The Dark Gate. Pamela Palmer
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on the Metro on the way home. Which I did, by the way.”
His expression turned hard and disappointed. “You’re going to deny you saw something?”
She uncrossed her arms and moved away, unable to withstand his probing stare a moment longer. He could have stopped her if he’d wanted, but he didn’t. “There’s nothing to deny. I wasn’t there when the murder happened.”
“I’m not trying to say you were. But you saw something, or someone, that alarmed you. Something that might help me solve this case.”
“The only person who alarmed me was a poor girl who looked like she’d been undergoing chemotherapy. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’re mistaken—”
He grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him. “I’m not mistaken. I know the difference between illness, worry and fear, lady. I’ve seen them all. What I saw in your eyes was raw terror.”
“You saw what you wanted to see.”
“You’re lying to me.” He pulled her closer until she could see the deck lights reflected in his eyes like chips of blue ice. “You know something. When I first saw you outside the church, you were running. Don’t try to tell me you weren’t.”
It was as if he could see right through her! Larsen gathered every ounce of coldness she could manufacture and stared pointedly at her bound wrist, then into his eyes, but he ignored her not-so-subtle hint.
“Four women have been assaulted, now a man brutally murdered, and I don’t have a single witness.” He finally released her and turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Not a single clue to help me solve this case.”
He whirled back to face her. “It’ll happen again, Ms. Vale. Again and again and again, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
She didn’t want to hear this. Guilt already tore her to shreds, but she couldn’t tell him. She could never tell anyone.
“Help me, Larsen.” His handsome face implored her to cooperate. “Help me stop him before he does it again.”
“I can’t. I don’t know anything.”
He stared at her for long minutes, then released his breath on a slow burst of air. “Tell me about the chemo patient.”
Larsen frowned. “Why? She was just a sick kid.”
“She caught your eye.”
“Well…yeah.”
“It’s all we’ve got to go on, Larsen. Maybe it’s nothing, but the subconscious tends to see more than we realize. Humor me.”
So she told him what she remembered about the girl in the too large clothes with the clean-shaven head and startlingly violet eyes.
When she was through, Jack’s mouth skewed left. “Doesn’t sound like much of a lead, but maybe she saw something. It should be easy enough to track her down. Was there anyone or anything else that caught your attention? Anything at all?”
“No. Nothing.” Nothing in real time, anyway. Nothing she could tell him.
His gaze held her captive even as she prayed he’d accept her answers and give up. She sensed rather than saw the predatory tension ease out of him.
“All right. If you think of anything else…”
Larsen had to bite back a nearly audible sigh of relief. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Jack Hallihan pulled out his wallet and handed her his card. As she shoved it into her pocket with one hand, his hand closed around her other. “Larsen…”
As his warm fingers slid over hers, a flash of movement sliced through her peripheral vision. Pain exploded in her shoulder, knocking her back into the rail. She’d been hit. With a panicked gasp, she realized the thing was still on her.
An arrow. An arrow was sticking out of her shoulder! Was this some kind of sick joke?
“Get it out of me. Get it out!” She grabbed it, trying to pull it away, but pain seared through her body.
Jack grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch it. You’ll do more damage.” He swept her into his arms and ran for the door to her houseboat. Every step made the arrow bounce, setting fire searing in her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes closed and clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out.
“Stay here. I’m going to try to catch the archer.”
She felt the soft cushions of the sofa at her back, then Jack released her and ran for the door. Agony radiated from her shoulder outward, as if a shark had clamped onto her and would not let go. She wanted it out of her. She squeezed her eyes closed as tears ran down her cheeks.
An eternity later Jack was beside her again, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“Did you…catch him?”
“No.” He leaned over her, his blue eyes tight with concern. “Hang on. There’s an ambulance on the way.”
She could hear sirens. They were growing louder. “Did you see who did it?”
“Yeah.” He took her hand, his expression grim. “It was a bald girl, Larsen. A tiny little thing in a Redskins T-shirt.”
She stared at him. Her mouth opened then snapped shut on the metallic taste of fear.
Jack’s expression turned grave and worried. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “But I think you’re in over your head. Sooner or later you’re going to have to trust someone.”
She blinked, sending more tears sliding down her cheeks. Trust someone. The one thing she could never do.
He had to win her trust.
Jack glanced into the rearview mirror of the police-issue sedan. Tucked into the corner of the seat behind him, hidden behind tinted windows, was Larsen Vale. The answer to his prayers.
Tension tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the roads clogged with morning work traffic. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous over an assignment. Over anything. But never had anything mattered so much.
She quieted the voices. If he could just figure out how. Hell, he didn’t care how. All that mattered was keeping her close enough to touch.
And the only way to do that was to make her fall for him. To win her as his own. A girlfriend would stay by his side. A wife. He had to make her love him if he wanted to save his sanity. Crazy, yeah, but it was all he could think of.
Unfortunately he also had to get to the bottom of her involvement in this case, but pushing her to tell him what she knew would only earn her anger, if not her hatred. He squeezed the steering wheel until he feared it would snap off in his hands. How could he possibly win both the woman and her secrets?
He had to win her trust. Get her to volunteer the information.
Yeah, right. He’d just wine and dine her for…what? Twenty minutes? He didn’t have time. Every day he didn’t catch the rapist was another day a young woman might lose her innocence…or her life. Someone had died, now. Things were escalating.
The only thing in his favor was the bizarre twist of fate that had dropped the pretty attorney right into his hands. He had one chance to charm her. Once chance to win her over. But he had to move fast. And he had no clue how to go about charming a man-hater.
“This is kidnapping,” she muttered, her words slurred from the heavy sedative they’d given her before they’d dug the arrow out of her shoulder in the emergency room.
He glanced at her again. Her head was back, her eyes closed, a scowl marring the beauty of her face.
“Yeah. So sue me for not taking you back to your houseboat where the little archer could take another shot at you.”
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