Ring Around the Rosy (8 page)

Suddenly, his arms came around
her, and he nuzzled her neck. She caught her breath. Her body betrayed her. She
leaned into him, drawing strength and comfort from him while he held her. Too
soon, he let her go.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t
usually get involved with witnesses, but there’s something about you that I
can’t seem to resist.” He looked away. “I guess I better go.”

Heat crept up her neck and into
her face. He sure had a way of making her feel insignificant. But she liked
being in his arms. He was attracted to her, he just admitted it. Too bad he
pulled away. She liked the intimacy of being in his arms.

“Please stay. The thought of being
alone right now has me skittish. And the coffee’s almost ready. Besides, I want
to talk to you.”

He tilted his head to the side and
half closed his eyes. “Just one,” he agreed.

They took their coffee into her
small living room, and Susan sat on the overstuffed chair across the room from
him. She didn’t want to make contact with him, but she liked having him in her
living room. His tall, muscular frame almost overflowed the small, floral-print
love seat. She should have let him sit in the overstuffed chair.

She turned the television on low
for background noise. The soft light provided a warm harmony to the subtle
blends of the muted shades of the red walls.

“How do you think the reporter got
the story about the phone calls?”

“I talked to Jennifer about that,”
Dave said. “She said it was an anonymous tip. She ran with it after checking
your phone records and seeing the calls placed from phone booths.”

“She checked my phone records? How
could she do that? Who gave her the authority?” Susan’s temper flared. “How
dare she?” She stood up and paced. “Is nothing private in this world anymore?”

Dave shrugged. His amused grin
annoyed her.

“And quit looking at me like that.
This isn’t funny,” she yelled. Of course, she knew all reporters had
connections. It wouldn’t take much to get the information. She, herself, would
have run with it. Why blame Jennifer?

“You’re right. It isn’t funny.”
His look
 
told her he was trying to be
serious, but his mouth still formed that silly grin.

Concern showed in his eyes,
Apparently, he couldn’t help the grin, it was just his natural look.

The rest of the evening passed
uneventful and quiet. Their conversation consisted mostly of small talk about
their childhoods, and sometimes they didn’t speak at all. For the first time
all day, Susan relaxed.

Around two in the morning, Dave
stood up to leave. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll call you later.” He brushed his
lips across her forehead, a brotherly type kiss, but the softness of his lips
left a warm tingly spot.

Susan would have preferred a deep,
passionate kiss.

* * *

Dave waited until he heard the
chain lock snap into place and then hurried down the steps, ignoring the
elevator. He needed to release some tension. Somehow, he had to stop seeing
Susan, assign someone else to look after her.
 
He already had a car parked outside, watching her apartment.

Still, he couldn’t deny he liked
the feel of her in his arms, liked the sweet scent of her perfume. Liked it too
much. Damn it, he couldn’t resist kissing her. Not the passionate kiss he
wanted to give her — that would have to wait. What the hell was he thinking
that would have to wait? Have to wait for what?

He shook his head and rubbed his
face where her hand made contact. Gutsy, he’d give her that. He had no idea why
he made her so angry. Seemed he had a knack for it. Hell, he only meant to
tease her. Too sensitive, that was her problem. But he liked the feel of her in
his arms, liked the taste of her lips. And she hadn’t resisted the kiss.

He knew better than to give into
his desires. Maybe when the case was over. Right now, she was off limits. He
should have left after that kiss. But what did a cup of coffee hurt? Okay, so
he stayed and drank a whole pot. So what? The thought of going home to an empty
house didn’t exactly excite him. Susan excited him.

Chapter Six

The next morning, Susan rushed to
get dressed for another boring assignment — a story about the Science and
Technology Center at the local college.

Darn, she was late again. One of
these days she was going to get her act together and actually arrive on time.

A single red rose fell at her feet
when she opened the door. Looking up and down the hall, she didn’t see anyone.
A shudder raced through her body as she held the wilted rose and then tossed it
into her apartment. Definitely not the way she wanted to start the day.

She turned on the car radio just
in time to hear a news bulletin.

“The police have a breakthrough on
the nursery rhyme murders,” the newscaster said.

Susan turned up the volume.

“John Matteo, a former neighbor of
George Lucas and Jack Murphy, has been taken into custody. Witnesses placed a
man matching his description near the scene. A taxi driver said he picked up a
man fitting Matteo’s description near the Lagoon Lakes shortly before police
arrived. He’s being held for questioning.”

“Yes!” Susan slammed her fist
against the steering wheel. “Finally, they got him.”

Yet, something niggled at her.
What if he wasn’t the man? All the evidence put him at the scene, but witnesses
had been wrong before, and descriptions were vague at best. Probably fit half
the men in Ohio. Still, they finally had someone in custody.

In a much better mood, she hurried
to meet Gloria, knowing the photographer would amuse and stall until she
arrived. Most of the males preferred being with Gloria, anyway.

The pretty, red-haired
photographer, who stood only about four-foot-eleven and weighed no more than a
hundred pounds, charmed everyone. Her fair complexion, with a few freckles, and
her big, chestnut colored brown eyes gave her the appearance of a life-sized
doll. Lively and outgoing, Gloria had a great sense of humor and got along well
with both men and women. Susan liked working with her.

She raced into the science center
and looked for David Buckson, the head of the Science Department, and Angelo
Hewing, the Project Architect.

To her surprise, Ray Logan greeted
her. “Gloria took a different assignment at the last minute.”

Mr. Buckson and Mr. Hewing frowned
and looked at their watches.

She extended her hand when Ray
introduced them. “I’m sorry I’m late, got stuck in traffic.” She put on her
brightest smile, to no avail. Mr.Buckson folded his arms across his chest,
while Mr. Hewing tapped his foot and clenched his jaw. Throwing Ray, a
bail-me-out, look accomplished nothing.
 
He just shrugged and seemed to enjoy her discomfort.

Since Ray had already taken most
of his picture, she took out her tape recorder and proceeded with the
interview, thankful she had done her homework.

After the interview, she smiled
and thanked both men for taking the time to meet with her. Fortunately, she had
managed to set them at ease, and they had gotten over their anger at her
tardiness. Probably because she told them how impressed she was with the
center, especially the environmentally friendly features.

She said goodbye, relieved the
interview had ended. Ray’s deep, exaggerated sigh as they left the building
told her he understood.

“How about lunch?” he asked.
“Looks like you could use a good cup of coffee to calm you down.”

“A cup of coffee sounds heavenly.
I missed mine this morning and have been running on pure adrenaline.”

“So tell me about those phone
calls. How did it feel to know you were talking to the killer?” Ray asked.

“Well, the first one I thought was
a crank. I mean, reporters get them all the time.” She didn’t mention Dave —
that was too personal. Why was Ray so curious?

Now she was being paranoid,

Still, she didn’t want to talk
about the case and tried to change the subject, but Ray kept bringing it
up.
 
Apparently the reason he asked her
to lunch was to probe for information. The more she tried to change the
subject, the more he went back to it. About midway through lunch, she looked at
her watched, gulped her second cup of coffee, and jumped up.

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot I
have a hair appointment.” Without waiting for a reply, she threw enough money
on the table to cover her share of the lunch and ran out of the restaurant.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,”
Ray yelled.

Reluctant to go home, she drove
toward Lake Erie. Water usually calmed her. She liked the peace and serenity of
watching the boats with their sails puffed out.

Gazing out at the water, she
wondered again who had left the flowers. If this was someone’s idea of a joke
or a secret admirer, she didn’t find it amusing. In fact, it downright scared
her. Not to mention annoyed her. If someone wanted to give her flowers, he
should do it in person, not sneak around. She racked her brain, thinking of
every male she knew, but none fit the bill of having even the slightest crush
on her.

Feeling calmer, she decided to go
to the office and write her story there. At least she’d be among people.

She bumped into Gloria at the
entrance of the building. “Hey, I missed you this morning,” Susan said. “Did
you get an exciting assignment?”

“What do you mean an exciting
assignment?” Gloria looked puzzled.

“Ray said you went on a more
exciting assignment and traded with him.”

“Oh, really?” Gloria looked
surprised. “Ray said watching them build the Science Center fascinated him and
asked me to trade. One story is as good as another, so I switched. I did a
follow-up on the cornfield flood. Not very exciting. Have to run, see you
later.” Gloria hurried down the steps before Susan could reply.

Why did Ray really switch? She
pushed the thought aside, went inside, settled herself at a computer, pulled
out her tape player and began work on the Science Center story.

Science Center Unveiled

The new Science Center will open to
classes this fall. Students and faculty designed the 250,000 square foot
building at a cost of more than 80 million dollars. The new center features
large classrooms, a laboratory, and a research center.

The center for—

The phone interrupted her typing.
“Hello.”
 

“Susan,” the voice said,
“tonight.” Then the line went dead.

Her knuckles turned white on the
receiver. She held her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and a moan escaped
her throat. Nausea welled up in her throat. The roam spun.

Ernie ran over to her. “Susan, are
you okay? What happened? Quick, someone get me some water.” Ernie pushed her
against the back of the chair, smoothed her hair away from her face, grabbed a
sheet of paper off the desk, and fanned her.

Someone brought water. She didn’t
know who. It didn’t matter.

There was going to be another
murder. She couldn’t stop it. The police couldn’t stop it. They had the wrong
man in custody. She had to call Dave. Her face burned in embarrassment as a
crowd gathered.

She brushed them off. “I, uh, I’m
okay, just a dizzy spell.” She couldn’t’ let them know. She needed to get out
of there. Needed to call Dave.

Ernie dismissed everyone.
“Excitement’s over folks.”

“Thanks, Ernie,” she mumbled.

“What really happened?”

She heard the concern in his
voice, saw it in his eyes.

“You got a phone call. It was from
him, wasn’t it?”

Fighting for control, Susan shook
her head and tried to act professional, nonchalant. .She didn’t want Ernie to
see the effect this had on her. He would take her off this story, for sure. But
he had witnessed her reaction firsthand.

She had to take control, had to
deal with it. She took a deep breath.

“Hey, it’s okay, kid. Anyone would
react the same way.” He stroked her arm, comforting her, smiled, and offered
encouragement. “Come on. Relax. Tell me about it. What did he say?”

She stared at him. He understood.
Ernie, the hard-nosed editor. This bald-headed, chubby little man with his
gruff manners really looked concerned. He understood.

“Nnnothing.” Fear tore through
her. “Just one word, tonight. I have to call the police, tell them...”

“Give yourself a minute,” Ernie
said. “Compose yourself, calm down. Here, drink some more water.”

This was a side of Ernie she had
never seen, didn’t know. He gruffly passed out the assignments, only
occasionally offering encouragement, and not offering much hope of a decent
assignment. She felt invisible most of the time. Under his rough exterior was a
warm human being.