Midnight Disclosures. Rita Herron
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Something she absolutely could not do in front of a strong man like Mark.
“Have a seat, gentlemen, and I’ll get some coffee.”
“I’ll help.” Mark moved up behind her.
“No, I can handle it.” She didn’t bother to apologize for her own abrupt tone. She needed time to compose herself before facing Mark again.
The current situation with the women who’d been murdered had already destroyed her peace of mind.
She slipped into the kitchen nook, removed a serving tray, stacked three cups on it along with the coffeepot which she kept filled all day, then added sugar and creamer and returned to the den. Her hands trembled as she set it on the coffee table.
“Please serve yourselves, gentlemen.”
“Thanks, Dr. Kos,” Agent Devlin said from the big armchair.
“Sit down, Claire.” Mark’s voice came from the love seat.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, using two fingers to measure, then slid onto the sofa, feeling his scrutinizing eyes trace her every movement.
“When did you have this accident?” Mark asked.
An involuntary shudder passed through her. This was the question she’d dreaded most. The night you left, she wanted to scream. I was rushing to the airport to accept your proposal, to tell you about our baby.
Now, he would never know. He couldn’t know.
“A few months ago. I’m fine now.”
“You’re not fine, you’re blind,” Mark said in a gruff voice.
“That’s true,” Claire conceded, “but thanks to the wonderful rehab program at CIRP, I’m learning to adjust.” She crossed her legs, determined to change the subject. “Now, Agent Devlin, why is Lieutenant Steele with you? Do you have news about the two women who were murdered?”
Claire tightened her hands around her coffee mug to warm them. All night she’d lain in a pool of her own fear, a chill of helplessness engulfing her.
She hadn’t been able to save her child. Or those women.
She had to help the police find the killer.
“I’m afraid we don’t have anyone in custody yet,” Devlin cut in. “That’s why we’re here. We need your help.”
Claire nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
Devlin cleared his throat. “Good. The first victim, Dianne Lyons, was single, twenty-five, blond, a waitress at a local diner in Savannah. She lived with a cat and her boyfriend.” He paused. “The second victim, Beverly Bell, was married, thirty-two, a brunette and a professional architect. She lived with her husband and baby.”
Claire twisted her hands together. That poor child had been left without a mother. It was all so senseless.
“So far, you and the Calling Claire show appear to be the only connection,” Devlin supplied. “You didn’t know either of the victims, Dr. Kos?”
“No.” Claire hugged her arms around her waist, the image of the young women fighting for their lives haunting her.
“You’ve never treated either of them?”
“No. Did you trace the calls or find any evidence at the scene to identify the killer?”
“Not yet,” Devlin said. “We’re still waiting on the forensics report. The killer used throwaway cell phones you can pick up at any convenience store. We’re trying to pinpoint where the killer purchased them, but it’ll take time.”
“But you think he’ll kill again?”
“Yes.” Agent Devlin sigh was filled with weariness. “Do you have any idea why he’s calling you?”
Claire shrugged. “The show. It’s his twisted way of announcing his crime. He wants the publicity, probably even wants help.”
“You do believe the killer is a man?” Agent Devlin asked.
Claire nodded.
“He likes the attention?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you could create a profile?”
Claire nodded. “Yes, but I’ll need more information on the murders.”
“We can give you access to police files.” Devlin paused. “We’ll also need to look at your patient files. It’s possible the killer knows you personally. He chose you because he wants to watch your reaction.”
“Patient files are confidential,” Claire said. “I can’t let you see them and you know it, Agent Devlin.”
Mark stood, his feet clicking across the floor impatiently. “Claire, how can you protect the sick bastard? Don’t you understand? He might be gunning for you next.”
“First of all, we don’t know that the killer is one of my patients,” Claire said in a guarded voice, unable to admit her own fear that Mark was right, “or that he intends to do anything to me except use me to gain public attention for himself.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Mark said. “Get someone else to cover the show.”
“I’m not abandoning the show or running scared.” Claire stood, squaring her shoulders and angling herself to face him, although he was pacing so rapidly she couldn’t pinpoint his location in the room. “These women, the killer, they’re calling me for a reason. I have to find out why, and do what I can to help them.”
“I don’t want you involved,” Mark said.
“I’m already involved.”
“But you’re too vulnerable,” Mark’s voice exploded. “For God’s sake, in your condition, I don’t know why you’re even on the radio.”
Fury and hurt twisted in Claire’s chest. Mark had always been protective, a hero, but at one point he’d respected her work and viewed her as an equal. Now he saw her as a weak, handicapped woman.
“I may be blind, Mark, but I’m not helpless,” Claire said, determined to prove she didn’t need his protection. And she certainly wouldn’t be controlled by a man. “I’m a professional, perfectly capable of performing my job.”
“She’s right, Steele, she’s already involved,” Agent Devlin cut in. “We need her. The killer picked her for a reason. She may be the only one who can reach him or figure out his identity.”
“Thank you, Agent Devlin.”
“But he’s right, too,” Devlin said. “You are vulnerable, Dr. Kos. We don’t know if the killer has targeted you, so we’re assigning Agent Steele to work with you.”
As some kind of bodyguard?
Claire bristled at the silent implication. How could Mark protect her when he held the power to hurt her most of all?
MARK HALTED, filled with a mixture of anger, fear and disbelief. Didn’t Claire realize the severity of the situation?
Using a trained agent as a go-between or bait would be dangerous enough, but a vulnerable blind woman…
It’s not just because she’s blind.
Damn, the sight of her long, blond curls spilling over her shoulders and those emerald eyes that had once looked at him with passion, and now looked past him, empty and vacant, had totally wrecked his composure.
He’d barely prepared himself to meet her again, yet to see her like this, to know she needed him but refused to acknowledge their past or the chemistry between them…
“You can’t be serious.” Claire crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t need