Body of Evidence

Dear Reader,

When I was first asked to participate in this project, a book covering a single crime from the perspectives of forensics, detectives and lawyers, each by different authors, I thought it was a great idea. It sounded like something I’d really like to read, which is the best sign for something you’re going to write!

My second thought was “Gee, I wonder which part they want me to do?” I’m joking, of course. With my background, I knew I’d be doing the cops. But I was excited about this new twist; my story would not only have to mesh carefully with the others, but when it was done, I’d get a chance in fiction to do what I rarely got to do in real life. I’d be able to follow a case closely even after it left my little section of the law-enforcement world and was investigated, documented and handed to the prosecutors, a chance to be there every step of the way to the verdict.

It turned out, however, to be much like reality; I knew my part of the process in great detail, but the rest only in a general way. I’ll have to wait until the book is in my hands to find out exactly how the rest happens. So I’ll be reading just as you will. After getting to know Joan and Jackie and our tireless editor on this, Ann Leslie Tuttle, I think we’re all in for a treat!

I enjoyed writing “Behind the Badge,” and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it and the rest of Body of Evidence.

Chapter 1

“F ranklin Gardner? Of the Gardners? As in Gardner Corporation?”

Colin Waters hated days that started like this.

“Yep, those Gardners. That’s why the commander put out the call to Detective Benton personally at one this morning.”

“Are they sure the body’s Gardner himself?”

“Benton says so. And he asked for you specifically. You’re to meet with him at the station before you go to the scene.”

At the dispatcher’s answer Colin sighed into his cell phone. He’d already been on his way, hoping to get in early to try and catch up on some things, but if this was true, he could kiss that opportunity goodbye. And if forensic detective Josh Benton said it was Gardner, it was true; the man didn’t make mistakes.

“Great,” Colin muttered. Just what he needed, a dead mover and shaker.

He ended the call and began to maneuver his worse-for-wear city vehicle back into traffic. No sooner had he gotten to the number one lane than his cell rang again. This time it was the district commander, Eliot Portman.

“You’re on the way?” he asked without preamble.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m counting on you to keep the lid on as long as you can. I don’t want the press getting wind of this before we’re ready.”

Assuming the vultures aren’t already circling, Colin said to himself. The media seemed able to scent society murder like sharks scented blood in the water.

“ Wilson ’s going to meet you there.”

Colin frowned. “ Wilson?”

“The new hire. And your new partner.”

Well, that’s the capper on my day, Colin thought. Not only did he have a case involving one of the most socially prominent families in the state, let alone Chicago, but now he had the new pet dumped in his lap.

He hadn’t joined in the general grumbling about Wilson sliding into a coveted detective slot, even though there were cops on the street who’d been trying for years to get the assignment, while she had only a couple of years on a department a small fraction of the size of Chicago PD. The fact that Wilson had computer skills sadly lacking in the division had kept him from jumping on that bandwagon, but that didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea.

So now he had not only a rookie detective but practically a rookie cop on his hands, on a high-profile murder case. A very high-profile murder case.

“Problem, Waters?” Portman asked, making Colin realize he’d been silent a little too long.

“Just dodging some traffic,” he improvised. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“This is a big one, so you do that.”

As if I don’t know that, Colin muttered to himself. “Yes, sir,” he said aloud.

It was going to be a very long day.

“You look,” Colin said frankly, “like hell, buddy.”

“I feel worse,” Josh Benton said, his voice sounding grim as he ran a hand over his black hair.

Benton was only six years older than Colin, but there was an eon of weary experience in his eyes. Wondering if someday the eyes he saw in the mirror would look like that, he handed Benton his own cup of black coffee.

“You need it more than I do.”

“Can’t argue that,” Benton agreed and took it. “It’s been a long night.”

“Want to sit down and bring me up to speed?”

“No.” At Colin’s startled blink, Benton grimaced. “If I sit down, I may never get up.” He eyed Colin. “But you might as well sit. It may be the last rest you get for a while.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling. Where are we at?”

“The maid, Miriam Hobart, found him at about one this morning. She’s pretty upset, she’s worked for the Gardners for more than ten years.”

“Signs of a struggle?”

“Yes. He fought, all right. There’s some oddly shaped bruising to the face, severe blow to the back of the head that we’re guessing is from a fall against a table. That one could have been fatal, if you ask me. Stab wounds, small but deep, any of which could also have been fatal.”

“Knife?”

“More like an ice pick. And there was a collection of picks at the scene.”

Odd thing to collect, Colin thought, but said only, “Forced entry?”

“No. Some valuable stuff missing, but a lot, including a chunk of cash, weren’t taken.”

Colin frowned, but said nothing. He knew Benton would have the same questions he did. They both had enough experience to know what those facts could signify.

“Where do you want us to start?”

“Us?”

Colin stifled a sigh. “Yeah. The boss informed me I have a new partner. We’re supposed to meet up at the scene.”

Benson studied him for a moment. “The propeller head?”

Colin rolled his eyes at the slang for computer geeks. “How’d you guess?”

“She’s the only one unassigned, and you’re the only one partner-free,” Benton said with a shrug.

“And I was kind of liking it that way.”

“At least she’s not hard to look at.”

Not a great recommendation for a cop, Colin thought, but he left it at that. And Benton apparently agreed because he went right back to business.

“We’ll have photos as soon as they’re dry, and the preliminary crime scene reports. There’s a son, Stephen, age twenty-three. Lives at the Gardner estate. Mother is Cecelia, widowed. If you even glance at the society pages of the paper, you’ll know her on sight.”

“If you watch five minutes of the evening news, you’ll know her on sight,” Colin said wryly. “Who else?”

“Family, only an older brother, Lyle.”

“Who’s been notified?”

Benton grimaced. “The mother. In person, by two captains, sent by the commander himself.”

Colin grimaced in turn; as a reminder of the horsepower of the victim, it was potent, but it was also a loss to the investigation. On a murder case, a detective always tried to be the one to deliver the grim news, not out of any ghoulish enjoyment, but to see the reactions of the family, who frequently weren’t all that sorry to see the dearly departed depart.

“If she was surprised, they said it didn’t show. Shock, maybe.”

Since Benton didn’t elaborate, Colin assumed no one had reported any other reaction that triggered more suspicion than usually fell upon the family of a murder victim; Benton was among the best at his job, despite that world-weary look in his eyes, and he wouldn’t leave out anything crucial.

“Canvas of the building?” Colin asked.

“We had patrol start it, but you’ll need to follow up.”

Colin nodded. “Anything else?”

Benton nodded. “There are security cameras in the lobby and in the hallways. The super, a guy named Carter, said the recording equipment is in the basement. We put in a call to the security company, they should be getting there about now. They’re sending a Mr. Bergen.”

“We’ll get on that right away,” Colin said; a videotape of the elevators and hallways could wind this case up in a hurry. But he knew better than to hope for such a tidy package; this was murder, and murder was almost always messy. Very messy.

Darien had to park so far from the address she’d been given on the Gold Coast that she should have changed to her running shoes. But she hadn’t wanted to delay, not when the district commander himself had given her this assignment.

After a dash to the right address, she paused for a few seconds to gather herself before she went inside. She knew she should be feeling appropriately solemn-someone’s loved one was dead in the worst imaginable way-but some small part of her couldn’t help being excited at working on her first murder case. She’d have to be careful that it didn’t show; she knew that much, that inappropriate rookie enthusiasm could brand her forever.

She also couldn’t dwell on the fact that the sexiest guy in the division would be her partner.

The March sun didn’t provide much warmth, but it turned the stone of the upper stories of the building a golden cream that nicely set off the amber tint of the windows. Thirty stories or better, she thought, and she was headed for the top. Of course. If the victim was the kind of high-roller the commander had said, it would only figure he’d live in the penthouse.

Telling herself that she hadn’t gotten this far to give in to doubts and qualms now, she straightened her spine and stepped inside. Still, the lobby caught her off guard with its expanse of gleaming marble. Springfield might be the state capital, but it had a population of about one twenty-fifth of Chicago and for a moment she again felt like the small-town girl lost in the big city.

No, she thought. That man lying dead upstairs is lost. And it’s my job to help find out who did this to him.

Steady now, she strode across the marble floor to the bank of elevators, trying to thaw her fingers as she went. A uniformed officer stood outside one of them, and she quickly found out it was the private elevator to the penthouse. She showed her ID and after the officer examined it as if he doubted it was real, she stepped inside the car. It, too, was elegantly appointed with gilt and marble, and she told herself to expect more of the same when she reached the penthouse. Considering the size of the building, she could guess how big the place must be.

The elevator doors opened directly into the foyer of the penthouse. She ran into a uniform the moment she stepped out, and had to produce her badge once more to get him to allow her in. Even then the man looked at her skeptically, and she wondered if that would ever stop.

“Look, I’m supposed to meet with Detective Waters. We’re partners. On this case,” she added as an afterthought, since she had no idea if the assignment would last beyond this case.

Something flickered in the man’s eyes, and she thought the corners of his mouth twitched. But all he said was “He’s in the kitchen.”

She tried not to speculate about the officer’s thoughts as she stepped past him. Now all she had to do was figure out where the kitchen was in this place. As she walked, she forced herself not to gape at the opulence evident in every square foot of the place, from huge Oriental carpets to a pair of matched sofas that had to be big enough to seat twelve people each, from sculptures on lighted pedestals to paintings on the walls that looked as if they should be in museums.

She walked until she heard voices. Stopping, she realized they were coming from two different directions, straight ahead and off to her left. She listened for a moment, then heard the low, rich baritone of Detective Colin Waters. Even after her short time assigned to this job she couldn’t mistake it. She turned left.

“-need the videotapes for the elevators for that time period.”

“I’ll get them right to you, Detective.” This promise was followed by the sound of footsteps, and she decided it was all right for her to go in.

“You do that,” Waters was saying. “I appreciate it.”

She was sure she imagined the slight break in his words as she stepped into a kitchen that looked more suited to a five-star restaurant than a home, because he didn’t even glance in her direction. The other man, a shorter, stockier man with a goatee, didn’t just glance, he stopped in his tracks and stared at her.

“About time, Detective Wilson,” Waters drawled pointedly, and Darien fought not to let color stain her cheeks. He knew how long it took to get here from probably anywhere in the city, so why was he-

“Detective?”

The other man almost squeaked it, and Darien stifled a sigh. And then stopped as the thought occurred to her that the statement might have been aimed at the other man as much as at her, letting him know who she was before he said anything embarrassing. She studied the tall, powerfully built man assessingly, wondering if there was indeed such tact and consideration hidden behind an exterior that had seemed, to her at least, decidedly gruff until now.

By the time she decided she had no way of knowing and that it wouldn’t make any difference anyway, the other man had escaped out another doorway. She also decided against making any comment about his unfair dig about her arrival time. If she was right, she’d look silly, and if he really was criticizing, he didn’t deserve a response.

Start as you mean to go on, her father had always said, and she meant to start this partnership on the right foot.

“What have we got?” she asked briskly.

There was the slightest of pauses before he answered, and she was very aware of his steady gaze. With those unusual golden-brown eyes, it was hard not to be. There was the slightest bit of emphasis on the first word when he finally spoke.

“We have a homicide case that could turn into the nightmare to end all nightmares.”

“Victim’s a big shot, I gather,” she said, as neutrally as she could.

“And then some. They’re more recognizable in this town than the mayor. And they’ve got friends in higher places than that.”

“I thought I heard eggshells crunching,” she said.

To her surprise, Waters grinned. “And very expensive eggs we’re walking on at that.”

She felt absurdly pleased. And decided to make it clear right away that she understood her position. “What do you want me to do?”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret. “You’re waiting for me to tell you what needs to be done, Wilson?”

She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she went with the truth. “I know what needs to be done. I know what my area of expertise is, so I would assume I’m supposed to tackle his computer. But I also know I’m the rookie here, so I was asking what part of it you want me to do.”

After a brief moment, he nodded as if she’d gotten the answer to some difficult test question correct. “Benton and Sutter have the evidence situation under control, and we should have their preliminary written reports by the end of the day. We’ll take the computer with us as evidence; it’s a laptop-at least it’s the only one I could find-so we don’t need to wait for transport, as long as one of us has it in our possession from the time we leave here until it’s booked in, for chain of evidence.”

“Did Benton or Sutter draw any early conclusions?”

“Limited. This is the highest-profile kind of case, so those eggshells are pretty thin. So far all we know for sure is Franklin Gardner’s dead, he didn’t do it himself, and there’s no sign of forced entry.”

“Anything missing?”

“A few valuable items. But whoever it was left cash and other easily portable-and fence-able-things behind.”

Darien frowned. “Interrupted burg, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“By the victim?”

“It’s possible,” he said. “There are signs of a struggle in the study where he was found. I’ll show you in a minute.”

“But that still doesn’t explain the lack of forced entry.”

“Nope.”

“Nobody heard anything?”

“The live-in maid, who found him, was the only one here. But the study is soundproofed, according to her, so he could work undisturbed.”

“You’ve talked to her?”

“Not yet. She’s first on the list, but she’s pretty distraught.”

“He have any enemies?” Her mouth curved wryly. “As if anybody could reach such an exalted position in life without making at least a few along the way.”

“Safe bet,” Waters agreed. “But we don’t have names yet.”

“So…we start asking questions?”

“Indeed we do.”

Chapter 2

“I understand it was a shocking experience for you, Mrs. Hobart,” Waters said.

“It was terrible!” The woman shuddered. She looked tired as she sat on her employer’s elegant sofa, and Darien supposed she’d been up most of the night. The notes she had said the woman was fifty-three, but right now she looked at least a decade older.

“So I’m sure you want to help us find who did this to Mr. Gardner,” Waters said, his voice gentle.

“I already told the other detectives, I don’t know anything. I heard a noise, then I found him on the floor in the study.”

“You didn’t see anything at all?”

A suddenly wary look crossed her face. “No. I told you, a noise woke me.”

“What kind of noise?”

“Just a noise,” she insisted. “I walked to the hall, I saw a light on. I found Mr. Gardner. I called 9-1-1. That’s all.”

She sounded almost defensive, Darien thought. And on her thought she saw Waters incline his head a fraction, as if the woman’s tone had also caught his interest.

“I see. Then I guess we won’t need much more of your time,” Waters said. The woman relaxed visibly. “We’ll just need the names of everyone who was here yesterday and last night. And anyone else who came regularly.”

Immediately the woman stiffened up again. And Darien saw Waters notice it.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t do that. It would betray my employment contract.”

“Your contract?” Waters said, looking puzzled.

“A confidentiality clause?” Darien asked, the first time she’d spoken since the interview had begun.

The woman looked at her. “Exactly. I’ve not broken that trust for ten years, and I’m not about to start now.”

Darien hesitated, then asked softly, “But the person you promised confidentiality to is dead. Doesn’t that void your responsibility, especially if it will help find who killed him?”

Mrs. Hobart looked thoughtful, gave a half nod, opened her mouth to speak. And then abruptly stopped.

“Mrs. Hobart?” Waters said.

“I work for the Gardner family,” she said. And crossed her arms in front of her as if that answered all.

“And I work for the city of Chicago,” Waters said, his voice suddenly flinty. “It’s my job to find out what really happened here last night. And I will, Mrs. Hobart. By whatever means necessary.”

The woman drew back slightly, as if she felt intimidated. I would, Darien thought.

She’d never seen Colin Waters in investigative mode before, but she knew his reputation, and she quickly decided to stay quiet so she could watch and learn.

“I’m sure the Gardner family wouldn’t appreciate it becoming public knowledge that one of their employees had to be forced to cooperate with the investigation of the homicide of one of their own.”

His tone had gone icy, and it worked. The woman visibly quailed, and Darien saw her swallow nervously. But she still maintained her silence. So did Waters, until Darien wondered if he was waiting for her to step in.

“Perhaps we should call Mrs. Gardner,” Darien said. “I’m sure she would tell you she wants you to cooperate.”

Waters shot her a look that told her without doubt that he thought she’d just made a big mistake. But she’d begun now, and he didn’t stop her, so she had no choice but to go on.

“I mean, she’s already told our commander she wants all the stops pulled out in this investigation.”

“She has?” the woman asked, looking doubtful. “Well…”

Waters’s expression changed, although Darien wasn’t sure what the sideways look he gave her then meant.

When the woman still hesitated, Waters put in, “We’ll check the security tapes, of course, but you’d save us a lot of time.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh. The cameras.”

She’d forgotten about them, Darien thought. And now that she’s remembered, she’s not happy. Interesting.

Waters gave her a moment longer to consider before he said, “And after all, we only need to know the names of any frequent visitors Mr. Gardner had, and of course any he had last night.”

With a tiny sigh, she surrendered. “Many people came to see him often. Business people, and friends.”

“Family?”

“Of course,” she said, giving Waters a withering look. “Mrs. Gardner comes frequently, and Mr. Lyle.”

If Waters noticed the absence of Stephen, the dead man’s son-and heir-on the visitor list, he didn’t show it. But Darien was certain it had registered.

“Who came the most often outside of family?”

She frowned. “I suppose Mr. Bartley. And Mr. Reicher.”

The victim’s administrative assistant and the chief operating officer of the Gardner Corporation respectively, Darien thought, recalling the organizational chart she’d seen in the file Waters had given her to scan when they’d arrived.

“Who was here yesterday?”

“Mr. Lyle, early in the day, for just a few minutes. No one else that I know of.”

“And last night?”

“I said I don’t know if anyone came to visit him last night. He went out for dinner, didn’t get home until ten, like I told those other detectives. He told me to go on to bed, he wouldn’t be needing me.”

“Was that unusual?” Darien asked.

“No. Mr. Gardner liked his privacy.”

Waters studied her for a moment. “Especially if he was going to have female company?”

Darien realized he’d voiced the thought she’d just had, and she wondered what had been in the woman’s voice to make them both think of this.

“I don’t intrude into such things.”

“It must have been hard to keep track anyway,” Darien said empathetically. “He was a very handsome and wealthy man.”

“Yes.” For a moment genuine pain showed in the woman’s face. “But it was more than that. He had something special. Charisma, they call it.”

“Did Mr. Gardner’s lady friends tend to be happy with him?” Waters asked.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but he always treated them well.”

“But never married any of them,” Darien observed.

“He had to be careful. A man in his position could never be sure if they were genuine or after his money. It’s always been that way.”

Poor little rich boy, Darien thought, but said nothing.

“Did he anger anyone in that process?”

“A woman he was seeing, you mean? Enough to…murder him?”

Oddly, her voice sounded merely thoughtful, not startled or shocked at the question. And it was only seconds before she was shaking her head.

“No. I can’t imagine any woman he’d been seeing doing such a thing.”

“You knew them, then?”

“I met most of them.”

“Liked them?”

“It wasn’t my place to like or dislike them.”

That was the end of the woman’s cooperation. Darien couldn’t decide if she was showing loyalty to her long-time employer, or if she had something to hide. Judging by the way Waters was looking at her, he was wondering the same thing.

“Now what?” Darien asked as Waters dismissed the woman.

“What do you think?”

Darien knew he was testing her. She wasn’t a fool, she knew some people thought she’d sailed into this position over the heads of others who had more right to it than she had. She’d thought about refusing it for that reason, but Tony had talked her out of it, pointing out they might decide she didn’t want the job badly enough and she’d never get another chance. Her ex-husband was good for that, twisting the point of view to make you see the other side. It was one of the things she loved about him although it didn’t outweigh the reasons she couldn’t live with him.

But now she had to focus on what was happening here. Patrol officers had thankfully already done a canvas of the immediate neighbors, with minimal results, not surprising given the separation between the penthouse and the rest of the building.

“We need to interview the family, but while we’re still here and he’s primed…the super?” she asked.

“ Benton already talked to him this morning when they got the call. Think we need to bother him again?”

She weighed that one for a moment, then went with her gut. “We’re going to be who he sees from now on, he might as well get used to our faces.”

Waters grinned suddenly. It lit up those amber eyes, and Darien felt as if the sun had come out on this blustery March day. “His place is on the ground floor. Let’s go,” he said.

On the way down in the elevator, Waters leaned against the wall and looked around at the expensive marble and carved wood. He gave a slight shake of his head as he mused aloud. “Looks, power, wealth, charisma. He had it all, didn’t he?”

“For all the good it did him,” Darien said.

“There is that,” Waters agreed, and Darien knew he was thinking, as she was, that all the wealth in the world couldn’t help the man who now lay on a slab in the morgue.

She was doing okay, Colin thought. Wilson had picked right up on the cue he’d given her when the building superintendent’s wife had launched into a tirade about the arrogance of Franklin Gardner, not letting the super himself get a word in edgewise.

“Is he in trouble with the police? Good,” the woman had snapped. “Some kind of financial fraud, I’ll bet. That’s what it always is with his kind.”

It was then Colin had tried to signal Darien Wilson with a flick of his eyes. She caught it and smoothly took the woman’s arm, using body language and tone of voice to invite the woman for a nice, long venting session.

“It seems that way, doesn’t it? Perhaps you can help with the investigation, I’m sure an observant citizen like yourself must have noticed some things.”

The woman smiled, clearly pleased as she was led away. “Oh, I have all right, I could tell you…”

Relieved to have her removed, Colin turned back to Carter. The man gave him a look that was both sheepish and wary. “I didn’t tell her he’d been killed. The detective last night, he said I shouldn’t talk about it to anyone. Since she can’t keep anything secret, I figured that included her.”

“You made the right choice.”

“I’ll remember that when she chews me out for keeping such big news from her.”

As jarring as it was to have a murder reduced to such cold terms, Colin knew it was true; the death of a Gardner was just that, big news.

“I’ll need a list of all the tenants from you.”

The man grimaced. “They’re not going to like that. They pay a lot of money to live here, and they expect their privacy.”

“So did Franklin Gardner,” Colin pointed out.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. But, do I need to see like a search warrant or something?”

Rescue me from sidewalk lawyers, Colin thought. “I can get you a subpoena for the records, if you want,” he said easily, pulling a notepad out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll just need to verify all your identifying information for the court records, in case they need you to testify about the delay.”

It worked, as he had guessed it would. The only thing the average citizen disliked more than getting involved was having to appear in court to explain why.

“We’ve already talked to many of them,” Colin said. “It won’t come as any surprise to them when we go to follow up.”

“I’ll get the list,” Carter grumbled. He turned and disappeared through a doorway that led to a bedroom he apparently used as an office.

The apartment itself, although smaller, was as elegant as the others Colin had seen in this building. But there the resemblance stopped; Carter might be the super of one of the fanciest buildings on the Gold Coast, but obviously they didn’t pay him enough to match the other residents in decor.

Or maybe his tastes are just more like mine, Colin thought ruefully; his own furnishings ran to whatever was comfortable and things he could put his feet up on. After four years of marriage to a woman who kept the living room for company only, he’d sworn he’d never have a room he couldn’t live in.

He continued his cursory inspection, looking for anything that jumped out at him, anything out of tune. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. There were afghans tossed over every chair and the couch, and someone living here was obviously the source, judging by the large basket full of yarn festooned with scissors and what he guessed were knitting needles. There were some amateurish oil paintings on the walls, of floral arrangements and bowls of lopsided fruit, and he wondered if they were by the same hand. The upholstery was floral, much like the things his mother had preferred, which probably explained why he felt more at home here; he might not like all the fussy details but he’d grown up with the stuff, unlike the marble and leather of the late Franklin Gardner’s abode.

Carter came back with the list of tenants. “Must have been tough,” Colin said, pretending to scan the list while in fact he was watching Carter with his excellent peripheral vision, “to have your wife dislike your star tenant so much.”

“She’s that way about anybody with that kind of money, not that we’re doing all that bad. I mean, we live in this building, after all. Anyway, I just try…tried to keep her out of his way.”

“Hmm,” Colin said, wondering just how deep Mrs. Carter’s dislike of the penthouse tenant had gone. It seemed unlikely a woman could take him. Gardner had been a strong, healthy, athletically built man, but the element of surprise could turn any situation on its head.

“Who were the regular visitors to the penthouse that you knew about?”

Carter thought for a moment. “Ladies, of course. He had lots of those. And he held a lot of business meetings and dinners up there. He and Mr. Reicher.”

Hmm. Second time that name had popped up. “What was he like? Mr. Reicher.”

“Oh, he’s much worse than Mr. Gardner. Mr. Reicher wasn’t very pleasant at all. Very cold, my wife says.”

Colin asked a few more routine questions, gave the man his card and told him to call if he thought of anything that might be useful.

“What’s your take on the wife?” he asked his new partner as they left the apartment.

“Bored out of her mind, so she minds everyone else’s business,” she answered.

“Social climber? Aspires to the Gardner level?”

She thought about that one. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t really like them enough to want to be one. It’s not envy, she seems to view them more as an affliction.”

“To be eliminated?”

She stared at him. “You’re thinking of her as a suspect?”

He shrugged. “Just curious about her attitude. And thinking those knitting needles in there could leave a wound a lot like an ice pick.”

Quickly she glanced back over her shoulder as if she could still see into the apartment they’d just left. When she looked back at him there was acknowledgment in her eyes, he supposed for seeing something she’d missed.

“I don’t think so,” she said after a moment of thought. “She’s more of a complainer than a doer, I think.”

Colin listened, then nodded. “All right.”

He saw an odd expression flit quickly across her face, as if she were surprised he had accepted her assessment so easily. But he’d arrived at the same conclusion after his short interaction with the woman, so in fact she was simply confirming what he already thought.

“What’s next? A door-to-door?” she asked, indicating the tenant list he now held with a nod of her head.

“Chances are you’ll get mainly staff this time of day,” he said. “Family should probably come first.”

“Okay.”

She didn’t sound particularly nervous about going up against a family the stature of the Gardners. Colin didn’t know if that meant she was sure of herself, or too naive to realize what she was about to get into.

“You drove from home?” he asked. She nodded. “Let’s take my city car, then. I’ll bring you back here when we’re ready to head to the barn. Or on my way home.” He didn’t mention that would likely be well after normal quitting time; he guessed they’d be putting in a lot of long hours on this one.

“All right. Shall we pick up his computer now?”

“Might as well. I’ve got an evidence lock box in the trunk. We’ll secure it there.”

The lock boxes were an innovation added after one too many cases had been lost due to a fast-tongued defense lawyer convincing a jury that somebody could have broken into a police unit trunk, tampered with evidence, and then locked it back up and leave no sign, nor be seen by any witnesses. They never explained why that “somebody” simply hadn’t stolen the evidence altogether, but logic didn’t seem to apply much to such things.

He doubted logic would apply much to this case, either.

“Now this is more like it,” Darien said.

“Think you could live like that, Wilson?” Waters asked, gesturing toward the huge house in the distance as they drove up the sweeping, half-circle driveway.

She glanced at her new partner. “I didn’t mean the house. I just meant the space.”

The grounds of the Gardner estate were, indeed, spacious. She was a little surprised at how comforting it felt to be able to see more than a tiny patch of sky between towering buildings.

“What’s the point, besides to impress people that you can afford it?” he asked

“Peace. Quiet. Privacy. Room to breathe. Air to breathe. Trees. Grass to walk on, lay down in on a sunny day. A garden. A dog.” She looked around once more and grinned. “Or a horse.”

She thought she saw the corners of his mouth quirk. But he only said, and grudgingly, “Okay, I’ll give you that. But who needs this much room and privacy?”

“Hey, I grew up near farm country. This is nothing but the back pasture. Besides, what if you want to go out and get the paper in your pajamas?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t ever want to just sneak outside-”

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

The image that shot into her mind was overpowering. Trying to recover, she muttered, “T.M.I.”

He slowed the car as they neared the house. “What?”

“Too much information,” she translated with a wry grimace.

“Computer talk?”

“Started out that way,” she said, not quite sure if he was ribbing her or if he really didn’t know the acronym that had come into general usage.

He braked the car to a stop, then leaned forward to look at the majestic stone steps that led up to the covered portico. “Suppose they’ll want us to use the servants’ entrance?”

“Would you?” she asked, curious.

He shot her a sideways look. “Not a chance. Murder doesn’t take a back seat to anyone.”

“Amen,” she said softly. And for a long moment their gazes locked. The sense of being caught and held by a pair of amber-gold eyes was unlike anything she’d felt before. She wondered if it had the same effect on a suspect. She guessed it did; it would certainly account in part for his stellar arrest rate.

He turned his attention back to driving. He inched the car up until it was not exactly in front of the front doors, but no farther. He put it in park and shut the motor off; out of the way was apparently as far as he would accede to wealth and position.

“I’ll bet you forgot to call ahead for an appointment, too,” she said.

His head snapped around, and this time the grin broke loose. “Darned if I didn’t.”

“Oh, well,” she said with a dramatic sigh.

Still with the grin, he said, “Let’s go.”

When they walked up the grand steps, Darien felt a sense of camaraderie for the first time since she’d been on this job.

Chapter 3

T hey followed the butler-an honest-to-God butler in full regalia who had quizzed them at the door before finally allowing them entrance to the Gardner domain-into what the man had called the drawing room.

“What is a drawing room, anyway?” his partner whispered, and Colin had to stifle a chuckle. “Beats me.” He took a quick look around the room. It seemed just as rich, but somehow different from the apartment. The art was of the same caliber, the fittings and furnishings just as elegant, but still it wasn’t the same. And he couldn’t put his finger on the difference.

“This feels like old money. More class, less flash,” she murmured.

That was it, he thought. This room felt like it had been here for generations of wealth. Wilson had immediately assessed and summed up the difference, and he felt yet another stab of respect.

Colin had been expecting a grande dame sort of entrance, and Cecelia Gardner didn’t disappoint him. She might be nearly eighty years old, but she still swept into the room as if she expected crowds, water, or whatever she confronted to part for her. As they likely did, in most cases, Colin thought. There was something about the woman, her haughty demeanor, her cool, assessing gaze, the elegant and obviously expensive designer suit, or the formal up-sweep of silver hair, that told you this was a woman used to being in control, used to getting her own way. A strong woman, who looked much younger than she was.

But she is still a mother who has just lost a son, Colin reminded himself.

“I’m sorry to come here under such painful circumstances for you, Mrs. Gardner,” he said when she came to a halt in front of them.

“I already spoke at length to the other detectives. So what I’d like to know,” she said, her voice crisp, “is why you are here, instead of out looking for the murderer of my son.”

Colin had heard that countless times before. It didn’t matter if the victim had been rich or poor, they always wanted to know why the police didn’t instantly, magically know who the killer was.

“Out of respect, ma’am,” he said smoothly. “I knew you would want to personally meet Detective Wilson and myself-I’m Detective Waters-since we’ll be handling the criminal investigation.”

“I see.”

That had slowed her down a bit, he thought with no little satisfaction. But as he expected, she recovered quickly; he imagined it took a great deal to rattle the poised, proud Cecelia Gardner.

“As I told Mayor Jones, I expect quick results. Anything less is unacceptable. I want the person who did this found immediately.”

“As do we, Mrs. Gardner. So the sooner we can get the formalities out of the way, the sooner we can get back on the real case.”

“Formalities?”

“Speaking to the family members.” As she stiffened, he added, “It’s routine, but it has to be done.”

“Ridiculous, you’re wasting precious time.”

“No, Mrs. Gardner.” It was the first time his partner had spoken, but her voice was pleasant and even. “We’re making sure no one can later get the killer off because we didn’t go by the book now.”

Her words seemed to appease Mrs. Gardner. “Very well. Ask your questions,” the older woman said as she ushered them over to the couch and sat down.

“At the risk of sounding like a cliché, where were you last night?” Colin asked, smiling to indicate he knew how ridiculous the idea that she might be involved really was.

“I was at the Windy City fund-raiser,” she replied impatiently. “In front of several hundred friends, I might add.”

“Until what time?”

“Nearly eleven. I arrived home just before midnight. Any of the staff can tell you.”

“And you didn’t go out again?”

“Of course not,” she said impatiently. “I’m nearly eighty years old, young man. I don’t stay out until all hours.”

“Most people I know who are your age wouldn’t even make it until eleven,” Wilson said, sounding genuinely admiring. Mrs. Gardner looked at her consideringly, then nodded as if in acceptance of the compliment. As if it were her due.

“Was any of the rest of the family there?” Colin asked.

“No.”

She didn’t, Colin noticed, offer any explanations of where her other son and her grandson had been. She might cooperate in answering their questions, but she wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

“Is there anyone who might have had reason to want your son dead, Mrs. Gardner?”

The older woman sniffed audibly. “Reason? Some people don’t need a reason. The fact that he was a Gardner engendered envy and malice in some. Anyone in our position is a target of sorts these days.”

It was the oddest combination of arrogance and stark reality, and Colin couldn’t argue with a word of it. Just being a Gardner was enough to attract the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people. And a malice killing would explain why so much of value had been left behind; if revenge or hatred was the motive, theft would have been secondary.

“Then is there someone who comes to mind? Someone who stands out? Anyone he argued with, or had a business disagreement with?”

“ Franklin didn’t argue.”

“Ever?” Colin didn’t know anyone who never argued.

Cecelia Gardner waved her hand dismissively. “Never seriously. If you’d known him, you’d know that no one would argue with Franklin.”

Because they wouldn’t dare? Colin wondered. What he’d read about the man indicated he’d been a powerhouse, a high-profile international businessman who was at home around the world. The kind of man few others could stand up to.

The kind who could, with the right touch of arrogance and contempt, drive someone to murder?

“What about his son?”

“Stephen?” Cecelia Gardner became instantly tense, and her demeanor changed to a protective fierceness he had to admire. “My grandson is not to be subjected to your interrogation. He is distraught, of course. And he would be of no help. He spends most of his time at school, or here studying. He’s working on his graduate degree.”

Interesting, Colin thought, that she was so forthcoming with all that after we had to pry the rest out of her.

“We’ll need to talk with him anyway, I’m afraid,” he said.

The icy look nearly became a glare. “I’ll see when we’re available.”

“Just Stephen,” Colin said firmly.

“Alone? I don’t think so. His parents are both dead now, so I will stand for them.”

“No, Mrs. Gardner.” The woman blinked, and Colin wondered just how long it had been since anyone had said no to her. “He’s an adult now. We will speak to him alone, here, or at the station, he can choose.”

Cecelia Gardner drew herself up and gave him a stare that was nothing less than insulting. “How dare you?”

“He dares,” Wilson said, unexpectedly speaking for the first time since her comment about the killer getting off, “because your son has been brutally killed, and no one has the right to secrets in a murder investigation. I would think you would want it that way.”

For a moment Mrs. Gardner shifted her stare to the younger woman. Colin stayed silent, watching, but he cheered inwardly when Darien Wilson stared down the imperious woman without faltering. She might just be tougher than she looked.

Amazingly, the older woman gave in first. “You’re quite right. I’m protective of my grandson. I always have been. Too much, Franklin used to say.”

And just why would a kid’s father say that? Colin wondered.

“I will have Stephen call you as soon as he arrives home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gardner.” His voice was as polite as it had been cool before.

They left shortly thereafter, the only useful bit of information they’d gotten being that Lyle, who also lived in the estate house, was at the Gardner Corporation offices in the business district.

“Impressions?” he asked his partner when they were back in the car.

“One main one, with two possible interpretations.” She hesitated, but he nodded at her to continue. “I didn’t see a single trace of any grief, pain or loss. She was more worried about us talking to her grandson than the death of her own son, which in itself makes me wonder about the grandson.”

“I agree,” Colin said. “What does your impression tell you?”

“That either she truly doesn’t care, which makes her a very sick sort of mother. Or she’s grieving as any mother would, and just hiding it extremely well, which makes me wonder what else she’s hiding.”

“Indeed,” Colin agreed. Maybe she does have the instincts for this, after all, he added silently. “And the brother is doing business as usual at the office? Great family love there, wouldn’t you say?”

“Nobody can tell anyone else how to grieve, but so far I’m not impressed with the Gardner approach.”

“Nor am I.”

“So we go see if the brother is shedding any tears?”

“That we do.”

Lyle Gardner was not, in fact, shedding any tears. It didn’t surprise Darien to find he was, as Waters had said, doing “business as usual.” The secretary who greeted them outside his office was showing more emotion than either Mrs. Gardner had or Lyle Gardner was now.

“Maybe the rich are just different,” Darien whispered as she opened the door to the inner sanctum of Gardner Corporation.

“At least this place isn’t gilt and marble,” Waters retorted under his breath, making her smile. She was much more at ease with him now, much less nervous at having been assigned to him as a partner. She quickly quashed her smile when the secretary turned back to them. She gestured toward the door and indicated they could go in.

It was true, the glass-and-steel structure that housed the Gardner Corporation clearly demonstrated success, but it was sleek, businesslike and modern rather than ornate and classic. And the office they walked into now had the same feel, that this was a place where efficient-and profitable-business was done.

The man behind the desk had the same black hair and blue eyes as his dead brother, but there the resemblance ended. Where Franklin had been trim, tan and athletic, Lyle looked as if he spent a bit too much time behind that huge expanse of cherry wood. They knew he handled the family trust fund and oversaw all their general business interests, while Franklin had handled the oil refinery and their international dealings.

“What have you found out?” he asked as he rose and strode around the desk.

They really do expect a miracle, Darien thought. Because they’re the Gardners?

“We’re in the information-gathering stage,” Waters said easily. “We just need to clear up a few things with you.”

“Me?”

Why on earth doesn’t the family expect to answer at least a few questions? she wondered. Don’t they watch the news, and know how often in a murder the killer is family?

“Where were you last night, Mr. Gardner?”

“Me?” he repeated, his tone incredulous.

“Yes,” Waters said patiently. “Routine questions, sir. Eliminate the obvious so we can find the hidden.”

Gardner looked as if he were torn between ordering them out or venting his anger at being suspected at all.

“I was at home,” he said finally, stiffly. “As I told the other detectives.”

If that made any difference to Waters, it didn’t show. Again, Darien held back; she didn’t think he’d welcome her intruding until he trusted her. He hadn’t shut her up yet, so she assumed she hadn’t done anything that irritated him, but still she kept quiet; learning, she told herself, was her primary goal right now.

“You were at home?” Waters asked. “Doing?”

“Watching television.”

“Until when?”

“A little after midnight.”

“So you spoke to your mother when she arrived home?”

He seemed to hesitate, but it was so quick Darien couldn’t be sure. “No. I was already in bed, and I didn’t want to bother her. I knew she’d be in a hurry to get to sleep.”

“Who knew you were home?”

He frowned. “No one. I was alone.”

“Staff?”

“No. I mean, they knew I was home, but I’d dismissed them before I went up to bed.”

Convenient, Darien thought.

“So you have no alibi.”

“I don’t need an alibi,” Gardner said, rather vehemently.

Waters kept pushing. “You didn’t leave the house?”

Gardner drew himself up and looked down his nose at Waters, abruptly every inch the haughty Gardner. “I don’t care for your implications, Detective. No, I did not leave the house. And to answer the question underlying all your other questions, no, I did not kill my own brother!”

“Any idea who did?” Waters asked, with a cool she admired in the face of Gardner ’s anger.

“None.”

“No one who was angry at him, maybe someone who got the short end of a business deal, something like that?”

“The Gardners don’t deal like that, Detective.”

Waters didn’t even react. “The oil business is a delicate thing these days, any problems there?”

“None.” Gardner ’s voice was becoming icy.

Waters retracted the point of his pen with a click of the top, and looked at Gardner straight on. “So, nobody had any reason to kill your brother.”

“None that I’m aware of.”

So why’s he dead? Darien muttered to herself.

“Who stood to benefit from his death?” Waters asked.

Lyle Gardner ran out of patience. “You’re on the wrong track, Detective, and you’re wasting valuable time. Yours and mine. Weren’t things taken from the apartment? Doesn’t that make it clear this was a robbery, and poor Franklin interrupted it?”

“Perhaps.” Waters tapped the pen against his notepad. “What about your nephew, Mr. Gardner?”

“Stephen? What about him?”

“He’ll be quite a wealthy young man now, won’t he?”

“He already is,” Gardner snapped. “He’s a Gardner.”

“But now he’ll have his own money, won’t he?”

“He’s never lacked for whatever money he needed.”

“But now it’s his,” Waters persisted. Darien wasn’t sure what he was up to, but guessed it had been triggered by Mrs. Gardner’s fierce protectiveness of her grandson.

“He’s doing graduate work, getting ready to take his place with the corporation. The family takes care of his expenses. He doesn’t need more money now, doesn’t want the worry of it.”

“I don’t know any twenty-three-year-olds who don’t think they need more money. Of their own.”

“Look, they may have fought about the money he was going to inherit, but Stephen had nothing to do with this!”

Waters froze. And the moment the words were out, Lyle flushed.

Well, well, Darien thought.

“I wonder,” Colin mused aloud.

“What?”

“How long it would take to get to Franklin ’s apartment from that fancy college his kid goes to.”

As they walked toward the elevators, his partner glanced at her watch, as if to see if they had time to make the run themselves. “Maybe we should find out firsthand,” she said. “Before grandma has a chance to talk to him about what to say.”

“Good idea,” Colin said. “But first I want to track down those security tapes. The guy should have contacted me by now.”

“So we go back to the apartment building?”

He nodded again. But as they continued down the hall, the name on an office door slowed him. “Hold on a sec,” he said, and made a turn in that direction. He opened the first door, to find a blond, tan young man behind a desk.

“Can I help you?” the man asked quickly.

“We’d like to see Mr. Reicher.”

“And you are?”

“Detectives Wilson and Waters.”

“Oh!” The young man leapt up. “I’m sure he’ll want to see you. He’s very upset about Mr. Gardner. Just a moment.”

He opened the door behind him, and disappeared inside. Less than a minute later he emerged again, and gestured them into the inner office. Again, the room was exquisitely and expensively decorated, but they had little time to notice the decor.

“What took you so long?” the man standing behind the large desk snapped.

Well, hello to you, too, Colin thought. He studied the tall man in the very expensive-looking suit. His assessment stalled at the man’s gray eyes; he’d seen warmer eyes on a python. Score one for Mrs. Carter, he thought. Cold was definitely the word. The chief operating officer of the Gardner Corporation was clearly a man used to being the boss. And pity the underlings, Colin added to himself.

“We’re working our way down the possible suspect list,” Colin said bluntly.

“Suspect list!” The eruption came just as he’d expected.

“Of course,” Wilson put in with an icy cool that would have done Cecelia Gardner proud. “You’re merely another name on it. We’ve eliminated several, we’re hoping to eliminate you.”

Reicher looked torn, as if uncertain whether to react to her placating words, or the disdain with which she spoke them. Silently Colin congratulated his new partner; he doubted Reicher often was at such a loss.

“As Detective Wilson said, we’re here to eliminate you from the list. So if you can just tell us where you were last night?”

“I was right here. Working late, as I often do.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

He turned on Wilson as she spoke. “My word isn’t good enough for you, Ms…Detective?”

To his own surprise, Colin took offense for her. But he said nothing, knowing she had to learn how to handle such things herself. Which, with her next words, she did quite effectively.

“Absolutely good enough for me, Mr. Reicher.” Her tone was sweet now. “I wouldn’t presume to doubt you without evidence. It’s just not good enough for the D.A., a judge and a jury.”

Reicher seemed to accept her new approach, but Colin had the strangest feeling he should have taken it as a sign to be even more careful.

“John, my assistant, can verify I was here. I’m afraid I kept him quite late on a project I’ve been trying to wind up.”

She continued her questioning. “As COO, you’d be aware of any business enemies Mr. Gardner might have?”

“Enemy enough to commit murder? I would be, if he had any. You’re wasting time if that’s your angle.”

“No deals that fell through, or hostile takeovers?”

“No. I told you you’re wasting your time. You should be looking for a dope-crazed burglar. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Franklin ’s death has caused a bit of chaos.”

Colin said nothing until they were back in the elevator and the doors had closed behind them.

“A dope-crazed burglar,” he repeated.

“Oh, please,” Wilson groaned.

“You don’t buy it?”

“I don’t buy that any doper would leave all that portable wealth behind. He’d take everything he could stuff in his pockets and then start filling the pillowcases.”

Okay, she does have it, he thought.

“What do you think of misters Gardner and Reicher?”

“One’s an arrogant bully and the other’s a cold, pompous snake. You pick which is which.”

Interesting that she’d thought snake just as he had. “With those eyes? No question, Reicher’s the reptile.”

They headed to the car for the trip back to the penthouse building to check on the videotapes. When they arrived, he parked in the loading zone in front, slapped an identifying placard on the dash, and they headed for the door.

“Where’s the equipment?” she asked.

“The basement.”

She nodded, and they took the stairs down.

The basement was as utilitarian as the rest of the building was elegant. Cool and a bit dim, it took up barely a third of the building’s footprint. The rest, he guessed, was given over to the parking garage that housed what was likely a fleet of vehicles as elite as their owners.

They stepped into a wide hallway. Off to the left were two doors labeled Maintenance and Utilities. To the right was a single, unmarked door. Without a word, they both turned that direction. As they got closer Colin saw light coming from under the door. He tried the knob, but it was, as he expected, locked. He rapped twice on the metal door.

For a moment there was only silence, but finally the sound of footsteps came from the other side of the door. After another moment, it opened. The man who handled the security cameras stood there, and Colin didn’t like the expression on his face.

“Something wrong, Mr. Bergen?”

“I…it’s impossible. It’s never happened before. I don’t know how… The equipment was fine when I got here, but…”

Something way down in Colin’s gut knotted. “But…?”

“The tape for last night…”

The man swallowed tightly, his eyes flicking nervously from Colin to Wilson.

“What about it?” Colin asked, his voice very quiet because he already knew the answer.

Bergen swallowed again.

“It’s gone.”

Chapter 4

“N ow what do you suppose the odds are of that particular tape, and that tape only, going missing?” Waters mused aloud as they made their way into the station. Their quick run to the younger Gardner ’s private college had netted them only the fact that it didn’t take long if you drove fast; the youngest Gardner had been off campus.

Darien shifted Gardner ’s laptop, the evidence they were here to book, to her other arm. “About the same as the Cubs winning the World Series,” she muttered, without thought starting up the stairs for the detective office, even carrying the extra few pounds of the computer.

“Or less. If that’s possible,” Waters added with a quirk of his mouth as he started up with her.

“So, does that narrow us down to residents and their families? Those who knew about the cameras and where the recording equipment was?” Darien asked.

“And everyone from the security company. And anyone any of them might have told.”

“Or anybody who went looking, I suppose,” she said. “It wouldn’t be tough to figure out it would be in the basement. And we knew instantly the unlabeled door had to be it.”

“Exactly.”

They reached the Detective Bureau door, and Waters leaned around her to open the door. She’d long ago given up making an issue out of such things-she’d found too often they were a test of sorts-but when she stepped through she turned and held the door for him as he followed. He accepted the gesture without comment, and she wasn’t sure if she’d passed this test. If indeed it had been a test.

“Hey, if it isn’t the two-W detective team of Waters and the lovely Miss Darien. What have you two been up to in the stairway? Don’t you know it’s easier in an elevator?”

“Oh, joy,” Darien muttered. Then she flashed a quick look at Waters, hoping the mustached Detective Palmer, a man she’d only recently met but still could only describe as rude, crude and obnoxious, wasn’t his best buddy.

“Well, now, if it isn’t every woman’s dream come true,” Waters drawled.

“Hey, hey, you know they love me,” Palmer said, in jovial tones, proving to Darien what she’d already thought, that the man was too stupid to even know when he was being insulted. “You’re not the only chick magnet around here.”

Oh, puhleeze, Darien thought. “Excuse me,” she said. “I must be a matching pole.”

Palmer looked blank, but she caught Waters’s quick, appreciative grin just before she tried sidestepping around the sleaze to head for her desk.

“I’d take it easy, honey,” Palmer said, his voice taking on a nasty undertone. He gave the computer she carried a look of disdain. “There’s a lot of people not very happy that you got this spot over guys who deserved it more. A lot of people asking why. And how.”

She stopped in her tracks. She knew exactly what he was implying, that she had slept her way here. She turned, and gave the man a level gaze.

“Are you trying, in your Neanderthal way, to make a point?” she asked sweetly. “If so, you’re going to have to spell it out. I’m just a silly little ol’ woman, after all.”

“Keeping in mind there’s a witness,” Waters said softly, surprising her.

Palmer frowned. But even he seemed to realize if he came right out and said what he was thinking it could boomerang on him.

“Yeah, right. Well, I don’t have to say a thing. We all know.” He slid Waters a sideways look, as if uncertain if he should include him in his generalization.

“Don’t you have some missing persons to look for?” Colin asked, knowing there had been several reports recently.

“Yeah, yeah,” Palmer muttered. Apparently deciding he was better off abandoning this particular ship, he turned and walked away, leaving them in the deserted hallway.

Darien felt a queasiness in her stomach that she fought not to show. She flicked a glance at Waters, who was watching her, his expression unreadable.

“So that’s what everybody thinks?”

“That’s what Palmer thinks,” Waters said. “I’d say you’d have to ask to find out what everybody else thinks.”

“No, thanks. I don’t care.” She took two steps, then stopped. She looked back at him. “No, maybe I do. If it’s what you think.”

He studied her for a long, silent moment. “I may not be sure why you’re here, but no, I don’t think you slept your way into this job.”

“Why?”

He seemed surprised at the question. “Almost ten years of being a cop teaches you to read people. If you’re paying attention.”

“Oh.” Then, as she realized she probably should, she said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t bother.” As if it were an afterthought he added, “Why did it matter what I thought?”

“Because it would be very hard for me to work with someone who thought I sold myself and my soul for the job,” she said bluntly.

This time she’d only gone those same two steps when he called her.

“ Wilson?”

She turned to look over her shoulder at him.

“You handled him just right.”

A slow smile curved her mouth. “Thanks.”

Those simple words warmed her much more than they should have. And she thought that she could come to like Colin Waters, even if he was the resident division hunk.

They walked past Joshua Benton’s cubicle and Waters joked that he was likely locked up in the lab with Maggie Sutter, working miracles. She laughed in agreement; she’d seen the lab, but what went on there was as incredible to her as her expertise with computers was to technophobes.

An hour later, she realized she’d been mistaken. Not about feeling she could like Colin Waters, but about the height of his hunk status. Now, in close quarters with him-she’d been given a desk in the same cubicle in the open office area-she was aware of just how much attention he got from most of the females in the entire building. They were always stopping by on some pretext or other, hand delivering a phone message, a copy of a report, anything, all of which could have been sent through normal delivery channels. She felt a faint distaste growing as the parade continued. And the fact that Waters apparently saw nothing unusual about it told her how often it happened.

She wasn’t spared herself; the close and not very subtle inspection she got from the women told her that word of her assignment as his partner had spread rapidly. She couldn’t fault their taste-Colin was a very attractive man-but their methods made her feel a little bit ashamed to be female just now. Even if she had been interested, which of course she wasn’t, she would never try those kinds of maneuvers.

They’d agreed to divide up the reports on their initial interviews, and she’d been secretly relieved not to have simply been told to do it all, being the female, the rookie, and thus the most likely secretarial material available.

Once they were done, almost simultaneously, they filed the reports and headed back out to the parking lot. She’d retrieved her car when they’d returned to the apartment to find out about the missing tape. They had just reached it when her cell phone rang.

“Hi, babe, it’s me.”

“Hi, Tony. What’s up?”

“Getting ready to leave for the Yucatán, so I wanted to check in.”

“Check out, you mean,” she teased.

“That, too,” he said cheerfully. “Everything okay, fuzz lady?”

“Just busy. Have a good trip. Send me a postcard.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Unless you forget,” she said.

“Love ya,” Tony said.

“Love you, too. Be careful.”

“Always.”

She disconnected, then slid the phone back into her coat pocket. And became aware that Waters hadn’t walked on to his own car but was still here watching her.

“Boyfriend?”

It wasn’t any of his business, really, but she found herself answering him anyway, just to see what he’d say. “No. Ex-husband.”

That got you, she thought, hiding a smile at his startled look.

“Ex?” he asked after a moment. “Didn’t sound ex to me.”

“How do you talk to yours?” She knew from office gossip that he’d been married and divorced.

“I don’t,” he said flatly.

“That’s too bad.”

She thought she’d kept her voice fairly even, but he turned on her anyway. “You think all divorces should be…what’s that stupid word, amicable?”

She shrugged. “I just know mine was. Tony and I are still good friends.”

“Friends,” he muttered, still in that sour tone.

“We were friends before we got married, and should have stayed just friends. We were too young to understand what marriage was really all about.”

“Don’t tell me you were high-school sweethearts.”

“No. I was twenty, he was twenty-one, but we were still too young. It worked at first, but after about three years he got to thinking about how he hadn’t played enough.”

“So he cheated on you?”

“Tony? Good grief no. He would never do that. I didn’t mean that kind of playing. I meant literal play. Ski, bike, climb, you name it.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I enjoyed fun as much as anyone, but I also wanted to have kids. That was the break point for him. And it’s just as well. He wasn’t mature enough to raise a child, and he knew it. I respect him for that.”

“So, Wilson, you married a playaholic?”

She ignored his sharp sarcasm, but she did wonder what kind of nerve she’d hit. “Tony is who he is. Above all he’s honest. And that saved us both a lot of pain. I’m glad he’s my friend. Besides, my parents like him and he’s good to them, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

“Honest,” Waters muttered.

He lapsed into silence, which left Darien wondering why on earth that had come pouring out of her. It was true she wasn’t uncomfortable talking about Tony and her marriage, but she didn’t usually tell near strangers all that.

It was too late now to worry about, so she turned her thoughts to something else, something that had just struck her when he’d made that comment about Tony being a playaholic. He’d called her Wilson. Unlike Palmer.

…Waters and the lovely Miss Darien.

She’d noticed that most cops called each other by their last names unless they were personal friends. But they called women by their first names. She hadn’t thought much about it until Palmer had made that rude, suggestive comment. And suddenly she was seeing it as something more, some subtle symptom of a man’s world that had yet to completely accept the intrusion of females.

But Colin Waters called her by her last name, just as he did most others. That comforted her somehow.

Great, Colin thought as he rubbed at his eyes. So your new partner, besides being gorgeous enough to stop most men in their tracks, was on the kiddie track. Was friendly with her ex-husband. Kept her parents happy. The proverbial, perfect girl next door. Exactly the kind of woman I always avoid.

He wasn’t sure why this realization bothered him. She was only his partner, after all.

It was odd that he was actually thinking of her that way already, as his partner. She hadn’t said all that much, either in interviews or in between, but what she had said had been right-on. She’d surprised him, more than once. As she’d been surprising him today; she’d set herself up this morning with a diet soda, then dug into Gardner ’s laptop computer and had been hacking away ever since. She showed no sign of being aware of time passing, merely kept at it, with the occasional mutter to the computer screen that he’d noticed before in those who had carnal knowledge of the things.

He’d thought the words “carnal knowledge” as a joke about computer geeks, but somehow when applied to Darien Wilson, they managed to make him feel damned uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair and made himself go back to filing the last of their reports, and going through what had been added by the forensics team thus far.

“Sutter says the bruises on his face were likely made by a heavy ring of some kind.”

She paused then, looking up at last. “That helps.”

“If he’s still wearing it,” Colin said glumly.

She went back to her work. More and more time passed. There were moments of silence, followed by a series of quick keystrokes. More muttering, then more silence, more keystrokes. She was so intent that she didn’t even glance up as he went to the copy machine and then returned.

For a moment he stood looking over her shoulder. Instead of the usual software interfaces he was familiar with, there were strings of odd-looking characters on the screen. They made no sense at all to him, but she seemed to find them easily understandable. But then, while he was fairly computer literate, his comfort zone ended outside his regularly used software.

“Come on, come on,” she murmured, then let out a tightly compressed breath when the screen flashed and went blank. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Problem?”

“Not sure. He’s got some odd chunks on his hard drive that could be hidden files. I just have to find my way into them.”

“Hidden files?”

“They could be junk, but we won’t know until I can get in there.”

He leaned against the edge of his desk and gestured at the computer. “How’d you get so into all this?”

“I started out doing research for school online. Then a Web site. The more I got into that, the more I wanted to know.”

“And the jump from there to police work?”

She swiveled the chair around to look at him straight on. “My mom got taken in by an online scam. During that case, I saw a whole lot of innocent people who got taken by thieves who used this medium I loved for their crimes. I wanted to stop that kind of thing. It’s going to be the crime scene of the future. It’s already here.”

God, she really was the girl next door, out to avenge her mom. “It’s not all nice, clean computer crime, you know.”

She gave him a wry look. “Believe it or not, I knew that. And if I hadn’t, this assignment would have taught me in a big hurry.”

“Sorry,” Colin muttered.

“Look, I know I was hired for this-” she gestured at the open laptop “-because the department is recruiting computer people, but I didn’t come into this blind. I thought long and hard before I applied. And longer and harder before I took the job because I knew there were going to be people who felt like Palmer does.”

“Palmer is just a jerk.”

She studied him, long enough to make him wonder what she was thinking. “Thanks, but you know there are others who think the same thing.”

“They may question your being given the job, but if you prove you can do it, eventually that’s all that will matter.”

“Promise?” she asked, her mouth quirking up at one corner.

“Yeah,” he said, hoping he wasn’t being too optimistic.

She studied him again for a long moment before saying, “So, now that I’ve told you my life story, tell me yours.”

He blinked, startled. “Mine?”

“Why don’t you talk to your ex?”

“Why would I?” He was aware he sounded a bit defensive.

“That bad?”

When he realized he’d tensed up, he made a conscious effort to relax his muscles. She had, after all, told him about her ex. So he told her, although the words came out stiffly.

“She couldn’t take these kinds of hours, so she found somebody who came home on time. Unfortunately, we were still married at the time.”

“Ouch. No wonder you jumped to that conclusion about Tony.”

“Yeah. Well.” He grimaced. “And she was my high-school sweetheart.”

“That must have been rough.”

He shrugged, back in control now. “It wasn’t her fault. I’m just not cut out for the whole wife and kids thing. Married to my job, Anita used to say.”

“I can see being married to a cop would be difficult. But I believe an affair is the fault of the person involved. If you want out, get out, but you don’t cheat.”

Yes, he thought, surprising himself. He’d spent so much time listening to Anita telling him it was all his fault that he’d almost forgotten that what Wilson had just voiced had been his original reaction to his wife’s infidelity.

When he didn’t speak, she lowered her gaze. “Sorry about the soapbox bit.”

Then she turned back to the computer. He thought he saw a faint tinge of color in her cheeks, but he couldn’t be sure. She stared at the screen for a minute, then hit a few keys.

“Come on,” she muttered. “I know you’re in there.”

He let it go, and sat down to make some calls to residents of the building they so far hadn’t been able to contact. He did a little net surfing of his own for mentions of Franklin Gardner or the Gardner Corporation in the business and financial sections of the area newspapers, looking for potential enemies on that front. Hours later, when he’d hit the wall, she was still at it, and showing no sign of letting up. The office was deserted, the rest of the division having gone home long ago. He crossed out the last name on his list, tossed down his pen, and groaned audibly as he stretched.

She looked up. Glanced at the watch he’d noticed before; nothing fancy or glittery for this woman, just a simple, utilitarian metal band. She wore only small, gold earrings as well, no rings or necklaces.

“No wonder my stomach’s growling,” she said. Then she stood up and stretched much as he had. Except on her, the sinuous movement was downright sexy.

She grinned at him, and for a breath-stopping moment he wondered if she’d read his mind. But she only said, “Let’s go out. Feed me.”

He recoiled, as much from his own unexpected response to her as to her words. “I don’t think that would be wise. The commander frowns on fraternization.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” he said bluntly.

She crossed her arms in front of her and gave him a level look. “Which part did you figure was going to be the pleasure?”

He blinked, startled. “What?”

“I gather you’re used to women falling at your feet, but it was a simple request for a food break, Waters. Not a declaration of undying passion.”

He supposed he’d been more embarrassed in his life, but just now he couldn’t recall when.

“Uh…yeah. Sure. Let’s go.”

He noticed that she carefully shut down the computer and resecured it in the evidence locker before picking up her coat and purse. Then she started across the empty office toward the door. And she did it without once looking at him.

Nice work, Waters, he told himself.

And didn’t dare think about what thoughts had leapt to life in his mind at the words undying passion.

Well, she’d really put her foot in it that time, Darien thought as she fastened her seat belt. She’d meant only to keep things businesslike, to make clear to him she wasn’t like the other women at the department who seemed to be chasing him at every turn, and she’d ended up insulting him.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t usually say such stupid things. The fact that he was the most attractive man she’d spent time with in far too long shouldn’t make any difference.

Well, not much anyway.

She was grateful that, when he finally spoke, he seemed to have put the awkward scene behind him.

“Where do you want to go? Luciano’s maybe? Or Sullivan’s?” he asked, naming a couple of popular restaurants on the Magnificent Mile.

“To tell you the truth, I’m dying for a Gold Coast Dog.”

He laughed. She let out a silent sigh of relief; he wasn’t mad. “That’s one I haven’t indulged in for at least a week.”

She widened her eyes. “You’ve gone a whole week? You poor man, we must remedy that immediately!”

“I appreciate that.”

“Drive on, James,” she said, so relieved that he wasn’t angry-or at least wasn’t showing it-that she was able to carry off the breezy tone.

He chuckled, and in moments they were heading toward Hubbard and the nearest Gold Coast Dog franchise.

When they had eaten enough of their hot dogs laden with onions, tomatoes and hot peppers to quiet growling stomachs, he took a long draw on his soda-caffeinated, he said, in anticipation of another long night-and leaned back.

“You think there’s really something there on that computer hard drive?”

“Just some space that I can’t account for. There’s data there, in some form. It may be nothing, old files that weren’t erased or overwritten, but…” She shrugged, not wanting to try and explain the suspicion that had so little basis in hard fact.

“But what?”

“It’s just a feeling. I know that’s not much to go on.”

To her surprise, he nodded. “Sometimes it’s all you have.”

She was used to the computer world, which had little room for things as ethereal as gut feelings. “No cracks about intuition versus hard data?”

“I never underestimate intuition because I don’t think it’s intuition at all.”

That caught her attention. “You don’t?”

“No. I think it’s more a finely honed perceptive ability that leads to valid deductions, but it goes through the middle steps so fast it seems like wild jumps.”

She’d never thought of it that way, but the explanation made sense to her. “You mean it’s like that sense you get just looking at some person, that they’re up to something?”

“Exactly. Maybe it’s only that they have a heavy coat on when it’s seventy degrees out, or that they’re carrying an umbrella when it hasn’t rained in days. Something you don’t really consciously think about, but it registers and you…wonder.” He took another sip of soda, then gestured at her with the paper cup. “Like your unaccounted for space.”

His assessment was so logical that it relieved her own uneasiness about the instincts that occasionally prodded her and that she couldn’t explain to her hard data-minded colleagues.

They finished and drove back to the station. Without discussion, Darien realized; she’d always intended to return to continue working on the computer, but she’d never said so. She decided she was pleased that he had made the assumption. It meant that he was taking her dedication to the work seriously, despite the others who seemed to think she was playing at this.

Hours later, her back aching from being hunched over the laptop’s small keyboard, she could have told them all how wrong they were. There was nothing about this that was anything like playing.

Chapter 5

C olin was exhausted. While his new partner had been hacking away at the victim’s computer, he’d done the rest without even taking a break on Saturday or Sunday. He’d fielded calls coming in, including one from District Attorney Evan Stone, who was well aware this case would be headed his way as soon as they made an arrest. He made interview calls following up on the initial canvas until 9:00 p.m. every day, knowing that after that he took the chance of really irritating the citizens he was asking for help. He’d taken repeated calls from both the district commander and the deputy superintendent of the Investigative Services Bureau. He assured them all possible progress was being made, and that he would personally contact them when there was anything to report.

After that he finished the reports from those calls and interviews, then reread the case reports Sutter and Benton had filed. He mentally crossed the maid off his suspect list when he’d learned she had had a gentleman caller herself the evening before the murder; no wonder she’d been a bit edgy.

He mentioned it to Wilson. She nodded, but didn’t look away from her screen. He tossed down his pen, closed the computer file, and sat for a moment rubbing at gritty eyes. Just another in the string of long nights.

He glanced over at his partner. He didn’t know how she did it, sat and stared for so long at a computer screen day after day. His eyes started to scream back at him after a few hours. But she was just as intent as she had been when she’d started, clearly with no thought of quitting. She had the drive, he had to admit that. And she’d made some good observations. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he’d feared.

At that moment she leaned back at last, arching her back in a slow, graceful move. She shoved one hand through her hair. He’d never thought of short hair as particularly sexy before, but he just might change his mind. The blond cap fell back in a tousle that looked as if she’d just run her fingers through it after getting out of bed.

Shock jolted through him as his body clenched. For a moment he refused to believe what he was feeling, but the rush of heat that followed, pooling low and deep inside him, made it impossible to deny.

Are you nuts? he asked himself. Isn’t it bad enough she’s the epitome of everything you’ve proven you can’t handle, a woman made for a marriage that would last a lifetime, with kids gathered round? Add the fact that she’s a colleague, and your partner to boot, and you’re not playing with fire, you’re tossing around napalm.

“Gotcha!”

He nearly jumped, wondering how on earth she’d guessed his reckless thoughts. It took him a moment to realize her exclamation was directed at the laptop she was working on. He stood up.

“Go-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Got what?”

She looked up at him, satisfaction warming her blue eyes. “The files. I found the files. They were buried a bit, but they’re there, right where I thought.”

“Can you get them open?”

“I think so. I’ve got this program that’s designed to do just that.” She looked up at him again. “I’m going to have to do it on this machine, or risk corrupting the files trying to copy them. Is that going to be a problem, evidence wise?”

“Worth it, if it works. We’ll just have to log every step. Go for it.”

She nodded, then turned and pulled a jewel case out of her purse and removed a CD-ROM. She inserted the disk into the laptop’s drive.

“Hang on,” she said.

He waited while she opened a software program with what looked to him like a very rudimentary interface. He decided not to ask what it was or where she’d gotten it. After a moment she typed a series of commands, then leaned back and waited, her eyes fastened on the screen. Several minutes passed, during which she assured him the wait was not unusual.

Then the computer let out a high beep, the screen flashed and changed, and row after row of jumbled characters raced across and down the screen.

She let out a low, hissed breath.

“What is it?”

She sat back and rubbed at her face in obvious weariness. Then she looked at him.

“It’s all in code.”

He blinked. “What?”

“They’re all there, the files I mean, but they’re encoded.”

“Hot damn,” he breathed. “That means there’s something there really worth hiding.”

Realization dawned on her face, and he knew she had been so intent on solving the new problem that she hadn’t thought of the ramifications of the results she’d already gotten.

“Hot damn,” she echoed. And grinned.

Darien was exhausted. Exhausted, but still determined. They’d brought her into this job because of her computer skills, so she was darn well going to prove that they’d made a good choice. So she kept at it. She’d taken a three-hour nap last night in one of the few offices with a couch in it, but at 5:00 a.m. she’d been up and at it again. She’d been antsy to get back to working on Franklin ’s computer. She knew it was in part because that was safe, familiar ground where she knew what she was doing, unlike this seemingly endless legwork.

She didn’t look up until her partner wandered in about a half an hour later.

He’d obviously been to the locker room and taken a shower; his hair was wet and slicked back. It emphasized the even, chiseled features of his face, strong masculine jaw and cheekbones she hadn’t really noticed before. A drop of water from his hair trickled down the side of his face, then traced a path along his neck.

“-having any luck?”

She jerked her gaze away from the unexpectedly fascinating travels of that droplet.

“What? Oh, no, not yet.” She looked at the message that had flashed on her screen, tapped a couple of keys, then looked back at him. “What do you suppose he was hiding?”

He leaned a hip against his desk, and she noticed then he’d put on a pair of jeans. And judging by how snug they fit, it must have taken him ten minutes just to get into them, especially if his skin was still damp, she thought.

At the images that raced through her mind she felt a blush that began somewhere around her navel. And again she missed the first part of what he said.

“-anything. Could be just secret business files, maybe something on a takeover.”

“Maybe he cooked some books,” Darien said, still working to recover a poise shattered by her own too-vivid and suddenly overactive imagination.

“Or if we’re real lucky, it could be even worse, something criminal.”

“You mean something bad enough that it could have gotten him killed?”

“It’s a possibility,” he said.

“All the more reason to get this broken fast,” she said, and turned her gaze back to the screen.

“Coffee?”

She looked up again, surprised. “Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?”

“One each cream and sugar.”

He nodded and exited the cubicle, leaving her still a little bemused that he’d even offered. When he returned a few minutes later, a luscious aroma made her look up.

“The guy was just bringing them in, they were still warm, and I couldn’t resist.”

He set a small plate down in front of her, and put a matching one on his own desk. She looked down at the obviously freshly baked cinnamon roll, and nearly grinned as her stomach growled in Pavlovian response.

“I can see why,” she said with heart-or stomach-felt sincerity. “Thanks.”

She tore a piece off the edge, and found it tasted as divine as it smelled. She looked up to thank him again, and found him licking icing from his fingers in a way that made her think again of those rebellious shower thoughts she’d had earlier. Immediately she tried to distract herself by peeling off another layer of the roll and popping it into her mouth.

So, the hunk has a sweet tooth, she thought.

“It’s a weakness,” he said rather sheepishly, and for an instant she feared she’d spoken aloud. “Baked stuff. Can’t help myself.”

She found that rather endearing. “Did your mother bake a lot?”

“No. She was all thumbs in the kitchen. But my stepmother, now she can whip these up with her eyes shut. Cakes, cookies, you name it. She always joked she had to run five miles a day to keep from weighing a ton just from sampling.”

Darien grinned. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“She’s great. I was ten when my mom died, so when my dad brought her home a couple of years later, she stepped into a pretty difficult situation. She did a great job, though. Even if I didn’t really appreciate it until much later.”

That he appreciated it now said a great deal about him, Darien thought. “You’re close, still?”

“Yeah. My dad was killed in an accident three years ago, but we’ve stayed close. She’s the mother I lost, and a friend, too.”

She gave him the warmest smile she could, and he shrugged as if embarrassed and turned his attention back to his own treat. In short order, she finished her own.

“I’d better get back to this. Use the sugar rush,” she said wryly, knowing the crash when the sugar burned off could be ugly.

She hadn’t spent a lot of time trying to break coded files, but she knew the basic approaches and she had the software to run them. She had tried them all, so far with no results. So now she was starting on combinations, knowing she was shotgunning, hoping a few pellets would hit.

“I wish I knew how you thought,” she murmured.

“ Gardner?”

She nodded without looking up. “Then maybe I could figure out what he would have done to protect these files.”

“Well, you know he both hid them and encoded them,” Waters said.

“Yes. That right there tells us something, I guess. But I would think the complexity of the code itself would depend on the importance of the information.”

“That makes sense,” her partner agreed. “If this is a list of his girlfriends, it would likely have less protection than, say, if he was dealing drugs or something like that, and those were his contacts.”

She glanced at him. “If there really is a connection between these files and his death, then we know this is dynamite. Of some sort.”

“That’s a big if,” Waters cautioned her.

“I know. So I’m just going to break this sucker so we can either act, or move on.”

“Anything I can do?”

She smiled at him. “You just did it,” she said, indicating the crumbs that were all that remained of the cinnamon roll. “That’ll keep me going for a couple of hours, at least.”

And it did, Colin thought later, watching her with amazement. She might be everything he stayed away from in a woman, she might have the kind of looks that had Neanderthals like Palmer guessing she’d slept her way here, but Colin had to admit now that she not only had good instincts, but she had the dogged determination the job required.

Looking up, he saw that the brass was filtering in. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came calling; on a high-profile case like this, no one had any peace until it was resolved. And every day that passed only increased the pressure.

“Brace yourself,” he told his partner. “The powers that be are starting to arrive.”

She glanced up, frowning. “Rats,” she muttered. “I need a little more time, quiet time. I’m almost there, I know it. I can feel it.”

“I’ll try to keep them off you,” he said.

“That would help,” she said, “if you don’t mind.”

He shrugged. “I can’t do what you’re doing, so I might as well do what I can.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice carrying a little more gratefulness than he would have expected for the simple offer he’d made.

He looked up and saw the commander headed toward them. Colin stepped out of the cubicle and went to head him off.

“What progress?” Portman asked, dispensing with any amenities.

Quickly Colin outlined the interviews they’d conducted, both in person and on the phone, and his own business search.

“Suspects?”

“We’ve got a lot of possibles,” Colin admitted. “Just as you’d expect with somebody as rich as Gardner. A couple that stand out, but nothing I want to hang the name on yet.”

Portman scowled. “You know I’m fending off the media over this. They’re getting impatient. I need something to give them.”

“Surely the usual ‘We’re investigating all avenues’ will hold them for a while longer, won’t it?”

“Not much, not when it’s a Gardner who’s dead.” He turned as if to go, and Colin sighed inwardly in relief; he didn’t want to mention the computer files, not until they had something solid. But then Portman turned back. “How’s your new partner working out?”

Colin was glad now he hadn’t complained at the time. “Fine. She’s got good instincts, I think, and she’s working as hard and long as anyone.”

Portman nodded shortly, then turned and headed back to his office. Colin went back to the cubicle where Wilson was still working.

“That should hold him for a while, but-”

She didn’t look at him but threw up a hand to hush him. Startled, he shut up. He noticed then she was leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen, and he wasn’t quite sure she was breathing. He took his cue and kept quiet, and less than a minute later he heard her hiss under her breath a triumphant, “Yes!”

He stood up and took a step toward her. “Yes?”

“Got him!”

He stepped around to look at the screen, and saw the rows and rows of gibberish morph into lines of readable text. He let out a low whistle. “You go, girl,” he said.

She looked up at him and smiled. And he thought suddenly that was the kind of smile that started-or ended-wars. And that she was the kind of woman men fought them for. Or alongside. That scared him, and he backed away to a safer distance, retreating to the edge of his desk again. The moment he realized what he’d done, he swore silently at himself. You are not going to do this! he ordered himself.

She turned back to the screen and began to read. After a moment her smile faded, then a crease appeared in her forehead.

Uh-oh, he thought. “It didn’t work after all?”

“No, no, it did,” she said without looking up. “It’s just that…this makes no sense. Unless Franklin Gardner was going to some kind of dating service or something.”

Colin snorted inelegantly. “Not likely. Guys with his looks and money have to beat them off with sticks.”

“But he’s got lists of women here, broken down by month, with physical descriptions, and odd little notations like ‘jock’ or ‘schoolgirl.”’

He frowned. “Do they all have notes like that?”

She read further, and nodded. “Here’s one that says ‘girl next door.’ Oh, and here’s a nice one, ‘brunette and trashy.’ But the strange thing is, the physical descriptions are really vague.”

Colin went very still. “Vague how?”

“Like…well, maybe general is a better word. Like this one. ‘Blonde, five-two to five-six, voluptuous, hidden assets, innocent look.”

Colin stood up, slowly this time, in contrast to his racing thoughts.

“And this one,” she went on, her voice rising slightly, “this one’s sick! Listen to this! ‘Redhead, pigtails, freckles, no more than five feet, immature body, must look no more than twelve.’ What is this?”

“It sounds,” Colin said grimly, “like a shopping list.”

Even with the questionable help of Palmer it took them another hour to track down the reports-but only moments to match up the physical descriptions on four of the missing females to the list Darien had decoded on the computer. Palmer finally seemed to wake to the possibilities, and dug out three more reports that had been filed as open but not active. Those matched up with three more of the entries in Gardner ’s file.

Even more damning were the dates; it was Colin who first realized that in only one case was there more than five days between the date of Gardner ’s entry and the date of the missing persons report. And that one case was a sixteen-year-old who had already been gone several days, but hadn’t been missed due to her propensity for disappearing for days at a time anyway.

“Are all these girls runaways?” Darien asked Palmer, for the moment setting aside her dislike of the man.

“Yes,” Palmer said, apparently also focusing on business for now.

Colin gestured at the files. “They only got reported because somebody noticed they weren’t showing up at their usual hangouts anymore. Only one was reported by the family.”

“Not many care what happens to these kids,” Darien said. “I guess these are the lucky ones, to have friends with enough nerve to call the police.”

“Hey, there’s also the fact that these kids are runaways and don’t want to attract any attention,” Palmer said defensively.

“Palmer’s right,” Colin said. “And there are probably a dozen who never got reported for each one of these.”

And some that someone tried to report, Darien thought, but got shined on because it was just another runaway among hundreds, if not thousands. But she knew she’d gain nothing by speaking the thought. At least, not in front of Palmer.

But when he had to go back to his own cubicle to take a phone call, Waters opened the subject himself, saying thoughtfully, “I wonder how many on Gardner ’s list might be among those unreported missings?”

“You mean the girls who were shrugged off as just another street statistic?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand, which gave him points in her mind. “We’re not perfect. But there are only so many of us, and so many hours in a day. Things get kissed off.”

“Like girls who are addicts or thieves, or have taken to selling themselves on the street out of desperation, so their disappearance isn’t worth the effort?”

He looked at her silently for a long moment, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. Then he spoke softly. “I had a cousin who ran away and disappeared into the wilds of Los Angeles. I didn’t expect L.A.P.D. to find her. Even then I knew L.A. was too big, and she was just one girl among thousands.”

She was surprised at the personal story, but couldn’t help asking, “What happened to her?”

“She turned up dead six months later.” He grimaced. “Ironically, not drugs, or killed by a john, or anything like that. She got hit by a car. Stupid, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” Not knowing what else to say, she turned back to the matter at hand. “So, what do you think this means?” she asked. “Why would Franklin Gardner have a list of women who match the descriptions of missing runaways?”

Colin gave her a surprised look that gradually changed to one of sympathetic understanding. “Guess you wouldn’t hear much about this kind of thing out in the country.”

“What kind of thing?” she asked, trying not to sound defensive at being called, in the gentlest way, a country bumpkin of sorts. “And why did you say it looks like a shopping list?”

“Because it looks like Gardner was taking orders for particular types of girls, and then filling them.”

She felt a bit slow. “Orders?”

“Probably from some overseas client with a picky customer base. Some men are very particular about what they want.”

Darien ’s eyes widened, and suddenly she did feel very much a country bumpkin. “You mean…some sort of white slavery thing?”

“Some call it that, yes. We’re guessing these girls were kidnapped, very specifically, and sent off to be used as prostitutes somewhere where nobody asks questions.”

“My God,” Darien breathed, stunned. She’d heard of such things, of course, but they had always seemed the stuff of lurid documentaries, nothing she would ever encounter firsthand.

“What I don’t understand,” Waters said, “is why somebody like Franklin Gardner would be involved in something like that. With his family name, and they already have more money than they could possibly spend in a lifetime.”

“Some people aren’t content to treat their own women as property,” Darien said, rather fiercely now that she knew what they were dealing with. “They look at all women that way.”

He gave a half shrug, half shudder, as if he were trying to shed a distasteful idea. “Hard to believe he’d risk it.”

“Or his partner in crime,” she said.

Her own partner went very still. “His partner?”

“Yes. Didn’t you see who the files were copied to?”

“No.”

“Here, it’s in here,” she said, pointing to the lines still in gibberish-or what had looked like it to him-at the top of the list. In the middle of a long string of characters he saw D.Reicher@gardnercorp.com.

“He’s in this, too? Damn, I knew he had snake eyes.”

“All I can say positively,” she warned, “is that he got sent copies of the list, and-”

She stopped suddenly as another thought struck her.

“What?” Waters asked.

“I was just thinking. If they were both involved in this enterprise, maybe there was a falling-out among criminals?”

“One that occurred at Gardner ’s penthouse, and ended up with Gardner dead? Yeah, that thought has occurred to me.” His grim expression lightened suddenly, and he gave her a crooked smile. “You might just have nailed our killer, partner.”

The words warmed her beyond rationality. “Thank you…” She hesitated, then risked it. “Colin.”

“You’re welcome, Darien.” He said it so easily, yet it was pointed enough to acknowledge the change.

Now we’re partners, she thought with satisfaction. Just the tiniest bit of anxiety tinged that satisfaction as she acknowledged that Colin Waters was a very unsettling associate. He would be for any woman, she told herself, not just her.

And managed to ignore the fact that how it would affect other women didn’t matter because she was the woman being unsettled.

While waiting for the search warrant they’d requested, they had attended the funeral. Mrs. Gardner had apparently made enough noise to enough important people that the autopsy had been rushed to a finish and the body of her son released. There had been a side benefit, to them anyway, in that the autopsy report had been completed faster than they could have gotten it no matter how hard they’d pushed. Ironic, she thought.

But they’d learned that the injury to the back of the head had indeed been the fatal blow, with the stab wounds inflicted postmortem. And who knew what Benton and Sutter would turn up when they analyzed the autopsy that might open up new avenues to pursue, she added silently as she stifled a yawn.

Waters had indicated with nothing more than a nod and a whisper, Detectives Benton and Sutter, present at the funeral for the same reason they were: to see who showed up on the chance their killer was among them. Given the size of the funeral, and the upper crust of society who were present, it only added to the nightmare size of the investigation. The three remaining Gardners of course were there, wearing very expensive black and suitably grim expressions. However, so were the mayor and several other high-powered notables, and Darien wasn’t sure they’d learned a thing. Other than that she still hated funerals.

By the time they returned, the search warrant was ready. They got it for Reicher’s home, since they doubted he would be foolish enough to store information like that on his office network. It had taken so long because they’d been fighting to make it as broad as possible in case they stumbled across anything else incriminating besides the matching computer files they were hoping to find. They’d encountered the resistance they’d expected, but not nearly as much as Gardner ’s maid had given them, and Colin wondered rather cynically if it was because Reicher was a less-than-kind employer.

His residence was a condominium both larger and flashier than Gardner ’s penthouse, with stark, modern furnishings and lots of exotic lighting. The servant who answered the door had taken one look at the warrant and welcomed them with ill-concealed glee. Colin doubted Reicher would find out about this from that quarter.

“This place is as cold as his eyes,” Darien had said, and Colin couldn’t argue with her.

They’d found two computers, one laptop and one desktop, and confiscated them both to be inspected in depth at the station. And now that she knew how they’d been hidden, Darien was able to find and decode the files in relatively short order once they got them there.

“Got it,” she said, and Colin saw the same change from garbled text to a match for the files they’d pulled from Gardner ’s computer.

“Looks like we’ll need to go chat with Mr. Reicher again.”

Colin stood up, but before he could reach for his coat Darien said, “Wait a second. There’s more here.”

“More? More on the list?”

“No. Another file. Hang on…”

He waited, knowing she’d tell him when she could.

“There. Dates and times and some sort of abbreviations.”

He leaned in to look over her shoulder. He studied the new list she’d uncovered for a moment, but it didn’t mean anything to him. A couple of the abbreviations seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place them. After a few fruitless minutes, he walked to a cubicle across the aisle and up one.

“Palmer? Can you come here and take a look at something?”

The man lumbered over. If he noticed Darien pulled back so there was no way they could even brush, he didn’t say anything.

He looked at the new list. “I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me. Unless there were events scheduled at each place on those days. I could check, if you want.”

Colin stared at the detective and asked carefully, “Each place? What places?”

Palmer gestured at the third column in the list. “Those. You know, Safe Haven, Laurel House, Lakeshore.”

“Of course!” Colin exclaimed. “That’s why those abbreviations seemed familiar.”

“What are they?” Darien asked.

“They’re halfway houses and shelters for runaways.”

It didn’t take her long to figure it out. Colin saw her eyes widen as it hit her. “That’s where they…went shopping?”

“Let’s just say when we correlate this list with the other list and the missing persons reports, and check with those agencies, I won’t be surprised if there’s yet another series of connections,” Colin said.

“ Gardner was on the board of the charity that funded three of these,” Palmer contributed, and Colin knew they had yet another nail in Reicher’s coffin.

Within an hour of concerted effort, they knew he was right. Everything matched. Phone calls to the shelters and halfway houses verified the last facet of his guess.

“I think we’ve got it,” Colin said. “Thanks to Darien,” he added. The words were for her, but he was looking at Palmer, who had the grace to look abashed.

“So Gardner did the shopping, off this list, at these halfway houses and shelters, sent the list to Reicher, who arranged the kidnappings?” Darien asked.

“Probably helped deliver them to the buyer,” Colin said.

“And I’m supposed to be sorry he’s dead?” she asked.

Colin and Palmer gave her a startled look. “Ah,” Colin said. “Under that beautiful exterior beats a justice-craving heart.”

Darien stared at him, so intently he felt nonplussed.

“You going to go get him?” Palmer asked.

Colin shook off the odd sensation Darien ’s steady gaze had given him.

“That we are,” he said.

Chapter 6

“T his is an outrage!”

“You’re right about that,” Darien said, her voice cold. “Did you figure you could get away with it because nobody cared about those kids?”

She’d been stunned when, after discussing interrogation strategy, Colin had told her to go ahead and start the questioning. She’d asked why, and he’d told her she was just angry enough to face Reicher down.

“I’ll step in when the time’s right,” he said.

So, quashing the nerves that were making her stomach jump, she had begun.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reicher snapped now. “I’ve taken all the insults I’m going to take. I demand to see my lawyer.”

“Your request has been noted. You’ll get your call as soon as a line is free.”

She saw him glance at the phone on the interview room desk. All the buttons were indeed lit or flashing. They’d made sure of that.

“In the meantime,” she said, “you might want to figure out how you’re going to explain this.”

She tossed the printout of the list on the table in front of him. He glanced at it, and she had the extreme satisfaction of seeing him pale visibly beneath his carefully maintained tan. His gaze flicked up to her face, and she saw a trace of apprehension in those cold, crocodile eyes.

“Where did you get that?”

Not what is it, she noted, satisfaction flowing through her again.

“Right off your hard drive, unedited and uncut.”

“How dare you?” he sputtered.

“Oh, with a warrant, Desmond.” She used his first time intentionally, almost insultingly. “Rest assured, the legal system is already fully engaged.”

“You can’t prove a thing. My attorneys will make a hash out of your warrant. And then I’ll slap this department with the biggest lawsuit it’s ever seen. Anybody could have put that on my computer.”

“Interesting. Your staff told us you were paranoid about it, that no one was allowed to touch that computer, or even clean the room it was in unless you were physically present.”

Reicher muttered something under his breath, and Darien doubted any of that staff would be employed by Reicher much longer. But she also guessed none of them would be particularly upset about that fact.

“Was it really worth it? You can’t need the money, so was it for kicks? The thrill? Or just the pure joy of putting a few more women in their place?”

“Someone should put you in yours,” he snapped.

She lifted a brow at him, and he flushed, as if realizing he’d betrayed something he should have kept hidden.

“My place,” she said softly, leaning over the table to invade his space, “is to make sure you go to jail, where no one will care how rich you are, for a very, very long time.”

“That will never happen,” Reicher said. “You’ll never prove I had anything to do with those women disappearing.”

“Who cares?” Colin asked, speaking for the first time.

“What?” Reicher said, clearly startled.

“That’s just our reason to hold you until we gather up the last bit of evidence for the big one.”

Reicher frowned. “The big one…what?”

“We know when and how you did it, but what we don’t know is why. Did he want out, maybe, cutting off the flow of easy cash? Did he develop a conscience, threaten to go clean, maybe confess?”

Reicher looked puzzled, and Darien thought it seemed real. “What are you talking about?” the man asked, in an entirely different tone than he’d used when he’d said similar words before.

“Nice try, Desmond,” Colin said, using his name familiarly just as Darien had; the man was used to more respect than this, and with his ego, not getting it could only add to his anger, which might make him make a fatal mistake. “If I didn’t have all this evidence, I might even believe you didn’t do it.”

“Whatever evidence you think you have, my lawyers will tear to pieces. I had nothing to do with those women.”

“And it won’t matter, when you go on trial for murder,” Colin said flatly.

“Murder?” Reicher’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute…you think I killed Franklin?”

He looked so astonished Darien found herself thinking, I almost believe him.

“Are you crazy? Why would I do that?”

“I think I gave you some possible reasons,” Darien said.

He gave her an irritated glance, but then looked back at Colin. “I’d be crazy to kill Franklin. He was the goose that laid the golden egg.”

“That goose, if you recall, wound up as dead as your partner. So did he want out? Did he want to put an end to your little scheme? Is that why you killed him?”

“I didn’t kill him. This is insane.”

“Insanity is overrated as a defense,” Darien said, letting her disdain show in her voice, knowing it would needle him, coming from her. “And by the way, your alibi didn’t hold up. Your assistant could only swear you were at your office until ten. Not late enough to save you, Desmond.”

Reicher looked at her as if he wished he could send her the way of the women he’d already sold into hell.

“Look, we know you and he were in on this slavery ring,” Colin said. “You’re going to go down for that. Which makes you the most likely suspect for the murder, too, unless you can give us a very good reason to go looking elsewhere.”

“The very good reason is I’m not a fool, Detective,” Reicher snapped at Colin. “I did not kill Franklin Gardner. And whatever else you think you’ve got, you will never be able to prove I did because it’s not true.”

“What’s bugging you?” Colin asked, judging by the crease between her brows that Darien wasn’t happy about something. “You did great with him.”

“Thank you,” she said, with that smile that he’d finally had to admit knocked him for a loop every time. It was so warm, so gentle, so…personal, that it was hard not to read too much into it.

“You earned it,” he said. “So what’s putting that furrow in your forehead?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, something’s bugging me,” he said, and she looked at him quizzically. His mouth quirked wryly at one corner. “After all this, my gut isn’t cooperating.”

“What do you mean?”

He let out a compressed breath. “I believe him.”

Her forehead immediately cleared. “You do?”

“I know, I know, it’s crazy, but slime that he is, I don’t think he killed Gardner.”

“Neither do I.”

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“I believe him, too.”

“He had to have known killing Gardner would cause more trouble than it was worth.”

She nodded. “The only way I could reconcile it was if he killed him in an out-of-control rage, and…”

When she hesitated, he finished it for her. “And Desmond Reicher has never been that far out of control in his entire lifetime.”

“Exactly. He’s too cold, calculating. He would never act without figuring what it might cost him first.”

“Same conclusion I came to.” Colin sighed audibly. “I just don’t know where that leaves us.”

“At square one?” she suggested wearily.

“Well, not quite,” Colin reminded her gently. “We did just put a forced prostitution ring out of business.”

“Yes, we did. No way now Reicher could pick a new partner and start again, or try to carry on alone.”

“And when they trace the other end of the chain, we might just save some of those girls.”

She brightened at that. “I hadn’t thought of that. Now that would be worth it all and then some.”

“I thought you’d like that.”

“I do. But now what? And what if we’re wrong about him not killing Gardner?”

He shrugged. “He’ll still get turned over to the feds for the forced prostitution charges. That will hold him for a long time. More than long enough for us to keep turning over rocks and looking for anybody else that might crawl out.”

She yawned suddenly, then embarrassedly apologized. “Sorry. Guess it’s catching up with me.”

“We’ve been pushing pretty hard for days now, and it’s-” he glanced at his watch and was surprised himself “-it’s nearly eight. Let’s knock off, get some dinner and some sleep.”

“Food? Real food?”

“Honest. Then we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

“Early,” she said.

“Of course.”

He grinned at her, and got himself that smile again. He could get used to that, he thought. And before he could recoil from the danger of that thought, she was on her feet. She grabbed her coat and, seemingly without embarrassment, his hand, tugging.

“Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t care where, as long as it’s food I didn’t cook on dishes I don’t have to wash.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, trying to ignore the heat that shot through him at even her casual touch.

This could be a long night, he thought. In more ways than one.

She shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine, Darien decided too late. She didn’t drink often, didn’t like the feeling of being out of control, but tonight she’d been having trouble winding down and thought it might help. She needed sleep, after too long with too little, but her mind wouldn’t slow down. She knew too many cops went down that road too far to get back, so she was in little danger of following, but still, she could understand how it happened when you felt like this.

Right now, she felt full of good food and a bit buzzed. And it was not a bad feeling. But then, neither was sitting across the table from Colin Waters. She’d liked his looks before she’d ever spoken to him, but now that she’d spent hours and days on end with him, she liked him as a person as well. She liked the way he handled himself, the way he’d let her deal with Palmer, the way he’d subtly warned the man when things got out of line. She liked that he gave her a chance to prove herself before he passed judgment, and that he didn’t belittle her instincts, even though they weren’t honed with as much experience as he had.

And most of all, she liked the way she felt when he looked at her with approval in those amber-gold eyes.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly.

“For what?” he asked, clearly surprised by the out-of-the-blue gratitude.

“For not making this harder than it had to be for me. I knew there was going to be a certain amount of resentment to deal with. I’m grateful to you for not being part of that.”

“Even if I had been,” he said, “I’d be over it by now. You do your job, you give it full effort, and you know when to back off and learn. That’s all I ask from a new partner.”

This reminded her of something she’d been wanting to know. “Your former partner retired?”

He nodded. “Sam had thirty years on. He taught me most of what I know.” He grinned. “Sometimes, he just let me learn the hard way. He called it tough love.”

“Sounds like quite a character.”

“He was one of the best. Before he left, I tried to thank him for all he’d done. He said the best thanks I could give him would be to pass it on. That way he’d feel he didn’t do those thirty years just for a paycheck.”

“I’ll have to look him up and thank him some day.”

“He’d appreciate that.”

A few minutes passed as the check came, Colin insisted on paying, saying she could pick up next time. The idea that there would be a next time, and conceivably a next and a next, both thrilled and frightened her. She could so easily get into trouble with this man, and trouble was just what she didn’t need now, on a new job that was already hazardous enough, in too many ways to count.

And then he looked up, caught her staring at him, no doubt with everything she was thinking showing plainly on her face.

“This way lies trouble,” he said softly. “For both of us.”

She didn’t, couldn’t, pretend to misunderstand. “I know.”

“Are we going anyway?”

“Do you want to?”

“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “I hate being a cliché.”

She knew he meant the cliché of cop partners falling for each other. She’d had the same thought herself more than once since they’d started working together.

“So do I.”

Later, when they were outside walking to the car, Darien still wasn’t sure of anything except that this was asking for trouble. Yet when he entrapped her with his arms against the car, even though she could easily have escaped, she didn’t make a move.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice low and husky, “we should dip a toe in the water and see just how hot it is.”

“I suppose,” she said rather breathlessly, “we should find out what we’re resisting. Maybe it won’t be so hard after all.”

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Darien knew in the first three seconds that fighting this was going to be next to, if not beyond, impossible. His mouth was rich with the taste of wine and the chocolate they’d had for dessert, and with something indefinable that was pure Colin. Her nerves came to life with startling speed, as if they’d been waiting for this moment, this man. Anything she’d known before paled next to this.

She heard him make a sound, deep in his throat. He seemed to hesitate, and she thought he was going to pull back. Her response was immediate, without thought; she flicked her tongue over his lips in an effort to keep him there.

It worked. The sound he was making became a groan, and his arms came around her, pulling her hard to him. He probed her mouth with his tongue, taking the hint she’d offered. Fire leapt through her, and all thought of danger, all the reasons they shouldn’t do this, were seared to ash.

By the time he finally did pull back, Darien was shaking. And it didn’t comfort her much to realize he was breathing fast and hard as he stared down at her, his eyes as hot as the flames that had scorched her.

“That answers that,” he said roughly.

“It certainly does,” she whispered.

They were both in trouble now. For a long, tense moment they simply looked at each other, and somehow Darien knew he was thinking the same thing she was: what had they unleashed?

When his cell phone rang, he didn’t even react until the second ring. Then, with an effort that was obvious, he pulled it out and pushed the talk button.

“Waters.” He listened for what seemed like a long time. Then, finally, he said, “No, I’m not surprised. We’d already reached that conclusion. But now we have proof. Thanks.”

He informed the caller that they would start anew tomorrow, and then hung up.

“That was the sergeant from the facility where Reicher’s being held,” he said. “ Benton called him. Sutter’s determined our killer had to be left-handed.”

Her brows shot up. “And Reicher is right-handed.”

He nodded. “So we’ve got the satisfaction of knowing we were right. And the job of starting all over to find our killer.”

“Joy,” she muttered.

“And,” he added softly, “the extra job of figuring out what to do about this personal fire we’ve started.”

“That, too.”

Chapter 7

“W hen in doubt, start with the family,” Darien said. “Isn’t that what they always say?”

Colin nodded. “That’s what the statistics say.”

“Well, all I can say is the matriarch should be the last one we talk to, or we’ll be dead in the water before we start.”

“I had that same feeling,” he said, stifling a yawn that reminded him too clearly of a restless night spent remembering that heated kiss they’d shared. “I’m thinking we hit the son again first, since he’s the one dodging us.”

…they may have fought about the money he was going to inherit, but Stephen had nothing to do with this!

Lyle’s vehement defense of his nephew had been echoing in his head, and he wondered if perhaps the man had reason to think the young man needed it.

A single phone call not only set the course of their day, but gave them a piece of information that made them both react with interest; Stephen Gardner had dropped out of school.

This trip to the Gardner estate was considerably different than the last one. For one, they were now looking for a suspect in the family circle. Secondly, they had the memory of that kiss between them.

And this time, there would be no insulating her grandson from reality for Cecelia Gardner.

“Get any sleep last night?” Colin asked.

“Not much,” she admitted.

“Me either. What are we going to do about it?”

“Get over it?” she suggested, but without much conviction.

“I wish,” he said dryly. He wasn’t particularly stung by her words, mainly because they were uttered with such acknowledgment of the impossibility of what she’d said.

But doing anything else seemed impossible, too.

“It would never work,” he said.

“Probably not,” she agreed, surprising him; he’d expected her to disagree. “But,” she went on, “I’m curious why you think that.”

“Because you want everything I’m no good at. You’re cut out for marriage, kids, the white picket fence, the whole bit.”

When she answered, her words came slowly, as if she’d chosen them very carefully. “You don’t know what I want, proven by the fact that I don’t like white picket fences. But that aside, why do you say you’re not cut out for the rest?”

“My marriage proved that.”

“Hmm. My marriage failed, too, but all it proved was that we were too young. But you assume yours proved that you were unfit for all time? A little premature, wouldn’t you say?”

He’d never thought of it quite that way before. “Maybe,” he muttered.

“At least you didn’t decide that because you couldn’t trust one woman, you can’t trust any,” she said.

“It was my-” He stopped in the middle of the old refrain, that his fractured marriage was his fault.

I believe an affair is the fault of the person involved. If you want out, get out, but you don’t cheat.

Her words came back to him, and now that he knew her a little better, he knew she meant them. That’s the code she would live by, an honesty he’d thought didn’t exist. If there was a problem in the relationship, the guy wouldn’t get blindsided, because Darien Wilson would come out and say so. He knew that with a bone-deep certainty that surprised him, given the short time he’d known her.

She was quiet the rest of the drive, giving him time to think. He appreciated that she didn’t feel the need to fill each silent moment with chatter. Then again, he was nervous about what he was thinking, so maybe he shouldn’t be so glad she was allowing him time to do it.

When they arrived at the Gardner estate, the only thing they revealed was that they had an update for the family. It was enough to get the butler-or whoever answered the intercom-to open the massive driveway gate for them. And then they got lucky; Darien spotted Stephen Gardner outside the large garage beside the house, apparently directing a chauffeur or servant in how to correctly wax what appeared to be a brand-new European luxury coupe.

“New toy?” Colin wondered aloud.

“Not wasting any time spending daddy’s money, is he?” Darien said.

“So it would seem,” Colin agreed as he halted the city vehicle, which looked derelict in comparison, a few feet from the garage activity.

He looked little like his father, with thick, medium-brown hair and brown eyes. And had none of Franklin Gardner’s reported charisma; Stephen Gardner seemed a bit sulky, almost sullen. And, Colin guessed, more than a little anger was hidden away under that surface.

If I had a son, he wouldn’t end up like this, Colin muttered to himself. And nearly stopped breathing when he realized what he’d thought. And that the child who popped into his head had blond hair.

“Colin?” Darien said, sounding a bit odd, although she never looked away from the younger Gardner.

“What?”

“He’s left-handed.”

Colin leaned forward, in time to see Stephen Gardner writing something on a small piece of yellow paper with his left hand.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Shall we?”

They got out and headed toward the two men and the fancy coupe.

“Nice car.” Darien caught the young man’s attention with the comment. And kept it with her looks, Colin thought wryly as he watched the young man smile at her. When they’d spoken to him briefly a few days ago, his responses had been short and unhelpful, no doubt as instructed by his grandmother. This was an entirely different young man.

“Yeah, isn’t it?” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve been wanting it for ages, it’s the latest-” He broke off, belatedly recognizing them. “Hey, you’re the cops. The detectives.”

“Yeah, we are,” Colin acknowledged, noticing the unobtrusive man with the car wax quietly departing the scene.

“You have news? Did you catch who killed the old man?”

So much for the respectful “my father” he’d used before, Colin noted. Over the shock? Or just more certain he’s going to get away with it?

“We’re getting very close,” Darien said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Oh? So was it a burglar like Uncle Lyle says, or did somebody finally get ticked off enough to just do him?”

“Think that’s likely, do you, Stephen?” Colin asked.

The young man scowled. “Look, I told you before, the old man and I didn’t get along. I told you if it hadn’t been for him, my mother would still be alive.”

“I looked into that, Stephen, after we spoke,” Darien said. “The official report says accidental overdose.”

The young man’s mouth twisted scornfully. “Of course it does. What would you expect it to say? My father was Franklin Gardner. But he drove her to it. He could drive anyone to it. She wouldn’t even have had those pills around if she hadn’t needed them to get through every day of living with him.”

Colin thought about asking why she hadn’t just divorced him, but he could guess at the reasons and it wasn’t really relevant anyway.

“Did you hate him, Stephen?”

“I’m not going to lie about it. He was a control freak who had to have everything his way. Nothing was good enough for him. Nothing.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” the young man said bitterly. “Did I hate him? Yes. Enough to kill him? No. I didn’t want him to think he was that important to me, that he could get to me like he did my mother.”

There was bitterness in the younger Gardner ’s words, but also the ring of stark truth.

Apparently Darien felt the same way because she said, “Do you have any idea who might have done it, then?”

Something flickered in the young man’s eyes, and Colin’s instincts came to alert.

“No,” Stephen said.

“If you have even a guess, we’d like to hear it,” Colin said.

“You’re the cops, it’s your job to figure it out.”

“That,” Darien said softly, “sounds like something your father would have said.”

Good shot, Colin thought as he watched the young man wince.

“My father was always throwing his weight around,” Stephen acknowledged. “But he was bigger on family loyalty.”

Colin’s already alerted instincts spiked higher. But before he could continue, an imperious voice rang out, interrupting the proceedings thoroughly.

“I told you you were not to speak to my grandson without myself or his uncle present!”

They turned to see Cecelia bearing down on them. The chauffeur, he guessed, must have sounded the alarm. Cecelia was followed by Lyle, who looked rather anxious. Colin wondered if that was his normal mien when in the presence of his overbearing mother, or if he was nervous about something else.

“And, ma’am, I told you he is an adult, and we’re not required to allow a relative present while questioning him.”

“Questioning him?” Lyle asked sharply. “You make it sound like he’s a suspect when we know you’ve arrested Desmond!”

“I think we’ve come to an understanding,” Darien said, glancing at Stephen and giving him a smile that made the young man redden.

I know how you feel, kid, Colin thought ruefully. She does the same thing to me.

Oddly, although Cecelia backed off a bit, Lyle didn’t seem to relax. Or maybe it was just his normal demeanor; as Darien had said after their original contact with him, he was a bit full of being a Gardner. But they shooed Stephen away, and turned on Colin and Darien.

“If you don’t have anything worthwhile to report to us,” Lyle demanded, gesturing rather wildly, “why are you here and not out hunting the person who killed my brother?”

Because we’re here hunting the person who killed your brother, Colin thought, eyeing the man. Something was bothering him about Lyle, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“Because we have some additional questions to ask.” He turned to Darien, letting his gaze flick from her to Mrs. Gardner and back. She picked up on his cue quickly, and more efficiently than he would have thought possible she had ushered the redoubtable woman away, leaving him with the surviving Gardner brother.

Now he just had to decide where to start, and how far to go.

Darien studied the woman sitting beside her, wondering if she was imagining that she looked older, less intimidating than before. She certainly hadn’t expected it to be so easy to separate her and get her alone.

“I’m sorry this is so difficult,” she said, going on instinct. “It must seem like this process takes forever to you.”

“At least you finally have the killer in custody now,” the woman said, but her critical tone seemed more automatic than truly snappish. As had the order for coffee; Darien doubted, had the woman been herself, that she would be serving one of the cops she held responsible for all the delay.

“We thought we did, but it turns out the evidence proved us wrong and we had to begin again.”

Mrs. Gardner actually looked startled. “Wrong?”

“Yes. He’s still being held on…other charges, but it appears he’s not guilty of murdering your son.”

“Then who is it?”

“We don’t know yet. I’m sorry.”

“It’s my son who’s dead,” she snapped. “First I have to fight to get them to release his body for burial, and now you’re telling me the man you arrested is innocent and you don’t have any idea who killed him?”

“I didn’t say we had no idea. Just nothing I can talk about yet.”

Mrs. Gardner subsided, but not happily. Darien looked at the elderly woman, who looked not stylishly slender just now, but thin and frail. And no matter how she tried she couldn’t picture her killing not just her own son, but anyone.

Except perhaps by slicing them to death with that tongue of hers, she added silently.

“We understand your need to protect your family,” Darien said. “Especially when you’ve already lost a son. But doesn’t that son deserve your total honesty, if it will help find his killer?”

For a long moment Cecelia Gardner looked at her, a steady, assessing gaze that made Darien want to draw back. But she held her place, met the woman’s gaze, and refused to avert her eyes. Finally, as if defeated, Mrs. Gardner broke first and looked away.

She’s hiding something, Darien realized with a little jolt. She knows something, and she’s hiding it.

Her mind began to race. Could she have found out about her son’s little sideline? Was she afraid we’ll also find out, or already know? Or did she know something about her son’s murder that she wasn’t telling? She still couldn’t believe the woman could have done it herself, but neither could she doubt that Cecelia Gardner knew something she wasn’t telling.

By the time she was back in the car with Colin, she wasn’t any closer to figuring it out. So when he asked her what she’d gotten, all she could say was, “She’s hiding something. She knows something, or is afraid we’ll find out something she doesn’t want us to.”

“Protecting someone?”

She considered that. “Possibly.” And then, after a moment, she added, “And I can’t think of all that many people she’d take the risk for.”

“Neither can I.”

“So if we follow this to the logical end…”

“We’ve narrowed our suspect pool considerably,” Colin said, finishing the thought for her. “Especially after Stephen’s comment about his father being big on family loyalty.” The two prime suspects were obviously what was left of Cecelia Gardner’s family. And that made the morass they were treading through even messier.

“And if our suspect is someone important enough for Cecelia Gardner to protect…”

Colin again finished her unspoken thought. “It’s somebody we’re going to have to be very careful with.”

“So now what?”

“Back to the station, I guess. I need to find something, and I may need your help.”

“All right. What is it?”

“A photograph. Probably a society page type of thing.”

“And it’s at the station?”

“No. I’m not even sure it exists, but if it does I figured you could help me find it online.”

“If you need an online search, let’s go to my place. I’ve got a cable connection, and it’ll be a lot faster.”

“All right. Where to?”

She gave him the address of her apartment, and he nodded.

Darien barely noticed the quiet as they drove; she’d found silence with Colin soothing rather than unsettling. Besides, she was sure he was thinking as hard as she was about what they’d learned today. And about what they’d guessed at. What she didn’t know was if he was worrying as much as she was whether those guesses were right. What if she was wrong about Mrs. Gardner, or about Stephen? What kind of instincts did she have, after all?

She suppressed a shiver, and told herself she hadn’t done anything based on her guesses, so it didn’t matter. But it still made her edgy, and she wondered if Colin had ever felt like this.

And wondered if she now had the right to ask.

Darien ’s apartment was small, but Colin immediately felt comfortable in it. It was decorated in bright, warm, cheerful colors that were pleasant after the cold outside. The living room was narrow, containing only a sofa, a chair, coffee table and an entertainment center, but they were arranged cozily and looked comfortable. It felt like a home, unlike his own spartan digs. Or maybe it was just that she made him feel as if he was coming home. The thought stopped his breath, and he was glad when she spoke.

“Coffee? Or something stronger?”

“Coffee,” he said, then added, “with the option for the other later.”

She walked to the small kitchen that was tucked into one corner and divided from the rest of the room by a small island. She filled a coffeemaker that sat on the counter and started it. Then she walked to an alcove that housed a desk and computer that looked much more impressive than the ones at the station, and pushed a button to boot up. It took a moment as things whirred and beeped, and data flashed across the screen. When it was done, she leaned over and made a couple of mouse clicks. She opened a browser, then glanced back at the coffeemaker, which was already dripping the dark brew into the pot.

“I’ll get it,” Colin said. “Cups?”

“Mugs in the cupboard just above. Milk in the fridge, sugar in the green canister.”

He nodded, and she pulled up her desk chair and sat down. “All right,” she asked, “what am I looking for?”

He told her, and while it didn’t make sense to her-they’d just left the real thing, after all-she started the search.

He came over and set a steaming cup beside her. She glanced at it, and saw it was exactly the shade she liked.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched for a moment as she clicked on various search results, then let out a low whistle. “Whew. You weren’t kidding about it being faster.”

“I’m spoiled,” she said. “At the station it seems to take forever.”

“I can see why, if this is what you’re used to. I’ve never seen-” He stopped suddenly. “There. That one, with the woman in red. Can you go back to it?” She clicked once and the image reappeared. He studied it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

“Keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

The steady process began again, and he sipped at his coffee as he watched. Occasionally he stopped her on a shot, but always seemed to decide it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Dare I ask exactly what it is you’re looking for?”

“Something with a clear, closer shot of the left hand.”

She blinked. And in that moment guessed his intent.

With a series of clicks that went so fast he could barely keep up she went back to a photograph he’d rejected a few moments ago. She clicked on it, a menu popped up, and she seemed to pull it right out of the article-a report on the annual Gardner Corporation Christmas Gala-and it appeared in another window.

She began to work with what appeared to be some kind of photo software, and within a few minutes, she hit one last button and a new window began to fill with an enlarged, sharpened image.

When it was done, he was standing there staring at a piece of evidence that could make the case. It wasn’t razor sharp, and it lacked detail, but it was enough to make it clear his idea was possible.

“Can you print that?” His voice was a little tight.

“Sure.”

She hit two more buttons, and he heard the whir of a printer starting up. Then she turned to him.

“How did you know?”

“Something’s been bothering me every time we saw him.” He gestured at the subject in the photo. “And today, I finally figured it out. I think it was because we were out in the sun, so it was more obvious. A tan line, where a ring used to be.”

She turned to look at the picture still up on her monitor, and made the jump instantly. “The ring that explains those facial bruises. And he’s left-handed.”

“Yes.”

“And he’d easily be able to grab that security camera tape.”

“Yes.”

Her gaze shifted back to him. “Then we’ve got him?”

He shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a fuzzy newspaper photo. But it’s a good start.”

Darien turned to look once more at the photograph. She stared at it for what seemed like a long time, but Colin knew by now that her mind was probably racing. And then she spoke, and proved him right.

“A Gardner wouldn’t wear cheap jewelry, right?”

“Not likely.”

She swiveled in the chair and looked up at him. “Then wouldn’t it be likely that that ring is insured somewhere?”

His brows furrowed. “Probably. It would-” He stopped abruptly as what she was thinking hit him. “And insurance means photographs!”

“Detailed closeups, I’d expect. Is the name of the insurance company anywhere in the reports, for the items reported stolen?”

“Should be, it’s pretty routine.” He grinned at her. “Next time anybody hassles you about how you got this job, you send them to me.”

“I’ll do that.”

The look she gave him then made him feel as if he’d done a whole lot more than simply acknowledged that she had what it took to do this job. It also made him feel downright warm inside, a sensation he didn’t even bother to try and shrug off this time. At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if he was on a runaway train.

“So Lyle Gardner is suspect number one,” he said after a moment.

“His own brother,” she said, shaking her head.

“He must have found out about the prostitution ring.”

“You think he confronted Franklin about it?”

Colin nodded. “He seems the type who would want to protect the family name.”

“And they fought over it. Maybe he never meant to kill him at all.”

“That would make sense,” Colin agreed. “And it would fit with the fall injury being the cause of death.”

“So the rest, the ice picks and the stolen property, was just a cover-up, to make it look like a burglary.”

“It’s all circumstantial,” Colin warned.

“But it explains what Stephen said, and Cecelia’s protective reaction. It fits.”

“Yeah. It fits.”

“So now what?”

“Nothing, until morning when we can get the photos of the ring. Then we’ll get them over to Maggie Sutter and see if the ring matches those bruises on the body.”

“And if they do?”

“Then we call in the D.A., and Mr. Lyle Gardner goes to jail.”

“I could get used to this,” Darien said with an exaggerated yawn and stretch after she’d finished her last forkful of pasta and sip of wine. “Somebody else cooking is a novelty.”

She got up and strolled over to the sofa, then turned to give him a sideways grin, and added, “Heck, somebody cooking in here is a novelty. I’ve become a takeout queen, much to my mother’s shame.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said wryly as he followed her to the living room. “You’ve just had my entire repertoire.”

“Good thing I love spaghetti, then.”

She colored suddenly, looking as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded, as if she were planning many more nights like this one.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said softly. He’d been thinking about it a lot himself, and the appeal of an endless string of nights like this was growing rapidly. He could even, if he worked at it, put a kid or two into the picture.

She had the grace not to deny it. “Sorry.” She lowered her gaze. Then, after a moment, she added in a near whisper, “I think.”

It was that little whisper that undid him. “Damn, Darien. That kiss was…almost an accident. This would be with full intent. Do you realize what we could get ourselves into?”

She looked up at him then. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice husky now.

Heat flashed through him with the speed of an explosion. He’d been keeping himself on a short leash for what felt like an eon now, although it had, amazingly, only been a short time. He took a step toward her, reached out, then froze. When he spoke, his voice was thick and harsh.

“If you want to stop this, you’d better say so now, because once I touch you, there’s no turning back for me.”

“There was no turning back for me once you took that first step,” she whispered.

He groaned, then reached for her again. But instead of pulling her up to him as he’d planned, he found himself sinking down beside her. His mouth sought hers hungrily, and the soft warmth of her lips somehow had more kick than his.357 Magnum. His gut knotted as if he’d taken one of those rounds, and he couldn’t have pulled away had someone drawn that gun on him.

“Colin,” she said breathlessly, “I forgot. I…we…I’m not prepared for this.”

He had to wait a moment for the hot, pleasurable haze to clear enough so that he could think. He mentally inventoried his wallet, remembered one of Sam’s parting gifts-with the accompanying suggestion that he get a life-then said roughly, “I’ll handle it.”

She breathed a sigh of relief that made his body clench.

He traced the line of her jaw with his mouth, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. His fingers tangled in the soft silk of her hair, and he did what he’d been longing to do forever, planted a long, lingering kiss at the nape of her neck bared by the impossibly sexy haircut. When she shivered in reaction, he felt it as if it had begun inside him.

She moved, and only when he felt the sinuous caress of her hips against his aroused body did he realize he’d pulled her beneath him. She moved again, and he nearly gasped. Again, and he forgot to breathe at all.

This train is definitely in trouble, he thought. He’d never been derailed like this. Ever.

It was the last rational thought he had. He didn’t listen to it anyway.

Darien had the fleeting thought that this was insane, that she was long past the age when she should be rapidly heading for a very intimate encounter on the couch in her living room. Yet here she was, half-undressed, and without hesitation helping a man she hadn’t even met a month ago shed his own clothes. A man she’d known from the first instant meant trouble. She’d thought she’d loved Tony, but this…

And then he came back to her, his body hot, hard and ready, his hands moving over her with an eagerness that thrilled her and a tenderness that melted her. A delicious anticipation welled up inside her. When he slid into her she welcomed him with a matching eagerness, and a low groan of pure pleasure rumbled up from deep in his chest. She felt an answering ripple as her body strained to accept him, felt a glorious stretching fullness that made her cry out her own pleasure.

Suddenly it didn’t matter where they were, or how long they’d known each other. The only thing that mattered was this glorious sensation, this building, tightening, rising tension that nearly made her scream.

And then he moved one last time, driving hard and deep into her, and the tension shattered, flinging her in what seemed a thousand directions at once.

And she did scream. His name.

Colin hung up the phone and turned to Darien with a wide smile on his face. “It’s a match. Maggie says the ring in the photograph is a perfect match for the bruises on the body.”

Darien smiled back, and potent memories of last night flashed through his mind in a hot, vivid stream.

“Is it enough?” she asked.

Never, he thought, then realized she was talking about the ring.

“For a conviction? Probably not, we’ll have to keep searching for the thing. Stone’ll need all the help he can get, including that ring and any trace DNA evidence on it. But for an arrest, definitely. The warrant’s already in the works.”

She let out a long breath. “What if we’re wrong?”

“We’re the good guys,” he teased. “We’re never wrong.”

She laughed, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek. She blushed and lowered her gaze, but she also nuzzled his hand. And instantly he was again awash in those intense images. He didn’t know what she’d done, had a strange feeling it was more what she hadn’t done, such as throw herself at him, but somehow she’d blasted through every reservation he’d had.

“Ho, ho, ho, I smell fraternization!”

Colin stifled a groan as Palmer’s voice told him he’d been caught. Served him right for succumbing to the urge to touch her here in the office.

“Isn’t this sweet?” Palmer drawled. “Together at last. How convenient.”

Colin summoned up an air of unconcern.

“Don’t mind us,” he said with a creditable laugh. “We’re just celebrating the fact that in a minute we’re going to pick up a warrant and make an arrest.”

“In fact,” Darien said, getting up, “we’re going right now, aren’t we?”

“Indeed we are,” he agreed, and they left so quickly Palmer was left with nothing to do but gape after them.

They both breathed a sigh of relief that Mrs. Gardner wasn’t at home. They hadn’t looked forward to dealing with her when, after the murder of her younger son, they were about to cart off the eldest.

Lyle Gardner was his usual haughty self when they arrived. He demanded to know if they had made any progress. Darien kept her eyes on Gardner ’s face as Colin answered.

“Yes, we have. In fact, we’re about to make an arrest. We’ve discovered a key piece of evidence.”

Darien was sure she saw Gardner draw back infinitesimally.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out about it?” Darien asked softly. “It’s pretty distinctive, after all. All Gardner jewelry would be.”

Lyle paled visibly. “I lost that ring. Long ago. You can’t prove otherwise.”

Gotcha! Darien exulted silently.

“Did you?” Colin asked.

“Yes.”

“So there will be a claim on file with your insurance company?” Darien put in sweetly, already knowing perfectly well there hadn’t been.

Gardner suddenly seemed to realize he was digging himself into a hole. “I’m through with your questions. My attorney will speak for me from now on.”

“Fine. We’ll call him for you from the station,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Colin reached into his pocket and took out some folded papers. “I’m afraid you are, Mr. Gardner. This arrest warrant says so.”

“Whatever judge you got to sign that won’t be on the bench for long.”

“Amazingly enough, there is a judge in Chicago who doesn’t owe the Gardners a thing,” Colin said.

Fuming, Gardner swore indelicately. “I’m calling my attorney now.”

Colin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We won’t be needing to ask you any questions now anyway.”

He spoke as if the case was open-and-shut, as if he were utterly confident that nothing Gardner could do would make any difference. It rattled the man, Darien could see it in his face.

“Oh, wait,” Colin said. “I was wrong, there is one more question.”

“I won’t answer anything.”

“That’s okay. I already know the answer, anyway.”

Darien could see he was struggling not to ask. And saw the moment when he gave up. “The answer to what?”

Colin smiled. “To how you knew we were talking about your ring. We never mentioned it.”

The man visibly blanched.

“Lyle Gardner, you are under arrest for the murder of Franklin Gardner,” Colin said with satisfaction.

Darien typed the last line on the jail booking form, hit the enter key with a flourish.

“Voilà,” she said. “The end. Mr. Lyle Gardner is officially booked.”

“Too bad the investigation hasn’t ended. We’ve still got to find that ring.”

Darien sighed. “Don’t rain on my parade just yet, will you? Give me an hour or so to feel some job satisfaction.”

Colin grinned. “Well, since it’s your first time…”

She took a swipe at him, but she was grinning back. It did feel good, even he had to admit it. The case wasn’t a lock, not by a long shot, but he knew in his gut they had the right guy. Not that that would be worth a thing in court.

“Do you need to go back to the office?” he asked.

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I don’t want Palmer to ruin my mood.”

“He was right about one thing.”

“Palmer? Hard to believe. What?”

“The convenience.”

She blinked. “What?” she repeated.

“It’s convenient. If you were to marry me, you wouldn’t have to change your initial.”

Her breath caught audibly, but she recovered quickly. As she always did. “What makes you think I’d change my name anyway?”

“Then I won’t have to change my initial,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She laughed then, warming him anew. Mostly because she hadn’t shut him down outright. He still felt a little bit like he was on an out-of-control train, but to his own surprise, he didn’t want to jump off.

Not as long as his new partner was on board.