind of a mess now. I was reorganizing.”
There were papers strewn all over the top of the desk. Henry pushed one stack aside and picked up a clipping from the newspaper.
“Here’s a photo of the Madisons,” he said. “I cut this out of the newspaper a while back, and I was going to frame it.”
He continued to hold onto the clipping as he said, “It was taken at a dedication of Conrad Park. You know where that is?” He didn’t wait for a response but continued. “The Madisons donated all the land and paid for a new jogging trail. Well, actually, it was an old trail that they repaved and expanded,” he said. “They also paid for a beautiful playground with all sorts of equipment for the little kids to climb on. Like it says in the article, Miss Madison used to go running there all the time, rain or shine, but now that the hotel has a track upstairs, she doesn’t have to leave the building.” He nodded toward the article and photo and said, “It was a nice profile of the brothers. I’m saving it because it’s kind of rare for all of them to be together.”
Alec barely glanced at the article. The fact that the Madisons were do-gooders wasn’t relevant now.
There was another set of French doors about fifteen feet behind Henry’s desk. Alec could see a young woman through the glass. She was on the phone, her back to the door. She ended the call and turned around, then hurriedly walked toward him.
Son of a gun, he thought. He recognized those long, gorgeous legs. She opened the door and stood there, the worry evident in her amazing eyes, her face flushed. Oh, yes. Same beautiful woman, all right.
Henry made the introductions as Regan walked forward and offered her hand. Her handshake was firm, no-nonsense, her smile disarming. He smiled back. Might as well start out charming, he decided. If she was a nutcase, which, after meeting Henry, he sincerely doubted, then being charming might make the difference in her continued cooperation. Noah Clayborne, a family friend also involved in law enforcement, once said that you could catch more crazies with sugar than vinegar. Of course, Noah, a true bull in a china store, had never bothered to test that theory. Like Alec, he much preferred clobbering male suspects who gave him trouble to chatting it up with them.
Apparently Regan didn’t remember him. Alec thought about it and decided not to mention the fact that he’d nearly run her down on the street last week. If she had remembered the incident, she surely would have said something. He obviously wasn’t memorable; she definitely was.
“You probably don’t recall, Detective, but we ran into each other last week just outside the police station.”
What do you know? She did remember.
“You know him?” Henry asked Regan.
“Sort of,” she answered. “We did run into each other, and if he hadn’t caught me, I would have been splattered on the sidewalk.”
Alec grinned. “I remember trying to roll over you. You laughed. I remember that too.”
“Yes,” she said. “You reminded me of…”
“Yes?”
She blushed slightly. “The zoo. You reminded me of the zoo.”
“The zoo?”
“You smell much better today.”
He laughed. “I hope so.”
Henry had a speculative glint in his eyes as he watched his boss. Regan turned to him and asked, “Did you explain to Detective Buchanan…”
“I thought I’d let you explain. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
Alec’s stare was locked on Regan. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Before she could answer, Henry blurted out, “We don’t know anything about that detective. Isn’t that right, Miss Madison?”
“What’s with the ‘Miss Madison’?” she asked.
Henry looked embarrassed. “I didn’t think I should call you Regan in front of the police.”
“How about you sit at your desk while I talk to your employer?” Alec said.
“But I was hoping…”
“Yes?” Alec asked impatiently.
“I was hoping I could stay until you look at the photo and tell us if it’s real or computer-generated. I think it’s phony, but Regan thinks it might be real.”
Alec didn’t know what the kid was rambling on about. “Go sit,” he repeated. “Now, Miss Madison—”
“Please, call me Regan.”
“Yeah, okay. Regan, how about you start explaining?”
“I was checking my e-mails,” she said as she walked back to her computer. The screen was dark until she moved the mouse on the pad. “And this came up.”
She quickly moved aside so she wouldn’t block his view. Alec inwardly winced. The photo wasn’t a pretty sight. Regan leaned against the credenza, her back to the computer so she wouldn’t have to look at the screen again.
“I wasn’t sure how to proceed,” she said. “I was afraid to save it or forward it because I was concerned that whoever sent it might have built in some kind of virus that would destroy it, so I just left it alone.”
“Good decision.”
“What do you think, Detective? Is it real or fake?”
“Real,” he said. “Definitely real.” There wasn’t any hesitation or doubt in his voice.
“You don’t seem very surprised or… shocked.”
“I’ve worked with the violent crime unit. I’ve seen a dead body before,” he said as he moved closer to the monitor to inspect the picture.
“Yes, of course you have, but…” She pointed to the screen. His casual attitude had rattled her, and she was trying to recover. “But he was also a detective, one of your own, a…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes, he was.”
From what Alec had heard about Sweeney, he was also a nasty son of a bitch who walked around most days in an alcoholic daze. Everyone knew he was on the take and that it was only a matter of time before he got caught.
“Did you know him well?” she asked.
“No.”
She hoped that explained why he seemed so casual about Detective Sweeney’s demise. If not, then Detective Buchanan had about as much compassion as a fish. She suddenly felt nervous standing so close to him. She was trapped between the desk and the credenza, and unless she wanted to hike up her skirt and vault over the top, she was going to have to wait until he moved. He did smell a lot better today. In fact he smelled great, like the clean outdoors.
He stepped back from the computer, “Why do you think it was sent to you?”
“I don’t know,” she said wearily. She rubbed her arms as she thought about it. “If you scroll back up, it shows it came from Henry’s computer, but of course it didn’t. Someone has both our e-mail addresses. I’ve been racking my brain trying to make sense out of this. So far, no luck. What is the procedure now?”
“We need a tech,” he said. He pulled out his cell phone and made the call, walking away from her as he spoke softly into the phone. When he was finished, he motioned for her to join him across the room. Two easy chairs faced a sofa in front of the windows overlooking Michigan Avenue. Regan often curled up on the sofa to do paperwork.
“While we’re waiting for the tech, you could tell me about your relationship with Detective Sweeney.”
“That will take all of five seconds. I didn’t have a relationship with him.”
The mere thought was appalling. Though it was wrong to speak ill of the dead, Sweeney was one of the most obnoxious men she’d ever met. Still, no matter how repulsive, no one should have to die in such a way.
“Okay,” he said. He leaned against the window ledge, folded his arms across his chest, and asked, “So tell me how you know him.”
His eyes weren’t missing a thing. The way he was watching her made her even more nervous, but she was determined not to let him know it. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wasn’t going to make her feel as though she had.
She went to the sofa and sat down. “I don’t actually know the man. I only met him once, when I went to the police station…the day I bumped into you.”
She tried to get comfortable so she would look calm. One of the pillows was poking her in her back. She leaned forward, pulled the pillow out, and dropped it on the cushion beside her. “I went to the station as a favor for a friend to find out how Detective Sweeney was progressing on an investigation he was supposed to be handling.”
He homed in on the key word. “Supposed to be handling?”
“I wasn’t certain if he was looking into the matter or not,” she said. “But I got the distinct impression he didn’t much care about the case or anything else, for that matter.”
“Tell me about the investigation,” he said.
Straightening her skirt, she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the cushions.
“Have you ever heard of Dr. Lawrence Shields?”
“No,” he answered. “What kind of doctor is he?”
“A quack,” she blurted. “At least I think he is.” She shook her head and then said, “He runs those self-help, turn-your-life-around seminars twice a year in Chicago. You’ve never seen his commercials?”
He shook his head. “What about him?”
She explained in great detail who Shields was and what he had done to Mary Coolidge. She told him Mary’s daughter had gone to the police and filed a complaint against Shields and that Detective Sweeney had been given the file. “Mary’s daughter didn’t get anywhere with the detective. She went back home, but my friend Sophie read copies of Mary’s diary and decided to get involved. Sophie sent another friend, Cordie, to talk to Sweeney about the investigation, and she couldn’t get any answers either.”
“And then it was your turn to talk to Sweeney?”
“Yes. Wait a minute… don’t you see, that has to be it.” She was suddenly too excited to sit still. She stood and began to pace while she worked the hypothesis out in her mind. “It all makes sense,” she said. “There’s your connection.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Shields and Sweeney. Maybe Shields found out that my friends and I were investigating him. What if he knew that we were pressuring Detective Sweeney to do his job. Maybe Shields decided to have Sweeney killed to warn us off, and he sent me that photo to scare me.”
She stopped pacing and stood in front of Alec, her hands on her hips as she eagerly waited to know what he thought of her supposition. He didn’t respond quickly enough.
“What do you think? It is possible, isn’t it? Shields manipulated Mary into handing over more than two million dollars. Maybe Shields thought that was worth killing for. And Mary’s daughter believes that Shields drove Mary to suicide, or maybe he had her killed, because she threatened to go to the police. And if he killed once, why would he hesitate to kill again? Maybe Shields thought my friends and I were getting too close.” She put her hands out, palms up. “Maybe that’s our connection.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Doesn’t that make sense?”
He couldn’t resist. “Maybe.”
She didn’t realize he was teasing her. She looked inordinately pleased with herself. “Okay, then,” she said. “Good,” she added with a firm nod. “Now what?”
He pulled a ragged little notepad out of his suit pocket. “Now we start over.”
“Oh, my God, Cordie and Sophiea… could I make a phone call first?” she asked. “My friends are in the Caymans with Shields. I’ve got to warn them.” She hurried to her desk.
“Before you leap to conclusions, let’s get a few facts,” he cautioned.
She was already dialing Cordie’s cell phone. She was routed to voice mail, which told her that Cordie was either using the phone or had it turned off.
“Cordie, call me as soon as you get this,” she said. “It’s urgent, and you and Sophie stay away from Shields. Call, no matter what time it is.”
She hung up the phone and walked back to Detective Buchanan. He didn’t ask her what her phone call was about, and she didn’t offer to explain.
“You said we needed to start over?”
“That’s right.” He motioned for her to sit down. “Let’s start with Mary Coolidge.”
Then the questions began, one after another and another. She was beginning to tell him about the reception for Shields that she and her friends had attended when a man and a woman walked into the office with Henry. The woman carried what looked like a tool kit.
Alec grinned when he saw who the tech was. Melissa What-A-Bitch Hill. And that was only one of the many colorful names bestowed upon her by various detectives. Hill was a short, angry woman with a buzz cut and premature wrinkles, no doubt caused by her perpetual frown. She was nearly impossible to work with, but also one of the best computer nerds in the business.
The detective following in her wake was Matt Connelly. He was glaring at Hill’s back, which probably meant he’d had to ride over to the hotel with her. He nodded to Alec in greeting. His gaze moved to Regan and stayed there. “So what’s going on?”
“See for yourself,” Alec answered. “Look at the computer screen. Hey, Melissa,” he added.
Her grunt was her response. She wasn’t one for chitchat or pleasantries. “Is that the piece of crap computer you want me to take apart?”
Connelly answered her. “It’s the only piece of crap computer in the office. What do you think?”
“Up yours, Connelly,” she replied.
Alec quickly made the introductions. Connelly nodded in response, but Hill ignored Regan.
They both went to the computer and looked at the screen. Hill didn’t show any reaction, but Connelly visibly blanched. “Jeez. Sweeney naked. Man, that’s harsh. I’m gonna have nightmares.”
Regan joined them. “Did you say you were going to take my computer apart? Is that necessary?” she asked.
The woman plopped down in Regan’s chair. A second later her fingers were flying over the keyboard. “If I think it’s necessary, I’ll tear it apart. Now go sit somewhere and let me do my job.”
Regan was shocked by the woman’s rudeness. She wanted to grab her computer and protect it from her. “My files are all in there and my—” she began.
Alec moved in front of her to block her. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “Melissa won’t destroy your computer. She realizes she doesn’t have the right to touch it without your permission, and she certainly understands the legal ramifications if she were to deliberately break anything. Isn’t that right, Melissa?”
“Up…” She was about to use her standard reply when she glanced up and saw the look in Buchanan’s eyes. She’d heard he’d been a hard-ass while working vice, and she figured he hadn’t lost that mean edge yet. “Yeah, all right,” she muttered in a voice that resembled a pit bull’s growl. “Now, if you’ll leave me alone, I’ll try to get past these walls.”
“Let’s give her some breathing room,” Alec suggested.
Regan ignored him and thrust her hand out to the tech. She introduced herself once again. Melissa didn’t want to be bothered, but the hand was hard to ignore, since it was just inches from her face. She finally stopped typing and shook Regan’s hand.
“We were already introduced,” she muttered.
Melissa was a nervous woman. Her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. She gripped Regan’s hand tightly and then impatiently jerked her hand back.
“Now can I get on with my job?”
Regan pretended she hadn’t heard the question. “What did you mean when you said you had to get past the ‘walls’?”
Melissa looked resigned. “Whoever sent you the e-mail of Sweeney was a clever one, all right. He knows his way around computers. He’s set up barriers so no one can track it. But don’t worry. There isn’t a barrier I can’t get around.”
“Even with a piece of junk computer like mine?” Regan asked, smiling.
Melissa chuckled. “Actually, I called it a piece of crap computer, but I was exaggerating. It’s a little outdated. You ought to upgrade.”
Alec was impressed. He’d never seen Melissa smile before, and to listen to her chat it up with Regan was astonishing. With very little effort, Regan had cut through all of Hill’s barriers. Definitely impressive.
The photo of Sweeney appeared on the screen again. Melissa pointed to it and said, “That’s just how they found him.”
“I’m sorry?” Regan replied.
“I heard that’s how they found him, in his basement, hanging like that. Someone called it in, said Sweeney would be there, and he sure was. Pretty awful crime scene, I was told. Sweeney had a lot of enemies,” she thought to add. “There was a rumor he was blackmailing some dealers. Do you know why the photo was sent to you?”
“No, I don’t,” Regan answered. “It’s grotesque.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Melissa boasted.
“Like your old boyfriend?” Connelly asked.
“Up yours.”
Regan backed away from the desk and turned toward the windows so she wouldn’t have to look at the photo again. “Did anyone else get this?” she asked. “Or was I the only one—”
Melissa interrupted in a near shout. “I’m in.”
“In where?” Connelly asked. He was squatting down and peering at the blank screen when his cell phone rang. He impatiently answered it as he walked into the outer office.
“The photo was sent from a cell phone,” Melissa said. She rattled off the number as Alec pulled out his notepad again.
Color flooded Regan’s face. “Oh, my,” she whispered.
Alec heard her. “What? Oh, my, what?”
“The phone number… it’s mine.”

Chapter Eighteen




Her theory was springing leaks. If shields was indeed behind the murder of Sweeney, how did he get hold of her phone? Maybe her theory wasn’t right, after all. She was thinking about that while Detective Buchanan patiently waited for her to tell him how the photo of Sweeney had been taken with her cell phone. She wanted the answer to that question too.
“It is your phone number.”
“Yes,” she said. “But I certainly didn’t take that picture.”
Detective Connelly interrupted. “Plea bargain fell apart,” he called out as he shoved his cell phone into his pocket and headed for the door. “I’ve got ten minutes to get to the courthouse. You want me to get someone over here to help you?”
“No, I’m good,” Alec answered.
“The lieutenant wants to see you in his office as soon as you finish up here,” he added.
That news put Alec in a foul mood. The second the door closed behind Connelly, he gave Regan his full attention. “Okay, tell me about your phone.”
She assumed he wanted to know the model or the style. She didn’t remember either of those things, and so she told him about the capabilities. “It has a built-in camera,” she began. “And an extensive phone book with personal and business e-mail addresses. It’s Internet friendly,” she added with a brief smile.
“And you don’t remember where you lost it?”
She shook her head. “I thought I had left it in the car, but Henry looked, and it wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened to it.”
Henry heard what she said and rushed over to join the conversation. “That’s right. You can check with the guys in the garage. They all saw me, and I told them what I was looking for. They weren’t surprised. I mean, no offense, Regan, but you’re always leaving your phone somewhere. It’s small,” he told Alec. “And it sometimes falls out of her purse. One time I found it wedged between the seat and the console. I couldn’t find it today, though. I searched everywhere inside that car, and it wasn’t there.”
He took a protective step closer to Regan and said, “She isn’t in trouble, is she, just because someone else used her phone? You aren’t going to blame her, are you?”
The kid’s loyalty to his boss was admirable, but at the moment he was also a nuisance. “Last time I checked, losing a cell phone wasn’t a criminal offense. Don’t you have some work to do at your desk?” Alec asked.
Regan waited until Henry was out of earshot and then whispered, “He’s a worrier. He used to be much worse when he first started here. He’s getting better, but he still worries too much.”
Melissa’s loud grunt turned their attention. The woman was certainly in her element. Her fingers continued to whiz across the keyboard in a blur, and every minute or two she would let out a sigh or another crude grunt.
“Should I call and cancel the phone or report it stolen?” Henry asked from the doorway.
“No, don’t do that,” Alec said. “If we’re lucky, maybe he’ll try to contact her again.”
“He’s not going to use her phone again,” Melissa said. “He knows his way around computers, and he surely knows her phone can be tracked. The e-mail was sent five days ago, and he hasn’t sent anything else.” Her fingers suddenly stilled on the keys. “Okay, I’ve sent everything on to my computer, and I’m also printing out the picture of Sweeney to take with me. Until further notice, any e-mails she receives will automatically come to me too. That’s okay, isn’t it? I’m going to assume that’s okay.”
Regan wasn’t paying much attention. She was standing in front of the window looking down at the traffic on Michigan Avenue, her mind racing as she tried to remember the last time she used her cell phone. She knew Detective Buchanan would check with Sprint for the log of calls coming in and going out, but if she could remember now, it would save him valuable time. Since her surgery, however, the days all blended together, and she hadn’t kept track of her appointments in her PDA the way she usually did. The godawful photo of Sweeney was also disrupting concentration. She hadn’t realized a face could become so bloated, so grotesque. That image kept popping into her mind.
She didn’t hear Henry come up behind her. She jumped when he touched her shoulder.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced over at Detective Buchanan to make sure he was still busy talking with the technician and then said, “I just wanted you to know I checked my computer again.”
“What were you checking?”
“I wanted to see if the photo of that dead man was sent to me,” he whispered. “But it wasn’t. I wish it had been. I wish it had been sent to all the e-mail addresses you had programmed into your phone. It’s not good that it was sent just to you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“It was clever, the way he sent it,” he said, “making it look like it came from my computer.”
“I never would have opened the attachment if I hadn’t recognized the sender. I guess he didn’t want to take the chance that I’d delete it.”
“I think he’s targeted you for some reason,” Henry said. “But why?”
Alec heard the comment. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Alec was digging through his pocket looking for a card to give Regan when his cell phone rang. It was the third call in the past fifteen minutes from the office. Lewis’s assistant kept calling to demand that he get back to the station as soon as possible. The lieutenant was waiting to talk to him. Alec knew why. Lewis had obviously just found out that Alec had gone over his head to the commander to save the job of the young cop who had interrupted the sting operation.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Regan asked.
“I guess I should.” He flipped the phone open, listened for a minute, and then said, “I’ll get there when I’m finished here.”
Before the assistant could argue with him, he disconnected the call and turned back to Regan. He found one of his cards and handed it to her. She gave him a grateful smile. Gorgeous woman, he thought. And damn, was she sexy. Another time, another place, and he definitely would have asked her out, but he couldn’t now. Not with an investigation pending. Besides, even if he didn’t get the job with the FBI, he was still going to give notice and leave Chicago within the next month or two, so getting involved with any woman was out of the question. Unless the woman was into casual sex. Regan Madison wasn’t. He knew that much about her just by being with her for a half hour.
He mentally shook himself. He had no business thinking such thoughts now. Funny how the mind worked. Guess his brother Dylan was right. He was perverted.
“Detective Wincott is running the investigation into Sweeney’s murder,” he said. “I’m helping him out, but he’s senior man, and he’ll be over to talk to you soon. You’ll want to stay in the hotel.”
“Yes, of course.”
“But in the meantime, if you think of anything else,” he said with a nod toward the card she held in her hand, “there’s my number.”
“I have physical therapy for my knee in an hour, but I can cancel.”
“I thought that scar looked new. It wasn’t there when I ran into you on the street. What happened?”
She was surprised he’d noticed. The incision wasn’t large, but the scar was raw, the skin puckered.
She said what she was thinking. “You noticed it wasn’t there the first time we met? That’s impressive, Detective.”
Not really, he thought. He’d have to be a eunuch not to notice those sexy legs of hers.
“Baseball,” she continued. “I twisted it sliding into third base. It happened last summer.”
“Baseball, huh?” He smiled. He was having trouble picturing her in a uniform with a ball and bat. She seemed too soft for that sport.
“Yes, baseball,” she said. “It was a charily game. Why is that funny?”
He didn’t answer. “You wrenched it last year, and you only just now had the surgery?”
“I was procrastinating, but then I hurt it again…” She suddenly stopped and then blurted, “What an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, not you,” she said. “Me. I’m the idiot.” In her hurry to explain, her words tripped over one another. “I know who has my phone. At least, I think I know, and I can’t believe it took me so long to remember. You see, I dropped my purse, and that’s when I lost it. I’m sorry I’m not usually so rattled. There was this man. He chased me to my car, and he—”
That statement gained his full attention. He put his hand up. “Whoa,” he said. “Slow down and start at the beginning.”
“Yes, okay,” she said. “It was a week ago Friday night. That’s the last time I used my cell phone. I’m sure of it.”
He pulled out his ragged notepad again and began to search his pockets for his pen. “And where were you?”
“At the reception.”
“You sound like I’m supposed to know about a reception.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I had told you about that when I was explaining the connection between Sweeney and Shields.”
He didn’t look happy with her. “Why don’t you tell me about it now?”
She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about the man in the parking lot, but then, in her defense, she had been bombarded first by the e-mail and then Detective Buchanan, the technician, and Detective Connelly. And all in the past hour.
She explained as quickly as possible all about the reception she and her friends had attended at Liam House. “Sophie had signed us up for Shields’s weekend seminar, and I know I told you that Shields runs two seminars a year in Chicago.”
“What were you hoping to accomplish?”
“It was apparent to all of us that Detective Sweeney wasn’t going to do anything about Shields, and so we decided…”
“Yes?”
She shrugged. “To do his job for him.”
His frown indicated he didn’t like hearing that. “And how were you going to do his job?”
“We decided we would investigate Shields and hopefully we would get enough evidence to give to the prosecutor. Sophie was doing the investigative work, and Cordie and I went along to be supportive. Actually, we were going to try to find a way to break into his computer so we could get the names of the other women who’d attended past seminars. We thought we could match his deposits with—”
He stopped writing. “You do know that isn’t legal, right?”
“Of course, I know that,” she said. “We didn’t break into his computer. We just wanted to. That was the plan anyway.”
The woman was honest to a fault. “It sounds like a half-baked plan.”
She agreed. “Yes, well, Sophie did come up with it, and she does tend to rush in without thinking things through. She believes things will work out, and the fact is, they usually do.”
Regan folded her arms and began to pace in front of the windows while she thought about that awful night. “I remember I had my cell phone with me. We were late,” she said. “But then whenever Cordie and I go anywhere with Sophie, we’re always late. Anyway, the reception was in full swing by the time we arrived, and Shields was there speaking to the group. He’s such a fraud and very full of himself. I wasn’t impressed, but judging from the reactions of the people around me, they were dazzled by him. There was this exercise he had us do that was absolutely insane.”
“What about your cell phone?” he said, trying to keep her on track.
“I should have remembered to turn it off, because it rang right in the middle of Shield’s talk. I hurried out to the hallway to answer it before one of his bodyguards tried to take it away from me.”
“Bodyguards?”
“Two of them. He calls them his assistants, but they’re his bodyguards. Real musclemen.”
“Okay,” he said. “So you think you left your phone in the conference center?”
“No,” she said. “I’m sure I put it back in my purse. I think it dropped out when I fell.”
Alec was trying to be patient. “And when did that happen?”
“When I went to get the car,” she said. “It was raining, and so I told Cordie to find Sophie and wait by the front door and I would drive up to get them. I was running along the path to my car, and I thought I heard someone calling my name. The wind was up, though, and it was raining hard, so I wasn’t sure. I turned to look behind me, and there was this man…” It all seemed such a long time ago. “Everything happend so fast. When I turned, I wrenched my knee.”
“And you’re just now remembering this?” He was irritated and making sure she knew it.
“I just didn’t think… I didn’t connect. I was lucky I got away from him.”
“He chased you?”
“Yes. You don’t think…”
“Think what?” he asked when she hesitated.
“Maybe Shields hired him. Maybe he was waiting outside the conference center because he knew I was inside, and maybe he was there to scare me, which he certainly did.”
“You’re really hooked on your idea that Shields is behind it all, aren’t you?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not going to guess yet because I don’t have enough information to form an opinion, but when I do, I’ll let you know. Now, I want to know exactly what happened from the minute you stepped outside Liam House.”
“I just did tell you everything that happened.”
“Tell me again.”
She went through it again just as he’d instructed. “When I fell, everything spilled out of my purse, but at the time, I thought I’d shoved it all back in. I must have left the phone on the ground. I was desperate to get into my car and lock the doors,” she said. “He was holding up something and yelling at me to stop, but I didn’t. There was something all wrong about him.”
“Like what?”
“His face,” she said. She rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill. “It gives me the shivers to think about it. I called the police,” she added. “And I went to the police station nearby to make a report.”
“That was good. Now tell me. What about his face?”
“Rage,” she said. “I’ve never seen rage like that in anyone’s eyes. And then the oddest thing happened.”
“Yes?”
“It might be my imagination. I was in pain because of my knee and soaked from the rain, but when I was inside the car, I looked, and he was standing under the streetlight, still staring at me. I was crying,” she admitted. “And I think he could see me crying. His expression changed.”
He cocked his head. “Changed to what?”
“Sympathy,” she said. “I think he felt sorry for me.”

Chapter Nineteen



The timing couldn’t have been better. Alec was on his way back to the station for round two with Lieutenant Lewis when the call came in on his cell phone. Ward Dayborough, the FBI agent who had been relentlessly recruiting him, was on the line welcoming him into the Bureau.
Ward was all but gloating. “I knew I’d get you,” he boasted. “Tenacity,” he said then, drawing the word out in his deep southern accent. “I have a butt-load of tenacity. How many years did it take me to get you interested?”
The question obviously didn’t require an answer because Ward, still high on his conquest, continued on. “Training’s going to be tough, but I’m not worried about you. You’ll do just fine. Your scores on that test were phenomenal. You’ve got seventeen weeks ahead of you at the academy,” he added. “No matter how much law enforcement experience you’ve had, you’ve still got to do the full seventeen weeks.”
“Are you trying to get me to change my mind?”
“No, no, of course not.”
“When do you want me to start?”
“New sessions start every two weeks, but I went ahead and slotted you to start two months from now. That’s eight weeks from today. I figured you would need time to pack up everything and tie up loose ends there in Chicago and get a little time off.”
“Yes, that’s good,” Alec said. “Eight weeks will give me time to get organized.”
Like that’s ever gonna happen, he thought to himself as he hung up. Though he was extremely organized in his professional life, he was extremely disorganized at home. He was considered the slob of the family. When he was a boy, his room always looked like a cyclone had hit. He’d gotten better about all that, though. He’d hired a cleaning crew to blitz his apartment every other week. One of the women even did his grocery shopping and made sure his refrigerator was stocked with all his favorite foods. She was an expensive luxury, but one he’d hate to do without.
She couldn’t go with him to the academy, however, and for those seventeen weeks, he was going to have to shape up. That seemed tougher to him than any obstacle course.
Alec felt good about his decision. He knew he was going to miss Chicago, and he had absolutely no guarantee that when he graduated from the academy, he’d be assigned to the Boston office. Ward had told him it was as good as guaranteed, but Alec wasn’t banking on it.
He decided to stop by Human Resources and give his notice before seeing Lewis. The woman behind the desk was a real sweetheart who had been with the department for close to twenty years. She wore such thick bifocals her eyes looked milky and twice their size.
She smiled and shook her head the minute she spotted him. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no, what?”
“You can’t put in for a transfer. I mean, you could, but it’s not going to go anywhere. Lewis has made it abundantly clear that he needs you in his department.” Her voice softened as she added, “Which means he wants you under his thumb. I’m sorry, Alec. I think just about everyone knows what a worm he is, but he’s got seniority and his wife has connections, if you get my drift. We’re not going to be able to get rid of him unless he really screws up.”
“I understand. You are going to get rid of me, though. I’m giving my notice today. What papers do I need to fill out?”
She became teary-eyed. “I hate to see you go. You’re one of the good ones.” She pulled a tissue out of the box she kept on her desk and dabbed her eyes. “It’s like the old song Billy Joel sings. You know, only the good die young.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hell with that. I’m not planning to die young.”
“But you’re leaving.” She sniffed as she opened a file drawer and pulled out the necessary papers.
Resigning turned out to be more complicated than Alec had anticipated. There were all sorts of forms to fill out and a long conference with the commander, who was determined to talk him into staying. What Alec had naively estimated would only take a couple of minutes dragged on for over an hour.
By the time he got back to the office, Lewis had worked himself into a fury. He was on the phone, but the second he spotted Alec making his way across the room, he jumped up and angrily motioned for him to come in.
Alec was halfway there when his cell phone rang. He knew it couldn’t be Lewis’s assistant calling him yet again because he’d just passed the man on the steps.
Gil was calling. The second he heard Alec’s voice he exclaimed, “Say it isn’t so.”
Alec was impressed. “How did you find out so soon?”
“You know me. I’ve got my sources. It’s true then? You’re really leaving the department?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m about to go in and tell Lewis. I’ll call you later.”
He ended the call and walked into Lewis’s office. The lieutenant had a white-knuckle grip on the receiver. Alec shoved his hands in his pants pockets and patiently waited until he ended the conversation.
“Yes, sir,” Lewis said, his voice a tight whisper.
The call finally ended. As Lewis slammed the phone down, Alec casually asked, “You wanted to see me?”
“You know damn well I want to see you,” Lewis shouted. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. My reasons have changed, however.”
He stood there glaring at Alec for what seemed like a full minute. Alec wasn’t fazed. He simply stared back.
“You resigned.”
“Yes.”
The vein running down Lewis’s forehead began to pulsate.
“And you didn’t think you owed it to me to give me your notice first? I had to find out about it over the phone from my superior?”
By the time he finished his question he was bellowing. The vein in his forehead was going wild. Alec couldn’t stop staring at it. If Lewis had a heart attack and suddenly stopped breathing, would Alec give him CPR? Hmm… definitely a tight call, Alec thought.
He continued to contemplate the philosophical dilemma while Lewis ranted and raved.
“Do you know what that made me look like? Emmett is furious with me,” he said, referring to the area commander.
Alec shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he drawled. He’d be damned before he’d apologize for making the jerk look bad.
Three more weeks with Lewis calling the shots suddenly seemed like an eternity, and Alec wondered if he could make it. He could barely stomach looking at the man. Lewis looked and acted like a freak. Vain to a fault, he always had a deep tan, no doubt from the tanning bed it was rumored he slept in at night. His exceedingly bright white capped teeth made his scowl all the more garish.
“I gave three weeks’ notice,” Alec said. “But if you’d like me to leave now, that’d be fine with me.”
“You’ve put me in a hell of a spot.”
“How’s that?”
“Emmett told me I had to talk you into staying. He seems to think you’re an asset. Needless to say, I don’t share that opinion.”
Alec shook his head. “My mind’s made up.”
Lewis slapped his palms down on his desk and leaned forward. “You know what your problem is, Buchanan? You’re not a team player.”
If the goal of the team was to make Lewis look good, then no, Alec decided, he wasn’t a team player.
“Do you want me to stay for three more weeks, or do you want me to leave now? It doesn’t matter to me.”
“You stay,” Lewis snapped. He sat down heavily behind his desk and began to push folders around, obviously trying to give the impression he was a busy man. He opened one and closed it. Reaching for another, he said, “You can clean out your files. Give whatever you’ve got pending to me, and I’ll distribute them to my loyal detectives.”
Alec wanted to ask who those men might be, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to antagonize Lewis, who could and would make his life miserable.
Without looking up, the lieutenant said, “For the next three weeks, you sit at your desk. You can do the phone work for Wincott.”
“Phone work for Wincott? What exactly does that mean?”
“It means you can answer the damn phone, and if Wincott needs any help, you’ll help,” he said. “From your desk.”
The urge to punch him was getting stronger. Alec was leaving when Lewis asked, “Do you have another job lined up?”
“Yes.”
“In Chicago?”
“No.”
He didn’t offer any more information, and Lewis didn’t press. Alec went to his desk and began to sort through his files. John Wincott came rushing across the room. He and Alec went way back. They had gone through the police academy together and had become good friends, but they hadn’t worked together until recently. Wincott used to be able to drink him under the table. Alec thought maybe he still could.
“Man, do you look bad.”
Alec wasn’t exaggerating. Wincott looked as if he hadn’t had any sleep in a decade. There were fat bags under his eyes and deep creases running down the length of his cheeks. He was only a couple of years older than Alec, but at the moment he looked ancient.
Wincott ignored the comment about his appearance.
“Did you get my message about the e-mail Regan Madison received?” Alec asked.
“Yes,” Wincott answered. “And I’ll be happy to talk about it in a minute. First, I want to ask you something. Is it true? You’re leaving the department?”
Alec nodded. “Yes.” His chair squeaked when he leaned back. “I was going to call you and tell you, but I guess Gil beat me to it.”
Wincott sat on the edge of Alec’s desk. He glanced beyond Alec’s shoulder to the lieutenant’s office. “I can’t blame you. I’d get out if I could.”
“I was ready for a change.” That response was becoming the pat answer. Alec decided he’d stick with it and wondered how many times he’d say it in the next twenty-one days.
“A change, huh? A change where?”
“I’m hoping Boston. I’m kind of homesick.”
Wincott lowered his voice and leaned toward Alec. “There’s a nasty rumor going around that you’re heading to the FBI.”
Alec smiled but didn’t confirm or deny it.
Wincott went on, “You have to come over for dinner before you leave Chicago. It’s gonna upset Suzie when she hears. My wife’s had the hots for you for years.”
“Is she still screaming my name when you’re having sex?”
Wincott laughed. “How the hell would I know? I can’t remember the last time I had any. There’s always at least one kid in bed between us, and now with the baby getting up every couple of hours, the only thing I want to have is sleep.”
“Spoken like a true married man,” Alec said.
Wincott grimaced. “Back to Sweeney,” he said. “We’re discovering that a lot of people wanted him dead, so I won’t be running out of suspects. We’ve been going through his stuff. No one can find his wallet. Hey, guess what? Sweeney kept a diary.”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “That’s a girly thing to do. I didn’t think Sweeney was the dear-diary type.”
Wincott laughed. When he smiled, he looked ten years younger. “It wasn’t that kind of a diary,” he said. “The idiot kept notes on all the people he was going to blackmail. I’m not speculating about that. He wrote it all down. Guess who was in the notebook with the drug dealers and the pimps?”
“Who?”
Wincott leaned in again. “Lewis.”
Alec perked up. “No kidding.”
“That’s right. Sweeney was going to take pictures and send them to his wife.”
“What kind of pictures?”
“Lewis with his mistress.”
Alec shook his head. “Now, that’s shocking.”
“I don’t think it’s so shocking,” Wincott argued. “I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t like to see Lewis take a fall.”
“I think it’s shocking that he could get two women to have sex with him.”
“One woman’s built like an ironing board but has some money, which is why he married her, and the other one doesn’t have any money but from what I hear, she’s loaded in other area, if you know what I mean.”
“Who else was in there?”
Wincott told him about some of the other deviants Sweeney was already blackmailing. “He even had a ledger of the cash he was going to be taking in and the amounts he was going to charge, kind of like a bank account. Who would write all that down?”
“He must have thought he’d never get caught.”
“Like I said, we’ve got a lot of suspects, but we’re narrowing it down. It looks like one of three drug dealers didn’t want to pay Sweeney’s bills. Maybe he was already shaking them down.”
“What about Regan Madison? How does she figure in this?”
“Don’t know,” Wincott said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet. I had to go back to the crime scene and I got stuck there. We did find her cell phone.”
Alec straightened. “Yeah? Where’d you find it?”
“In the bushes behind the dump Sweeney called home. We’re running what’s left of it for prints, but I don’t figure we’ll find any. The basement was wiped clean. Only prints around were Sweeney’s. The killer had to know what he was doing, and he was strong, real strong. Had to be,” he added, “to lift Sweeney’s body up like that with the rope. Oh, and by the way, we got the autopsy report. He was dead before he was stripped and hung.”
“How was he killed?”
“Asphyxiation,” he said. “So now I’ve got to wonder why the killer went to all that trouble to strip him and hang him. Bradshaw thinks it was for drama,” he said, referring to his partner.
“What do you think?”
“I think he was showing off for his fantasy girlfriend… you know, trying to impress her.”
“The girlfriend being Regan Madison?”
Wincott raised his eyebrows. “I hear she’s a real looker.”
Alec didn’t comment. Wincott didn’t seem to notice.
“You know how those sickos are. Bradshaw thinks maybe he saw her someplace and got fixated on her. He’s going to talk to Matlin about it,” he added, referring to the psychiatrist on staff.
“Good idea,” Alec said. He then filled Wincott in on his interview with Regan and told him about the man who had chased her to her car. He also mentioned her theory about Sweeney and Dr. Shields. “She’s sure she lost her phone when she fell.”
Wincott was trying to work it out in his mind. “Okay, so he found the phone, saw it had a camera built in, and decided to have a little fun with it. Her e-mail address was there. All he had to do was take the picture and then push a button.”
“Still doesn’t explain the connection to Sweeney.”
Wincott agreed. “And I don’t see a drug dealer having that kind of fun. I can see one of them killing Sweeney, but…” He stopped shrugged, and then said, “Not making any sense yet.”
“What did you mean when you said you were running prints on what was left of the phone?”
“He’d smashed the phone to pieces while he was still in the basement. Crime team found a couple of tiny pieces on the workbench.”
“And of course no prints on the hammer.”
“Nope,” he confirmed. “Not a one. Listen, I appreciate you working this with us. There’s going to be a lot of legwork. Since that e-mail was sent to Regan Madison, we’re going to have to check out anyone who’s connected to her. Maybe there’s a vendetta from a jilted lover or an unhappy employee. I can use all the help I can get. Be kind of nice finally working together and me getting to tell you what to do. I’m gonna like that.”
“Yeah, well, before you get all worked up about adding me to your team, there’s something you need to know.”
“What’s that?” Wincott happened to look up, and then muttered, “Ah, hell. Lewis is motioning to me.”
“He’s gonna tell you he wants me out of the loop. I can make phone calls for you, but that’s about it.”
“Prick,” he mumbled. “Keep me posted,” Alec said.
Wincott nodded. Alec could hear him sigh as he threaded his way around the desks to get to Lewis.

Chapter Twenty



“You’re back in.”
Lewis made the announcement from the doorway of his office. “Buchanan, did you hear what I just said? You’re back in.”
Alec didn’t bother to stand. He simply turned in his swivel chair and asked, “Back in what?”
Lewis strode forward. “I just got off the phone with the superintendent of police. That’s right,” he said. “The superintendent.” His chest actually swelled like a blowfish when he repeated the news.
“And?” Alec prodded.
“Did you have any idea who Regan Madison was when you interviewed her?”
Alec wasn’t in the mood to play guessing games. He’d been in the middle of doodling on his blotter while he watched the second hand circle the clock on the wall. It had been only a couple of hours since Lewis had taken his cases away from him, but he was bored out of his mind. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stomach sitting there and knew that Lewis expected him to show up at eight every morning and do nothing for nine frickin’ hours. If Lewis had wanted to drive him nuts, he couldn’t have picked a better punishment. Three weeks of sheer boredom. Like it or not, he was going to have to deal with it.
“Well, did you?”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who is she?”
“A Hamilton,” he said. He all but smacked his lips as he said the name.
Lewis stood in front of Alec’s desk and planted his sweaty palms on Alec’s blotter. “She’s Regan Hamilton Madison.”
“And?”
“Her family owns all those hotels.” He was frowning now, obviously irritated that Alec hadn’t been suitably impressed. “The Hamilton in Chicago is just one of several. They’re all top-of-the-line. The woman comes from money, old money.”
“So?”
“That wasn’t in your report. I checked. You should have said something. Why didn’t you?”
Alec didn’t know how to respond to the absurd question. “So what about her? And what did you mean when you said I was back in?”
“She has brothers.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Three of them,” he continued, acting as though Alec hadn’t acknowledged the fact. “The oldest one just called the superintendent. Seems he knows the Madisons quite well. They belong to the same country club,” he added. “The Clairmont Country Club, to be exact. My wife and I have been trying to get in there for over five years.”
“And?” Alec asked, trying to force him to get to the point.
“Aiden’s the oldest Madison,” he said. “He’s a very powerful man.”
He sounded like a fan now. Alec was disgusted. “So?”
“So he’s concerned about his sister’s safety.”
Alec leaned back. “Why are you talking to me? Wincott’s in charge of the investigation. Refer the brothers to him.”
“Wincott has enough to do,” he said. “And Regan Madison isn’t a suspect...”
“Did Wincott tell you she wasn’t?”
“I’m telling you,” he snapped.
He wasn’t going to argue. Come on, he thought. Spell it out. Lewis was taking forever to tell him what he wanted. And Alec had so many other things to do. Like doodling. He almost laughed out loud then. Lewis had made sure he’d be excluded from any and all investigations, wanting him to sit at his desk and stare into space. Fortunately, he had a lot of doodles to finish, and right now Lewis’s palms were sweating all over one of his more creative ones.
“I want you to look after her until Wincott brings in Sweeney’s killer.”
Alec dropped his pen. “You want me to be her bodyguard?” He got angry just thinking about it. “I’m not a damned bodyguard,” he muttered before Lewis could speak.
“You are now. Know why I decided on you?”
“Because you knew I’d hate it?”
“That too,” Lewis said, grinning. “You have a bad attitude, Buchanan. That’s why you were so good working vice. You fit right in with all those perverts and psychos.”
His insults didn’t faze Alec. “Nice of you to notice.”
“You’re going to stick with the Madison woman night and day, day and night. You got that?”
Was he more concerned about the wealthy woman being upset or Sweeney’s murder? It was hard to tell.
“If her family has so much money, why can’t they hire bodyguards?”
“They could. Of course they could,” he said. “And they might.”
Every time he opened his mouth, he spit all over Alec’s desk. Man oh man, three weeks suddenly felt like a life sentence.
“But I want someone from this office with her at all times, and I want Aiden Madison to be beholden. Got that?” He didn’t ex-
pect a reply. He straightened and headed back to his office. He was shutting the door when he paused and shouted, “Buchanan?”
Alec didn’t answer.
“This is my ticket into Clairmont. Don’t screw it up.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Keep her alive.”

Chapter Twenty-one



Due to the incessant rain, the maintenance crew didn’t get around to clearing the five-foot-high pile of dead shrubs and branches for days. The men wore black rubber boots and yellow slickers over their work clothes and were soon covered in mud as they hauled the refuse away. Vernon, the most energetic of the three-man crew, had tossed the last gnarled branch into a nearby wheelbarrow and was heading back to the shed to take a break and smoke at least two unfiltered Camels when one of his coworkers, a whiner named Sammy, started screaming like a girl, pointing and backing away. Sammy’s hazel eyes looked as if they were going to pop right out of his head.
Harry, the new man, wore large bifocals, which were splattered with mud and drizzle. When he walked closer to see what Sammy was carrying on about, he too started screaming. He didn’t sound like a girl, though; he sounded like a squawking bird.
“What’s the matter with you two?” Vernon returned to the men as he asked the question. Then he saw what they were looking at. A toe was sticking up out of the mud.
He squatted down, saw the chipped red polish on the toenail, and fell back on his ample butt. “Don’t touch nothing,” he choked
out as he scrambled to his feet. “The police won’t want us touching nothing because this here is now a crime scene.”
Harry was staring hard at the toe, half expecting it to wiggle. “How do you know, Vernon?”
“’Cause this is where the crime was perpetrated, you twit, or at least where the body was buried.” He paused to point dramatically at the toe before continuing. “And that makes it a crime scene. That’s what they call it on television when they wrap yellow official tape all around the perimeter. Sammy, for the love of God, stop your yelling.”
Sammy pulled a soggy handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. “We should do something for her… shouldn’t we try to do something for her?”
Given the circumstances, Vernon was surprisingly calm. “No one can do anything for her now.”
“It is a real toe, isn’t it, Vernon?” Harry asked.
“What do you mean, ‘real’?”
“I’m thinking it could be a rubber one or a plastic one. One of those smart-ass college kids might be trying to prank us.”
It was a viable possibility. Vernon leaned in. “It’s real, all right. Rubber don’t decompose so fast, and I can see it isn’t plastic ’cause there isn’t any shine to it.”
Sammy gagged. Harry gave him a sharp look and waved him back. “The police won’t appreciate it if you puke on their crime scene. Take a couple of deep breaths,” he suggested.
“Are you sure the toe’s attached to a body?” Harry asked Vernon.
“You come up with the stupidest questions. I’m not touching it or tugging on it to see if it’s attached or not. That’s for the police to figure out. Why don’t you run over to the lecture hall and use their phone to call the police? Sammy and I will wait here.”
“Wouldn’t it be quicker if I just use my cell phone?”
“For crying out loud, does everyone in the U.S. of A. have a cell phone?”
“I don’t know about everyone else in the U.S. of A.,” Harry said. “But I sure do. Had it for over a year.”
He unfastened his slicker, pulled out a bright red phone, and dialed 911.

Chapter Twenty-two



The last thing Regan wanted or needed was someone shadowing her every second of the day. Detective Buchanan didn’t particularly care how she felt, though. He strolled into her office, looking as scruffy and as sexy as she remembered, leaned against the side of her desk, and calmly announced that he was going to be her bodyguard for the next three weeks, or until the man who had e-mailed her the photo of Detective Sweeney was apprehended.
“Shouldn’t you be out there looking for the murderer instead of following me around?”
“I’ve been assigned to you,” he said. “Detective Wincott is out there looking,” he added.
She was frustrated and weary. She was also scared but wasn’t going to admit it. Cordie still hadn’t called her back, and Regan was worried sick about her and Sophie.
“Yes, you already told me that Detective Wincott was in charge. I haven’t met him yet. I have been cooperating, haven’t I?” she said. “And it seems you only just left. There’s been such commotion here since then. I need some time to just sit down and think. My head’s reeling. I have some work to finish, and then I want to…”
He tried not to smile. “Think?”
“Yes, think.”
“No problem,” he said.
He removed his tie and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket before taking it off and draping it over a chair.
She watched him get comfortable on the sofa. “What happens in three weeks?”
“Sorry?” He was rolling his sleeves up as he turned to her.
“You said you were going to be my bodyguard for three weeks. What happens then?”
He undid the top button of his shirt before he answered. “I’m finished with the job and leaving Chicago, but don’t worry, if he’s still out there, then someone else will be assigned to guard you. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
“Who made that decision?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Okay, who?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Lieutenant Lewis.”
“Do I have anything to say about this?”
He flashed a smile and picked up the latest Forbes magazine from the coffee table. “Not really,” he said. “Like it or not, I’m here to stay.”
She didn’t like it, not one little bit. Detective Buchanan was a clear distraction, but she had to put the discussion on hold when his cell phone rang. Her office phone rang at the very same time.
Peter Morris, the man she had turned down for a second grant, was on the line. He was absolutely thrilled he’d gotten through to her.
“This is wonderful,” he stammered. “Your assistant kept putting me off, and I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you. I know you didn’t have anything to do with turning me down for the grant renewal, so I’m not blaming you. It was just a huge misunderstanding, wasn’t it?”
Before she had time to answer and set him straight, he rushed on. “My work is important. I need that money, and I was guaranteed that, once I qualified—and I did qualify last year—that it would be an automatic renewal. How about I come by tonight and you could have the check ready?”
“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Morris. I am the one who turned you down for the grant, and the information each applicant received was quite specific. There is no such thing as an automatic renewal.”
He refused to believe her. His voice had lost a little of its cheer as he said, “No, that’s not true. You couldn’t have turned me down. You understand how important my work is.”
“Mr. Morris—”
He interrupted her again. “I know what you’re going to say. Your assistant already told me that I could reapply next year, but the community center desperately needs the money now. Pulling the rug out at the last minute… it just isn’t right. Now, about the check—”
Determined to end the conversation as quickly as possible, she interrupted, “You are not going to receive any grant money. Your application was denied, and I think it would be a waste of your time, and mine, for you to reapply next year.”
His gasp was loud and clear as she hung up. She noticed Detective Buchanan was off the phone and said, “Henry was right. Peter Morris can’t take no for an answer.”
She repeated almost word for word the conversation she’d had with the man. When she was finished, Alec said, “I’ll mention him to Wincott again and make sure he’s looking at him.” He stood, rolled his shoulders, and then picked up his suit jacket and put it on.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
He smiled. “Yes, and so are you. The sketch artist is back and is waiting for us. We need to go. Hopefully, the two of you will be able to come up with a good likeness of the man who chased you.”
Her response was immediate. “Yes, okay.”
“No argument?”
She shook her head. “No, this is too important.”
“Yes, it is.”
She grabbed her purse from her drawer and was heading toward the door, where he stood waiting, when her fax machine began to buzz.
“Do you need to see what that is, or can it wait until we get back?” he asked.
“It’s probably just an advertisement,” she said, but she had already turned around and was circling the desk to get to the fax machine. “It is so rare to get a fax these days. Everything’s sent through e-mail.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was irritated that she was making him wait. He was busy buttoning the collar of his shirt and didn’t appear out of sorts over the delay.
“Do you mind? It will only take a minute. The cover sheet’s coming through.”
“No problem.” He was looking for his tie now.
“It’s on the floor by the sofa.”
“What is?” he asked.
“The tie you’re looking for. It fell out of your suit pocket.”
“Thanks.”
He headed back to the sofa. She turned to the machine. The cover sheet had dropped into the tray below. The sender line was blank, but there was something written on the subject line. She couldn’t quite make it out. She picked the sheet up and turned toward the light. A cold chill raced down her spine as she read the three words scrawled across the line: Your Murder List.
“Murder List? Oh, God…”
It suddenly all clicked. She inhaled sharply and took a step back as though that simple action would separate her from the truth.
She shook her head. “No… it couldn’t be ... it’s just not possible…”
Alec heard the panic in her voice. He gently pried the cover sheet out of her hand just as the fax machine began to hum again. Page two was slowly coming through.
Regan had been so stunned by the heading on the top of the page that she missed the message, written in what looked like chicken scratches, on the bottom. Alec read it out loud: “Sorry, I can’t take credit for this one. I was too late. She was already in the mortuary. Had herself a fatal heart attack, but I went ahead and marked her off your list anyway.”
Alec was on the phone to Wincott by the time Regan held up the second page. He rattled off the fax number. “Everything else is blocked out.”
“We’re on it,” Wincott said. “I’ll see you back at the station.” He was shouting to his partner as he hung up.
Alec turned to Regan. “Murder List? What the hell is a murder list?”
She didn’t immediately answer. She was anxiously gripping her hands together as she continued to wait for the machine to spit the page out. It seemed to be taking forever.
And there it was.
Oh, God, another picture, this one of a woman lying on what looked like a metal slab. Her ashen face was peaceful in death.
It took Regan several seconds to remember where she’d seen the woman before.
“This can’t be happening.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“I know this woman,” she said. “She works at Dickerson’s Bath Shop on Michigan Avenue. I stopped in there a couple of weeks ago to buy a bottle of body lotion. She’s a saleswoman.”
Her knees felt as though they were going to buckle on her. She fell back against the desk and took a deep breath. Her mind was reeling.
“She was wearing a name tag… Ms. Patsy.”
“You remembered her name?”
She nodded. “She was rude, terribly rude. She was probably just having a bad day, and it was wrong of me to judge her so harshly. And now she’s dead.”
That much was pretty obvious. “Are you going to get sick?” Alec was already looking around for a trash can.
“No, no. This is all my fault.”
“How could this be your fault? If what this maniac says is true, she died of a heart attack.”
She was barely listening to him. Oh, God, what had she done? What had she done?
“Regan?”
She took another deep breath. “You read the note. He said he was too late, that she was already dead. It’s obvious to me he went after her to kill her.”
“You didn’t kill her.”
Her face was turning gray. Alec was becoming concerned she might pass out on him now. He stepped closer just in case so he could catch her if she collapsed.
“No, but I put her on the list.”
His head snapped back. “You what?”
“The murder list… it’s mine.”

Chapter Twenty-three



Regan was a little surprised he didn’t put handcuffs on her and read her her rights. Actually, Detective Buchanan took the news well, considering that she surely now was his number one suspect.
He was quite good at hiding his reactions. Had she not been looking into his eyes, she wouldn’t have noticed his attitude had hardened toward her.
She was too shaken to care what the detective thought about her. She was scared and worried and didn’t like feeling that way at all. She checked the time, calculated that Henry would be back at his desk in about fifteen minutes, and left him a note explaining where she was going. She also instructed him to call Sam Baldwin, the in-house attorney who, with an overworked staff of three other full-time attorneys, handled all the legal problems involving the Hamilton Hotels and/or any of the Madisons. Spencer jokingly referred to the attorneys as Walker’s personal team, since he was the family member who most often needed their expertise. Sam would be shocked to hear it was Regan who now needed him.
She rode in the detective’s car to the police station, and on the way she tried to explain all about the spontaneous exercise Dr. Shields had had the registrants do during the reception.
He was weaving in and out of traffic, narrowly missing one car after another. The man drove like a maniac, and she felt it was her duty as a concerned citizen to tell him so.
“Are you kidding me?” he said. “You’re Walker Madison’s sister, aren’t you? If anyone drives like a maniac, it’s your brother.” He paused to think about what she had been telling him and then asked, “What did you mean when you said the bodyguard was still watching you? Had something happened earlier that got his attention?”
“No,” she answered. “But from the minute I walked into the room, he locked in on me. It was really strange. I hadn’t done anything to draw his attention, but he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”
Alec didn’t think it was strange at all. Rude, maybe, but not strange. Hell, he himself was having trouble not staring. The bodyguard was a man, and Regan Madison was a very beautiful woman.
“I can prove all of this happened,” she said.
He glanced at her. “Prove what?”
“That I’m not making this up… the exercise, I mean. Sophie taped it. She had a recorder in her purse, and she sat close to Shields. You can listen to it.”
“Yes, I will.”
“And just so you understand, I didn’t have any intention of doing the exercise, but then Shields said that, when time was up, we all had to hold up our lists, and he was going to walk around the room to see if we’d all written names. I decided then I’d let him know what I thought of him. He posed the question, after all, and he told us that if the world would be a better place without certain people in it, then put their names down.”
“His name was on your list?”
“Yes.”
“How many names did you write on your notepad?”
“Six… no, five.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, there were five names.” She prayed to god she was right.
“Okay, so Shields was one, and the Patsy woman, and Detective Sweeney,” he said. “Who are the other two?”
“The bodyguards.”
“Ah.”
“I’m not normally so bloodthirsty.”
He flashed a grin. “I didn’t think you were.”
“The reception seems such a long time ago. I had surgery shortly after that and the days all blended together. As far as the list goes…”
“Yes?”
“I thought I was going to tear it up and throw it in the fire like all the other people were doing, but I had to step into the hall to take a phone call, and when I went back inside, Sheilds had moved on to what Cordie called his inspirational, aren’t-I-wonderful segment.”
“What was that like?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t listen. I went to get the car. That’s when the man came after me, and I fell. I dropped everything. I didn’t realize I’d left my phone and the folder there.”
“So, tell me exactly what was in the folder.”
She looked off into space trying to remember. The image of the blue folder filled with the glossy pages vaguely emerged. “There was the notebook I wrote the list on… and there were testimonials about Shields… and photos… I took one of them and began a reminder list… notes, work stuff… things I needed to get done… just stuff.”
“You’re going to have to remember what all the ‘stuff’ was and, when we get to the station, you can write it down for Detective Wincott.”
“Why?”
“Those notes were left in the folder. He’s going to want to know about them.”
Regan didn’t know if she could remember what she’d written. She thought about it and didn’t say another word the rest of the way to the station.
Alec parked the car in the adjacent parking lot, opened her door for her, and took hold of her arm when they crossed the street.
“It’s going to be a long afternoon,” he said. “Everything you’ve gone over with me, you’ll have to go over with Wincott.” Again and again and again, he silently added. Wincott was big on repetition.
“And what will you be doing?”
“I’ve got some calls to return and some paperwork to finish up. Wincott will let me know when you’re finished.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“I think maybe you do.”
“Then I’ll hire—”
He interrupted. “Look, you’re stuck with me no matter how many others you hire. The choice isn’t yours.”
She decided that arguing with him would be pointless. She must have looked forlorn, though, because he said, “Cheer up. It could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could have written ten names on that list, or twenty, or thirty…”
They started up the flight of stairs. “How many names did your friend Cordie write?”
“Seven,” she said.
They reached the landing, and he led her down a narrow hallway. “There you go,” he said. “Your friend’s more bloodthirsty than you are. That ought to make you feel better.”
“Not really. She wrote the names of the Seven Dwarfs.”
He laughed. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head.
“What’s she got against the Seven Dwarfs?” he asked.
She gave him a weak smile. “Nothing.”
“It’s impressive,” he added. He opened the door and stepped back so that she could go inside first.
“What’s impressive?” she asked as she walked past him. “That Sophie and Cordie were smart enough not to write names of real people?”
“No, it’s impressive Cordie could name all Seven Dwarfs. I can only get to four. Let’s see. There’s Doc and Sleepy and Dopey and Slurpy—”
She interrupted. “Slurpy isn’t one of the Seven Dwarfs. It’s a beverage.”
“Huh. What about Loopy?”
“Sorry, no,” she said. And then she laughed. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like you’re on your way to a firing squad.
And we stopped doing that over a month ago. And like I said, it’s going to be a long afternoon for you.”
The police station seemed to be a maze of corridors. Alec reached around her to open yet another door. She was going to need bread crumbs to find her way out of here.
“Where are we going now?”
“The coffee room. I told Wincott we’d wait there for him to get back.”
“What about the sketch artist?”
“He’s next.”
He pulled a chair out for her and got a whiff of her perfume. Damn, she smelled good.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.
“Water, please.”
Regan looked around with interest. The coffee room was nothing like the ones she had seen on television with peeling paint and dirty barred windows. This one was spacious and clean and had obviously just been remodeled. The faint smell of paint still lingered in the air. The walls were bright—almost too bright—and the color was a rather putrid shade of turquoise. There were two square tables with chairs that looked new.
Alec noticed her staring at the walls. “Makes you want to put on sunglasses, doesn’t it?”
“Who picked out this color?”
“No one will own up to it.”
The refrigerator was also new and was stocked with water and soft drinks. Alec handed her a bottle of water and then pulled out a chair across from her and sat down.
There was a steno pad and a ballpoint pen in the center of the table. Alec pushed both toward her. “You might as well get a head start and write the names you put on your murder list.”
Murder list. Oh, God, what a mess this was. She picked up the pen and quickly wrote the five names. She labeled the bodyguards A and B since she didn’t know their real names. When she was finished, she pushed the pad toward him.
He leaned across, glanced at the list, and then pushed the pad toward her again.
“Okay, now write down all the notes you were making while Shields was talking.”
That was easier said than done. She tapped the toe of her shoe on the linoleum floor while she tried to concentrate. Emily Milan came to mind. Regan remembered she’d made a note to have it out with Aiden’s assistant. Oh, and Peter Morris. How could she have forgotten him? She’d made a note to talk to security about him. But who else? Was there anyone else?
The tapping increased. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he said.
“I’m not nervous.” It was a lie, and he knew it.
Then she realized she was jiggling the table with her knee, making a racket with her foot. She forced herself to stop. “Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
She put the pen down and once again pushed the notepad toward him. He looked at her notes but didn’t comment.
She stared at the tabletop while she tried to recall what else she’d written on those papers. Had she left anyone off her doom list? She remembered wanting to add Emily’s name at the last minute, but she never got the chance.
She looked up at Alec, and for a second she actually lost her concentration. That had never happened before. But then, Detective Buchanan was a very interesting man—and a definite contradiction. He was a bit disheveled with his tie still askew, his wrinkled suit jacket, and his desperate need for a shave, but he had impeccable manners, was obviously well-educated, and had a sense of humor—a trait she thought would have been the first to vanish in his line of work. When he was giving her his full attention, she could almost feel a magnetic pull.
Okay, I’m losing it, she thought. She cleared her throat and said, “I saw you in Lieutenant Lewis’s office when I was there before, talking to Detective Sweeney.”
“I saw you too.”
Momentarily sidetracked by his admission, she said, “You did?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes, well, the thing is… the lieutenant was shouting at a police officer,” she said. “Actually, as I remember, he was screaming. I had never seen anyone behave like that. No one in such a position of authority, anyway. I thought his conduct was appalling.”
“He wanted to get rid of the officer.”
“You defended him.”
He smiled. “You saw that too?”
“Yes,” she said. “I saw you arguing with the lieutenant, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying to him. Unlike your superior, you didn’t raise your voice. I remember thinking that he… Lewis… was humiliating that officer.”
Alec disagreed. “No,” he said. “He tried to humiliate him, but he didn’t succeed. The officer knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. How come we’re talking about this now?”
She couldn’t hold his stare but looked over his shoulder. “I was going to put the lieutenant’s name on the list.”
He was trying hard not to smile. “But you didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t. I would have, though, if I hadn’t been interrupted. My cell phone rang, and I had to hurry out into the hall to answer it. I would have added his name if I’d continued. I just thought you should know.”
“I wouldn’t tell Detective Wincott if I were you.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “It’d be cruel, getting his hopes up and then disappointing him.”
“But I didn’t put Lewis’s name on the list.”
“There you go.”

Chapter Twenty-four


Regan finally asked the questions that had been nagging at her.
“Why are you leaving Chicago?”
“It’s a long story.” He didn’t go on.
“Where will you go?”
“Back to Boston. That’s where I’m from.”
“We have a hotel in Boston.”
“I know,” he said.
He didn’t offer any information, and she didn’t press him to explain. They both turned when the door opened. Detective John Wincott took a step inside, then bent down to pick up some papers he’d dropped. The perfectly round bald spot on the crown of his head was visible and shiny. Wincott’s partner told everyone in the precinct that Wincott was sensitive about his hair loss, so of course at every opportunity he was teased and tormented. One of Wincott’s least favorite nicknames was Friar Tuck, but fortunately, he had a good sense of humor.
He reminded Regan of a harried accountant, probably because he was carrying what looked like a ledger with papers sticking out every which way. Then she noticed the gun holstered to his side, and the possibility that he was an accountant went out the window.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“You still look half dead,” Alec told him after introducing him to Regan.
Regan thought the man was actually rather nice looking, but with the dark circles under his eyes and the gray complexion, he did look worn-out.
“Yeah, well, I missed my day at the spa this week,” Wincott said.
Alec laughed. “I forgot to ask. How’s the baby?”
Wincott turned to Regan to explain, “Our baby’s cutting teeth,” he said. “And she’s not happy about it, which means my wife and I aren’t happy either. Neither one of us is getting any sleep.”
“I hear whiskey helps,” Alec said.
“I tried that, but it only gave me a bad hangover the next morning.”
“You’re supposed to rub some on the baby’s gums. It numbs them.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing. Besides, what if she likes it? What if she develops a real taste for it? Before you know it, I’m driving my two-year-old over to AA. Too risky,” he said with a straight face.
Alec stood. “I told Regan you’re an adequate detective. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
“Don’t you want to sit in on this?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got some phone calls to make. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything,” he told Regan. “Okay?”
He was being very sweet, she thought. And looking worried about her. “Yes, okay,” she said.
Alec pulled the door closed behind him. He turned and bumped into Lyle Bradshaw. Wincott’s partner looked impeccable as usual. His striped tie had a perfect knot in it, his dark suit was wrinkle free, his shirt was immaculate, and his shoes, like always, looked brand-new. Standing next to him, Alec looked as though he’d just recently been mugged.
“Is she in the coffee room?” Bradshaw asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Yes,” Alec said. “Wincott’s with her.”
“Is he drooling?”
“Excuse me?”
“I hear she’s a stunner.”
“Yeah? Where did you hear that?”
“The pool,” he said, referring to the open area where all the detectives worked. “She’s been the topic of conversation since you brought her in. I hear she’s got a gorgeous face and a body that just won’t quit.”
Alec was surprised by the spark of anger he felt. It came out of nowhere.
“She’s definitely out of your league, Lyle.”
Newly divorced, Bradshaw considered himself a ladies’ man. Women found him attractive and attentive, and he never lacked for female companionship, but Alec thought he was a little too arrogant for his own good, and on occasion he could be downright obnoxious. His only saving grace was his skill as a detective.
Bradshaw was opening the door to the coffee room when Alec called out, “Hey, Bradshaw.”
“Yes?”
Alec was going to tell him not to hit on Regan but stopped himself in time. “Go easy on her,” he said instead. “She’s scared.”
Alec picked up his messages and went back to his desk. Lewis had doled out his cases to several other already overworked detectives, and in a childish attempt to punish him, Lewis had had his computer removed. The top of Alec’s desk was now completely bare.
If the other detectives hadn’t gotten stuck with his work, he would have thought Lewis’s behavior was funny. Alec sat down at his desk and used his cell phone to call his brother Nick.
“So I guess I’m in,” he said.
Nick laughed. “Hi, Alec. By in, I assume you mean the FBI?”
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did. Ward called to tell me about five minutes after you were accepted into the academy. Your test scores were impressive.”
“Better than yours?”
“If they were, do you think I’d admit it?”
“Probably not. Tell Theo, will you?” Alec asked. He didn’t know if he’d have time to track down his oldest brother.
“He already knows. Ward called him too. Have you made up your mind about buying my town house? Laurant’s been out looking every Sunday with a realtor. The town house is great for a bachelor, but with the baby, it’s too crowded, and Laurant wants to get pregnant again.”
Alec smiled. Nick had hit the jackpot when he’d married Laurant. She was such a sweetheart, and perfect for his brother. She was so laid-back and easygoing, which was exactly what Nick needed when he came home from work. Theo often described Nick’s job as a real pressure cooker. He and his partner, Noah Clay-borne, worked for a special branch of the FBI. They were called in when the search for a missing child had gone cold. It was a hard, tear-you-up-inside kind of job.
“I am going to buy your town house,” Alec said. “Even if I don’t get assigned to the Boston area…”
“Ward says you will.”
“He’d say anything to get me to sign up,” he said. “Ward doesn’t make the decision, but even if I don’t end up in Boston, I’ll still keep the property. It’s a good investment.”
“Hold on,” Nick said. “I can barely hear you. I’ve got two conversations going at the same time.”
“Who’s talking to you?”
“Noah.”
“Where are you?”
“In Dallas,” he said. “We just finished up a case. This one went well.”
“That’s good.”
Noah was suddenly on the line congratulating him. “They’re gonna work your butt off at the academy, but you’ll do fine. When are you leaving Chicago?”
“Not for at least three weeks, maybe four,” he said. “If you still want to see a Cubs game, you better get here soon. I’ll need a little notice to get tickets from Gil.”
A second later Nick was back on the cell phone reminding him that their sister Jordan was still planning a trip to Chicago.
“I know, but she won’t commit to a date. I won’t be able to start packing until my job ends here. I’ve got a new assignment that’s going to take up most of my time for the next three weeks, but then I’m done. If Jordan waits too long, she’ll get stuck helping me pack.”
“What’s the new assignment?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Nick laughed. “That bad, huh?”
A young cop dropped a fat file on Alec’s desk and turned to leave. Alec motioned him to stay. “I’ve got to go, Nick.” He flipped the cell phone closed and put it back in his pocket. “What’s all this?” he asked.
“Forms you need to fill out. H.R. sent them over.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, sir. I never kid.”
“I’ve already filled out papers.” He silently added, damn it.
“No, sir. You filled out some of the forms, but not all of them. They said they’d need these back by the end of the day.”
“It’s harder to get out of this place than it is to get in.”
“That’s what a lot of criminals tell us,” the cop responded dryly.
Alec decided he might as well get it over with, opened the folder, and started filling in the first form. It took him close to an hour to finish up, but only because he kept getting interrupted. A detective had gotten a photocopy of Sweeney’s blackmail book and was reading out loud from it.
Alec had just signed the last form when he looked up and saw Bradshaw motioning to him. He picked up the folder to take with him, intending to drop it off on his way downstairs. Bradshaw was waiting by the steps.
“Are you finished with Regan?” Alec asked.
“For now,” he answered. “Wincott took her upstairs to his favorite sketch artist.”
“That shouldn’t take too long.”
Bradshaw snorted. “You don’t know Tony, do you? He’ll keep her for the rest of the day if he has to, until she tells him it’s a perfect likeness. You’ll need to stay with her. I just got a call from Lewis’s kiss-ass assistant. He told me that Regan’s brother and her attorney are headed over here.”
“She’s not a suspect. Did you explain that to her?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “I came close to asking her out too, but I controlled myself.”
“Jeez, Bradshaw. Try to stay focused.”
Bradshaw grinned. “That’s hard to do around her.”
“Who called the brother and the attorney? Do you know?”
“No,” he said. “They’re going to have a conference with Lewis.”
They simultaneously turned to look at the lieutenant. They could see him through the glass clearing the clutter from his desk.
“He’s getting ready for company,” Alec said.
“Important company,” Bradshaw added. “The Madisons have money.”
Money. That was what it was all about with Lewis, Alec thought, as he headed to the front desk to drop off the papers. On his way back, he ran into Melissa and said hello to her. She grunted her reply. When she was past him, she stopped and called out, “Hey, Buchanan.”
“Yes?”
“Tell Regan that when I was working on her piece of crap computer, I removed her from the loop and I forgot to put her back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s got a couple of stations hooked on in network.”
“Melissa, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She looked vexed. “Do you know anything about computers?”
“Apparently not as much as you’d like me to know, so just explain in layman terms.”
“There are a couple of other people reading her e-mails.”
“Now, how hard was that to say?”
She ignored his sarcasm. “There are a bunch of computers over there at the hotel, and they’re all on the same network. Think of her e-mail like a ball. Yeah, like a ball. When she gets a message, the ball bounces to other stations. Her assistant gets her messages the same time she does. It was set up that way to save time,” she explained. She squinted at him and asked, “Are you getting any of this?”
He wasn’t going to let her irritate him. “You said that there were a couple of people reading her e-mails. Her assistant is one. Who’s the other ball breaker?” he asked with a straight face.
“The ball bounces, Buchanan. It doesn’t break. And it’s someone else in-house.”
“Can you track it to a specific computer?”
“I already did. I don’t remember the computer ID, but it’s in one of her brothers’ offices. I can’t remember which one. It’s all in my notes, which I sent to Wincott. Ask him.”
“Send me a copy of your report.” She was walking away when he stopped her again. “Regan might not know someone else is reading her mail? Is that possible?”
She shrugged. “She might not know.”
Alec turned the corner and spotted Regan through the glass in the door. She was sitting at a computer with the sketch artist at her side. She must have sensed that he was watching her because she suddenly turned and looked at him. And then she smiled. And he smiled back.
Tony tapped her on her arm to get her attention again. Regan reluctantly turned to the screen. Tony was a hard taskmaster. He was an older man who looked like a comedian she’d seen perform at a comedy club a couple of months ago. For the first five minutes or so, she kept expecting him to tell her a joke. Tony didn’t have much of a sense of humor, though. After he shook her hand, he announced that he was a perfectionist and told her that they would work together for as long as necessary to achieve a perfect likeness of the man who had chased her in the park.
It was a surprisingly difficult undertaking. Until she sat down with Tony, she thought she had a good picture of the man in her mind, but that wasn’t the case. Several times she had to close her eyes and try to visualize him again. Being exact about the shape of his nose, his eyes, and his chin was extremely challenging.
When they were finished, she believed the sketch was a good likeness, but it wasn’t perfect by any means. And when Tony removed the glasses and the beard, the man’s appearance completely changed. She didn’t have a clue if that was accurate or not.
Alec was waiting for her outside the sketch artist’s workroom. She handed him the printout and said, “Tony thinks the hair and the glasses and the beard could all be props.” She handed him the second printout of Tony’s drawing. “This is what he might really look like.”
“Does he look familiar?”
She shook her head. “He’s very… ordinary, isn’t he?”
He nodded. “So this might be the…” He started to say bastard and then substituted, “…crazy we’re looking for. He’s nondescript and will blend in with a crowd.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “He was big, as big as you, and just as muscular. His size alone might make him stand out. I don’t know.” She took a breath and then said, “If he’s the man who stole my phone, and if he’s the man who killed Detective Sweeney, and…”
She was too disheartened to go on. “I think Detectives Wincott and Bradshaw are finished questioning me, so I’ll head back to my office. If you or the other detectives need to speak to me, just call or stop by.”
Alec stepped in front of her. “Now, I know you’re smarter than that, and we have been over this, but I’m gonna pretend you still don’t understand. I’ve been assigned to you, and that means that everywhere you go, I go.”
She folded her arms and frowned. The day was proving to be long and arduous. “And as I explained, if I feel I need a bodyguard, I’ll hire one.”
His smile was distracting, and when he stepped closer to her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look into his eyes, she actually felt a rush of goose bumps.
“Are we going to get into an argument?” he asked.
“I believe we are.”
“You can’t win.”
“Why? Because you’ve got a gun?”
He didn’t say a word. He just nodded.
“Because you’re bigger?”
He nodded again.
“Stronger?”
He smiled.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ll notice I didn’t say smarter.” He did laugh then. “Detective—”
It was as far as he would let her get. “Neither one of us can leave just yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, temporarily sidetracked from the bodyguard issue.
“Your brother and your attorney are downstairs in Lewis’s office with Wincott and Bradshaw. I came up here to get you. They’re all waiting to talk to you.”
“Which brother?” she asked, trying not to let him see how irritated she was.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Yes. I hope it’s not Aiden,” she said. She didn’t tell Alec what she was thinking, but she did hope that Spencer was back in town and was waiting downstairs. He was much easier to deal with.
She shook her head as she attempted to go around him. “I guess we should go downstairs then.”
He maneuvered in front of her again and leaned against the wall. “What’s going on with you?”
He acted as though they were old friends and he knew her so well he could tell when she was out of sync.
She shifted from one foot to the other as she said, “If I hadn’t made that stupid list ...”
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
“No, but…”
“You simply took part in an exercise.”
“I made a murder list, for heaven’s sake.”
“Along with a whole lot of other people,” he pointed out. “You just didn’t get the opportunity to toss your list into the fire.” He stepped aside to let her go ahead of him. “I can’t wait to meet this Dr. Shields. He sounds like a snake charmer.”
“Not so charming. Just a snake. I wish I had never heard of him,” she answered over her shoulder.
“So what’s wrong with Aiden?”
The questions jarred her. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s a wonderful brother.”
Alec wasn’t buying it. “Yeah?”
“He’s just a little… uptight. That’s all.”
Alec didn’t have to ask which of the two strangers in Lewis’s office was Regan’s brother. The family resemblance was obvious. Though Regan was only five five or five six and her brother was over six feet, they shared the same coloring and patrician features. Aiden was impeccably dressed in a well-cut, dark suit, which Alec assumed had a fancy designer label inside. His own brother Theo had a suit just like it. Calvin Klein, Alec thought. Or maybe Armani.
The well-fed man sitting in a chair facing Lewis’s desk was also wearing an expensive suit. The man was short, round as an egg, and his face was as wrinkled as an unironed cotton shirt. Alec assumed he was the attorney.
Detectives Wincott and Bradshaw stood by the windows, watching. They both looked bored senseless.
Regan’s brother happened to glance up, spotted her coming toward him, and for a fleeting second, Alec saw relief in his eyes. No matter how many flaws the man might have, it was apparent he loved his sister.

Chapter Twenty-five



Sam baldwin, the Madisons’ attorney, closed his notebook and stood when Regan walked in.
“You’re not a suspect,” he told her immediately.
“No, no, of course she isn’t,” Lewis agreed. He stood and leaned across the desk with his hand outstretched. He introduced himself, shook her hand, and wouldn’t let go as he said, “I know this must be a terrible ordeal for you.”
Before she could respond, Sam said, “I’ll get back to you within the hour, Aiden.” He nodded to Regan, who was trying to pull her hand away from Lewis’s grasp and then left the office.
“Regan?” Aiden said.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
The second Lewis let go of her, she crossed the room to stand next to her brother. Since the lieutenant hadn’t bothered to introduce Alec to him, she did.
The two men were the same height. Aiden was thinner, but both men were quite handsome and fit. Her brother looked tired, though. Tired and worried.
“The lieutenant tells me you’ve been assigned to protect my sister until the man who sent those photos is apprehended.”
“That’s right,” Lewis said before Alec could answer.
Wincott drew Lewis’s attention when he asked, “Who else are you going to put on this, or is it just Buchanan and Bradshaw and me working the case? Connelly’s already been reassigned, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, he has,” Lewis said. “You’ll have help, but it won’t be Buchanan.” He sat down in his chair and scowled at Wincott. “You understand what I’m saying? Buchanan’s got bodyguard duty and that’s all.”
“Did Sam call you?” Regan asked her brother. She whispered so that the lieutenant wouldn’t hear her. “Is that why you’re here?”
Wincott and Bradshaw were occupied arguing with Lewis about manpower, ignoring Regan for the moment, but Alec was paying attention.
“No,” Aiden said in response to Regan’s question. “Henry called Sam and told him you were on your way here. He also told him about the e-mail and the fax you received. I saw the photos.”
“You did?”
“There were copies on my desk when I arrived. As soon as I saw them, I called Sam. Neither one of us found out you had made a murder list until we got here. Regan, what in God’s name were you thinking?”
“Excuse me?” Anger radiated in her voice.
“You heard me. I cannot imagine why you would do such a thing.”
She didn’t bother to explain because she knew that no matter what she said, she would still be put on the defensive. And be found guilty.
She took a breath and whispered. “How did you get those photos? Henry wouldn’t have placed anything on your desk without checking with me first.”
“Someone put them there. I just assumed they came from your assistant. That really isn’t important, is it?”
Yes, she thought, it was very important, but she knew that now wasn’t the time to argue about it. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t bother Spencer and Walker about any of this. I don’t want them to worry,” she said.
“Too late. Someone e-mailed them the photos.”
“The photos of Detective Sweeney and the saleswoman? They’ve seen those photos?” she asked, trying to understand.
“Were there others?”
“No, no there weren’t.”
“Then the answer is yes. They’ve seen the photos of the detective and the saleswoman.”
“I wish they hadn’t seen them. They’re going to worry, and—” Her anger and frustration were building.
Aiden, on the other hand, was his usual stone-faced self. “Worry? They’re frantic. Spencer wants you under lock and key until he gets here, and then he hopes you’ll fly back to Melbourne and stay with him until the police catch this maniac.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“He thinks he can talk you into it. Walker also wants you to stay with him.”
“Where is he this week?”
“Paris until the day after tomorrow. He wants you to travel with him, and that, of course, is out of the question.”
“Aiden, I can make my own decisions.”
“You won’t even get in a car with Walker. Why would you consider traveling with him?”
“I’m not going to travel with him, and I’m not going to Melbourne.”
Aiden nodded and turned to Alec. “As I was explaining to Detective Wincott, we have an excellent security force at the hotel. I’ll go ahead and hire additional men.”
Was he dismissing him? Alec thought maybe he was and was vastly amused. Did Aiden think Alec worked for him? Even though he found the job of bodyguard a little demeaning, he would keep Regan safe until Lewis replaced him.
Detective Wincott joined them. Aiden assured him that he and his brothers, and Regan, of course, would do anything they could to help with the investigation.
“She’s living at the hotel now, and her office is on the third floor, so she never has to go outside, and that should make your job a little easier,” he told Alec.
Regan was shaking her head. “I can’t just cancel my schedule. I’ve given my word that I would help with some important events coming up. I won’t miss the hospital fund-raiser.”
“You’re going to have to cancel everything for now,” Aiden said. “If you insist on staying in Chicago, then you’re stuck in the hotel. I’m postponing my business trips until this matter is settled.”
“But, Aiden—” she began. Her brother had already turned to Wincott and was now discussing the plan for her protection. Neither one of them asked her opinion. Aiden still firmly believed she should be put on their private jet and sent into seclusion.
In the midst of their conversation, Regan walked out of the office. Alec was right behind her.
“Would you mind driving me back to the hotel?” she asked. “If it isn’t convenient, I could walk or grab a cab.”
“What is it with you people? First you and then your brother. I’m not going to go away, so stop trying to dismiss me. Got that?”
She didn’t turn around. “Yes, all right.”
“Wait a minute. What about your brother?”
She kept right on going. “What about him?”
A slow smile crossed his face. He followed her down the stairs, half expecting her brother to come chasing after her.
“How come you didn’t defend yourself back there?”
“When?”
“When your brother asked about the murder list. He gave me the impression that he thinks you’re responsible.”
“In a way I am, aren’t I?”
“No.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back so she wouldn’t go outside ahead of him. They crossed the street and went into the parking lot. Alec opened the passenger door for her, but his gaze, she noticed, was never still. It was as though he expected a sniper to pop up somewhere. He scanned the roofs and the street beyond.
Once he was behind the wheel, he pushed a button that locked the doors. The sound turned her thoughts. “I’m going to buy a new car today.”
“You are? What’s wrong with the car you have? You do own a car, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” She wondered if he thought she was driven around in a limo whenever she wanted to go out.
“So what’s wrong with it?” He pictured her driving a Mercedes or maybe even a Porsche, definitely something expensive and trendy.
“It’s old.”
“How old? A year? Two?”
“You think I’m spoiled, don’t you?”
“Does it matter what I think of you?”
“No.” She told the lie well and was certain he believed her. It did matter, though, a little anyway.
The traffic was heavy. When Alec veered to the left to avoid a car that pulled in front of them, Regan flinched, and when he sped up to work his way onto the highway, she reacted again. “Listen,” he said. “You’re making me nuts grabbing the dashboard every time I turn a corner. Try to relax, or is that possible?”
“Of course it’s possible. Slow down and I’ll prove it.”
“I know what I’m doing.” There was a bite in his voice now.
His tone didn’t faze her. “So does Walker, and he’s had God only knows how many accidents.”
“I’m not your brother,” he said. “And the name is Alec.”
She noticed he’d slowed the car down. “What did you say?”
“You might as well call me Alec. You and I are going to be real tight for a while.”
“If Lieutenant Lewis knew I was going to put him on that murder list, he’d reassign you and hang me out to dry. That’s what I’d do.”
He laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too softhearted to do anything like that.”
“You can’t know if I’m softhearted or not.”
“Sure I can. I’m a detective.”
“Meaning?”
“I detect,” he said with a grin.
“Are you married?” Now, why had she asked him that? It really was none of her business.
“No.”
“I’m not either,” she said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Regan was trying to come up with a suitable reason she’d asked such a personal question. “I was just curious,” she said. How lame was that?
They reached the hotel a minute later. Wincott called Alec’s cell phone just as the doorman opened the car door for Regan.
“I wanted to talk to you about the schedule,” Wincott said as Alec followed her into the lobby.
“What about it?”
“You can’t be with the woman twenty-four hours a day, despite what Lewis thinks. You’re gonna have to sleep sometime. You could sleep with her, I guess. That would be one way to keep an eye on her during the night.”
“There’s a plan,” Alec said dryly.
“Of course, there’s a chance she might not cooperate.”
“So what do you suggest? You’re running the show.”
Regan had stopped at the front desk and was going through some papers one of the staff had handed her. Alec stood about ten feet away, his back to her, watching the people in the lobby.
“Her brother wants her under lock and key,” he said. “That would make our job easier; however, we both know there will be times when she absolutely has to leave the hotel, so how about this? You’re with her all day, in and outside the hotel. Wherever she goes, you go, but when she’s in for the night, we let the hotel security staff babysit her.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it, either.”
Alec laughed. “Then why did you suggest it?”
“Bradshaw wanted me to.”
“Since when do you listen to your partner?”
“Pretty much never, but he came up with the idea, and I promised I’d run it by you,” he said. “Her brother’s hiring additional security.”
“Yeah, I know, but I still don’t like it. I don’t trust any outsider to do our job.”
Wincott agreed. “This bastard… he’s playing a sick game with her, isn’t he?”
“That’s my guess.”
“I’ve got a feeling he’s going to want some feedback from her.”
“I think so too. You do something nice for someone, you want to hear thank you.”
“Matlin agrees with you,” he said, referring to the staff psychiatrist. “He thinks he’ll want to contact her again, but he’ll do something a little more personal than a fax or an e-mail.”
“What else did he say?”
“Bradshaw only just gave him the file, so Matlin’s going to need a little time, but he did notice the ‘your’ was underlined a couple of times. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? On the subject line of the fax. He wrote, ‘Your Murder List.’ ”
“Yes, I know.”
“Matlin thinks underlining the ‘your’ is significant.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“That’s a big help.”
“I’ll talk to him in a couple of hours. He should have had enough time to go over our notes.”
“Let me know what he says.”
“Okay. I’m going to get someone over there tonight to relieve you. Tomorrow we’ll figure out a schedule that works for everyone.”
“Have whoever you assign call me before he comes over.”
Alec ended the call and turned to Regan. She handed some papers back to the clerk and said something to the woman that made her smile.
“Are you ready?” she asked Alec.
“Ready for anything,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’d like to test drive a couple of cars this afternoon.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to have to put that on hold.”
“I’m stuck here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Do you have a lot of work to do?”
They crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators.
“Actually, once I get caught up, I won’t have much to do for a while. This is our slow time, or wind-down time.”
“How come?”
“All the grant letters have gone out. The money’s been allotted for this next year, but the process starts all over again in August, when Henry and I begin sorting through all the new applicants.”
Regan was digging through her purse, looking for her elevator key. She handed Alec her billfold, a pen, lipstick, a packet of tissues, an inhaler, and a notepad before she found it.
She smiled. “It’s always on the bottom,” she said. She put the key in the slot and pushed the button for the third floor before she opened her purse wide enough for Alec to dump everything back in.
“I understand no one can get up to the offices without a key,” he said as the doors opened.
“That’s right.”
“Bet it would be easy to steal a key.”
She thought about it. “Yes, it would be easy. So many of the staff have keys, and they get misplaced.”
“Not good.” The elevator stopped on the third floor as he said, “You need to talk to the head of security.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll make a note to talk to her tomorrow.”
“Her?” He sounded surprised.
“Do you have a problem with a woman in charge of our security?”
“Not if she’s good.”
Henry must have heard them talking, because he came rushing toward them when they turned the corner.
“Man, have I got news,” he said. He was so excited he sounded out of breath. “Aiden called and left a message. He’s posting a guard in front of the elevators and the stairwell downstairs, and another one on this floor. No one gets past without proper identification, and it’s got to be a photo ID. He’s also putting a guard outside your door upstairs, your bedroom door.”
“When is this supposed to happen?” Regan asked.
“Now,” he answered. “They’re all on their way, I guess. Anyway, there’s more…”
He was walking backward as Regan and Alec headed for her offices. “More guards?” she asked.
Henry shook his head. “No, more news. You’re not gonna believe this.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said in case she was worried about that. “It’s just… well, you’re not going to believe…”
“Try me.”
“You might get mad.”
“For heaven’s sake, just tell me,” she said, her exasperation obvious in her tone.
They had reached her offices. Alec stepped around Henry to hold the door for both of them.
“Before Aiden went with the attorney to the police station, he stopped in here.”
“For what purpose?”
“He told me to tell you that he had your car towed away, and he left this for you,” he said. He turned and picked up a padded envelope from his desk.
Regan looked astonished. “He had my car…”
“Towed away,” Henry said.
“Did he tell you where he had it towed?”
Henry looked miserable when he said, “To a junkyard, but he wouldn’t tell me which one.”
She took a step back. She could feel her face heating up. She tried to remain calm in front of Alec and Henry, but inside she was doing a slow burn. She took a deep breath. It didn’t help. The burn was getting hotter.
“Aren’t you going to open the envelope?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” she said. She tore the seal off and pulled out a set of keys.
“Did Aiden explain this?” she asked, holding the key chain up.
Once again, Henry was looking excited. “He bought you a car.”
Alec noticed that Regan’s left eyelid twitched ever so slightly. It was apparent she was struggling to keep her temper under control. She was doing a fair job of it too.
“Your brother bought you a new car,” Alec commented cheerfully. “Wasn’t that nice of him?” He added the question just to see how she would respond.
Her eyelid twitched again. “Yes,” she said, all but choking on the word.
“It’s a Beemer,” Henry announced. He was looking at the emblem on the key ring.
When Regan didn’t immediately show any reaction to that news, Henry thought she didn’t understand. “You know what I’m talking about, right? A Beemer’s a BMW.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, and so she simply nodded. She was at a loss for words and so furious with her brother she wanted to scream. His audacity was stunning. Why was he so hell-bent on running her life?
“Regan, are you okay? You’ve got a real funny look in your eyes,” Henry said.
“I think she’s still reeling from the surprise,” Alec said. He was trying to be diplomatic. In reality, she looked as if she wanted to kill someone.
Henry couldn’t quite contain his eagerness. “Yes, I guess I would be reeling too. A Beemer costs a small fortune.” He turned to Regan again and said, “Aiden didn’t mention what color the car was, and I didn’t think to ask him until after he left.”
She took another deep breath. “The color isn’t important.”
“Would you like me to test drive it for you?” Henry asked. “I mean, you know, just to see if the car measures up. Aiden told me it’s already insured, and I’ve got the time. My desk is clear, and I’m all caught up.”
The kid was dying to drive the car, and judging from the look in Regan’s eyes, she was dying to get her hands on her brother’s neck.
Alec couldn’t help but be impressed with her restraint. Keeping all that anger bottled up inside couldn’t be good for her, though. And what was her brother’s problem? Alec thought it was damned gutsy for him to have her car towed away, no matter how old or junky it was.
Not my worry, he told himself. He was out of here in less than a month, and he wasn’t going to get involved with anyone before he left. Every family had problems, of course, but Regan’s brother put a whole new spin on the word “dysfunctional.” Alec couldn’t imagine one of his brothers or sisters having his car towed away. If they did, he’d have to kick some serious butt. Aiden didn’t seem to have any problem interfering in Regan’s life, however. Were her other brothers like him? Three men trying to run her life. Good Lord. If that were true he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her… and for any man who tried to get close to her.
But not his concern, he reminded himself. No, sir. No problem, no worries. Yeah, that was going to be his motto for the remainder of his time in Chicago. He’d do his job to the best of his ability and then get out. Sounded simple enough.
“So what do you think, Regan?” Henry asked.
She mentally shook herself. “I’m sorry. What do I think about what?”
“Do you want me to test drive the new car for you?”
She forced a smile. It wasn’t Henry’s fault she had a jerk for a brother. “Yes, I do.”
She dropped the keys into his hand, told him to be careful, and then slowly walked into her office and closed the door.
Henry was putting his blazer on as he headed for the door. “I won’t be gone long,” he told Alec.
“Wait a minute,” Alec said.
Henry paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
Alec tilted his head toward Regan’s office. “Is she going to start throwing things, or is it safe for me to go in there?”
Henry laughed. “Regan throwing things? Like in a temper tantrum? She’d never do that. She never loses her cool, and she would never ever throw things. That’s just not her style. She is angry, though, but I guess you could tell that.”
“Yes, I could.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She won’t take it out on you.”
That thought hadn’t entered his mind. Alec considered himself a good judge of character, and it had taken him about five minutes to figure out that Regan didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She could never deliberately hurt anyone. The way that her staff responded to her indicated she was kind and good-hearted. The problem, as he saw it, was that she was too sweet for her own good.
She ought to find Aiden and give him hell for poking his nose into her affairs. Yeah, that’s what she ought to do, but he doubted she would. She was too nice to ever blow up.
No, not his problem, he reminded himself. It wasn’t his job to teach her how to stand up for herself. He did think it was odd, however, that growing up with three older brothers hadn’t toughened her up.
He knocked on her office door but didn’t wait for her to give him permission to enter. The sofa was calling his name. He remembered how comfortable it was, and while she worked, he was going to take a nap. Alec was a light sleeper. He wasn’t concerned she would leave, because he’d be wide awake before she reached the door.
Regan was on the phone. Her face was flushed, and she was obviously agitated. She was pacing back and forth behind her desk. He heard her say, “Have him call me the second he returns,” before she hung up the phone.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.
“Yes,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”
He leaned to the side to look behind her.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“I just wanted to see if your pants were on fire. You know,” he drawled. “ ‘Liar, liar…’ ”
She smiled. “Everything isn’t okay,” she admitted. “I’d like to get my brother alone and…”
He was removing his jacket, but his eyes were locked on hers. “And what?”
She didn’t answer.
“How do you get rid of it?” he asked then.
She pulled her chair out from behind her desk and sat down. “Get rid of what?”
“The tension, the frustration,” he said. “Or do you keep it all bottled up inside? If that’s the case, you’d better find a way to get rid of it, or you’re going to die young. Stress will kill you.”
“I take a yoga class.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, you need a little more than yoga with those brothers of yours. Do they all interfere, or is it just the oldest, Aiden?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “All of them,” she said. “And it’s getting tiresome.”
“I would think so.”
“What do you suggest I do?”
He draped his jacket over the back of a chair and started working on his tie.
“About your brothers?”
“No, about stress… tension.”
He suddenly realized he was breaking his own rule of not getting involved, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Stop being so nice.”
She looked surprised and also pleased. “You think I’m nice?”
“Being nice isn’t always a good thing.”
She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “What about you? You’re in a high-stress job. How do you get rid of all the tension?”
“I shoot bad guys, and I get to break a lot of heads… and noses and arms.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You do not. I’ve got news for you, Detective. You’re not such a tough man. You’re actually kind of sweet.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Sweet? That’s a new one. I’m definitely not sweet. I’ve been told I can be a real mean mother…”
“Yes?”
“Trust me on this. I can be mean, real mean.”
She didn’t believe him, but she wasn’t going to argue. She realized he had to be tough because of his job, but she also sensed that there was an ingrained goodness and decency about him.
Alec stretched his shoulders and rolled his head, trying to work out the knot in the back of his neck. Regan was distracted by his broad shoulders. The man was way too sexy for his own good.
Get control of your thoughts, girl, she told herself. She cleared her throat, straightened in her chair, and folded her hands on the desk. “You don’t need to stay, Detective.”
“Alec,” he reminded her.
“Okay,” she said. “You don’t need to stay, Alec. I’ll be fine here. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
“You’re still not catching on, are you? You’re not getting rid of me. The only place I’m going is to your sofa.” He added, “And just so you understand, I’m with you until you’re bedded down for the night.”
“Are you going to tuck me in?”
She was actually being a bit sarcastic, but he didn’t take it that way. “That depends on you,” he said.
His eyes sparkled with devilment. She swallowed. “Oh?”
She inwardly groaned. Was that the best she could come up with? Oh? Sophie would know what to say, and she’d say it in a teasing, come-get-me voice.
Alec leaned against the side of her desk. “How long have you been living here?”
“A while.” She didn’t want to explain why. She picked up a stack of what looked like messages and began to go through them.
“So how come?”
Ignoring him hadn’t worked. He was still half sitting on the side of her desk while he waited for her to explain. She watched him pull his tie loose and drop it on the corner of her desk. She wouldn’t be surprised if he kicked off his shoes next.
“Could you get any more comfortable?”
“Yes, I could. So how come?”
He definitely wasn’t going to give up. “I had an apartment…”
“Yes?”
She sighed. “But I moved back home when my mother became ill.”
He frowned. “Was she alone?”
“No. She had nurses and a full staff to see to her every need, and my stepfather, Emerson, was still living there, but she wanted me close to her… until it was over.”
“And when was it over?”
“Eleven months ago.”
“And your stepfather?”
She stiffened. “What about him?”
Alec knew he’d poked a sore spot. Her body language intrigued him. She looked as tightly wound as a clock spring. “I just wondered what happened to him.”
“Nothing happened to him. He’s still living in the house.”
“With the staff?”
“Yes,” she said.
“That must be lonely for him.”
She scoffed. “He isn’t lonely.”
“How come?” he prodded.
“He lives there with his new wife.”
“Ah.” Now he understood the reason for her prickly, uptight attitude.
He said the obvious. “He didn’t mourn long, did he?”
He’d hit a nerve. Regan decided not to mince words. “No, he didn’t mourn long. In fact, he didn’t mourn at all. He was never faithful to my mother for the very short time they were married, and he was already sleeping with Cindy before my mother became ill.”
“And he married Cindy.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
She was as stiff as a surfboard again. “Three days after the funeral.”
Man, that was cold, he thought. “I guess it bothers you to talk about this, doesn’t it.”
“It’s a little late for that question, isn’t it? How come you’re so curious about my family?”
“I’m not curious about your family.”
“Oh? Then why all the questions—”
He cut her off. “I’m curious about you.”
It wasn’t what he said so much as how he said it, with a warm glint in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher. Was he flirting with her? No, of course he wasn’t. Why would he be interested in her when he could have any woman he ever wanted? And probably had. She was such a straitlaced… nerd. Yes, a nerd, she thought, especially when compared to her friends. Regan believed that everything about her was ordinary, boringly ordinary.
She did have money, however, as Spencer and Walker pointed out every chance they got, and Regan was sure money was why most men paid attention to her. At various functions they swarmed around her like hungry bees. Spencer called them parasites. Alec wasn’t a parasite, though, and he didn’t seem to be the least impressed with her money. The man was simply being a good detective, and that was why he asked so many personal questions.
“You’ve been assigned to protect me,” she said. “And that’s why you’re so curious about me.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “That too,” he said as he turned and walked across the office.
She swiveled in her chair to face the computer and pretended to be busy. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him. He plumped a couple of pillows and sat down on the sofa with a loud sigh.
“Damn, this is comfortable,” he said. “So tell me, Regan. How long was your stepfather married to your mother?”
She didn’t look at him when she answered. “Long enough to think he should get half of everything she owned.”
“Is there a legal battle brewing?”
“I know he’s consulted a couple of attorneys in hopes that one of them will find a way to break the prenup. By now he must know that my mother didn’t own much of anything, not even the house she lived in.”
“The house Emerson’s living in with Cindy?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. So who owns it?” Before she could answer, he said, “Aiden? Or do you and all your brothers own it jointly?”
“All of us.”
He leaned forward. “And yet you’re the one who moved out?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She turned back to the computer screen, hoping that he would let the subject drop.
No such luck. “So how come?”
She began to laugh. “You just don’t give up, do you? No wonder you’re a good detective.”
“How do you know I’m good?”
“I just do.”
“Not good,” he said, and in a burst of ego, he added, “Great.”
She laughed again. “I wish I had your confidence.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he reminded her.
He took his loafers off, swung his feet up on an ottoman, and stacked his hands on his chest.
“How come I moved out of the house? I promised my mother that I would let Emerson stay on in the house for a year. She hoped that he would be able to get it together in that time.”
“You mean get a job?”
“Yes,” she said. “She never knew he cheated on her, at least I don’t think she did, and she certainly didn’t think he would remarry so quickly.”
“Aiden agreed to this year plan?”
“Of course. It’s what our mother wanted. Why wouldn’t he agree?”
“He seems to be the one who calls all the shots and runs things around here.”
“He’s the most ambitious one in the family and certainly the most driven,” she said. Frowning, she added, “But you’re right. He does like to run things around here. I just wish…”
“What?”
“I just wish I understood why he thinks he can run my life.”
“That one’s easy.”
“Oh? Why then?”
“You let him.”

Chapter Twenty-six



Regan had cleared her desk. Every piece of paperwork had been signed, mailed, or filed; every e-mail had been read, deleted, or answered, and every phone call had been returned.
She had miscalculated and had thought it would take her several more days to get everything done, and she wasn’t happy about being caught up. She wanted to bury herself in work to keep busy. An idle mind… worries. At least hers did. She drummed her fingertips on the desk.
She still hadn’t openly acknowledged that she was in danger and that she needed a bodyguard, because to do so would put it all right there in front of her face, and she would have to deal with it. She knew she was being foolish, maybe even a little cowardly, but at the moment she didn’t particularly care. She was scared and feeling powerless, and that was just plain awful.
Alec closed the magazine he was reading and then picked up a remote and turned to her. He saw her expression and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
He knew she had to be feeling caged. Every move she made was being watched. He decided he wouldn’t press. “Okay,” he said. He held up the remote and asked, “Where’s the television hidden?”
“Push the top button,” she said.
He was intrigued. As soon as he pushed the button, a seam in the wall adjacent to the window slowly slid back to reveal his dream come true. An entertainment center filled with all the latest technology. He whistled over the size of the flat-screen plasma TV.
He settled back to watch the news but glanced at her again and noticed the frown hadn’t gone away. “Come on. Tell me. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
She wasn’t going to tell him the truth—that she worried she wouldn’t have enough courage when she needed it—or admit that she was afraid of being afraid, because she knew he wouldn’t understand. How could he? He probably put himself in harms way all the time. He was used to danger, and he was used to standing up when it mattered.
Was he ever afraid? Probably, but she doubted that fear would ever stop him from doing what was needed, and wasn’t that what courage was all about—not letting the fear stop you from doing the right thing?
“Regan?”
She realized she hadn’t answered him. “I was thinking about that expression, an idle mind…”
“Gathers no moss?”
She smiled. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.”
She lost him then. The sports portion of the news came on, luring him like a siren with the promise of scores and clips from all the games. As though in a trance, he immediately turned back to the television screen. She was exasperated. What is it with men? At least the men in her life. Alec’s behavior was like Aiden’s and Spencer’s. No matter how busy her brothers were, they stopped everything at the sight of a baseball, football, or soccer ball. Any kind of sports game grabbed them. They were addicted to the Sports Channel and couldn’t go to sleep without knowing the latest scores. She had a feeling her bodyguard had the same affliction.
Regan dusted her desk blotter and then began to turn one of the pages of her Far Side calendar back and forth while she surreptitiously studied Alec. He had a beautiful profile, she decided. A nice, straight nose, a great mouth. His hair was dark and thick and kept drooping down on his forehead. He needed a haircut. His hair was given to curl, and she had the insane urge to touch it. Were other women drawn to him the way she was? No doubt, she thought. With his good looks and his sexy aura, he probably had women falling all over him. Oh, she knew his type. He had that bad-boy, love-them-and-leave-them thing down pat. How many tears had been shed over him? How many hearts had he broken?
“You about finished?” His gaze never left the television when he asked the question.
How long had she been staring at him? “Just about,” she answered as she quickly looked at her desk and began to shuffle papers around.
She was saved from having any other discussion about her behavior when her phone rang. She almost fell out of her chair when she lunged for the receiver.
Cordie was on the line. Just hearing her voice made Regan feel better.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Is Sophie?”
“Yes, we’re both fine.”
“You took your time calling me back. I’ve been worried.”
“Worried about what? Everything’s fine, and I only just now checked my messages. Sophie and I have been real busy, and I’ve got loads to tell you, but first things first. I’ve got to make you feel bad because you didn’t come with us.”
Regan smiled. She was so relieved to know her friends were okay. Now that she had Cordie on the phone, Regan could take her time telling her everything that had happened.
“And how are you going to make me feel bad?”
“The weather. It’s beautiful here, and do you know why?”
“I’ll bite. Why?”
“It isn’t raining. How is it there?”
“Eighty degrees, not a cloud in the sky, absolutely no humidity, and there’s a soft breeze—”
“Tell the truth,” Cordie interrupted.
Regan laughed. “We’re supposed to get more rain tonight, and it’s chilly here. And now I do feel bad because I didn’t go with you. Satisfied?”
“Yes,” she said. “And since it’s still so awful in Chicago, I’m staying here, until I run out of sunscreen, anyway.”
“If you’re about finished talking about the weather, I’ve got some news.”
“Oh? How much do you want to bet my news is bigger?”
“I doubt that, but you go first.”
“We’re already piling up evidence against Shields.”
Regan straightened in her chair. “Really? So soon?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “It was easy, too, because Shields always has the women he brings down here stay at the same hotel. It’s called The Murdock, and it’s a small, family-owned place with lots of charm. Most of the staff have been working there for years. They’re very loyal.”
“And that’s important because…?”
“They remember past guests.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“We’ve gotten the names of two women Shields had down here last year, and guess what? They were both widowed, and they were both very rich. Oh, and we also got copies of Shields’s bank accounts.”
“You what?”
Cordie repeated what she’d just said. Then Regan blurted, “That’s illegal.”
Alec was watching her. She was pretty sure he’d heard what she’d said. She smiled at him, then turned her chair to face the wall and lowered her voice. “How in heaven’s name did you get his bank records? If you aren’t careful, you’ll both end up in jail.”
“We are being careful,” Cordie assured her. “We didn’t break into the bank to get the records. Someone got them for us.”
“Who?”
“A friend of a friend of Sophie’s father,” she said. “And so far we know for a fact that Shields has taken huge amounts of money from these two women.”
“How do you know that?”
“With copies of the checks the women wrote. The bank keeps records, for heaven’s sake, especially when the deposits are so large.”
“But how did you get copies of the checks? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Sophie’s dad has a lot of friends down here.”
“That’s not good.”
“I know, but I’m watching out for Sophie. It’s okay.”
“And who’s looking out for you?”
“Regan, stop worrying.”
“Where’s Sophie now?”
“She went back to The Murdock. We already have the names and addresses of the two women we can prove gave Shields money, but Sophie wanted to make sure there weren’t any others. So what do you think? We’ve made a good start, haven’t we?”
“I’d say so,” she replied, “but…”
“We haven’t seen Shields yet, but we know he’s inside his beach house because we’ve seen his bodyguards, Huey and Louie, on the beach. They’re wearing their uniform black suits and dark ties and sunglasses while they walk on the sand. They look like Feds.”
“ ‘Huey and Louie’?”
“I’ve got to call them something, don’t I?”
“I guess so. Do they stay out on the beach all day?” She could picture them melting in the hot sun.
“No, they have a schedule. During the day they come out every hour on the hour, and they stay outside ten minutes tops. Shields obviously isn’t feeling very safe if he has to have his bodyguards with him all the time. Sophie thinks he’s becoming paranoid because of all the horrible things he’s done.”
“But you haven’t seen him?”
“No.”
“Thank God,” she whispered.
Cordie didn’t hear her. “Here’s the odd thing. Shields’s neighbor to the south is keeping tabs on the bodyguards—”
“How did Sophie get the neighbor to do that?”
“She asked. They’re very friendly down here.”
“Is the neighbor a man?”
Cordie laughed. “Yes,” she said. “Anyway, Huey and Louie have stopped patrolling. Something is definitely going on, but we can’t figure out what yet.”
“Are you finished with your news? Is it my turn?”
“Just one more thing. A woman has visited Shields twice now. Sophie swears she saw her at the seminar. I don’t remember her,” she said. “But Sophie is much better with faces than I am. Anyway, the woman is staying at The Murdock and we’re pretty sure she’s Shields’s next target.”
“He doesn’t waste any time, does he?” Regan kicked off her heels, crossed one leg over the other, and began to swing one foot nervously back and forth.
“No, he doesn’t. Sophie’s becoming obsessed about spotting him. She’s jogged on the beach behind his house a couple of times, but she hasn’t had any luck. We’re going to take one of the boats out tomorrow with our binoculars and see if we can spot him inside. The back of his house faces the ocean, and it’s all glass. If he’s in there, we’ll see him. Knowing Sophie, if she doesn’t spot him soon, she’ll jog right up to his front door and start pounding.”
Regan almost dropped the phone as she jerked upright in her chair. “Oh, no, she mustn’t do that.”
“All right, I’m finished. Now it’s your turn. Try to beat my news.”
“Okay. Remember that little exercise we did during Shields’s reception?”
“The make-a-list-of-the-people-you-want-dead exercise?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about it?”
“A madman got hold of my murder list and is now killing everyone on it.”
A long silence followed her announcement, and then Cordie said, “Okay, you win.”
“I thought I might.”
“Wait a minute. You are joking, aren’t you?”
Regan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I wish to God I were. It’s true, though.”
“Tell me.”
Her friend didn’t say another word during Regan’s lengthy explanation of what had happened, but she did gasp, several times as a matter of fact, and when Regan was finished, she whispered back, “Who else did you have on your list?”
Regan told her and then said, “I was so certain there was a connection between Sweeney’s murder and Shields.”
“But now you’re not so sure?”
“I’m not sure of anything. Until we know, you and Sophie have got to stay as far away from him as possible.”
“No wonder we can’t find Shields, and no wonder his bodyguards aren’t patrolling the beach. I’ll bet the police have warned them, and they’ve all gone into hiding.”
A minute later, just as Regan was about to hang up, Sophie got back to the condo. Cordie shouted at her that Regan was on the phone. Sophie picked up the extension in the kitchen.
“Hey, guess what?” She didn’t give Regan time to answer. “Shields and his bodyguards have left the island, and no one, not even the police, know where they went.”
“How’d you find that out?” Cordie asked.
“A friend of a friend.”
“Are you going to tell her or should I?” Cordie asked Regan.
“I’ll hang up and, you can—”
“Tell me what?”
While Regan waited, Cordie repeated what Regan had told her. Sophie was shocked into silence.
“What are the police there saying?” she finally asked.
“Detective Buchanan is hoping that whoever sent the e-mail and the fax will try to contact me again. Detective Wincott agrees.”
“Okay, who’s Detective Wincott?”
“He’s in charge of the investigation.”
“And Detective Buchanan? Is he his partner or something?” Cordie asked.
“No, he’s my temporary bodyguard.”
“Dear God…”
“It’s okay, Cordie.”
“We’re coming home on the next flight.”
“No, Sophie, don’t do that. Since Shields has already left the island, you’re probably as safe there as any place.”
Cordie added, “She thinks Shields is somehow involved in what’s been happening because Sweeney was investigating him.”
“I admit, it’s not a firm connection,” Regan said.
“Sweeney hadn’t done anything yet, so how could Shields have known about him?” Sophie asked.
“I still think we should pack it up and head back to Chicago. We should be there with you, Regan.”
“No,” she replied. “Stay there and finish what you started. What you’re doing is important, and it sounds like you’re making great progress.”
“We are,” Sophie agreed. “But we’ll need to stay here another week, maybe even two. There’s so much cross-checking to do with names and dates, and now that I’ve got the hotel’s registration records that go way back—”
“Did a friend of a friend get those for you too?”
“No,” Sophie said. “I just asked, and they handed them over.”
“We are making progress,” Cordie said. “And, Sophie, you did want to talk to that woman who’s staying at The Murdock, and you better do that soon before she finds out Shields has left. This is the perfect opportunity, and we both want to know what Shields promised her.”
“Wouldn’t it be something if she would help us?”
“We could nail him.”
“Call me with updates, okay?”
“Wait, Regan. Are you going to be okay?” Cordie asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She looked at her empty desk and decided to lie to ease Cordie’s anxiety. “I’ve got so much work to do. I won’t have time to worry, and I’m perfectly safe in my office.”
“Okay,” Cordie said. “No matter what, we’ll be home in time for the country club charity thing, but that’s two full weeks away.”
“By then, the police will probably have the madman behind bars,” Sophie said.
Regan hoped she was right. By the time she finally hung up the phone, Alec had stopped watching the television. She stood, stretched, and then told him about some of her conversation with her friends.
“The police down there verified that Shields and his bodyguards have left the island. Do you think Cordie and Sophie will be safe?”
“Yeah, I think they will be, as long as…”
“As long as what?”
He decided to be blunt. “As long as they stay away from you.”

Chapter Twenty-seven




Regan was reaching her breaking point. Two full weeks had passed since she had received the photo of Sweeney, and her nerves were becoming more and more frayed. One day dragged into another and another. She thought she was going to go stir-crazy being cooped up inside the hotel. Detective Wincott would check in periodically and let her know how the investigation was going. The police had ruled out any connection between Shields and Sweeney, which meant that the killer was still out there, and still unknown. Waiting for something to happen was making her anxious and irritable.
Keeping busy helped, and since she was caught up with work, she decided to tear her office apart and reorganize. Behind one long wall were file cabinets crammed with papers, and all of them needed to be cleaned out.
Regan really got into the task. Some of the files had already been transferred to discs, and those files could be shredded. Other files needed to be consolidated, and she was determined to see that was done too. There was a system to her reorganization, but she was the only one who knew what it was. There were stacks of file folders and papers all over her office floor. It had become an obstacle course from Henry’s office to her desk, but she felt she was making headway.
She wasn’t making any headway with her brothers, however, and she was developing a real love/hate relationship with them. Spence had been delayed in Melbourne, but he called her at least three times a day just to check in and make certain she was doing okay. Walker was also calling. His messages always had the same theme. He wouldn’t give up on the idea of her traveling with him until this situation was resolved.
After two weeks of the constant phone calls, Regan decided she was through placating them. She asked Henry to screen her calls and not put Spencer or Walker through.
Aiden was also making her nuts. She wanted to have a long talk with him. She had had it with his constant interference, and she was determined to make him listen to what she had to say. Then she would go to work on the other two. She didn’t care if it was bad timing or not. She was sick and tired of all three of her brothers trying to run her business and her personal life, and if she wanted anything to change, she would have to start with the most aggressive brother, Aiden. If she could just get him to stop interfering, then the other two, like dominos, would follow his lead.
That was the plan, anyway… if Aiden would stand still long enough to listen. He had canceled a business trip to stay in Chicago and was looking in on her a hundred times a day, and yet he just couldn’t find the time to sit down and have a conversation. He knew where she was every second, and when he couldn’t personally look in on her, the security guards he’d hired kept tabs for him. She knew he was worried, and in this instance, she understood why he was being so overly protective. What she found amazing, however, was the way he could vanish whenever she asked for a few minutes of his time.
Emily sent a message through Henry that Aiden simply didn’t have time to listen to Regan’s petty complaints. Henry had been furious when he conveyed it.
“I’ve finally figured out her plan,” Henry said. “She wants you out of here, and she’s going to do anything and everything to make that happen.”
“She does know I’m Aiden’s sister, doesn’t she?” She was teasing to let Henry know she wasn’t upset.
“Of course she knows, but when she started, she didn’t know who you were. She was rude and obnoxious. Since she can’t fix the past and she knows you don’t like her, she’s got to make you look incompetent. That way, Aiden won’t listen to you about anything, including your opinion of her.”
Before Regan could say a word, Henry continued. “She’s after your brother. She wants to marry him, and you, Regan, are messing with her plans.”
“Aiden will figure out what she’s doing, and he would never have said ‘petty complaints.’ ”
Aiden was deliberately avoiding Regan, though, giving her time to cool down. He had to have known how furious she was about her car—she still couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to have it towed away—but he also knew that if he waited long enough, she would eventually get over it and let it wash over her the way she let everything else these days.
She knew what the problem was. She loved her brothers and would do anything for them. She went to great lengths to keep them happy, even to the point of trying to change who she was.
When she was growing up, Aiden had always been the one she went to with her problems, probably because he was the oldest and more of a father figure. He was also the most rigid. He couldn’t stand to see her cry—which she seemed to be able to do at the drop of a hat back then—but over the years she’d tried really hard to learn to hold her feelings in. Sometimes, though, they bubbled to the surface.
Regan took after the Hamilton side of the family. They were all emotional twits, at least that was what Spencer had told her. The Madisons, on the other hand, were stoic and very disciplined. They were also workaholics like Aiden and Spencer. No one knew what side of the family Walker took after, but it was theorized that he was a throwback to a great-great-uncle who began to sow his wild oats when he hit puberty and didn’t stop until he was on his deathbed. It was rumored that he was propositioning a young, pretty nurse when he took his last breath.
At the moment, Regan didn’t want to be related to anyone. The conditions of the will had put her in a no-win position with her brothers, and just as Alec had said, the stress would do her in if she didn’t find an outlet.
Her brothers weren’t the only ones giving her trouble. She was also developing a love/hate relationship with Alec. The truth was, she loved being with him—he was smart and funny and sweet and kind—but she hated the reason why he was always there at her side.
For two weeks now, she and Alec had been inseparable. He refused to take any days off and only left her after a policeman had been posted on her floor, between the elevator doors and the stairs, which were the only ways to get to her suite. Alec was the last person she saw every night before she locked her door, and the first person she saw in the morning when she stepped out into the hall.
He was definitely growing on her, but she kept wondering—would he even have given her the time of day if it hadn’t been his job to protect her? If he had met her under different circumstances, would he have been interested? Would he have wanted to ask her out?
Henry also liked having him around. The two seemed to talk for hours about sports trivia and rock bands, and when Henry was struggling over a paper he was writing for a summer political science course, Alec offered to help him. Before long, Henry was asking his advice about girlfriends and his own future.
In the evenings, Regan and Henry and Alec changed into running clothes and worked out together in the gym. Alec beat the socks off her and Henry on the track. He was in much better shape than she was and gleefully pointed that out, several times, as a matter of fact. She used her recent surgery as an excuse for having to hold back, but each day she went a little faster and a little farther. There was an annual charity race coming up, she told him, and she wanted to walk as much of the course as she could.
Regan knew she couldn’t follow her normal routine, and she cooperated as much as she could, but there were a couple of events she refused to cancel or postpone because she felt they were too important. One of them took place at the hotel, and that made things easier for Alec.
It was toward the end of the second week, and Regan was getting ready for the reception she was hosting that evening. She wanted everything to go smoothly. Alec helped her measure the spacing between hooks on the walls in the corridor leading from the lobby to the gift shop, and when they were finished there, he followed her to the atrium and she checked the measurements there. She had already had the electricians work on the gallery lighting, and Frank from maintenance was happy to lend a hand.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing and why?” Alec asked as he handed her the measuring tape again.
“We’re measuring the distance between the paintings one last time just to make sure the spacing is right. I don’t want them to look crammed together.”
“Where are these paintings?”
She smiled. “You’ll see.”
He could feel her excitement, and his curiosity was aroused. He didn’t even mind that he had to wear his suit a little longer.
Regan changed into a simple black dress with a jewel neckline. Because she was running late, she didn’t have time to put her hair up. She brushed it, sprayed it, and then put on lip gloss and blush and was on her way out the door with five minutes to spare.
The reception began at seven o’clock. Alec wasn’t happy about the crowd gathered in the atrium. She was ecstatic. When she tried to walk away from him, he grabbed her hand and forced her in to his side.
He leaned down and whispered, “Stay with me.”
She nodded to let him know she had heard what he said.
They were both getting speculative looks from men and women. Regan introduced Alec as her friend, but Henry was being plied with questions. Was Regan serious about this man? Who exactly was he, and what did he do for a living?
Henry’s friend Kevin had also been invited, and he helped Henry with last-minute details.
After Regan had welcomed her guests, she took Alec’s hand and led him to the first of twelve beautifully framed paintings. The cream-colored walls came to life next to the vibrant and joyful colors. Yes, joyful, Alec thought as he studied one bold abstract. The names of the artists were printed in black block letters on a white square plate underneath each painting.
“I’ve never heard of any of these artists,” he said.
“You’ll get to meet them before they become famous. Do you have a favorite painting?”
He shook his head. “I like all of them.”
Henry and Kevin stood together while they waited for a quiet moment to talk to Alec. Kevin’s hands were jammed into his pockets, and he was shifting from foot to foot.
“Don’t lose your nerve,” Henry whispered. “Alec will help you. I know he will.”
“I won’t lose my nerve. I’m gonna do it. So when do you think—”
“After the presentation but before he takes Regan upstairs.” Henry’s gaze was on Regan and Alec. “They look good together, don’t they?”
They were laughing and talking, and Henry noticed Regan taking Alec’s arm as she guided him from picture to picture. They seemed so comfortable with each other. As they headed back to the atrium, Henry and Kevin intercepted them. Alec shook Kevin’s hand when Henry introduced him. He could feel the kid trembling, but he already knew from the look in his eyes that he was scared.
“You look familiar,” he said, thinking he might have busted him at one time.
“I work at The Palms,” Kevin said. “Maybe you saw me there.”
“Maybe.”
Regan didn’t seem to notice there was anything wrong. She spotted a woman who nodded to her. “They’re here,” she told Henry.
“Maybe later we could… uh, you know, maybe talk,” Kevin said to Alec.
“Yeah, okay. Later.”
“Are you ready, Henry?” Regan asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Alec stayed by Regan’s side as they made their way through the crowd to the podium. The guests had all been plied with food and drink, and the mood was quite jovial.
The uninvited guest stood in the crowd watching her, waiting for his opportunity. Slowly he maneuvered his way toward her, closer and closer. For a few minutes he stood just feet away pretending to admire a painting while he eavesdropped on her conversation with a man she called Alec. If he could just get close enough to touch her, maybe he could separate her from the throng of people, get her alone, but each time he made his move, the man she was with got in the way and wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She was the center of attention, the star. Wherever she turned, there was another guest eager for a moment of her time. It took him twenty minutes to weave his way close again, but just as he was extending his hand to take hers and request a moment of privacy, Alec ushered her in the opposite direction. His frustration grew. He couldn’t get to her. Tonight would not be the night. He would have to wait for another opportunity, but eventually the right moment would come, and he would be ready. Unnoticed, he slipped out the side door.
Henry motioned to the string quartet to take a break. He stood next to Regan as she once again welcomed everyone, and then she introduced Henry and moved back so that he could speak into the microphone.
As he was talking about the importance of art and music in the public schools, the twelve artists filed in and stood in front of the podium. With a great deal of pride in his voice, Henry presented each one.
Alec was impressed and a little stunned. Not one of the artists was more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Now he understood what Regan had meant when she said he would meet them before they became famous, for their amazing talent was just beginning to blossom. The paintings were for sale, the price of each steep, but every dollar would go to the art departments in the schools the artists represented. Henry also introduced the teachers involved in the new program and explained that the artists would receive scholarships and art supplies.
Every painting had been sold by nine o’clock. Regan was thrilled and so proud of Henry, she hugged him. She kept giving him all the credit, but Henry told Alec that Regan had come up with the idea. He’d merely implemented it.
The party was over by ten, and though it wasn’t all that late, Regan was tired and wanted to go up to her suite, take a hot shower, and fall into bed.
They were crossing the lobby together with Henry and Kevin trailing behind. She was telling Alec the reason behind the art project.
“Whenever schools run into financial trouble, they take away money for art and music. The administrators… they forget.”
“Forget what?” he asked.
Henry answered. “It’s like Regan says. Education isn’t just about feeding the brain. Art and music feed the heart and the soul.”
Alec agreed. Then Henry said, “There will always be paintings hanging on those walls, and when one sells, we’ll put another one up. It will be an ongoing thing. It’s a cool idea, isn’t it? The goal is to do this in all the Hamilton hotels.”
Kevin nudged Henry and whispered, “I want to get this over with.”
Henry spoke up. “Hey, Regan, how about stopping for a drink?”
The bar was just off the lobby, and there were only a couple of people inside. Alec suggested they get a table and order a drink, a nonalcoholic drink he stressed.
Alec squeezed Regan’s hand. “If you want me to take you upstairs, I’m sure the policeman is already stationed outside your door. I’ll check your suite, lock you in, and come back down here. The guys won’t mind waiting.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll get a drink with you.”
The bar was dark and cozy, the walls a rich walnut paneling. Candlelight flickered softly from votives on all the tables. Henry rushed ahead and found a table tucked in the corner that faced the side exit. He pulled out a chair for Regan, but Alec didn’t approve. He wanted her to sit with her back against the wall. Once Regan was settled, she expected the three men to join her, but none of them sat down. Henry and Kevin had their heads down and were looking very ill at ease.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Henry darted a quick look at Alec before answering. “What it is…” he began, and then nudged Kevin.
“Yes?” she asked.
She marveled at the change in Henry. When he had stood at the podium and had spoken to the guests tonight, he had been polished and eloquent. Now he was acting like an insecure teenager. Henry only reverted to that behavior when something was very wrong or had him riled up.
“I just thought that maybe Kevin would want to talk to Detective Buchanan for a couple of minutes, and he said okay, about talking… you know, so Kevin can run something by him.”
Henry seemed to need her approval, and so she said, “That’s fine.”
Alec put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, sit with Regan while Kevin and I talk.” He turned to Regan. “Don’t you move,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. Ordering her to stay put hadn’t really been necessary, since he never let her out of his sight. He and Kevin went down the three steps to the corridor and stood off to the side. Alec towered over Kevin, so he leaned down to hear what he was saying.
Regan couldn’t read anything in Alec’s expression, but poor Kevin was clearly falling apart. His complexion went from ashen white to flushed red, and he was talking fast and gesturing with his hands. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he angrily wiped it away. Then he glanced at Regan. She quickly turned to Henry, so Kevin wouldn’t know she had been watching him.
“Is Kevin in trouble?”
“Not Kevin… someone else. It’s kind of private stuff, but he said I could tell you.”
The waiter appeared with a small silver bowl filled with cashews. Henry ordered soft drinks for all of them and then sat back. He continued. “He’s scared. His mother… you know, she left a couple of years ago. She just walked out.”
“Yes, I know,” Regan replied.
“His dad got a divorce, and that was a good move, and he got sole custody of the kids too. Anyway, Kevin’s mother suddenly showed up again and she wasn’t alone… and they’re bringing the junk back into the house… you know, drugs.”
“Why didn’t Kevin’s father—?”
“Kick them out? He tried, but they aren’t going anywhere. His dad farmed the kids out to friends, and Kevin thought maybe Alec could help him.”
“Poor Kevin,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine how he must be feeling.”
“He thinks he’s playing it cool, but he isn’t.” Henry watched his friend for a minute and then turned back to Regan. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Stay cool. I mean, come on, you’ve got a nut out there doing crazy stuff. You’ve got a bodyguard and security—”
“I’m not cool about it,” she said. “But I try not to dwell on it.”
“Waiting for something to happen… that’s what’s scary. I get freaked out thinking about it. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. I mean…”
She put her hand on top of his. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
She sounded as though she knew what she was talking about, but like Henry, she got scared thinking about it. Then she looked at Alec and she relaxed. As long as she was with him, she was safe.
The waiter placed the drinks on the table. She thanked him, picked up her glass, and took a sip. Her gaze kept going back to Alec. Henry noticed.
“What are you going to do when he leaves?”
“I guess someone else will be assigned to follow me around.”
“That’s not what I mean. Come on, Regan. You’re talking to me. You don’t have to pretend. I’ve been watching you two. You’ve got this connection. You know what I’m talking about?”
Oh, boy, did she. “I like him,” she admitted. “He kind of grows on you, but he isn’t at all my type.”
“You mean the sterile type?”
She smiled. “What’s that?”
“Every button buttoned, always in a suit and tie, and looking immaculate all the time. I used to think Aiden was the sterile type, but then I played rugby with him in that charity game, and man, did I change my mind. He was muddy and brutal. Definitely not the sterile type. And neither is Detective Buchanan—I mean Alec. He told me to call him Alec—I’ll bet he’d be brutal on the field too.”
“I’m sure he’d play to win,” she agreed. “He is kind of… sloppy,” she added, and almost made it sound like a compliment.
Henry finished his drink, then picked up the one he’d ordered for Kevin and gulped it down in two swallows. He couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. He lifted his empty glass, swirled the ice around a couple of times, and then put the glass back down. Regan handed him her drink, and he gulped that down too.
“I’m thirsty,” he said.
“You’re nervous.”
“That too,” he agreed.
Regan’s heart went out to Kevin. He had backed away from Alec, but Alec grabbed his arm and shook his head. He put his finger in front of the teenager’s face and started talking. Regan couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Kevin appeared to be hanging on his every word. He didn’t look as anxious or fearful.
Alec Buchanan was a good man. She felt a tightness in her throat as she watched him, and she suddenly realized that the attraction she’d felt for him had grown into something much more complicated.
“Here they come,” Henry whispered.
Kevin came back into the bar first. His eyes were red. “We should probably go,” he said to Henry.
“So should we,” Alec said. “It’s getting late.”
Regan immediately stood. She said good night to the boys. A few minutes later, Alec was seeing her to her suite.
“Listen, I’ll be a little late in the morning. I’ve got some things to do… packing and stuff. I’ll make sure the policeman on duty stays until I get here.”
She had a feeling that the “stuff” had something to do with Kevin, but she wasn’t going to ask.
“That’s fine,” she said.
“Good night, then.”
He was pulling the door closed. “Wait,” she said.
He stopped. “Yes?”
“Tomorrow… be careful… packing. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
She bolted the door and leaned against it. She knew she would be dreaming about him tonight, but she vowed that tomorrow she would take that step back and start being practical again. There was only one little problem with her decision. She didn’t know how.

Chapter Twenty-eight



Henry told her what had happened. He rushed into her office, closed the doors behind him, and said, “I know you were worried about Kevin, so I just wanted you to know it all worked out.”
She’d been searching through her desk drawers looking for her stash of M&M’s. She immediately gave Henry her full attention. She looked up and saw how relieved Henry was. “That’s good to know.”
Henry wanted to talk. “Kevin is on his way up. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.”
“He said it was real bad for a while.”
“It was?”
“Alec had it all set up. He told Kevin’s dad to keep the kids out of there, and he did. Anyway, Kevin didn’t want to leave, so he saw it go down.”
“Was Kevin in the house while this was happening?”
“No,” he said. “He was across the street, staying out of the way. I think maybe he was hiding so Alec wouldn’t make him leave. He said that for a minute there he was afraid of Alec. I guess a couple of his mother’s friends resisted, and Alec and the others with him had to get… uh, physical so they could get the cuffs on them. I sure wish I’d been there. Kevin said the look on Alec’s face when he was… you know, having to get physical, was scary.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there,” she said.
He pushed some papers out of his way and sat on the edge of her desk. “I’ll bet they knew Kevin was there. Alec told Kevin’s mother she’d get the opportunity to go into rehab, but she turned it down.”
“How’s Kevin doing?”
“He’s okay. He’s kind of come to terms with the way things have to be.”
“You’re a good friend, Henry.”
“Yeah, well, he’s helped me get through some tough times.” He spotted Kevin in the outer office and said, “Kevin was okay with me telling you what happened, but...”
“I still won’t mention anything,” she assured him.
Regan bent down to check her bottom drawer for the M&M’s, and when she looked up, she saw Alec standing next to Henry’s desk talking to him. Kevin was there too, standing beside his friend.
Alec evidently hadn’t gone home to change clothes after the action at Kevin’s house. He walked into her office, asked her if anything was going on, and then told her he’d dismissed the policeman and was taking over the bodyguard duty.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
He looked comfortable in his jeans and T-shirt, but the gun and holster were very noticeable. He caught her staring at it. “It’s part of the job, Regan.”
“I know.”
“Good, because you need to be okay with it.”
Why was he getting all worked up? “What’s the matter with you?”
He glanced into the outer office, saw Kevin, and shook his head. “Nothing’s the matter. Some people just don’t get the breaks they should. It was a bad way to start a morning, that’s all.”
“But it turned out all right?”
He shrugged, and that was the end of the conversation.
Alec could close up quicker than a clam. If he hadn’t been so aggravating, she would have been impressed.

By midafternoon they had fallen back into their routine. Alec took a nap on her sofa while she cleaned out files.
That evening they went back to her suite, ordered pizza, popcorn, pop, and beer, and watched a movie. It was an old classic, a love story that made her cry and made him laugh. She accused him of not having a sentimental bone in his body, and he took that as a compliment.
The next night he chose the movie, and they watched another old classic. It wasn’t a love story, though, it was a rip-’em-up, shoot-’em-up, skin-’em-alive movie with lots of special effects and aliens. He loved it.
Both of them had their feet propped up on the ottoman. She was barefoot; he was wearing socks. One had a big hole in it.
The credits were rolling when he asked, “Want to watch it again?”
She didn’t think he was kidding. “No, thank you. It was too violent for me.”
“You thought it was violent?” He acted surprised by her reaction.
“Alec, I counted thirty-two dead bodies.”
“That’s not so bad,” he said with a straight face.
“Thirty-two in the first half hour. I stopped counting after that.”
“Hey, they were aliens, and humans were their food source. What did you expect?”
“A little less face eating would have been nice.”
“Yeah, but not as scary. Man, I loved those kinds of movies when I was a kid.”
“You liked being scared?”
“Sure.”
“What about nightmares?”
“I shared a room with my brother Dylan, and I figured if any monsters got in, the two of us could take them.” He grinned as he added, “I was kind of cocky back then.”
“Back then? I’ve got news for you, hotshot. You still are.”
He laughed. “Hotshot? I come from a family of eight, and we were all hotshots at one time or another.”
“Where do you fit in?”
“I’m third down from the top. There’s Theo, the oldest, then Nick, then me, then Dylan, Mike, two sisters, Jordan and Sydney, and then baby Zack. He’s still a wild man.”
She nudged his shoulder. “I’ll bet you gave your parents gray hair when you were a child. It’s lucky you grew up. But I guess I did some pretty foolish things too.”
“Is that a boast?”
When she didn’t answer, he nudged her shoulder.
“I’m sure I was just as reckless as you were,” she finally said.
They then spent the next hour trying to one-up each other with the dumb stunts they’d pulled as children. Alec won hands down.
“How come all of your stories about your childhood involve power tools?” she asked.
He laughed. “Not all, just some. How come you never mention your parents in any of your stories?”
“I know I told you my father died when I was little, and my mother was never at home. I remember saying good night to her over the phone.”
“Now, that’s just sad.”
She laughed. “No it isn’t. It’s just the way things were.”
“That’s no way for a little girl to grow up. How come you turned out so normal?”
“Who says I’m normal?”
“I do. I’ll bet that I know just about everything there is to know about you.” He was teasing her and being very arrogant. “I know what you like and what you don’t like.”
“I doubt that,” she said.
“You hate salmon; you’re allergic to strawberries, and you sneeze whenever you’re around roses.”
She retaliated. “You’re a ketchup freak. You put it on everything, even peanut butter sandwiches. You hate thin-crust pizza, and you aren’t allergic to anything.”
“My turn again? Okay. You’re very competitive; you’re a fullblown liberal trapped in a family of conservatives, and honest to God, I don’t know how that happened; you think you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not, and you don’t trust men or marriage.”
He had touched a nerve, and she sounded a bit defensive when she responded. “You’re far more competitive than I am; you think you’re a liberal, but you’re really very conservative; you have strong, unbendable values, and, Alec, I do trust some men.”
“And marriage?”
“My mother was married twice, and both of her husbands were unfaithful. I don’t want to make her mistakes, and I’ve learned there’s no such thing as now and forever.”
“Unless you marry the right man.”
“That’s the trick, isn’t it? Knowing who’s right and who’s wrong. I think it’s all a guessing game.”
“No, it isn’t,” he argued. “And it’s not a science either.”
“Oh? Then how will you know who’s right for you?”
“Are you asking me to describe my perfect woman?”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect woman.”
“Sure there is,” he said.
“Oh? What does she look like?”
Their arms were touching, and neither one of them moved away. “She has dark hair.”
“Yes?”
“And blue eyes. The color of violets. Incredible blue eyes.”
He was leaning down toward her now, and she thought he might kiss her. She hoped he would.
“She’s got a great body.”
“Of course she does.”
“Are you mocking my fantasy woman?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “Go on. What else? Does she have magic powers?”
He leaned a little closer. “It’s gonna be magic when we’re together.”
Oh, God, he was going to kiss her. She held her breath.
“And long legs,” he said, his voice whisper-soft now.
His knuckles gently trailed down the side of her face. She had to force herself to stay still and not lean into the caress. Why wouldn’t he kiss her? What was taking him so long?
“Does this perfect woman have a brain, or is not having a brain what makes her perfect.”
“Of course she has a brain. She’s very intelligent, has a quick wit, and she makes me laugh. She’s got this wonderful combination of vulnerability and stubbornness. And that, Regan, is my perfect woman.”
His mouth was just inches from hers. She closed her eyes and waited.
He tweaked her nose. “Got to go.”
She blinked. “You… what?”
“Got to go.”
He had his tennis shoes on, his laces tied, and was halfway to the door before she had her wits about her.
She stood, grabbed the bowl of popcorn she’d forgotten was in her lap, and put it on the coffee table.
“You have fun teasing me, don’t you?”
He was tucking his T-shirt into his jeans. “You make it easy.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Come here, Regan.”
The way he was looking at her made her stomach flutter. She walked over to the door. “Yes?”
“Let me hear you flip the dead bolt.”
“Oh. Yes, okay.”
He pulled the door closed. “Night.”
She could have sworn she heard him laughing as he walked away.

Chapter Twenty-nine



Regan awakened Saturday morning to another foul-weather day. There’d been so much rain in the past three weeks, she thought she might start sprouting mold. Her allergies were driving her nuts too. She sneezed at least five times before she’d even gotten out of bed, and when she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. Her eyes were so bloodshot she looked as if she’d tied one on the night before. Tonight there was a large, formal charity event, and she hoped she could get her allergies under control, otherwise everyone would think she’d been crying.
A hot shower helped, but not much. She still had to use eye-drops, nasal spray, and her inhaler after she got dressed. She hated being dependent on medicines to control her allergies, but at least it wasn’t an all-year thing. Spring was the worst, then fall, but she managed to function without any medication in the winter and summer.
She put her hair up in a ponytail and was ready to go.
Detective Wincott had insisted that Alec take the day off, and when she left her suite to go downstairs to her office to tear through more files, she was accompanied by one of the new security guards Aiden had hired, an ex-policeman named Justin Shephard. Wincott approved because Justin used to be a cop and knew the job. She spotted Detective Wincott sprawled in a chair that faced the elevators. He stood and adjusted his tie as they walked closer. From his ragged appearance, Regan assumed his baby girl had kept him up yet another night.
“It’s Saturday,” she said. “You should be home with your family.”
“I just put the family on a plane to go see my wife’s mother, but if she were home, she’d have me fixing things, and I’m no good at that kind of stuff.”
He stepped back as the elevator doors silently opened. “I’m filling in for an hour,” he explained. “The officer who was supposed to hang with you today couldn’t do it. His wife went into labor. I’ve got another man coming in.”
Regan was dressed in jogging clothes, and Wincott frowned as he gave her the once-over.
“I thought we had an understanding,” he said. “We’re letting you go to that country club for the hospital thing, but running outside… that just can’t happen.”
The poor man looked as if he was bracing himself for an argument. She realized that if she insisted on running outside, the detective would have to run with her. From the shape he was in and the loafers he wore, she guessed he would have lasted about ten minutes tops.
“I don’t plan to go outside at all today. We have a gym upstairs with a brand-new track, so when I do work out, I go up there.”
He looked relieved. “Where are we headed now?”
“My office.”
“Do you work every weekend?”
“I really don’t have much to do, but since I’m stuck in the hotel, I’m reorganizing the office. This is our slow period. The charity projects and the work on the grants start all over in August.”
“Bet that’s a lot of hard work.”
“Not really. Henry could do the grants blindfolded. As soon as he graduates from Loyola, he’ll be taking over my job and working on his MBA. He’ll hire someone to help, of course.”
“And what will you do?”
She smiled. “I’m going global. I want to set up our programs at all the hotels.”
They reached the first floor and crossed the lobby to another bank of elevators. There was a security guard stationed in the alcove. Regan nodded to him as she walked past. She stepped into the elevator, inserted her key and pushed the button for the third floor.
“Do you think all of these extra guards are necessary, Detective Wincott?”
“Hey, if you’re calling Buchanan, Alec, you can call me John, and I’ve got mixed feelings about the guards. If they don’t get in our way, I guess they’re okay.”
The hallway was quiet, the doors to the other offices locked. Regan led the way into her office. Like Alec, Wincott immediately went to the sofa and made himself comfortable.
She grabbed another stack of files, dropped them on her desk, and sat down. Wincott had spotted the remote on a tray on the table and picked it up. She watched him look around.
“Hey, Regan…”
“Top button,” she said as she opened the first folder.
He didn’t understand her instructions. “Push the top button on the remote.”
The second the panels began to move, Wincott whistled. “Holy heaven. Did Alec know about this?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“No wonder he didn’t want to share this detail. With this television and…”
“And what?”
Wincott shook his head. And “you,” he was going to say. “The sofa. It’s nice and soft. And this TV. It’s bigger than my house.”
“My brother Spencer had it installed a couple of months ago. He can’t be in a room without a television blaring.”
“I bet I’d like your brother.”
“I’m sure you would. Spencer’s the easygoing one,” she explained.
“And he hangs out here when he’s in town?”
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Will the noise bother you while you’re working?”
“Not at all.”
Her computer screen was on and she immediately noticed a little square light blinking in the corner. Had she forgotten to turn it off? Or had someone else turned it on this morning?
She drummed her fingers on the mouse pad while she thought about it. Melissa, the computer tech from the police department, had told Alec that she had removed Regan from the loop.
Melissa had given Regan her card. She found it in her desk drawer and called the station. She didn’t expect Melissa to be at her desk, but she wanted to leave a message asking her to call her Monday.
The woman answered on the second ring.
Regan told her who she was and said, “I didn’t think you would be working on a Saturday.”
“Then why did you call?”
Melissa’s antagonistic tone didn’t deter Regan. “I thought I would leave you a message, and you’d call me back on Monday. Since I have you on the phone, I wonder if you have a minute to answer a couple of questions for me. I could call back if it isn’t convenient now.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Computer questions.”
“Yes, sure,” she said. She sounded almost perky now. “I know everything there is to know about computers.”
“That’s what I understand,” she said. “Detective Buchanan told me that you had discovered my e-mails were going to other terminals in the hotel.”
“That’s right,” she said. “They went to your assistant’s terminal and to one in your brother’s office. Did you want me to pinpoint the exact location?”
“No, that isn’t necessary. I’m almost positive my e-mails were going to my brother Aiden’s assistant.”
“Okay, so what do you want?”
“This morning, when I came into my office, I noticed my computer was on.”
“And you think maybe he or she hooked up again?”
“Yes.”
“It’s easy to find out. I mean, easy for me to find out,” she qualified. “Are you sitting at your keyboard now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then let’s get started,” she said impatiently.
For the next five minutes Melissa barked one order after another. Regan had to ask her to slow down a couple of times, but eventually she found the link that indicated someone else had locked onto her private and her business e-mails.
A couple of commands later, Regan knew exactly where her e-mails were going, and the link was broken. “Snoop’s gone,” Melissa said. “Now I’m going to talk you through this, and we’re going to make it impossible for anyone else to get in there.”
Melissa once again rattled off one command after another. Regan came up with a new password and typed it in.
“Okay, we’re done. If you do forget the password, just get hold of me and I’ll tell you what it is. You tell Henry what it is and to memorize it too.”
Regan thanked her for her help and said, “If you ever want to change jobs, please let me know. We could certainly use you at the Hamilton.”
“Honest? Or are you just saying that to be nice?”
“Yes, I do mean it.”
“Would I get to travel to the other hotels, like the one in London and the one going up in Melbourne?”
“Yes, you would.”
“Are there good benefits?”
“Oh, yes.”
“We’ll see,” she said, and then abruptly hung up the phone.
Melissa’s rude dismissal was both startling and somewhat humorous. Regan wasn’t sure what “We’ll see” meant, but she hoped the tech would seriously consider a move. She would be an asset. Regan was sure of that, and she also liked her. There didn’t seem to be an artificial bone in her body, and it was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t have a hidden agenda.
While Regan had been working on her computer, her back was to the door, but when she swung around in her chair, Alec was standing there, not five feet away from her desk. He hadn’t made a sound when he’d entered her office, and she didn’t have any idea how long he’d been watching her.
She felt a surge of joy and hoped to heaven her reaction didn’t show in her face.
He looked as if he was about to change the oil in his car or maybe make his third trip to the hardware store. His gray sweatshirt had seen better days.
He looked amazing… and just about perfect. Surely she could find something wrong with him. Okay, she thought, he looked like a slob, and that wasn’t good, was it? Focus on the flaw, she told herself. Had he bothered to comb his hair? She didn’t think so. There you go, she thought. Another flaw to think about. God, who was she kidding? The slob was sexy and gorgeous and—
“What are you doing here?” Wincott called out.
Alec kept his gaze locked on Regan as he answered, “Just checking. I thought you were asleep when I walked in here.”
“Hey, I’m on duty. I heard you and I saw you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I did. What did you mean when you said you were just checking? Checking what?”
Regan was the first to break eye contact. She leaned back in her chair and glanced over at Wincott, who admittedly did look half asleep. He had that glazed, I’m-watching-the-Sports-Channel look about him.
“Why are you here, Alec?” she asked.
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“You live in the neighborhood, Buchanan,” Wincott said without turning away from the TV.
“Yeah, well, I just wondered if anything was happening.”
She shook her head. “I’ve just been finishing up some things.”
“I thought you were going to pack today,” Wincott said. He hit the mute button on the remote and stood. “I don’t know why you think this is punishment. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. Just being able to order room service and watching television without kids climbing all over me… yeah, this is heaven.”
“Being with me is punishment?” she asked. She didn’t sound wounded, just curious.
Alec shook his head. “Lewis gave me the assignment as punishment. He thought I’d hate it.”
“And do you?”
He grinned. “What do you think?”
He didn’t wait for her to come up with a clever reply but turned to Wincott and said, “You want to explain why the head of the investigation is doing bodyguard duty?”
“I’m filling in until a replacement gets here.”
“Who’s on for tonight?”
“Lyle’s going to escort her to that formal thing she has to attend. He’s probably out renting a tux now.”
Alec shook his head. “Get him on the phone and tell him he’s off the hook. I’ll take her.”
“Off the hook?” Regan repeated. She didn’t know if she should be insulted or amused.
Alec ignored her and continued to frown at Wincott because he hadn’t pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bradshaw yet. “Call him,” he insisted.
“How come?”
“What do you mean, ‘how come?’ I just told you how come. I’m going to take her.”
“And I’m still asking how come you’re going to take her.”
Alec was glaring now. He knew Wincott was deliberately baiting him, and from the stupid grin on his face, he was having a fine time doing it too. Alec had the sudden urge to punch him.
“Because I said I would take her, that’s how come, and I’ve got a tux hanging in my closet.”
“But Lyle’s looking forward to tonight.”
“I’ll just bet he is,” he snapped. “We both know Bradshaw’s a…” He suddenly stopped.
“A what?” Wincott stretched as Alec crossed the room.
“Listen up,” Alec said, his voice low so Regan wouldn’t overhear. “Stop messing with me. Got that?”
“Last I checked, I was still in charge of this investigation, Alec.”
“That’s right, you are, John,” he replied, stressing the detective’s first name. “So go somewhere and investigate. I’m in charge of her protection, and you know what that means?”
Wincott grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re going to protect her.”
“Make the call.”
Alec turned to Regan and knew from her puzzled expression that she had heard every word of the exchange and most likely didn’t understand. She probably thought he was out of his mind, and maybe he was. At the moment he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let anyone get near her, especially Lyle Screw-Anything-That-Walks-By Bradshaw.
“What time do you want to leave?” he asked Regan. He sounded downright surly.
“I’d like to be there a little early.”
“Okay. What time do you want me at your door?”
“Seven-thirty.”
Wincott walked with Alec into the front office.
“Have you got any leads yet?” Alec asked.
“We’ve checked out almost everyone connected with Regan, and we looked hard at Shields and his sidekicks. I didn’t see anything there. The three of them are in protective custody, and I’m told that Shields is scared sick.”
“No one else looks good?”
“Not yet. We’re checking out Peter Morris. You know, the guy Regan turned down for a grant. We don’t have much on him yet.”
“What about former employees? Maybe someone who got fired is trying to get even.”
“Alec, I know how frustrated you must be because you can’t work on this case, and I’ll call you the second I do have something.”
“Are you looking at the employees?”
“Yes. Her brother Aiden is getting a list together.”
The two detectives continued to talk for another ten minutes. Regan was on the phone, but she’d been placed on hold, and while she waited, she tried to overhear what the men were saying. Alec caught her watching. He didn’t smile or frown, but he did wink before he turned and walked out of the office, and despite all her attempts to remain unaffected, every one of her senses reacted.
She would never ever admit any of this foolishness to her friends. Sophie would start nagging Regan to make a move on him, and that was something Regan wasn’t prepared to do.
Cordie would probably tell her that Alec was safe because he was untouchable, which made him great for a fantasy man. He was someone who had a job to do and would do it well, but when he was finished, he would walk away without a backward glance.
But still, Regan was relieved to find voice mails from each of her friends saying they’d returned to Chicago in time for the dinner dance. Sophie’s message said that she was bringing a date and that she had loads to tell Regan about their investigation.
Cordie had left two messages. The first was to inform Regan that she was going to the country club alone—she’d probably get a cab and catch a ride home with Sophie—and that she would wait for Regan in the reception area just outside the ballroom door. The second message was all about clothes. She described in great detail the sapphire blue gown she was wearing and ended her call with the suggestion that Regan stop being such a wimp and wear the “S” dress.
In the matter of the dress, Regan had no one to blame but herself, she supposed. She never should have let Cordie and Sophie talk her into buying the dress Cordie was referring to in the first place because they weren’t going to let up until she wore the thing. She had to admit, though, it really was a stunning dress, and the silky fabric was a rich, deep burgundy color that even Regan knew looked beautiful against her skin.
It was a simple slip dress, and while the plunge between her breasts wasn’t all that low, it was certainly lower cut than Regan was comfortable with. She usually went to great lengths to downplay what her friends called her assets, and wearing the dress would make her feel so self-conscious she would be tugging and pulling all night.
Regan decided to make up her mind about what she would wear when it was time to get ready. Until then, she had other more important things to do. She turned her computer off. Wincott had been replaced by a uniformed policeman who followed as she headed upstairs to the gym. It took her an hour and a half to get through the regimen of exercises the physical therapist had given her to strengthen the muscles around her knees, and then, because she still had nervous energy to burn, she put on her protective brace and walked the track. She was usually able to block out all her worries and concentrate only on the sound of her breathing and the pounding of her feet against the cushioned floor, but that wasn’t working today.
For the last couple of weeks, her life had been turned upside down. It seemed that everywhere she looked, she saw security guards, and of course Alec or a policeman was always with her.
Everyone was waiting for something to happen. Wincott was as convinced as Alec that the crazy—Alec’s name for the suspect— would try to contact her again, but thus far, that hadn’t happened.
Regan was pretty certain she had fooled everyone, even Henry, into believing she was taking it all in stride, but inside she was a nervous wreck. The only time she felt safe was when she was with Alec.
The wait was taking its toll. Her appetite was gone; she couldn’t sleep, and lately she was having trouble concentrating. She couldn’t stop worrying that the killer had already taken off for parts unknown—or what if he had simply gone to ground, waiting for them to drop their guard? How long would the detectives continue to shadow her before Lieutenant Lewis decided he was wasting valuable manpower? What would happen then?
Maybe Alec would have some answers, and if there was a quiet moment tonight, she would ask him what the next step was.
Wincott stopped by again that evening. He had returned to pick up a couple of employment files from Aiden and decided to sit with Regan until Alec got there. Wincott’s family was out of town, and he didn’t want to go home to an empty house, so he relieved the policeman on duty.
He was lounging on the sofa in her parlor while she took a long hot shower. At her insistence, he’d ordered dinner and was now watching a baseball game while he ate. She had grown accustomed to having someone sitting in the outer room. She hadn’t bothered to lock the French doors separating the bedroom from the parlor, but she was mindful not to walk in front of the windowpanes. There were sheers covering the glass, and he could probably see only her outline, but she still kept her robe on until she was inside the walk-in closet.
She took the “S” dress off the hanger and held it up. It really was lovely. The fabric was as light as air, and when she put it on and zipped up the back, the fabric clung in all the right places and felt wonderful against her skin.
Definitely too racy for tonight, she told herself.
She reluctantly removed the dress, put it back on the hanger, and sorted through her closet several times before settling on what Cordie called her old lady’s mourning dress. The thing was shaped like a sack. Even Regan, who usually didn’t focus very hard on her appearance, was so appalled when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she actually took a step back.
Her brothers would definitely approve of this one. “It’s fine,” she said out loud, trying to convince herself that the safe black sheath was better than the I-want-to-sin-tonight dress, which made her feel so sensual and feminine.
“Yes, this is fine,” she repeated. Then she sighed. “If I were eighty.”
Sick and tired of acting like a prude, she put on the sinner dress again. Then she searched through her drawers until she found the black, fringed silk wrap she’d purchased in Italy a couple of years ago. When she draped it around her shoulders just right, her back and chest were nicely covered.
Her only jewelry was a diamond pendant that hung on a platinum chain and a pair of diamond stud earrings.
She folded the wrap on the back of a chair, took a deep breath, and then opened the doors and walked into the parlor. Wincott had picked up a french fry and had it halfway to his mouth when he saw her. He froze, the forgotten french fry dangling in the air from the tips of his fingers.
He gaped at her. She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she asked, “Do you think this dress is okay? It’s… decent enough, isn’t it?”
She’d put him on the spot asking him such a foolish question, and she was sorry she’d said anything. Not that it mattered. And still he gaped. Oh, dear, she thought. He had given her the onceover and was staring at her strappy, high-heeled sandals.
“I’ll go change.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Honest. You just took me by surprise. Your legs…” He realized what he was about to say and stopped in time.
“Yes?” she asked, looking down. Her dress had a ragged hemline, and in places the fabric floated well above her knees. “What about my legs?”
“Long,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, they’re long… I mean tanned. Have you been in the sun?” He cleared his throat, dropped the French fry on his plate, and stammered, “Your dress is pretty.”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to say, Wait until Alec gets a look at you, but he didn’t. She was already feeling self-conscious, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. The woman was a knockout. How could she not know it?
The knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Regan went into the bedroom to collect her wrap and her evening bag while Wincott let Alec in.
She could hear the two men talking as she turned the lights off and walked back into the parlor. Wincott was watching Alec as he spotted Regan in the doorway. He gave her a quick glance and said, “You’ll need a raincoat.”
“Yes. All right.”
She disappeared into the bedroom again. Wincott stood in front of the sofa staring at Alec, willing him to say something. Wincott couldn’t stop grinning. Alec was good, all right. He hadn’t shown any outward reaction to the vision standing before him. He hadn’t even blinked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t taken a breath either.
He kept staring into the bedroom, though, even when he said to Wincott, “What are you looking at?”
“You.”
“And?”
“And I’m wondering how come you’re not drooling. Must have a lot of discipline,” he said.
Alec looked at him. “We’re here to do a job, and that’s all.”
“You’re saying you’re not going to try to get her—”
Alec cut him off. He knew where he was going. “Not another frickin’ word, or I swear I’ll shoot you.”
“Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything offensive. Well, maybe I was gonna say something like, ‘You kids have a nice time tonight, but you keep your hands to yourself.’ You know, I might have said something like that.”