Shiver (7 page)

Riley needed a shower to clear the grit out of his eyes and a pot of strong coffee for the cobwebs in his head. Then, and only then, would he have a minuscule chance of figuring out what in the hell she was babbling about. “Can we just slow this boat down, back up and try again?” He held up the typed pages. “Let’s start with these.”

She stared at the papers. “Yes, those. Well…”

He waited for an eternity. “I’m drowning here.”

She looked him in the eye and stated matter-of-factly, “I have dreams.”

He took another deep breath and slowly let it out before responding, “Yes, don’t we all.”

“No, I mean I have
dreams.
” Her big blue eyes locked onto his as she emphasized the word.

“The water’s real muddy over here. I’m not following.”

She took the papers from his hand and held them up. “I had this dream last night.”

He looked from her, to the papers, then back to her again.

“It’s true,” she insisted.

“You expect me to believe you dreamed Michelle’s death in precise detail, then typed it all down?”

“Yes.”

He’d heard of cases like this. Who hadn’t? Every other shop in the Quarter spouted a voodoo priestess, palm reader or some other psychic brouhaha. New Orleans was a mecca for paranormal nutcases. He’d never put much stock in them before and he certainly wasn’t hearing anything that would convince him to now. He shook his head. “I don’t know where to go with this. Your story’s a little over the top, even for New Orleans. Let’s stick with the facts.”

“How could I have given Michelle my locket if I didn’t even have it?” she insisted.

“How can I be sure you didn’t?”

Her eyes rolled heavenward. “Because Joey, the lit
tle boy at the hospital, gave it to a man claiming to be my friend. I told you this already.”

“We’re still checking on that.” He made a mental note to call Tony and have him talk to Joey and the nurse.

“Then there’s this.” Again, she gestured toward the mess on the floor.

“It’s some kids’ idea of a prank,” he countered.

“No, it’s not,” she insisted. “Raspberries were Tommy’s favorite fruit. Whoever did this knew that. Whoever did this knew about Tommy.”

Riley groaned in exasperation. “Who the hell is Tommy?”

“Tommy is the boy I didn’t kill!”

Riley dropped his head and gave it a shake. This just kept getting better and better.

DEVRA COULD TELL he didn’t believe a word she said. Doubt and suspicion were all he could see, all he could feel. Why had she thought he’d be any different than the others? To this day, the whole town of Rosemont, Washington, population twelve hundred and fifty-four, still believed she killed Tommy Marshall, including her own parents.

“Fine, don’t believe me, but believe this,” she said. “This thing, whatever
it
is, is escalating.”

Riley looked up at her, exhaustion turning his eyes as murky as the Mississippi. “How’s that?”

“This time, something of mine was taken. This time, the killer has made direct contact by smashing my window. That has never happened before. Somehow,
Michelle’s killer has learned about me.”
Michelle’s killer.
Her stomach clenched as she said the words. He wasn’t just Michelle’s killer; he’d killed all the poor women she’d dreamed about over the years.

And now he was after her.

Why else had he taken her locket? Why else had he led the police to her? He must have been following her, watching her, and when he saw the locket drop, took it.

“Before?” The detective’s voice broke. “What do you mean that hasn’t happened before?”

She stared at him. Should she tell him about the others? If she did, would he protect her or would he assume she’d left a string of victims across the nation and take her in? She wished she knew if she could trust him. Just once, she wished someone would look into her eyes and believe she wasn’t capable of murder.

She spotted the rock and the plastic net that had held the berries in place. She pointed to the items. “If this was just a prank done by a couple of kids, why didn’t they just throw the rock? This was personal. The addition of the berries proves it. He’s playing a game, trying to scare me. Can’t you see that?”

Felix strolled into the room, turned his nose up at the mess and immediately started rubbing himself against Riley’s legs.

“I have to leave,” she said, staring at the cat and biting down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “I can’t stay here any longer. It’s not safe. It’s obvious he’s been following me.”

“You can’t run. Running doesn’t solve anything. Let me help you. Tell me who he is.”

She looked into the detective’s dark brown eyes for any sign of sincerity, but she just couldn’t find it. He didn’t want to help her. No one did.

“I don’t know who he is,” she insisted.

He rubbed his face with his hands, but the fatigue remained clearly etched in the lines around his eyes. “Do you have any friends or family in the area you can stay with?”

She shook her head.

“If you’re right and the killer has been following you, chances are you’ll be his next target. Unfortunately, I can’t let you leave the area. I still have too many questions, especially about these.” He gestured toward the pages once more. “It’s against policy, but considering the circumstances I’m going to make an exception and let you come home with me. No one will be able to find you there.”

Devra stared at him. Had she heard him right? “I couldn’t.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you know more about this case than you’ve let on and these papers prove it. I won’t let you out of my sight until I get answers I can accept about how you’re connected to Michelle’s murder.”

“But I can’t stay with
you,
” she croaked.

“Suit yourself. But if you really believe you’re in danger, what choice do you have? And what better place to be than under the watchful eye of one of NOPD’s finest?”

Devra thought she’d be ill. She couldn’t spend another minute with this man, let alone a whole night.

“And besides,” he continued smugly. “You’re under orders not to leave town.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

This couldn’t be happening to her. But he was right. What choice did she have? “I’ll stay at a hotel.”

“With this monster cat?”

“I’ll stay at a pet hotel.”

“All right, but have you actually ever been in one of those places?” He scratched his arms as a look of disgust crossed his face.

Devra would have laughed if her situation weren’t so desperate.

“Bring the cat to my ranch. You’ll both love it there. Unless you prefer fleas for roommates.”

That was a tough one.

“If it will make you feel any better, my parents live at the ranch, too. Along with my brother and Mich—”

Pain flashed through his eyes. No, Michelle didn’t live there anymore. Maybe he did believe she was in danger. If he really thought she was a killer, would he bring her into his home? Maybe, just maybe there was a chance he would help her. She thought she had him pegged as a self-absorbed egomaniac, but perhaps…

Nah, she was kidding herself. He just wanted her close to keep an eye on her. But he had a point—how much safer could she be than under his protection? She looked at her shattered window and the mess around her living room, then let out a reluctant sigh. She certainly couldn’t spend another night here. Not now. Not ever again. “All right, you win.”

“Good, then it’s all settled.” He gave her a smile—wide, devastatingly charming and beaming with triumph.

Lord, what had she gotten herself into now?

“TONY,” RILEY SAID quietly into his cell phone as he stepped onto Devra’s front porch.

“Riley, where are you?”

“Miss Morgan’s house.”

“Still? Are you crazy? The captain made it clear Pat’s working the Morgan angle and we’re to go back to the night stalker case. He said you have three days’ leave.”

“Yeah, forced leave,” Riley muttered.

“So, what are you still doing there? Or have you grown tired of being a cop and want to throw your career away?”

“Never, buddy. I’ve convinced Miss Morgan to come stay at the ranch with me for a few days.”

“What? Are you nuts?”

“Oh, and you don’t know where she is.”

“You better believe I don’t. You’re diggin’ yourself in deep. Just keep me out of it. Don’t tell me another word ’cause I don’t want to know.”

“Would, bro, except I need your help.”

“No way. You’re on your own on this one.”

“Tony, she knows things about Michelle’s murder she shouldn’t. She’s also mentioned the death of someone named Tommy, but I haven’t got the specifics on that one yet. She has a lot to answer for and, I suspect, a lot more she’s hiding. I’m going to get the truth out
of her, even if I have to turn on the MacIntyre charm and hit her with both barrels.”

Tony snorted. “What are you going to do when your old man finds out his dinner guest is a suspect in his daughter-in-law’s murder?”

“I wouldn’t take her home if I thought she was Michelle’s killer.”

Tony paused. “Then what do you think she’s hiding?”

“I have no idea, but she’s the key to this case. I can feel it in my gut.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Maybe. In any case, I need you.”

“No way.”

“Please, I’m beggin’ here. Do it for Michelle.”

“Oh, great, bring out the guilt artillery.”

“I’m down on one knee.”

“All right, all right. What is it already? What do you want me to do?”

“Some punk threw a rock through Miss Morgan’s window. Can you bag it and check for prints?”

“A rock?”

“Yeah, and berries. It’s a real mess.”

“Berries? That’s plain dumbass weird.”

“Tell me. I’m sure it’s nothing, but the lady insists it isn’t, so let’s give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks. Also, can you drop by the hospital and talk to a kid named Joey who was in Miss Morgan’s story time this morning? And a cute nurse named Betty Jenkins. Apparently, some guy was watching Miss Morgan
read to the kids last week. This kid, Joey, found her locket and gave it to him. Maybe we can get a sketch artist to work with them.”

“Sounds good. I’ll pass the information on to Pat.”

“All right,” Riley agreed reluctantly. “Hey, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

“No way. You need to be alone with your family. Besides, I’m sure they’ll have a lot of questions and I don’t have any answers.”

Riley cringed. “You and me both.”

“You can’t avoid them forever. Having me or even Miss Morgan around isn’t going to stop them from wanting to know what happened.”

“I know.”

There was a heavy pause before Tony added, “It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

Wasn’t there?
“I could have kept a better eye on her. Mac depended on me for that.”

“An eye on Michelle? Like I told you before, she had a mind of her own and once she got it wrapped around something, there was no stopping her and you know it. Better yet, Mac knows it, too.”

Riley blew out a deep breath. “I know you’re right, but it isn’t going to make seeing Mac again any easier.”

DEVRA’S STOMACH twisted into knots as she threw her clothes into an overnight bag. How could she have agreed to go home with Detective MacIntyre? How could she spend day and night with the man knowing every moment he’d be probing her mind, trying to get
her to slip up? Still, what choice did she have? Until the killer was caught, she’d spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, wondering who he was and when he’d strike next. Her best bet was for the police to find him and for them to do it without involving her.

Not that they’d ever been able to before. But maybe on this ranch, she could disappear. She doubted the detective told anyone what he was doing. His captain wanted him out of the picture. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage. She met him out front, handed him her bag and the cat carrier, then climbed into the Expedition. “Have you told anyone I am staying with you?”

Speculation shone in his eyes as he looked at her.

She didn’t say anything, just waited for him to respond. Sometimes silence was the best answer.

“Just my family.”

“What have you told them about me?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Not much, just that you need my help for a few days.”

“Is that all the time you think it will take to find this guy?”

“That’s all the time I believe we’ll need to get to the bottom of who broke your window.”

She ignored the prick of disappointment. He still didn’t believe her. How could he protect her if he didn’t believe she was in danger? She rested her head against the seat and stared out the window, barely noticing as freeway gave way to large green expanses dotted with houses as they drove farther and farther away from the city.

A few days. She probably shouldn’t stay longer than that anyhow. Somehow, this killer from her dreams always managed to find her. But how? A rush of goose bumps swept down her arms. She almost hoped he would find her at this cop’s ranch and she hoped the detective would be waiting for him with a big black gun. Maybe then she would find a moment of peace.

The rain diminished to a slow sprinkle that quickly evaporated to thicken the heavy air. Soft Dixieland jazz played on the radio, soothing her tortured nerves. Her gaze followed the rolling mound that led to the levy before shifting to the sideview mirror. A gray Honda followed closely behind them. There was only one person in the car—a man.

She glanced at the handsome detective out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t seem to notice the Honda. Would she be able to depend on him? No, she’d never been able to depend on anyone. If she wanted this killer stopped, she’d have to find a way to do it herself.

“How’s Felix doing?” Riley asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Good. He’s a great traveler,” she answered, but kept her eyes on the sideview mirror. “Thanks for letting him come. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without him.”