I’m Watching You

Chapter Fifteen

Monday, February 23,

5:00 A.M.

„Wake up.“

Kristen heard the fly buzzing and swatted it away. „Kristen, wake up.“

No, not a buzzing fly. A rumbling voice. Abe. She rolled to her back, her eyes flying open. Abe sat on the edge of her bed, looking worried. And incredibly handsome. His shirt hung open partway, giving her a glimpse of his chest. It was hard, she knew. She’d felt his solid strength each time he’d held her against him. Now she wondered how it would feel to touch him there, to slide her fingers through the thick dark hair that covered his chest. Would it be coarse or soft? Would he like it? Would she feel his groan rumble beneath her hands?

As she contemplated, his hand lifted to smooth the hair away from her face so tenderly she wanted to sigh. He had such gentle hands. Such very nice hands. She shifted her body, feeling a warm throbbing between her legs that she now knew could become more than just a frustrating distraction. Much more. So that’s why everyone is so hooked on orgasms, she thought. The feeling had been simply… indescribable. Exhilarating. Powerful. I did it. I finally, really did it. And she wanted to do it again.

How exactly did one go about making such a request? And if she did, when would he expect more? Eventually, he’d want… well, more. And despite his arguments to the contrary, he would be disappointed. Abruptly the warmth chilled. So much for that.

He bent his head a fraction closer. „Are you all right?“

„I’m fine.“

He narrowed those blue eyes. „You don’t look fine. You shouldn’t go into work.“

„I have to. I’ve got motion hour at nine.“ She struggled up onto her elbows and groaned at the resulting pain in her back. „It feels like I got hit with a truck.“

„You did. A big truck with a gun.“

Her stomach quivered and she glanced over at her bedroom window. She’d nearly forgotten about the attack. It should have been her first thought, waking up. But it hadn’t been. Her first thought was of Reagan and his hands.

„You’re safe now,“ Reagan said soothingly. „You don’t have to be afraid.“ But she wasn’t afraid. No man had ever made her feel truly safe. Not until this man.

She looked him straight in the eye. „I know. Thank you.“

His eyes changed in a flash, going from worried to heated and the warm throbbing in her own body returned, intensifying almost to the point of pain. She watched his throat work. His jaw clenched. But he made no move to touch her. And she wanted him to.

She was in bed. With a man. And she wasn’t afraid. Not taking her eyes from his, her lips curved. „Good morning.“

His nostrils flared and she heard the quick intake of his breath. „Good morning.“

He needed to shave, she thought The beginning of a dark beard covered his cheeks, his chin. That space between his nose and his upper lip. Tentatively she reached up and trailed her fingertips along that space, then across his lips. And he swallowed hard.

„What?“ she whispered, her fingertips resting on his lips. They were soft, but she knew they could be hard when they crushed against hers.

His eyes smoldered. „You’re beautiful,“ he whispered back.

She had to remember to breathe. „No, I’m not.“

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist and she wondered if he could feel her pulse quicken. He leaned closer until their eyes were just inches apart. This close she could see the blue was rimmed in black. „Yes, you are.“ Then he tilted his head and his lips were on hers and it started all over again. The rushing, the pounding, the throbbing. The wanting. She heard herself hum in pleasure and he apparently heard it too because he took the kiss deeper, pressing her back, back into the pillows. Her hands reached, found his shoulders and held on. There was a tension in his shoulders. He was holding back, she realized dimly. He touched her only with his mouth, the rest of his body carefully held apart from hers. No pushing, no forcing. Strong, but gentle. The disparity was arousing.

He ended the kiss without really ending it at all, teasing the corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, brushing kisses across her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. „You’re a beautiful woman, Kristen,“ he murmured into her ear and she shuddered hard, her hips arching upward, meeting nothing but blanket and air. Tensing, he pulled back until he was sitting in his original position. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his powerful chest rising and falling as he worked to catch his breath.

So this is what they mean by sexual tension, she thought. I like this. „How do you do that?“ she asked, her voice rough and husky.

His brows lifted. „Did you like it?“

She felt her cheeks heat and knew she’d bypassed peony pink and gone straight to ruby red. And by the look in his eyes, he didn’t care that her face clashed with her hair. „Yes.“

„Good,“ he said with such satisfaction that she had to smile.

She closed her eyes and screwed up her courage. „You make me want more.“

A full beat passed. Then another. „Good,“ he finally said and this time it was his voice that was rough and husky. His fingertips skimmed her lips. The mattress shifted as he stood up. She opened her eyes and her mouth went dry at the sight of his body in profile. His chest isn’t the only thing that’s hard, she thought. And the thought didn’t make her cringe. A mixture of pride and relief rushed through her as he chuckled wryly.

„Thank you,“ he said and she wished she could hide under the bed.

„I said that out loud?“ she asked.

„Afraid so.“ He aimed an amused smile in her direction. „You have to get up now. I have to go by my apartment and change clothes, shower and shave before I take you to work.“

She opened her mouth to say she could drive herself, then glanced at the window. There was pride and there was stupidity and Kristen was not a stupid woman. „Okay.“

Monday, February 23,

8:00 AM.

Spinnelli looked worried. He had a right to be, Abe thought. They didn’t have shit.

Spinnelli leaned one hip against the conference room table, his bushy mustache bent in a painful frown. „So if I might summarize…“ He lifted his hand and started counting with his fingers. „One, we have two more bodies. Two, one of the lead prosecutors in the city has been attacked twice, once in her own home. Three, it’s open season on defense attorneys.“

„That’s not such a bad thing,“ Mia muttered and Spinnelli cut her off with a glare.

„Four, the captain’s taken calls from Jacob Conti every other hour all weekend because the ME’s office is, in Conti’s words, carving up his son a second time, and five“ – he held all five fingers extended – „we don’t have a single goddamn suspect.“

Mia shifted uneasily in her chair. „That’s about the size of it.“

„Kristen scratched her attacker last night,“ Abe said. „What about the scrapings from under her nails?“

From his seat beside Mia, Jack shrugged. „I can get DNA for you, but until you have a suspect, I don’t have anything to compare it to.“

Spinnelli stared at the whiteboard in frustration. „Julia found nothing on Skinner’s body? No hairs, no fibers, no nothing?“

Jack shook his head. „Nothing. I did find some debris ground into Skinner’s clothes, mud and some chemical residue from the factory in the dirt. I matched it to the site where we found the bullet, so we can confirm Skinner was there. The vise he used to keep Skinner’s head immobilized was so tight it left an imprint of the model number. Julia was able to stain the skin so I could get a good photograph. It was a Craftsman.“

„Solid as Sears,“ Mia muttered. „On every daddy’s Christmas wish list.“

„I have one,“ Spinnelli grumbled. „Wife gave it to me for my workshop three years ago.“

„I bet half the workshops in Chicago have one,“ Jack said.

„What about the bullet?“ Spinnelli asked.

„We’ve shown it to all the major gun stores in town,“ Mia said. „Nobody recognizes that maker’s mark. It’s too damaged. They also said nobody’s been practicing at their range with homemade bullets. But I was thinking – “

„No,“ Spinnelli drawled and Mia shot him a look that was half annoyed and half hurt.

„Yes. I do that occasionally, Marc,“ she said quietly.

Spinnelli sighed. „I’m sorry, Mia. I know you guys worked most of the weekend on this one. I got a call from the captain’s office this morning. He’d just hung up with the mayor, who’d been getting around the clock calls from Conti demanding we put more men on this case. The mayor wasn’t pleased, so the captain wasn’t pleased. Plus it seems like every defense attorney in town’s called to complain. They say we’d put more cops on the case if the prosecutors were targets.“ Spinnelli clenched his jaw. „That’s just bullshit“

„So you’re in a shitty mood,“ Mia said. „Fine, just don’t take it out on me.“

„Fine.“ Spinnelli raised both brows. „So what were you thinking, Mia?“

Mia didn’t look placated. „Just that if the guy has gone to all the trouble to make his own bullets, and he’s a sharpshooter who’s not practicing at a public range, he’s probably rigged his own target range. He’d need some land to do that so that no neighbors would see him and call the cops. Ever since 9/11, people have been a little skittish about their next-door neighbors playing Rambo.“

„That’s good, Mia,“ Abe said. „If he does own land, his name will appear in deed records. We can cross-reference the list you got from the sandblasting company.“

„But not the florist companies,“ Jack said.

„I’m still mad about that,“ Mia complained. „I looked at florists for hours. All wasted.“

„Are we sure about that?“ Spinnelli pressed. „We’ve got testimony from two kids saying they saw different signs on a white van. Are we sure they’re telling the truth?“

„Mclntyre saw it, too,“ Abe said and Spinnelli shrugged with regretful acceptance.

„And anyway, why would those kids lie?“ Jack asked. „What’s in it for them?“

„Especially since one of them walked right by a police cruiser to deliver the Conti package,“ Mia added. „Mclntyre was sitting right outside Kristen’s house when Tyrone Yates dropped off his box. If they were in cahoots with our guy, they wouldn’t be so bold.“

Abe had a sudden, terrible thought. „They might not be so bold. He might.“

Mia turned around to look at him, her brows furrowed. „What?“

Abe sat down at the computer and brought up the department’s criminal database. „How did our killer pick those two kids? They came from different neighborhoods, different schools. Did he pick them at random? By chance?“

Spinnelli’s expression was grim. „He doesn’t do anything by chance. He’s too organized. Everything’s connected, every loop closed. Abe, tell me those two boys were God-fearing angels that never gave the law a day’s trouble. Please.“

Abe typed in Tyrone Yates’s name and waited for the computer to respond. And when it did, he sighed. „This boy’s got a yellow sheet as long as my arm. Assault, plead down. Possession, plead down. Et cetera, et cetera.“

Mia went very still. „And what about Aaron Jenkins?“

The only sound in the room was the clacking of the keyboard. „Same. Throw in a few misdemeanor petty thefts.“ He scrolled down. „He turned eighteen four months ago. He’s got a sealed juvie record.“ Abe looked up, saw every eye looking at him. „He set these kids up.“

Jack frowned. „I’m not following you.“

Abe leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. „He didn’t just choose these kids at random. I’m sure of it. What if he has some personal beef with these kids? Maybe they did something to him, or to someone else who he wants to avenge. If he hires them, pays them, people will assume they know who he is. They’re bad kids, they have reputations in the neighborhood. Word gets out, and suddenly they are the link to the killer. If somebody wants the killer, they go through the kids.“

Jack shook his head. „But that doesn’t make sense, Abe. Not only do you have one hell of a lot of ‘ifs,’ but if he has a beef with these kids, why not kill them himself?“

Abe shrugged. „I don’t know. Maybe there’s a vigilante code of ethics or something. Maybe whatever they did wasn’t bad enough to warrant his kind of justice, but hey, if someone else does the honors, it’s okay with him. I don’t know. All I do know is right now, this is all we have.“

Mia closed her eyes. „We showed everybody in that neighborhood Aaron Jenkins’s picture. The whole freakin’ neighborhood.“

Jack massaged his temples. „And everybody who has a TV knows you guys are working this case, thanks to Zoe Richardson.“

„She put Tyrone Yates’s picture across the news last night,“ Spinnelli said grimly.

Abe clenched his jaw. He’d missed the news last night. He’d been too busy with Kristen’s attacker. „How did Richardson get pictures of Tyrone Yates?“

Spinnelli ran his hand through his hair in frustration. „She must have been skulking around Kristen’s neighborhood yesterday. She had really grainy video of Yates waiting in the back of Mclntyre’s cruiser. Then they ran the footage of Conti manhandling Julia. ‘A father’s grief,’ Richardson called it,“ he said sardonically. „My wife videotaped it for me, since we were all a little busy at Kristen’s house last night. I saw it when I got home.“

Mia got up to pace. „So between us and Richardson, the identities of those two delivery boys are common knowledge.“

„The kids won’t be able to ID the vigilante,“ Jack said. „Unless they lied to you about what they’d seen.“

„Maybe they did lie,“ Abe said. „Maybe they didn’t. If they did, I want them in here to get the truth. If not, if somebody wants to know who our humble servant is badly enough, they won’t believe those kids and their lives are in serious danger. We know the Blades want to know, badly enough to risk attacking Kristen on a public street. Let’s bring those two boys in for their own protection. In the meantime, I want to know what links these boys to our guy. Kristen wasn’t involved in either of their cases.“

Monday, February 23,

11:30 a.m.

Silence hung over the conference room in the State’s Attorney’s office. Kristen drew a deep breath. „That’s about it.“ She scanned the twenty-odd faces in the room and found most registered shock or dismay. Greg and Lois were concerned.

At the head of the table, John looked tired. It had been John’s request that she tell them about the Friday night attack in her car, the discovery of the Skinner box, the Conti box, the two delivery boys, and her attack last night. She omitted the more personal points, primarily the way Abe Reagan had come to her aid, in more ways than one.

„You’re sure you don’t know who this guy is?“ Greg asked, apparent doubt in his voice and Kristen’s mind abruptly left the topic of Abe Reagan.

„You think I’m keeping it to myself?“ she said sharply, Greg’s words a verbal slap.

Greg grimaced. „You know I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is that this guy knows you. He has personal access to you. There are times he’s probably close enough to touch you.“

„Thank you for painting Kristen such a vivid picture,“ Lois said dryly and chuckles rippled through the room.

Kristen managed a small smile despite the chill that clenched her muscles. „Greg hasn’t said anything I haven’t already thought.“

John cleared his throat „The police have established some basic time frames on each of the murders. Because they believe that the killer has access to confidential court records, each of you will be asked to provide your whereabouts during those time frames. I’ve assured Lieutenant Spinnelli that you all will cooperate fully.“

Angry murmurs reached Kristen’s ears and she held up her hand to quiet them. „So many times we criticize the police for not crossing all the ‘t’s and dotting the i’s. They are trying to do just that, trying to eliminate those of us who have access to the confidential court records John mentioned. Please cooperate with them when they come talk to you.“

John wearily raised his hand. „For the record, I was interviewed by Spinnelli on Saturday for the same reason. When they ask you your whereabouts, just tell them. Remember, everything you’ve heard is confidential. You are not to discuss it outside this room. You are dismissed.“ He pointed a finger at Kristen. „I need you to stay.“

He waited until everyone had filed out, leaving just the two of them at the table. He dragged his hands down his face and sighed. „How was motion hour this morning?“

Kristen raised her brows, surprised at the question. John never concerned himself with motion hour unless she had a major case, and this morning’s cases were fairly routine. „Strained.“ That was an understatement. The defense crowded at the far end of their table as if her very air space was contaminated. „I managed.“

„You always manage. You aren’t going to like this.“

The hairs rose on Kristen’s neck. „Like what?“

„For what it’s worth, I tried to fight this. I took it as high up on the ladder as I could.“ In his eyes Kristen saw weary resignation and her stomach clenched. „Milt got calls all weekend long, as soon as news of Skinner’s murder broke.“ Milt was John’s boss. His involvement either meant reprimand or raise. Kristen wasn’t naive enough to expect a raise. „You’re on administrative leave until this is all over.“

Kristen froze, unable to believe what she’d heard. „Excuse me?“

John sighed again. „No defense attorney in town wants to appear in the same courtroom with you. They’re all prepared to cite physical danger to themselves and their clients. Milt sees this as one big cause for appeal on any case that involves you. You’re to turn over all your cases as of four p.m. today. We’ll split your workload between the others.“

Kristen sat there, stunned. Unable to utter a word.

John pushed himself to his feet. „I’m sorry, Kristen. I told Milt he was wrong, that this wasn’t fair, but in the end it didn’t matter. I feel responsible for this, but there’s nothing I can do.“ He put a tentative hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She barely felt it. „Consider it a well-earned vacation,“ he said lamely. „No, I guess not.“

A well-earned vacation. The very thought mocked. She rose, keeping her legs steady with the force of sheer will. She would be, as always, in control. „I’ll gather my things.“

„Kristen – “ John reached out a hand and she stepped out of his way. His hand dropped and he sighed once more. „Let me know if you need any help.“

„I won’t.“

Monday, February 23,

1:00 p.m.

Abe hated the smell of the ME’s office. On a good day, it had the antiseptic smell of a hospital. He hated hospitals. On a bad day… Luckily Conti hadn’t been dead long enough to call this a bad day.

„We came as soon as we could, Julia,“ Mia said, walking over to the table where Angelo Conti’s body lay. „What’s up?“

„I wanted you to see this.“ Julia joined them at the table. „Conti’s body was in the worst shape of any of them so far. Your guy didn’t just beat him, he pounded him into hamburger.“

„Medium rare, hold the pickles,“ Mia quipped and Julia’s lips twitched.

„Don’t make me laugh. My ribs are still a little sore from yesterday.“

Abe frowned. „Jacob Conti hurt you that badly?“

Julia gave a facial shrug. „A few bruises. It could have been worse.“

„Yeah, Jack could have ripped off his face.“ Mia looked satisfied at the thought.

Julia’s cheeks colored delicately. „Jack shouldn’t have gone after Conti like that.“

„Well, I’m glad he did,“ Mia said.

After a half beat of hesitation Julia admitted, „So am I.“

„You could have pressed charges,“ Abe said.

„I could have, but the situation seemed inflamed enough as it was, what with that reporter filming every move. He’d just found out his son was dead, for God’s sake.“

„His murdering son,“ Mia muttered. „I wouldn’t waste your tears on him, Julia. Angelo Conti died the same way Paula Garcia died, beaten to death with a tire iron.“

Julia huffed out a sigh. „I suppose your guy does have a way with poetic justice. Well, anyway, take a look at this.“ She rolled the body slightly and pointed to a spot just above the back of Conti’s knee. „It’s faint and incomplete, but better than nothing.“

Abe leaned closer to see, his pulse quickening. „A partial thumbprint.“

Mia met his eyes, hers gleaming. „In Conti’s blood. Nicely done, Julia.“

„The body’s lividity indicates the killer rolled Conti on his side shortly after his death. The blood still would have been wet.“

„He didn’t wear gloves,“ Mia murmured.

Abe felt a spark of excited hope. „He got so carried away he made a mistake.“

„Yeah,“ Julia said with satisfaction. „For the severity of the beating, there was very little blood on the body. He must have known he’d screwed up and tried to clean him off afterward. But after laying Conti on his side, the body contracted up in rigor and this spot behind the knee would have been hidden. He missed it.“

Abe whistled. „We’re lucky the print wasn’t blurred from the leg rubbing against it.“

„That you are. I called Jack to help with the print. He should be here any minute.“

„It’s only a partial,“ Mia cautioned. „We shouldn’t get our hopes up.“

„We won’t.“ Abe took another look at the partial print. „But he’s made a mistake. He’ll make others and that’s how we’ll find him.“

Julia pulled off her gloves. „Good. I want this thing over, for all of our sakes, but especially for Kristen’s. I heard about what happened last night. How is she?“

„Kristen,“ Mia said archly with a side look at Abe.

„seemed fine when I left her. But then I didn’t stay all night.“

Julia looked amused. „But you slept on the couch, right, Abe?“

Abe rolled his eyes. „Yes, I did, actually. It’s a very uncomfortable foldout.“ He had, actually. She’d fallen asleep in his arms as he sat on the edge of her bed. He’d stayed there next to her for a long while, watching her take deep even breaths, wondering if his sudden and intense interest was due to the fact she was the first woman he’d met after a six-year dearth or if he secretly did compare her to Debra. He’d concluded neither was the case, that he was simply acting on the desire of a healthy red-blooded man for a beautiful, intelligent, sensitive woman. Then he’d retired to the relative discomfort of the foldout couch where he’d lain awake well into the night cursing the fact that he was a healthy red-blooded man with a beautiful, intelligent, sexy-as-hell woman in the next room. Stopping after a few morning kisses was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

„Foldouts usually are,“ Julia commented dryly. Then she looked up when the door opened, her face changing from amusement to awareness. „Jack.“

Jack closed the door behind him. „Your message said it was urgent“

„It is.“ Abe pulled on his jacket. „Take care with it, Jack. It’s our best lead so far.“

Monday, February 23,

2:30 P.M.

Taking care of business was less messy when he kept his head. There was a lot less cleanup required when the only mark on the body was a neat bullet hole in the forehead. The exit wound in the back of the head was a bit of a chore, but the best things in life were rarely the easiest. At least it was easier than it had been with Conti. He still shuddered at the thought of washing the body. Repugnant it had been. Even for me.

But enough about Angelo Conti. He’d moved on to Arthur Monroe now, the put-upon pedophile that society had failed. He’d chosen Arthur Monroe’s final resting place with ironic care. The liberal bleeding-heart judge who had taken more pity on the offender than his five-year-old victim owned a small dry-cleaning business north of the city. It would serve as both a dumping ground for Monroe and a warning to the judge.

He pulled his van into the narrow access road behind the dry cleaners. The van sported a new sign that was a fine imitation of the one used by Chicago’s Department of Water Management. It, like the electrical contractor sign, made a fine cover for digging a trench. Nobody would give a second thought to seeing a utility vehicle on the street.

And nobody did. It was almost anticlimactic, he thought as he got back in his van to drive away. Nobody challenged him, nobody said, „Hey, fella, what are you doing?“

But then again, it was better that way. His reward would come when the world found out that yet another repellent menace was off the streets.

Back to work now. Back to the fishbowl tonight. It was good to have a hobby.

Monday, February 23,

3:45 P.M.

„Kristen?“

She looked up at the sound of Greg’s voice to find him standing in the doorway to her office, looking miserable.

She might have said he looked as miserable as she felt, but the human face was not capable of that kind of expression. She looked back down, concentrating on the files she was collecting, forcing her voice to be steady. „I’m almost finished, Greg. I’ll be ready to get these cases to you in about an hour.“

He sighed heavily. „You know that’s not why I’m here.“ He came into her office, shutting the door. „I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry it had to be you. I’m sorry it had to be me.“

She looked up and met his kind eyes. „I know. I’m not upset at you, Greg. Really.“

He flopped into the chair across from her desk. „This isn’t fair. It isn’t right. But then this whole past week hasn’t been fair or right. Are you okay, Kristen? Physically?“

Her hands stilled on the file folders. „I’m fine, Greg.“

„That’s what you always say,“ he said bitterly. „We were afraid this would happen, Lois and I. That’s why we wanted you to come stay with one of us.“

„And have intruders with guns in your home, endangering your families? I don’t think so.“

He grimaced as her words hit home, then pounded his fist against his knee. „Dammit, somebody needs to be there for you. You shouldn’t go through this all alone.“

I’m not. The thought echoed in her mind, easing some of the tension from her shoulders. For however long it lasted, Abe Reagan was there. She still wasn’t completely sure why, but at this point it was enough to know he would come when she called. „I’m fine, Greg,“ she said more firmly. „I have police protection, a home alarm – “

„Both of which served you well last night,“ he said sarcastically.

She conceded his point with a nod, not letting herself think about how vulnerable she really was. „I’m considering a dog.“

He looked unappeased. „A big one?“

„A nasty one with three heads. I’ll name him Cerberus.“

Greg frowned, then relaxed a little. „You’ll get one soon?“

„Maybe tomorrow.“

A knock interrupted them and Lois stuck her head in. „Kristen, you have a visitor.“

Kristen’s smile dimmed. „Refer them to John. I’m on vacation.“

Lois shook her head. „Personal.“ She opened the door wider and Owen’s face appeared, followed by the rest of him. He held a brown paper bag that smelled wonderful.

„You didn’t come by for lunch,“ he said reproachfully and Greg stood up.

„Dog, tomorrow?“ Greg urged.

„Promise.“ Greg left and Owen entered, frowning at the box on her desk.

„What is this?“

Kristen waved a careless hand. „Oh, I’m just cleaning up a few files.“

„Why did that man say ‘dog, tomorrow’?“

„I’m getting a dog,“ she said lightly. „What’s inside the bag?“

„Soup and a Reuben. I didn’t think you liked dogs. That blind guy came into the diner one day with a Seeing Eye dog and you sneezed your way into next week.“

„Pie?“ she asked, hoping she could redirect Owen with talk of food.

„Dutch apple, Vincent’s family recipe. Why are you getting a dog?“

Kristen opened the bag and sniffed appreciatively. „I’m starving. I didn’t have time for lunch.“ Truthfully, she’d been afraid to leave the office to get lunch, which added to the general annoyance hanging over the day.

He closed the bag just as she reached in. „Dog. Now. What happened?“

„Oh, I’m getting some annoying people at the house because of all this humble servant nonsense.“ She pasted a smile on her face to keep him from worrying. „I promised the guys I’d get a dog to scare them away.“

His eyes narrowed. „That’s all? Just annoying people?“

She nodded. „Totally annoying. So how’s the new fry cook?“

Owen scowled and gave her the bag. „He quit. Hired a new one, but he’s sorry, too. So why didn’t you come by the diner all weekend? You’re not on some fad diet, are you?“

Kristen chuckled. Between Reagan’s gyros and Italian food and his mother’s ham, she hadn’t eaten so well in years. „No. Actually I’m…“ She faltered. „I’m seeing someone.“ She shrugged when a delighted smile broke across Owen’s face. „He feeds me.“

„Excellent. Excellent news. And what’s his name?“

„Abe Reagan.“

Owen’s eyes narrowed again. „The detective on this murder case?“

„Yes.“ She took the lid off the bowl of soup. „Why?“

„I don’t know. Just seems dangerous.“

No more dangerous than my own life, she thought.

Owen’s face softened. „He’s good to you?“

She thought of the night before, of this morning, of his patience and gentleness and felt her cheeks heat. „Yes. Yes, he is.“

„That’s good enough for me. Eat. I have to get back before Vincent kills the new cook.“

Kristen smiled at that. „Somehow I can’t see Vincent getting that mad ever.“

„You’d be surprised. Man has quite a temper.“

Kristen was genuinely astonished. „Vincent?“ A temper? And her mind wandered, for just a moment, considering. A stupid moment. There was no way Vincent could hurt another soul. But still, stranger things had happened.

„Hmm.“ Owen backed up to the door. „He lost twenty bucks on the Bulls’ game last night and actually said ‘darn.’ He was fit to be tied.“

He was teasing her, Kristen realized and she laughed at herself for the split second she’d imagined Vincent in the role of the humble servant. „You’re bad, Owen.“

He grinned. „I know.“ He opened the door, nearly stumbling over Lois.

„Kristen, you have another visitor.“ She looked half-amused and half-harried, and a second later Kristen knew why.

„Kristen!“ Rachel Reagan bounded into her office. „Ooh, food. Can I have some?“

Kristen laughed, the day suddenly sunnier. „Sure, but don’t touch the apple pie. It’s mine. Rachel, this is my friend Owen. Owen, this is Abe’s younger sister, Rachel.“

Rachel smiled up at him, a smile purely reserved to charm people she hadn’t yet finagled into doing her bidding. „Nice to meet you, sir.“

Owen tipped an imaginary hat. „And you. Kristen, I’ll see you soon.“

„Thanks, Owen.“ Kristen smiled at Lois who stood waiting. „The kid can stay.“

Rachel unwrapped the Reuben. „I am so hungry. I was talking to my teacher and missed lunch.“ She took a huge bite, and said between chews, „We were talking about you.“

„Me?“

Rachel nodded and swallowed. „Got anything to drink around here?“

Kristen handed her one of the bottles of water she kept in her desk drawer and Rachel gulped half a bottle before continuing. „Thanks. She loved my interview with you. She wanted to know if you would come in to talk to my class.“ She angled her head slyly. „Please?“

Kristen frowned at her because it seemed like the right thing to do. „Does your mother know you’re here?“

„Kind of. I told her I was going to a friend’s house after school. You said you practically live here, you work so many hours, so I wasn’t exactly lying.“

Kristen swallowed her smile and gave Rachel a stern look. „You weren’t exactly telling the truth either. How did you get down here anyway?“

„I came on the El.“ She looked annoyed. „I’m not stupid, Kristen. I can get downtown.“

But there were a lot of seedy places between Rachel’s neighborhood and the El stop for the ASA’s offices. Kristen shuddered at the thought of a thirteen-year-old roaming the streets by herself. „Rachel, your parents don’t let you walk around town all by yourself, do they?“

Rachel’s eyes dropped to the sandwich on her lap and Kristen realized she’d seen that same expression on Abe’s face – the morning they’d found the first body and he’d been so angry that she’d put cops on the suspect list. She’d rebuked him and he’d been embarrassed. Now, Rachel wagged her dark head. „No. I’ll probably get grounded again.“ She looked up, a gleam in her blue eyes. Abe’s eyes. And in Abe’s Kristen had seen that same gleam. „Unless you don’t tell on me.“

Kristen had to chuckle. „Actually, what’s going to happen is that I’m going to see you home and your parents will wonder why I’m with you. Then you’ll tell them yourself. You didn’t think I’d let you waltz out of here alone, did you? It’s going to be dark soon.“

Rachel’s pretty mouth pushed up in a frown. „I didn’t think about that.“

Kristen lifted a brow. „You’d better be thinking three steps ahead of everyone if you want to be a prosecutor. You have to determine all the possible outcomes and plan for each one.“

Rachel perked back up. „So will you come to my school? Please?“ She pressed her clasped hands to her heart. „I promise not to come see you alone on the El ever again.“

„I notice you didn’t promise not to take the El alone ever again,“ Kristen responded wryly and Rachel just grinned. Kristen looked at the files on her desk. They were Greg’s problem now. She was on an „overdue vacation.“

„Why not? My calendar has suddenly been freed.“

With a confident look that said she’d never really expected any other outcome, Rachel sat back and took another bite. „Extra credit, here I come.“

Kristen looked at the young girl fondly. „Don’t talk with your mouth full, Rachel.“

Monday, February 23,

5:00 p.m.

Jacob Conti sat back in his chair, brooding. „So what do you know?“

Drake shot him a concerned look. „She’s squeaky clean, Jacob. The woman hasn’t had so much as a parking ticket. She seems to be the impossible. An honest lawyer.“

Jacob turned his chair to face the wall, scowling. „You told me that before.“

„It was true when Angelo was on trial, it’s true now,“ Drake said with a patience that grated on his nerves. Drake thoroughly investigated Miss Mayhew when she was assigned Angelo’s murder trial. They’d looked for some-thing, anything to use against her then, to embarrass her, to blackmail her if necessary. There’d been nothing.

She was a sanctimonious little bitch.

He stared at Angelo’s picture hanging on the wall before his eyes and felt the sting of tears. Stupid, stupid kid. Opening his mouth that way.

The man who took his son’s life would pay dearly.

Elaine hadn’t left her bed since he’d broken the news to her yesterday. Hardest thing he’d done in his life. She’d had to be sedated and the doctor even now waited at her bedside in case she woke up in hysterics again.

„She scratched Paglieri,“ Drake said and Jacob turned his head, staring.

„What?“

„Paglieri,“ Drake said tightly. „The guy you sent over last night to bully Mayhew with a gun without my knowledge.“

Jacob turned the chair, narrowed his eyes at Drake. „I don’t need your permission, Drake. I’m still the boss here, remember?“

Drake didn’t blink. „I remember. I’m also telling you it was a damn stupid thing to have done, Jacob. You were thinking with your heart, not with your head.“

An ashtray went flying across the room, shattering against the wall and splattering ash all over the floor. „Of course I’m thinking with my heart. My son is dead, Drake.“ A wave of grief hit him so immense he bowed from its weight. „Angelo’s dead, Drake.“

„I know, Jacob,“ Drake said gently. „But you can’t harass a woman like Mayhew in her own home without consequences. She scratched Paglieri. Skin samples, Jacob. DNA. If he’s caught, they’ll follow him back to you. Let me handle this.“

„You said you couldn’t find anything.“

„Nothing illegal, Jacob. That doesn’t mean she can’t be convinced to cooperate.“

Jacob sighed. Drake was right He wasn’t doing Angelo any good by acting impulsively. „I’m listening.“

Monday, February 23,

6:00 p.m.

Zoe squinted at the tape. Dammit, they’d been too far away and it was too grainy. She’d tried to get film of Mayhew’s house last night from a couple of streets down because the damn cops in front of her house wouldn’t let her any closer. Something had happened last night, and for once it was inside the house, not outside. Looked like Mayhew’s castle had been scaled. Unfortunately, Mayhew appeared unhurt. How unsatisfying. That would have made great copy. Nevertheless, this little story was starting to percolate in all kinds of different directions. Good thing, too, because her lover hadn’t come back. She guessed he actually did have a conscience after all.

She stopped the grainy video. It was worthless. She needed something new. CNN had called this morning and wanted rights to her tape. This was her one shot and she wasn’t going to let Mayhew and her guard dogs ruin it.