Shiver. Cynthia Cooke
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him to her, she seemed a little surprised and a touch agitated. She was afraid of him, wasn’t she? Is that why you’re here with her? For her protection?”
Heaven help her if she really did need protection. Look how well he protected Michelle…not to mention his mother. He shook off the thought. More than likely, Devra was agitated because she didn’t want anyone linking her with her mystery man. Perhaps an estranged boyfriend? Or an accomplice.
“Can you describe this guy for me?”
“Well…he was ordinary-looking—dark hair, slim, average height. In fact, the only thing memorable about him was his eyes.”
“His eyes?”
“Yeah, they were real dark and deep-set—a little intense and spooky-looking. To tell you the truth, he was a little creepy. I could see why Devra would be afraid of him.”
“Was she?”
“It wasn’t anything she said, just a feeling I had.”
Could Miss Morgan have known what the killer was planning? Perhaps he wasn’t pushing hard enough. Perhaps it was time to tighten the line. Riley took a picture of Michelle out of his wallet. “Have you seen this woman before?”
The nurse took the picture and studied it for a long moment, then handed it back to him. “Sorry,” she said. “She looks a lot like Devra, though.”
DEVRA WAS TRYING to concentrate on the children, but found herself hopelessly distracted. He was out there flirting with Betty. And Betty was enjoying it, laughing, her perfect curls bouncing, her long red-tipped nails flicking the air as she spoke. And it was bugging Devra to no end, though she couldn’t fathom why. She finished another page. She held the book up for the kids to see the pictures, then caught the detective looking at her. Quickly, she turned the page, and her attention, back to the book.
If she thought about it, she’d have to admit that he was handsome in a rugged, arrogant kind of way. She wondered what it would be like to have him look at her the way he was looking at Betty. But, after a second, she stopped herself. Thinking about that particular man in any capacity was dangerous. The sooner she put him out of her sight and her mind, the better.
She read another page. Someday, she would write books just for kids and leave the dark, ugly world of her nightmares far behind her. But, for today, she needed to say goodbye to the people she would miss the most when she left New Orleans—the children. Then she would hurry home, finish packing and disappear. Again.
She closed the book, gave the children extra-tight hugs as she said goodbye, then watched them pile out of the room. Everyone except Joey. “Did you get your necklace, Miss Devra?”
Confused, Devra looked down into Joey’s eager gaze. “What necklace is that, sweetie?”
“Your heart necklace.”
Her breath caught. Her locket. She glanced through the window into the corridor outside the room, but the detective was gone. He and Betty must have left to get that cup of coffee.
“I found it under the chair last week,” Joey continued. “I was going to give it to Nurse Jenkins to hold for you, but your friend said he’d give it to you.”
“My friend?”
“Yeah, the man that was here last week.”
Devra’s heart stilled at his words. She’d forgotten about the man Betty had mentioned. She had convinced herself the nurse had been mistaken. That he’d been waiting for someone else. What if she’d been wrong? What if he had been watching her?
“Did you get it back?” A tinge of anxiousness colored Joey’s voice.
Devra bent down so they were eye to eye and offered him a big smile. “I will very soon. Thank you for telling me.”
His smile went wide with pride.
“Can you tell me what this man looked like?”
“He was big.”
She gave him an encouraging nod. “Uh-huh.”
“And dark.”
“His skin?”
“No, his hair. And his eyes. He had the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. They looked…” He glanced down at his feet, then looked back up at her with uncertainty playing across his gaze. “They looked dead.”
Devra recalled seeing eyes like that once. The image flashed through her mind, her stomach turned. She forced a smile through gritted teeth. “Thank you, Joey.”
“Joey, it’s time for your therapy,” a nurse called from the doorway.
Devra waved as he ran through the door to join the nurse. Her knees were beginning to ache and she realized she was still crouched down, her legs locked with an irrational fear. Joey had given her locket to a man with dark eyes. Dead eyes.
The eyes of the devil.
She shook off the thought and the fear. Tommy’s death had been a lifetime ago and far, far away. It couldn’t be the same man.
His killer had never been found.
The thought whispered across her mind. She shivered. The world was full of killers, a fact she knew only too well. Why had this one taken her locket? Had he killed that poor woman and then left the locket for the police to find? But why lead the police to her? Did he know about her dreams? Did he know her secret?
Evil lives within you, child. We need to flush it out.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes. The police would blame her for this woman’s death, just like before. Just like Tommy. She had to get away from this town. But first, she had to get away from Detective MacIntyre.
“Miss Morgan?”
His voice pulled her from her thoughts. On trembling knees she stood, smoothing down the front of her dress. Then she looked up into the detective’s face. He thought she was a killer, too. That’s why he wouldn’t leave her alone. He believed she was capable of the unthinkable. Just like everyone else, just like her family.
“Are you all right? Everyone’s gone.” Concern played around the edges of his voice, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t fooling her. He didn’t care. No one did.
She stiffened. “Of course. I’m fine.” She walked past him without a second glance. The quicker she got away from him, the better. She kept her head down as she entered the elevator, planning in her mind which boxes she would pack first, which rooms. By nightfall, she and Felix would be on the road to a new life. A new beginning. Again.
“Will we be at the station long?” she asked casually.
He looked at her, quiet speculation shining in his eyes. “Not long.”
“Good.”
Within twenty minutes, Detective MacIntyre pulled the blue Expedition into the underground parking structure at the downtown headquarters of the New Orleans Police Department. But instead of taking her through the garage entrance, he walked her around to the front of the building through the main double doors and into the air-conditioned lobby. The long way.
Devra fidgeted with impatience.
“Hello, Nicci,” the detective said and smiled a greeting at the young black woman sitting behind a tall wooden counter.
“Hey, Riley. I’m sorry to hear about Michelle.”
“Thanks,” he murmured.
“Please sign in,” she said and, without looking at her, slid a clipboard across the counter.
Devra glanced questioningly at the detective, but he was too busy flirting with Nicci to notice. She scribbled her name on the sign-in sheet and slid the clipboard back across the counter. After another long minute of flashing teeth and big smiles, MacIntyre finally walked toward the elevator and pushed the Up button. It was amazing how