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Just Past Midnight
Amanda Stevens


THE DARKEST PART OF THE NIGHT IS THE MOST DANGEROUSStalked for years, Dr. Darian West has become an emotional recluse, a woman at the mercy of a skilled killer. Threats to her family have kept her silent, but every man who has become involved with Darian has paid the same fatal price. All but closed off from life, she lives a solitary existence until a chance meeting puts her next suitor in harm's way….Convinced his brother died at Darian's hands, Richard Berkley has vowed to avenge his death. He'll stop at nothing until he exposes the wealthy psychologist's deepest secrets…and her darkest fantasies. But as passion erupts, the killer lurks in the darkness, waiting until…Just Past Midnight…to strike.









Praise for

AMANDA STEVENS


“Breathless, chilling and unforgettable. When you crack open an Amanda Stevens book, prepare to be thrilled.”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Patricia Kay

“Once again Ms. Stevens blends just the right amount of suspense, conflict, love and hope.”

—Romantic Times on The Tempted

“Amanda Stevens pens a masterfully suspenseful tale with great characters readers will love, hot passion and nail-biting intrigue.”

—Romantic Times on His Mysterious Ways




AMANDA STEVENS


The author of over thirty novels, Amanda Stevens is the recipient of Career Achievement awards in both Romantic Mystery and Romantic Suspense from Romantic Times magazine. She has been nominated for numerous Reviewers’ Choice awards and has been a RITA


Award finalist in the Romantic Suspense category. She resides in Houston, Texas.




Just Past Midnight

Amanda Stevens





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


Allentown, Texas

IT WAS JUST PAST MIDNIGHT. Danielle Williams lay wide awake, watching the distant flicker of lightning outside her window as the minutes ticked away on her bedside clock. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d never make it back before the storm hit.

But the delay couldn’t be helped. Her parents had waited up for her brother, Nathan, who’d promised to be in hours ago for a long, heart-to-heart about his future. And then when he’d finally dragged himself home, he’d been drinking. The ensuing confrontation had ended as it always did, with her father in a rant, her mother in tears, and her brother moody and defiant as he stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.

All was finally quiet now, except for the occasional creak and groan as the old farmhouse settled. Nathan’s bedroom was just across the hall. He’d probably be up for hours, but Dani knew that he’d have his headphones on and wouldn’t hear a thing when she slipped out. He didn’t even acknowledge their mother’s knock when she came upstairs a few minutes later to make the first overture. Nathan ignored her, as usual, and after a slight hesitation, the soft knock sounded on Dani’s door.

She ignored it, too, which wasn’t like her. Normally, she tried to play the role of peacemaker in the family. Tried to provide a calm spot in the storm where her mother could come to seek refuge from her husband’s temper and her son’s downward spiral. Tonight, though, Dani had needs of her own, and so she pretended to sleep even when her mother called out her name.

At the plaintive note in her mother’s voice, guilt tore at Dani, but she remained steadfast. Tonight was just too important. She couldn’t get sidetracked with family issues.

Her stomach in knots, she kept her eyes closed and her breathing even until she heard her mother’s footsteps going back down the stairs. She waited until her parents’ voices faded behind their closed door. Then, throwing off the covers, she rose, fully dressed, to steal across the room to the window.

Climbing onto the wood-shingle roof, she paused to gain her balance before she crept to the edge. Then she lowered herself to the top of the fence, and from there she dropped six feet to the ground, landing on her feet with a soft thud.

She’d performed that same maneuver countless times, but never after dark and never to slip out of the house without her parents’ knowledge or permission. Nathan did. Or he used to. Now he just came and went as he pleased, did as he pleased, and their father’s threats of kicking him out of the house didn’t seem to faze him. Maybe because he knew that’s all they were—threats. Their mother, usually so submissive and conciliatory, wouldn’t stand for anything more. She had a blind spot when it came to Nathan.

Dani didn’t understand what had happened to her brother. At nineteen, he was two years older than she, and someone she’d looked up to—until six months ago when he’d dropped out of college without warning. He’d come back home a changed person—in appearance and personality. He’d let his hair grow, wore unkempt clothing, and played music in his room twenty-four hours a day—obscure bands that Dani hadn’t heard of.

He was so different from the brother she’d said goodbye to six months ago that it was like having a stranger in the house. He refused to look for a job, refused to go back to school, refused to even talk about his future. He spent his days sleeping, his nights partying—and the drinking…well, Dani suspected that was the least of his vices.

She missed the old Nathan. Ever since her parents adopted him ten years ago, he’d been the doting, protective older brother. Despite the friction that had always existed between him and their father, Nathan had been someone Dani could count on, confide in. Now she couldn’t even tell him about…tonight.

Nowadays, he was surly and morose and angry to the point of violence. His rage scared Dani because it seemed to be directed at her. She didn’t understand that, either. She didn’t understand what she’d done to make him hate her so. She didn’t understand what was happening to her family.

Maybe that was why the letters were so important to her.

The letters…from her secret admirer.

At the very thought of them, Dani shivered in nervous anticipation. The letters had started coming six months ago, just after Nathan moved back home. Just after the once peaceful household had erupted in turmoil. Dani sometimes wondered if that was the sender’s intent: to give her something to cling to—just as she tried to do with her mother—when her whole world seemed to be falling apart.

And the letters did help. They provided a little whimsy in an otherwise turbulent existence. Dani would find them in the most unexpected places. Slipped inside her favorite book at the library or propped beneath the old elm tree down by the lake where she sometimes went to study.

The mysterious missives were like something she might read about in a book or see in a movie, and they made her feel special. Sometimes her admirer quoted lines of poetry. Other times he merely told her in flowery, romantic prose how beautiful she’d looked on a particular day. Occasionally, he spritzed the letters with her favorite perfume. And always he signed them: your One and Only.

Whoever he was, he knew her intimately—her favorite books, her favorite music, even the shade of lipstick she preferred. And yet Dani didn’t have a clue to his identity.

And before she could figure it out, the letters had stopped coming. Abruptly. No hint of why her admirer had moved on. No sign that he’d become disillusioned with her. The letters had simply ceased, but for weeks, Dani continued to wonder about them, watch for them. Then she’d gotten so caught up in her senior year of high school that she’d forgotten all about them.

She had a part-time job at the mall, which kept her busy on weekends, and she spent most of her free time studying in order to keep up her grades so that she might earn a scholarship. Money had always been tight—for almost everyone in the rural, East Texas community—and even more so now for Dani’s family because her father had recently been laid off. If she didn’t get a scholarship or a grant, she’d have to go to a state college rather than to Drury University, a private school in northern Connecticut that had one of the best journalism programs in the country.

Dani had big dreams for the future, and she didn’t want to give them up because of finances. If she could win the Belmont Award, given to the top senior at her school each year, all her problems would be solved, but unfortunately, she didn’t see that happening. Her grades were excellent, her extracurricular activities and community service impressive, but for all her hard work, for all her drive and determination, she wasn’t the top student. Not anymore. That honor went to Paul Ryann.

He and his family had moved to Allentown at the start of the school year, and it hadn’t taken long for students and teachers alike to recognize his brilliance. He was a shoo-in for valedictorian, which meant he’d automatically be the recipient of the Belmont, although he certainly didn’t need it. His family was rich.

They’d even purchased Belmont House from the Althea Belmont Foundation and were in the midst of refurbishing the grand old Victorian—the oldest home in Allentown—to its original splendor. After years of neglect and disrepair, the mansion now gleamed like a dazzling, antique jewel on the bluff overlooking the water.

Sometimes Dani would stand on her side of the lake, admiring the elegant filigree work and the formal gardens, and she’d wonder what it would be like to live in such a place. To have servants at her beck and call, expensive cars in the garage, closets full of designer clothes. She wondered what it would be like to go wherever she wanted when she wanted and not have to answer to anyone but herself.

Dani could hardly imagine a life like that, but she didn’t resent Paul for his good fortune. How could she, when he was so sweet? So quiet and pensive and almost painfully shy.

And so obviously in love with her.

Dani didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Paul Ryann was her secret admirer. He was the one who had sent her all those letters, the one who had gone out of his way to make her feel special. Who else could it be? No one else she knew could quote such beautiful lines of poetry, much less would take the time to read all her favorite books and listen to her favorite music.

It all made sense to her now. The letters had stopped once she’d befriended Paul because he no longer felt the need to keep his feelings secret.

And now, after nearly six months, he’d sent her another letter. Dani had found it slipped inside her purse that afternoon when she’d left for work.

Meet me by the lake at midnight. I’ll be waiting underneath your favorite tree. All will be revealed to you then. My face, my soul, the depths of my affection. Tonight I’ll give you…the ultimate gift.

It was signed as all the others had been: your One and Only.

The ultimate gift, of course, had to be his identity. He had no idea that she’d already guessed who he was. And since he lived right across the lake, it made sense he’d want to meet there. So many things made perfect sense now.

As Dani slipped through the woods, her stomach tightened in apprehension. What if she was wrong? What if Paul wasn’t her secret admirer? What if this was some sort of trick?

Thunder rumbled in the distance, but now Dani barely noticed the coming storm. She was so lost in thought that the smell of smoke caught her completely by surprise.

A bonfire? she wondered. No, no, too much smoke for that.

The acrid scent stung her nose and made her eyes water, and as she neared the lake, she caught glimpses of a reddish glow through the trees. It was only then that she began to panic. Someone’s house was on fire!

She broke into a run. The smoke was so thick now that it filled her lungs and made her gasp for breath. She covered her nose and mouth with her shirt as she raced toward the water. A few minutes later, she emerged from the woods and came to a dead stop, her eyes widening in terror.

Across the lake, Belmont House was completely engulfed in flames. The fiery reflection wavered on the surface of the water, making the whole tragic tableau seem surreal, but Dani knew it was no dream. Paul Ryann’s house was burning to the ground before her very eyes.

The blaze had already crawled up the sides of the mansion and now licked across the roof. Through the billowing smoke, Dani could see the inferno spreading to the interior, and then, as she watched in horror, she saw someone at an upstairs window.

Paul! He was trapped inside the house!

Dani screamed his name, her voice echoing eerily across the orange water. Whether he heard her or whether it was only her imagination, she would never know. But the figure in the window seemed to reach out to her…

She had to help him. She had to get across the lake, find a phone, summon help, do something.

But for a moment, Dani stood paralyzed with indecision. Should she head across the bridge and try to get him out all by herself? Should she run back home and call 911? Either way would take so long….

And then she heard the sirens. Her legs went weak with relief even as a terrible little voice whispered in her head: It’s too late.

Over the roar of the fire, she heard car doors slamming and voices shouting across the water. Neighbors from nearby farmhouses were gathering on the front lawn, wondering, as she was, what to do. She had to get over there. She had to be there for Paul.

As she turned, something moved at the edge of the woods.

A shadow hidden among shadows.

Dani caught her breath in fear. Someone stood underneath the old elm tree, watching her.

“Who’s there?” she called anxiously.

At the sound of her voice, the shadow faded, and Dani realized that it, too, had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Some tiny hope conjuring an image that couldn’t possibly be real.




CHAPTER TWO


THE DEATH OF PAUL RYANN and his family made all the local broadcasts and was the biggest headline in the paper. Dani was unaware of the media, however, because she refused to leave her room. She sat staring out the window, her mind unable to accept what she knew in her heart to be true.

But the screams…she could still hear them. Not from the victims, but from friends and neighbors who’d watched in horror as the roof collapsed just seconds before the fire trucks arrived. And then hours later, the horror had turned to stunned disbelief as the three bodies, what was left of them, had been carried out of the rubble and loaded into an ambulance. An ambulance that would take Paul and his parents straight to the morgue.

Through her open window, Dani could still smell the smoke and the stench of singed flesh. The scent clung to her nostrils, her sinuses, her memory….

She put a hand to her mouth. Oh, God. She was going to be sick again.

Pressing her fist tightly to her lips, she willed away the nausea. It worked. She didn’t throw up this time, but the effort left her weak and trembling and wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and pretend last night had never happened.

And it would be almost too easy to forget, because her memories were already growing hazy. She could barely even remember getting home. Someone had driven her, she thought. A neighbor who had solicitously walked her up the porch steps, knocked on the door and explained to her parents what had happened.

But rather than being shocked by news of the tragedy that had befallen one of his neighbors, her father had seemed far more outraged by Dani’s disobedience, perhaps because she’d never done anything remotely like sneaking out of the house before. He’d immediately launched into one of his tirades, but her mother had grabbed his arm to silence him. “Stop it, Carl! Can’t you see she’s in shock? We have to get her to bed.”

Dani had only a vague recollection of being led upstairs to her room, of her mother helping her to undress and climb into bed. Her mother had sat with her for a while, but then when Dani had pretended to drift off, she’d tiptoed out. Afterward, Dani had lain in bed for hours, trying not to think about what had happened. Why it had happened…

Sometime in the late afternoon, she’d finally managed to drag herself out of bed and dress, but even then, she didn’t go downstairs. Instead, she’d curled up in the chair at the window—and had been there ever since.

Over the lingering odor of smoke, Dani could still smell the rain. Sometime before dawn, the storm had hit, but by then it had been too late. The fire had already done its damage.

“So you’re finally up, huh?”

Dani turned with a start at the sound of her brother’s voice. She hadn’t heard him come in. Didn’t even know if he’d knocked. He stood now in the doorway, one bony shoulder propped against the frame, dingy blond hair falling across his face as he gave Dani a look she couldn’t quite decipher. She thought for a moment there might be a flicker of sympathy in his dark eyes, but it was only a trace. And maybe nothing more than her imagination, because in the next instant, the insolent mask was firmly back in place.

“There’s a cop downstairs. He wants to talk to you.”

“What about?” Dani asked in surprise.

Nathan shrugged. As usual, he was barefoot and disheveled. The faded T-shirt he had on looked as if he might have slept in it, more than once. “The fire, I guess. You were there, weren’t you?”

A premonition prickled the back of Dani’s neck. She stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her khaki skirt as she walked slowly toward the door.

Nathan backed into the hall to allow her to pass, and as she brushed by him, he said, “So you snuck out of the house last night. Guess you’re not little Miss Perfect, after all.”

The bitterness in his voice sent a shiver up Dani’s spine.



SHE TRIED TO STEADY her nerves as she walked down the stairs. There was nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. The authorities were probably talking to everyone who’d been at the scene last night.

The officer was waiting for her in the living room, and he rose when she entered. So courteous, Dani thought. Just like Paul. And then she had to blink back sudden tears.

He gave her an encouraging smile, which helped put her at ease. He had a familiar face. Dani had seen him around town a few times, and he’d even come into the store where she worked once or twice.

He wore his dark blond hair closely cropped, and his khaki uniform was pressed and spotless. Dani remembered thinking the first time she saw him that he had the darkest eyes she’d ever looked into. And such a nice smile. He’d flirted a little that day in the store, and Dani and the other girls had been flattered by the attention of a good-looking older man. Older to them, at least. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and Dani found his casual manner somehow reassuring.

But her calm fled the moment she caught a glimpse of her parents. Her father sat stony-faced and silent in his armchair by the window while her mother, a petite blonde, perched delicately on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped in her lap. Dani stared at her mother for a moment, hoping for a smile or some soft word of support, but instead Rena Williams studied her hands almost furiously, as if she were somehow afraid to meet her daughter’s gaze.

Her father said gruffly, “Canton here wants to ask you a few questions about last night.”

“Okay,” Dani murmured.

The man gave her a disarming smile as he motioned her toward an empty chair. “Have a seat, Dani. This won’t take long.”

She sat and pressed her knees together. They were trembling.

“I understand you were a witness to the fire at Belmont House last night. Enid Caldwell said she drove you home. Said you were pretty shaken up by what happened.”

Dani nodded. Her throat was so tight she was afraid she might not be able to speak.

“Your folks tell me you left the house without their knowledge. Mind telling me why?”

“I…went to meet a friend.”

“What friend?”

She swallowed. “Paul.”

Canton’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Paul Ryann?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you meeting him?”

“He asked me to.”

“Were you two in the habit of meeting so late at night?”

She shot her parents a glance. Her father glowered in response, but her mother’s gaze was still on her hands. What was her mother thinking? Was she upset? Disappointed in her daughter’s behavior? Guess you’re not little Miss Perfect, after all.

“Dani? Had you two met like that before?” the officer pressed.

“No. That was the first time.”

He paused. “What exactly was your relationship with Paul Ryann?”

“We’re friends.” Were friends. Dani suppressed a shudder as her mind conjured an image of that figure in the upstairs window. The way he’d reached out to her…

“Was Paul your boyfriend?”

His tone, so brusque and accusatory, frightened Dani. She said hesitantly, “We hadn’t been out or anything like that. But I knew he liked me.”

Something flashed in Canton’s gaze. “How did you know he liked you? Did he tell you?”

“He sent me letters.”

“Love letters?”

Dani glanced at her father again. He was still scowling, but now there was a glitter of suspicion in his eyes that chilled her blood.

She tore her gaze away. Something was very wrong here. Her heart began to pound in agitation.

“Did Paul Ryann send you love letters, Dani?”

“I guess you could call them that.”

“Then the two of you were a little more than friends, wouldn’t you say?”

“No. I mean…he never said anything. About liking me, I mean. He didn’t even sign the letters, but I knew they were from him.”

“Wait a minute.” The officer’s gaze sharpened. “Are you telling me you’ve been receiving anonymous letters? What made you think they were from Paul? A popular girl like you must have dozens of admirers.”

A dark chill seeped through Dani’s veins. “I…just knew.”

“You never asked him if he was the one who’d sent them?”

“No.”

“I’d like to see those letters,” Canton said after a moment. When Dani started to rise, he put up a hand to stop her. “You can get them when we’re finished. I still have a few more questions.”

Dani sat back down. Her knees were shaking so hard now she could hardly keep them together.

Canton leaned forward, his gaze relentless. Distrustful. How had she ever found his appearance and manner reassuring? Now his casual behavior seemed contrived, his smile calculated, and suddenly Dani didn’t trust him.

“It might interest you to know that I’ve spoken with a few of your classmates. It’s funny, but none of them mentioned anything about Paul’s infatuation with you. In fact, the way I heard it, you two were pretty fierce rivals. Before he and his family moved here, you were the top student at your school, weren’t you, Dani? You were in line to receive the Belmont Award, which is, as I understand it, worth thousands of dollars. A kid like Paul didn’t even need a scholarship, whereas to someone like you, the Belmont could mean the difference between attending a prestigious Ivy League university and a mediocre state school. A part of you had to resent that.”

Dani stared at him in horror. For a moment, she couldn’t even breathe. Then she said in a terrified whisper, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Of course, you didn’t, she expected her mother to offer in her defense, but instead, it was her father who spoke. He rose slowly from his chair and crossed the room to stand behind Dani.

“That’s enough, Canton. I agreed to let you come in here and talk to my daughter because I didn’t think there’d be any harm in it. But now I see which way the wind’s blowing, and I don’t much care for what I smell. You want to build a name for yourself in this county, do it at someone else’s expense. From now on, we’ll let our attorney do the talking. You understand me?”

Attorney! Since when did they have an attorney? And, dear God, why did she need one? What kind of trouble was she in here?

Dani put a hand to her mouth as the nausea rushed back up her throat.

“If that’s how you want to handle it.” Canton rose. “I think you’re making a big mistake, but there’s not much I can do about it.” His gaze dropped to Dani. “I’d still like to take a look at those letters while I’m here, and…oh, yeah…” He pulled something from his pocket and held it out in his palm. “Do you recognize this?”

Dani leaned forward to get a better look. Then her hand flew to her throat. “Where did you get that?”

“Then you do recognize it?” A triumphant smile flickered briefly across Canton’s lips before he managed to suppress it. “I take it this necklace belongs to you.”

Dani stared down at the glittering chain cradled in his palm. Attached to the chain was a tiny gold “number one” charm her mother had given to her when she’d finished her junior year at the top of her class. The necklace was one of Dani’s most prized possessions; every time she looked at it, she remembered her mother’s face glowing with pride.

If only she could see that same sparkle in her mother’s eyes now. If only her mother would look at her…

Dani lifted her gaze to Canton’s. “I…thought I’d lost it. Where did you get it?”

“George Hendrix found it at his place. You know George, don’t you? His farm is just down the road from Belmont House.”

“We know Hendrix,” Dani’s father said coldly. “Just get to the point.”

Canton shrugged. “Well, it seems George found the necklace yesterday morning out by his fuel tank. But the strange thing was, two of his gas cans were missing and he thought someone had tampered with his pump. He didn’t report it, though, until he heard about the fire early this morning. Then he brought the necklace down to the station because he thought it might be evidence.”

Evidence of what?

Dani’s heart was beating so hard now, she thought everyone in the room must surely be able to hear it. But somehow she knew it was important to keep her composure. Somehow she knew it was crucial that she not let Canton see how scared she truly was.

“You see, we don’t think that fire was an accident. We think it was deliberately set. We think someone stole gas from George Hendrix’s tank, night before last, stashed the cans in the woods, and then went back last night to start that fire.”

Her mother gasped, and it was the first sound she’d made since Dani had come into the room. Her gaze lifted, and the terror in her eyes was like a knife thrust to Dani’s heart. What was her mother so afraid of? Dani wondered desperately. She couldn’t actually think—

“You wouldn’t know how your necklace happened to be at George Hendrix’s place, would you, Dani?”

She felt like bursting into tears, but instead she held on to her poise as if her life depended on it. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” Canton’s fist closed around the chain. “Tell you what. You run along and get me those letters while I have a chat with your dad here.”

Dani wanted nothing more than to flee to the safety of her room, but as she turned, she glimpsed her brother in the hallway. He’d been standing there listening to every word of the interrogation, and as his gaze met Dani’s, another chill went through her.

It was the first time she’d seen him smile since he returned home.



THE LETTERS WERE GONE. They were not in Dani’s top dresser drawer where she usually kept them, nor in any of the other drawers. They weren’t under the bed or in her purse or hidden inside her closet.

Dani knew she wouldn’t have misplaced them. Her room was too neatly organized for that. Her belongings were all carefully sorted and stored. Everything had its place, including the letters.

But, desperate and terrified, she tore the once-tidy room apart anyway. The letters were nowhere to be found. They’d simply vanished. Or been stolen.

But how could that be? No one else had even known about them. No one but Paul, and now he was dead.

Paul was dead, along with his parents, and the police blamed Dani. They thought she’d started that fire with gasoline she’d stolen from George Hendrix’s fuel tank.

They couldn’t seriously believe her capable of such a thing, could they? She’d lived in Allentown her whole life. Everyone knew her, knew that her behavior was always above reproach.

So why, why did Officer Canton seem to have it in for her? His suspicions were unfathomable—

Dani whirled as the hair lifted at the back of her neck. Nathan stood in the doorway again. Watching her.

Lazily, he scratched his arm. “Lose something?”

And it suddenly occurred to Dani just exactly what had happened to those letters. She flew across the room and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Did you take them? Did you?”

Her outburst clearly startled him. “What the hell are you talking about? Take what?”

“You know what I’m talking about! My letters from Paul.”

Nathan gave her a disgusted look. “Come on, Dani. Knock it off. No one’s buying that story.”

“What do you mean? I’m not making this up. He sent me letters. He wrote me poetry. He told me—”

“That he loved you?” Nathan’s gaze mocked her. “Get over yourself. Not everyone in this stupid town thinks you’re so wonderful. If you knew what that little weirdo was really up to—” Nathan broke off and glanced away.

Dani’s fingers dug into his shirt. “What did you mean by that?”

When Nathan merely smiled, something snapped inside Dani and she hit him. Smacked him right in the face and then hard across his chest. He wasn’t much taller than she, and almost as skinny. Her blows made him stumble back, and he threw up an arm to ward her off.

But Dani couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if someone else had taken control of her body. Someone who’d been suppressing her rage for years. Ever since her parents had brought home a son…

“Tell me! Tell me!”

Dani kept right on hitting him until she heard her mother cry out and her father say in a shocked voice, “Danielle! That’s enough!”

Canton stood at the bottom of the stairs taking it all in. He said nothing, but his dark gaze glittered with an emotion Dani couldn’t define.

The anger drained out of her so quickly she almost collapsed. She would have, if Nathan hadn’t grabbed her wrists to hold her up.

“I’ve been waiting years to see that look on Mother’s face,” he whispered, and then he released her and turned away.




CHAPTER THREE


FOUR WEEKS LATER, Greg Melcher sat at the back of the Allentown High School auditorium and watched Danielle Williams deliver the valedictory address at her graduation. She managed to hit just the right notes of melancholy and anticipation as she talked about leaving the past behind in order to embrace the future.

It was the usual inane garbage that would be delivered at countless graduation ceremonies in countless little burgs all over Texas on that hot Sunday afternoon.

But this speech was different because, in spite of Dani’s hesitant, emotional delivery, Melcher thought he could detect the barest hint of triumph in her tremulous voice. She was going to embrace the future, all right. She was going to embrace the hell out of it once she received the Belmont Award.

That little girl thinks she got away with murder. Now she’s going to take that scholarship money, get herself a fancy degree, and maybe even a rich husband if she plays her cards right.

God help that poor SOB, whoever he turns out to be, Melcher thought grimly.

But even as he sat there resenting Dani Williams’s future, he couldn’t help admiring her nerve. The girl was fearless. It wasn’t every seventeen-year-old who could execute a triple murder so flawlessly and leave nothing more than a whisper of suspicion behind. But those doubts were still lingering, if the subdued applause she received after her speech was any indication.

She returned to her seat on the stage, pressed her knees together and clasped her hands in her lap. There she sat, the very epitome of youth and hope and innocence. And she was good-looking to boot. Not drop-dead gorgeous the way Melcher preferred, but he had to admit there was something special about her. She had presence, with all that dark, glossy hair and those violet-colored eyes. And such poise!

Melcher didn’t know how she managed to keep her cool so well, but even when another classmate got up to deliver a moving tribute to Paul Ryann, she merely blinked away the tears instead of conspicuously dabbing at her eyes. The girl’s performance was nothing short of brilliant.

Yes, a part of Melcher couldn’t help admiring her even as he plotted her downfall. Because, after all, ambition was something he understood. He didn’t have a fancy degree from a school like Drury, but, by God, he was a damn good reporter with an uncanny instinct for looking under just the right rock. He might have started his career at a two-bit weekly in East Texas, but he sure as hell didn’t plan to end it that way.

Melcher had been waiting five years to catch some big-city editor’s eye. Houston, Dallas, San Antonio—those markets were respectable and a hell of a lot better than what he had now, but he ultimately had his eye on the big time. The show, as he liked to call it. More than anything in the world, he wanted to be an investigative reporter for the New York Times. Then, after he wrote a few books, won a Pulitzer or two, he’d make the move to television where the real money was.

But…he was getting a little ahead of himself.

It was hard not to dream, though. Hard not to imagine the headlines: Valedictorian Kills Rival.

A story like that could easily go national if Melcher worked it just right. Murdering cadets. Cheerleader moms hiring hit men. The public loved that kind of stuff. They couldn’t get enough of it, and this story had it all. Passion, jealousy, resentment. An honors student—a girl who’d never gotten so much as a day of detention in her life—caving to the pressures and competition that now faced high school seniors all across the country. Hell, the afternoon talk shows would eat that up with a spoon. And with a little luck, Melcher might even get a book and movie deal out of it.

He was still daydreaming, still smiling to himself when Dani walked across the stage to receive the Belmont Award. Her big moment at hand, she played it just right. Humble, grateful, sad. She didn’t drop her guard even for an instant, but she didn’t fool Melcher. He could see right through her. Beneath that sweet, wistful facade was a cold-blooded killer. A black widow in the making. A woman who seduced…and then murdered to get what she wanted.

Melcher could just see those headlines now.

And as he watched Danielle Williams accept the award, he began to hate her a little. Not because she’d killed an innocent boy and his family out of greed, but because she represented all that had remained elusive in his own life.

It was time someone brought that little girl down a peg or two. And Melcher was just the guy to do it.



DANI AND HER PARENTS celebrated quietly after the ceremony. She hadn’t been invited to any of the after parties nor had she participated in any of the pregraduation events.

After Paul’s death, when word had gotten out that she was a suspect, her classmates, including friends she’d gone to school with her whole life, had shunned her. Dani supposed she couldn’t blame them. If the police were right and the fire had been deliberately set, then the community had a murderer somewhere in its midst. Someone they knew had killed not one person, but three.

Dani understood that fear—she felt it, too. But the past two months had been lonelier than she ever could have imagined. It certainly wasn’t the way she would have chosen to end her high school years.

And to make matters worse, Nathan had left home. Just up and disappeared in the middle of the night without a word or a note to anyone. They didn’t have a clue where he’d gone off to, and Dani knew her parents, especially her mother, lived in a constant state of terror that she would get a phone call from a stranger some night informing her that her son was dead.

In the meantime, the investigation had finally wound down, even though an arrest had yet to be made. Dani knew that the police had checked into the Ryanns’ background and connections in Baton Rouge, but whether anything suspicious had turned up, she had no idea.

She did know, however, that Canton still considered her a suspect. In the ensuing weeks since that first interrogation, he had come into the store several times where Dani worked. He never said anything, just stared at her for long moments before turning to walk out.

And one night when she was up late studying, she’d glanced out the window to see a police car parked down the road from her house. She’d known instinctively it was Canton.

In her more charitable moments, Dani could appreciate that he was just doing his job, but sometimes it seemed as if he was deliberately stalking her just to unnerve her. And it worked. His relentless pursuit left her shaken and edgy and more than a little afraid. There was something almost obsessive about his behavior, and Dani wondered now how she’d ever found him attractive.

Her mother’s conduct during the past two months had been unsettling, as well. Whether it was Nathan’s disappearance, the suspicions cast upon her daughter, or a combination of both, Rena Williams had become even more withdrawn and had begun to suffer anxiety attacks. Some were so severe that she didn’t dare leave the house. She hadn’t even been able to attend Dani’s graduation ceremony, but had stayed home instead to prepare her daughter’s favorite meal and to beautifully decorate a cake, which she made a production of serving on her best china.

It was a rather pathetic attempt to commemorate the day, and they all knew it. As soon as they’d eaten, her father mumbled something about work he had to do in the barn and left the house. Dani helped her mother clean up, and then she, too, escaped. But instead of going straight to her room, she crossed the hall to Nathan’s room. His door was ajar, and she knew that it had been closed earlier. It was always closed.

After he’d first disappeared, Dani had been inside several times to search through his belongings, hoping to find something that would tell her where he’d gone. He’d left nearly everything behind. His clothes, his CD collection, even a stash of pot that Dani had flushed down the toilet before her parents could see it.

By all indications, her brother had taken off on the spur of the moment with nothing more than the clothes on his back, his car, and money he’d taken from their mother’s purse and from Dani’s dresser drawer.

Her searches had been so thorough that when Dani first stepped across the threshold that afternoon, she knew immediately that something was different. Someone had been in her brother’s room since she last had. And that someone had deliberately left the door ajar.

Her mother? Doubtful, since she could hardly bear to mention her son’s name.

Her father? Not likely, since he’d pretty much written Nathan off.

Then who?

Dani hovered in the doorway, hesitant for some reason to enter. The room had always been a little eerie, with its relentless black furnishings and her brother’s bizarre drawings tacked to the walls. He was a gifted artist, but his fascination for eyes had always seemed a bit creepy to Dani. Thousands of the disembodied orbs stared at her accusingly as she walked into his room and closed the door.

She hadn’t even been aware of looking for anything specific until she saw the corner of an envelope protruding from behind Nathan’s dresser. She knew she hadn’t overlooked it in her previous searches. She was too methodical. Too precise. If that letter had been there before, she would have found it.

As she bent to pick it up, the scent of her own perfume wafted on the musty air.

And then she knew. The letter was from her secret admirer.

But…Paul was dead. If he hadn’t sent that letter…if he hadn’t sent all those other letters…then who had?

Dread tightened Dani’s chest as she crossed the hall and entered her room. Closing and locking the door, she opened the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of paper from inside. She recognized the handwriting instantly, and her heart almost stopped.

The letter—in her own precise script—said simply, I did it for you, Dani. And it was signed, your One and Only.

Dani put a trembling hand to her mouth.

Did the letter mean…what she thought it meant? Had someone killed Paul and his family…for her?

She had to call the police. She had to show them the letter she still clutched in her hand. She had to tell them what she knew…somehow make them understand…

Paul’s killer had to be found. Her secret admirer had to be exposed.

The phone on her nightstand rang, and Dani jumped, still in shock. She waited for her mother to pick up downstairs, but when the phone rang twice more, Dani crossed the room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“I did it for you, Dani.”

She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end. She had a feeling the caller was deliberately disguising his identity. Gripping the phone in terror, she whispered, “Who is this?”

“Just think of it as my graduation present to you. The ultimate gift…”

She squeezed her eyes closed. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true.

“You understand now, don’t you?” the voice said softly. “You’re mine, Dani. You’ll always be mine. Nothing can change that.”

Her heart pounded so hard she couldn’t breathe. “I’m going to the police. They’ll find you, and put you in jail where you belong—”

“He made you say that, didn’t he?” The voice grew angry and sullen. “I know what’s going on. He’s trying to keep us apart, but don’t worry. I won’t let him come between us. I won’t let anyone stand in our way.”

“Who are you?” Dani whispered again.

“You know who I am, Dani. I’m your One and Only…”



DANI SAT ON THE EDGE of her bed, not knowing what to do. She wanted to call the police, but she was afraid to. What if they didn’t believe her? What if they turned it all around again and made it seem as if she were guilty?

She glanced down at the letter she still clutched in her hand. The penmanship looked exactly like hers. Somehow her secret admirer had managed to duplicate her handwriting so precisely that the police might very well think she’d written the note herself. Canton already suspected her. What if they threw her in jail? What if they made her stand trial and she was found guilty?

Dani had no idea how long she sat in her room agonizing. It must have been hours later when she heard a distant noise. She listened for a moment, then jumped up from the bed when she recognized the sound. Someone was screaming.

She opened her bedroom door and hurried into the hallway. “Mom? Dad?”

When there was no answer, she raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. The back door was open, and the screams grew louder. Someone was in terrible agony.

Frantic now, Dani ran outside. She met her mother coming up from the barn. She was covered in blood.

Sobbing, she fell into Dani’s arms. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she cried over and over.

“Mom, what is it? What happened?”

“Your father,” she finally managed to whisper. “Oh, God, Dani, there’s been a terrible accident….”




CHAPTER FOUR


Houston, Texas

Eleven years later…

FOR A COLD, MERCENARY KILLER, she wasn’t bad looking. In fact, when the light hit her just right or she turned her head at a certain angle, she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Richard Berkley had ever seen. But that was only a fleeting impression. His overall assessment of her was of a mildly pretty woman who knew how to make an entrance.

A tall, slender brunette, she carried herself with an almost regal elegance, but the wildness in her violet-colored eyes drew a shiver up Richard’s spine. Dressed all in white, she appeared at once innocent and seductive. Aloof, and yet dangerously charismatic. A walking contradiction.

Seeing her in person for the first time, Richard could appreciate why men were so drawn to her, how they could easily and unsuspectingly become entangled in her deadly web. Especially someone as naive as his brother.

“There she is,” the man seated across the table said in a low voice. “She just came in. No, don’t turn! We don’t want her to see us together.”

Richard didn’t have to swivel around; he’d been watching her in the large mirror that hung at the back of the restaurant ever since she’d walked through the door. The lunchtime crowd at Seraphina’s, one of Houston’s hottest downtown restaurants, was large and noisy, but it seemed to Richard that a hush fell over the place when she entered.

Or perhaps that was only his imagination. He was probably attributing powers to the woman that she didn’t possess. But it was an understandable mistake, considering he knew only too well how truly cunning she was. And how maddeningly elusive. He’d been on her trail for more years than he cared to remember.

And now he’d found her.

He picked up his drink with a hand that didn’t tremble, that didn’t give away the rage surging through his whole body, and said, almost matter-of-factly, “When can I meet her?”

“It’ll take at least a couple of weeks for my operatives to gather all the information we need.”

“I was hoping it could be sooner.”

Max Tripp shook his head. “You’ll just have to be patient, I’m afraid. We don’t want to rush the process. Each piece of information is vital to the outcome. In the meantime, try to stay focused on the bigger picture. If a meeting with Dr. West was all you wanted, you could have arranged it yourself by picking up the phone and making an appointment. But that’s not why you came to us, is it?”

“No.”

“You told us in your preliminary interview that Dr. West is the woman of your dreams, the woman with whom you want to spend the rest of your life. We can help you make that happen, but as I said, you’ll have to be patient. Designing the appropriate coincidental meeting can sometimes take weeks, or even months of planning and preparation, but most of our clients agree that the outcome is well worth the wait.”

Most of your clients haven’t been waiting seven years to catch a killer at her own game.

Richard glanced at Darian West in the mirror again. She was seated alone, but from the admiring stares she received from nearby diners, he assumed her solitude was by choice.

Was she waiting for someone? Her next victim?

Or was her intended prey somewhere in that very room?

Richard glanced around the crowded restaurant. When his gaze returned to her reflection, he found her staring at him, and his blood turned to ice.

He suppressed a shudder as he focused his attention on Max Tripp. “Confidentiality is guaranteed, I assume.”

“Of course. Our reputation is built on our discretion. She’ll never know that your initial meeting was all carefully orchestrated unless you decide to tell her yourself. The same goes for our investigation. We’ll talk to her friends, neighbors, business associates—anyone who can help us gain insight into her personality and character, her likes and dislikes, even her hopes and dreams. By the time we’re finished, we’ll know Dr. West inside and out, but neither she nor the people we interview will ever suspect our motives. We’re good at what we do, Mr. Berkley—but then, you already knew that. A man with your resources would have made certain of our expertise before you contacted us. Am I right?”

“I’m nothing if not careful,” Richard agreed.

Something in his tone must have disturbed Max Tripp, because he glanced away, frowning. “Yes, I sensed that,” he murmured.

“I understand that you were once a police officer, Mr. Tripp.”

Suspicion gleamed in the man’s eyes. “So you have done your homework.”

“Do you know an HPD detective named Ellison Kane?”

“I know of him, but I don’t think anyone really knows him. Kane’s a loner type. Doesn’t even work with a partner, which means he’s probably got connections.” Tripp paused. “What’s your interest in him anyway?”

Richard said casually, “Our paths crossed on a case once. I’d like to look him up.”

Tripp sat back and stared at him for a moment. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Dr. West, does it?”

“Why would you assume that?”

He shrugged. “Just a hunch. And if I’m right, let me caution you that it’s highly ill-advised for a client to become involved in the investigation. If you start asking questions about Dr. West and she gets wind of it—”

“That’s why I want you to make the arrangements,” Richard cut in.

“Arrangements?”

“Set up a time and place where Kane and I can meet. Tell him anything he says will go no further than our meeting, and make sure he understands that I expect the same from him.”

Tripp’s tone sharpened. “Look, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here. Kane’s not going to agree to meet with you if you attach conditions. You start making demands, you’re just going to piss him off. And believe me when I tell you that Ellison Kane is not the kind of guy you want for an enemy.”

Richard dismissed his concern. “You let me worry about Kane. Just make the call.”

“And if he doesn’t agree?”

“He will.” Richard picked up his drink as he glanced again at Darian West’s reflection. “Tell him we have a common interest in spiders. The deadly kind.”




CHAPTER FIVE


ELLISON KANE had little tolerance for assholes, especially the smug, self-important variety. And by all indications, Richard Berkley fell comfortably into that category.

As Kane watched him get out of his car and walk slowly up the drive, he decided the man was in serious need of an attitude adjustment.

The way he walked, the way he dressed—everything about him annoyed the hell out of Kane. But then, according to Max Tripp, the guy was a lawyer—so what could you expect?

If there was anything lower on the face of the earth than a criminal defense attorney, Kane had yet to run across such an animal. And he’d seen some pretty rough characters in his day.

The problem with Berkley was that he hadn’t yet realized he was no longer in control. He’d left that prerogative behind when he’d come looking for Kane. He was on Kane’s turf now, and there were certain rules that had to be adhered to. Number one being that in the south Harris County town of Seaport, you did not want to get on Ellison Kane’s bad side.

He knew the area too well—the bayous that cut through the county, the alleyways and dirt roads that couldn’t be found on any map. He’d even made a habit of walking that vast wasteland along the I-45 corridor known as the killing fields, where the bodies of young women and little girls had been turning up for more than twenty years.

The suburbs south of Houston weren’t exactly friendly territory, and if Berkley knew what was good for him, he’d mind his manners. Live and let live seemed to be the universal motto down here, and Kane liked it that way. Nobody got all up in his business, and in return, he didn’t ask questions about boats moving around in the Gulf at all hours of the night. The locals had a tendency to be suspicious, nervous, even a little trigger-happy at times, and a man like Berkley could get himself into some real trouble if he wasn’t careful. He could end up getting lost, and never be heard from again.

It had happened before.

As Berkley climbed the porch steps, Kane eased the rosewood-handled .45 from his shoulder holster and thumbed off the safety.

He waited until he heard Berkley’s footsteps on the porch, then he whipped open the door and thrust the gun barrel beneath the man’s chin.

To Berkley’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t so much as blink. His unwavering stare was positively chilling.

Then one brow rose slightly. “Sergeant Kane, I presume?”

The man’s voice sent something unpleasant scurrying along Kane’s spine, which surprised him. There weren’t many men who could unnerve him like that.

Well, hell, he thought. This could get interesting.



THE MAN WAS PATHOLOGICAL, Richard decided as he watched Kane step onto the porch and glance up and down the street.

“You alone?” he demanded.

“Of course.”

He dropped the weapon to his side and head-gestured for Richard to follow him into the tiny, clapboard house. Once they were both inside, Kane closed and bolted the door.

Richard took a quick survey of his surroundings. The house was close and gloomy, so claustrophobic he had to suppress the urge to tug at his tie. Very little sunshine crept through the single front window that looked out on a scraggly yard littered with car parts, a rusted-out motorcycle and an assortment of debris that Richard couldn’t identify.

The interior wasn’t much better. The furnishings consisted of folding lawn chairs and what looked to be finds brought home from the city dump. Every inch of table and counter space was used for newspapers, magazines and file folders crammed full of documents, but for all the clutter, the place appeared basically clean. Scrubbed even. The smell of ammonia clung to the air.

Kane dumped a stack of papers from one of the lawn chairs and motioned for him to sit. As Richard folded himself into the rickety chair, he hoped the aluminum frame wouldn’t collapse underneath him.

Kane took the only real chair in the room, a tattered recliner that creaked ominously when he sat, though he was by no means a big man. He was perhaps five-nine or -ten, with the kind of lean, hungry visage that reminded Richard of a stray dog he’d rescued once. No matter how often the mutt was fed, he could never get enough to eat, and he’d seemed almost pathetically grateful for any scrap of attention that came his way. But at the same time, Richard always had the feeling that with one wrong move, the animal would just as soon go for his jugular.

He got that same vibe from Kane. The man certainly had the appearance of a stray with his uncombed, dirty-blond hair, faded T-shirt and threadbare jeans. But just like his house, the unkempt facade was deceptive. His clothing and hair were clean, his fingernails neatly clipped. Either he had a split personality, or he wanted people to get an entirely inaccurate picture of him. Richard couldn’t help wondering why.

Kane laid the .45 on the TV tray beside the recliner. “How did you find out about me anyway?”

“We have a mutual acquaintance.”

Kane snorted. “If you mean Max Tripp, don’t make the mistake of thinking his name carries any weight around here. I can’t stand that bastard.”

“I’m talking about Michael Farmer.”

“Who?”

The one-syllable question was a little too abrupt. Richard would have expected better from a man like Kane. “Let’s not play games here. You know the name. I can see it in your eyes.” He paused. “And in case Tripp didn’t make it clear, let me assure you, Sergeant, that anything you tell me about Michael Farmer will go no farther than this room.”

“And why should I trust you?” Kane challenged.

“I’ll give you several reasons.” Richard removed a wad of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the TV tray next to Kane. “A thousand dollars just for answering a few questions. Not a bad day’s work, and no one outside this room ever has to know.”

Kane glanced at the bills, then back at Richard. “I don’t know about where you come from, but down here, attempting to bribe a police officer could get you jail time.”

“Then it behooves both of us to keep our mouths shut about this meeting.”

Something that might have been respect crossed Kane’s features. “What are you after, Berkley?”

“I want information about Michael Farmer. You do remember him, don’t you?”

Kane sighed. “Yeah, I remember him. He was that college kid who died in a dorm fire up in Connecticut.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Hell, that had to be—what? Seven, eight years ago?”

“It was seven,” Richard confirmed. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you about that fire.”

Kane’s gaze narrowed. “Why? That kid’s family bringing a lawsuit against the school or something? It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Being a cop, you should know there’s no statute of limitation on murder.”

Kane looked startled. “Murder? Who said anything about murder?”

“You did.” Richard studied the man’s expression. He hadn’t figured Kane out yet, but he would. He’d become adept over the years in interpreting every blink, flicker and tic of a witness or juror. So far, Kane remained an enigma. “Seven years ago you hinted to at least one person at Drury University that you thought Michael Farmer had been murdered by his girlfriend.”

Kane rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What if I did? I never could prove it, and besides, the university was more interested in hushing the whole thing up than they were in getting at the truth. Murder would have been bad for their reputation. Not a lot of parents want to send their kids off to a school—especially one with Drury’s price tag—that can’t protect them.”

“You worked for the campus police department back then. According to the official record, you were the first officer to respond to the fire.”

Kane nodded. “I was on patrol that night. I happened to be driving by the dorm when I heard the alarm go off. Then I saw smoke coming out of some of the upper-level windows, and I called it in.”

“You did more than that,” Richard said. “From what I understand, you rushed into the dorm and helped people get out. You were credited with saving lives.”

Kane shrugged and glanced away. He appeared uncomfortable with the accolades. “I was just doing my job, and yeah, luckily, most of the kids did get out. Everyone except Farmer. Nobody thought to knock on his door because he was supposed to be away for the weekend. The best we could figure, he had a sudden change of plans and didn’t tell anyone.”

“So no one knew he was there.”

“Right.”

“Except possibly the girlfriend.”

Kane’s gaze lifted. Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Right again.”

Richard got up and paced over to the window to stare out for a moment. The neighborhood where Kane lived was isolated and quiet. One of those places that seemed to wear a perpetual air of foreboding, as if the things that went on there at night were best not examined by daylight.

Richard suppressed his own feeling of foreboding as he turned back to Kane. “The police thought the fire started in Michael’s room.”

“That’s what they thought, yeah. According to the coroner, Farmer had been drinking. He had a blood alcohol content of .06, and traces of an opiate showed up in the tox screen. The police and the medical examiner concluded that the kid was so hammered, he passed out in bed with a lit cigarette and never woke up.”

“But that wasn’t what you thought.”

Kane remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice had grown cold with suspicion. “Why are you asking all these questions now?”

Richard came back over and sat down. “It’s taken me a long time to track you down, Sergeant. Houston is a long way from Connecticut.”

“So?”

“I’m wondering what brought you all this way.”

The suspicion deepened in Kane’s eyes. “And I’m wondering how you think that’s any of your damn business.”

Richard shrugged. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

Kane’s expression told him he wasn’t buying it. “Let’s just say, I got tired of the cold. I moved to Houston because I’m a sucker for smog and humidity.”

“And because you were born and raised in Texas?” When Kane didn’t respond, Richard said softly, “That wasn’t hard to figure out, Sergeant. You didn’t get that accent just by living here for a couple of years.”

“I’d still like to know what the hell you’re after,” Kane muttered.

“Just the truth.”

Kane sat forward suddenly, his expression tight with anger. “You want the truth about Michael Farmer? Here it is, then. Seven years ago, I wasn’t much older than most of the kids at Drury, so I got to know some of them pretty well. They liked to talk and I liked to listen. Word around campus was that Farmer was a real weirdo.”

Richard had to tamp down his sudden anger. “What do you mean?”

Kane shrugged. “He kept to himself, didn’t make friends. There was even talk of a suicide attempt. Then he met Danielle Williams.”

“The girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Nice-looking chick. Nothing spectacular, but a lot of the guys had a thing for her, including Michael. He used to follow her around campus like a little lost puppy. It was pretty pathetic.”

Richard’s voice sharpened. “Wait a minute. He followed her?”

Kane nodded. “She wouldn’t have anything to do with him at first. She didn’t seem to have much use for any of those guys. Always acted like she was kind of afraid of them. But I think that was just part of her game.”

“What game?”

“The seduction. The hunt.” Kane’s eyes gleamed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but there was just something about that girl. She was different from the others. Part of it was her upbringing, I guess. She came from a small town in East Texas, and most of the other students grew up in places like Boston, New York, Philadelphia. They drove fancy cars, wore expensive clothes. Had money to burn. Not Danielle. She was there on a full scholarship and didn’t have much dough for anything extra. So Michael started buying her things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Books, CDs. Things like that. Then he gave her some jewelry, and I guess that’s when she decided to reel him in. They were inseparable for a while, but I don’t think anyone expected it to last. They were just too different.”

Richard frowned. “Because he had money and she didn’t?”

“It was more than that.” Kane settled back against his chair. “They were both journalism majors, but Michael was one of those idealistic types. He wanted to go live in a tent in Somalia or Bangladesh or some damn place and write about things that could change the world. I got the impression that Danielle Williams was a lot more ambitious than that.”

“That doesn’t make her a killer,” Richard said.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Kane shrugged again. “But the thing that’s bothered me all these years is that trip Michael canceled right before the fire. If he had a change of heart, why not tell his girlfriend about it? Everyone knew he was crazy about her. And yet he stays in town and doesn’t let her know? Something just doesn’t add up there.”

“According to the police report, Danielle was in her room the whole night,” Richard said. “Her roommate corroborated her story.”

“Yeah, but a girl as clever as Danielle Williams could have gotten around the roommate.”

“How?”

Kane thought about it for a minute. “Suppose she put something in the roommate’s drink earlier that night. The same drug that turned up in Michael’s autopsy. Danielle could have slipped out, gone over to Michael’s room, started the fire, and then hurried back to her dorm before anyone was the wiser. When the roommate woke up and heard the sirens, she would have assumed that Danielle had been there the whole time.”

“Was any of this ever investigated?”

“The Hanover police went through the motions, but there was no physical evidence linking the girl to the fire. No witnesses. No motive, apparently. At least not at first. The people who ran that university pulled a lot of weight in Hanover. The president, the dean, the Board of Regents—they all wanted the whole thing over and done with so that they could begin damage control.”

Richard frowned. “You said apparently Danielle had no motive at first. What did you mean by that?”

“It came out later that Michael had left her a lot of money. He received a trust fund when he turned twenty-one, and he left the whole thing, nearly half a million dollars, to Danielle. A few weeks later, she up and disappeared.”

“She didn’t even tell her roommate where she was going?”

“Not that I could find out. And the roommate wasn’t shy about talking. She told me about this shrink who used to call Danielle from time to time. Dr. Gaines, she called him. He was a therapist Danielle had been seeing before she left Texas. I called him up a few weeks after Danielle disappeared, but he refused to talk about her. The guy was downright hostile, but I got the distinct feeling that he knew where she was.”

“Go on.”

The prompt seemed to annoy Kane, and he scowled. “Look, I’m not on the witness stand here. And I’m starting to wonder why I should be doing all your legwork for you. If you’ve got hundred-dollar bills to throw around, why don’t you hire yourself an investigator?”

“I did hire an investigator,” Richard said. “And he led me straight to you.”

Kane’s scowl deepened. “I think we’re done here.”

“Really? Because I don’t think we are,” Richard said slowly. “I don’t think so at all. We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. You know, the part where you explain why the university purged your employment records and why you failed to mention any previous law enforcement experience on your HPD application. So you see, Sergeant, I’d say this conversation is far from over.”

“What the hell is this?” Kane growled. “Some kind of shakedown?”

“I told you, all I want is the truth. Your leaving Drury University so abruptly had something to do with Michael’s death, didn’t it. The school had something on you, and you cut a deal. You agreed to leave quietly and keep your mouth shut about the fire. Am I getting warm yet, Sergeant Kane?”

When the man didn’t answer, Richard leaned toward him. “Let’s get something straight here. I don’t give a damn why you left Drury. I don’t give a damn what they had on you. What I want to know is what you had on them. What scared the university and the Hanover Police Department so badly that they had to find a way to shut you up?”

“Think about it, Berkley.” Kane’s voice was hard and angry, but there was a flicker of excitement—or triumph—in his gaze. “If a murder on campus was enough to frighten off prospective students, what do you think a serial killer on the loose would do for enrollment?”

“A serial killer?” Richard was surprised by how unemotional his voice sounded. How detached he felt from Kane’s revelation. But he knew that at any moment his control could slip and he’d give himself away. He didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

He glanced up to find Kane watching him. An unexpected chill shot through Richard. “You think Danielle Williams was a serial killer?”

“Not was. Is.”

“You know where she is?”

Kane hesitated. “No. But I know what she’s done. Let’s just say, Michael Farmer’s not the only dead boy in her past.”

“Don’t hold out on me now, Kane. What else do you have on her?”

Kane eyed the money for a moment, as if contemplating asking for more, but before he had a chance, Richard brought out another roll of bills and tossed it onto the table.

“What else did you find out about Danielle Williams?” he repeated.

Kane ran a hand across his mouth, as if what he’d already said had left a bad taste. “After I talked to Dr. Gaines, I decided to do a little more digging into Danielle’s background, and I found out that she wasn’t exactly the innocent, small-town girl she tried to make everyone at Drury think she was. She was a smart, driven, ruthless student who, from the time she hit high school, had her eye on something called the Belmont Award. The prize was worth thousands in scholarship money, and according to a couple of teachers I spoke to, no one even came close to Danielle’s grades or accomplishments until her senior year. Then this rich kid moves to town who’s even smarter than she is. He outperforms Danielle in all their classes, and everyone assumes that he’ll win the Belmont. Then, get this—” It was Kane who leaned forward now. “He and his family die in a fire one night.”

“Was there an investigation?”

“The girl was questioned by the police, all right, but there wasn’t enough evidence to make an arrest. So she wins the award and heads off to Drury, where she meets Michael Farmer, who also dies in a fire, leaving her a small fortune. Now I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pattern to me.”

Somewhere inside Richard, an old rage stirred to life. A terrible fury he’d had to keep under control during his long search for Danielle Williams. And now that he’d finally found her, he wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way. Not even a paranoid cop who might be more than a little insane.

As if reading his mind, Kane traced a fingertip down the barrel of his gun. Richard had a feeling the action was very deliberate. “There’s a name for women who kill their lovers for personal gain.”

“Black widows,” Richard said.

“That’s right. We both have an interest in spiders, don’t we? You didn’t come here to find out about Danielle Williams. I haven’t told you a damn thing you didn’t already know. What the hell are you really after here?”

Richard got up and walked to the window again. After a moment, he said, “Do you know a woman named Darian West? Dr. West?”

Behind him, Kane drew a sharp breath, but by the time Richard turned, the cop’s expression was coolly indifferent.

“No, why?”

“She’s a criminal psychologist here in Houston. In fact, she worked extensively with HPD on the Casanova murder case last summer. You were assigned to that task force for a while, weren’t you, Sergeant? That is, until you asked for a transfer. I find it hard to believe that you and Dr. West didn’t cross paths at some point.”

Kane’s gaze had grown very dark and very cold, and Richard was aware of the .45 that was still only a fingertip away.

Richard walked slowly toward Kane. “I think you do know her, Sergeant. I think she’s the reason you left Connecticut and came back to Texas. I’m willing to bet that somewhere around here there’s a big, fat file on Dr. West.”

Kane’s hand rested on the TV tray, but he didn’t pick up the gun. Not yet. “Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?”

Richard paused mere inches from the man’s chair and stared down at him. “It’s simple. I don’t know what kind of sick little obsession you’ve got going on here, but I want you to back off. I want you to drop your investigation. I want you to forget you ever heard of Danielle Williams or Dr. Darian West.”

“Yeah?” Kane’s gaze turned defiant as his hand closed over the weapon. “And why should I do that?”

Richard smiled. “Because she’s mine.”




CHAPTER SIX


DARIAN DREAMED about Michael that night. It was the same scene she’d replayed in her sleep for the past seven years, ever since Michael died so suddenly and so tragically…exactly the way Paul Ryann died before him.

In her vision, she was still Dani. She and Michael were walking across a snowy landscape, arms linked, frosty breaths mingling on the cold air. All around them, icicles dripped like diamonds from the treetops, while in the distance, sunlight danced across a frozen pond.

The campus was still and almost preternaturally quiet. The two of them might have been alone in the world, captured, for all eternity, inside a snow globe.

It was as if she had no past and no future here, Dani thought. The only thing that mattered was the present. She didn’t have to think about anything else. She didn’t have to remember the fire at Belmont House or that beseeching figure in the window. And later, those awful, awful screams.

She didn’t have to remember the suspicions, the loneliness, and the utter sense of helplessness she’d felt after her father’s accident.

Most of all, she didn’t have to remember that voice on the phone….

“I did it for you, Dani.”

But even in her dream world, she couldn’t escape those memories. They came flooding back, and Dani turned away, no longer able to meet Michael’s gaze. He wouldn’t have it. He put his hand beneath her chin and tenderly turned her face back to his.

It was his gentleness that always got to Dani. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to feel anything for him—for anyone. But she couldn’t help it. He was so sweet and so handsome and so very persistent. In some ways, he reminded her of Paul. They had the same haunted eyes. The same melancholy smile.

A premonition crawled up her spine, and she shivered.

“What is it?” Michael asked her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That look in your eyes…where do you go when you drift off like that?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Sometimes you seem like you’re a million miles away. In a place where I can’t reach you. What happened to you, Dani? Why is it the moment we start getting close, I can feel you pushing me away?”

“You know I don’t like to talk about my past,” she murmured, and tried to turn away again.

But Michael held on to her. Held her as if he would never let her go. “I know you don’t. I’m not a big fan of strolling down memory lane, either. My relationship with my brother…you know it’s a mess.” He sighed and glanced away, battling his own demons.

Dani sometimes wondered about his estrangement from his brother, but she never asked. To query him about his past would be to invite questions about her own. And she’d promised herself the day she left Allentown that she wouldn’t look back.

But that was easier said than done. Four years and nearly two thousand miles wasn’t enough time or distance to ease her pain. Paul’s death haunted her still, and she knew that it always would.

She also knew there were those back home who still believed her guilty of setting that fire. Officer Canton was one of them. She even sometimes had the crazy notion that he might have followed her to Connecticut. She’d caught glimpses of someone who looked very much like him, but she knew those sightings were probably nothing more than her paranoia at work.

And her father…that was the heaviest cross of all to bear. He’d fallen out of the barn loft that day, impaling himself on a pitchfork. It was a miracle he’d survived. After Dani and her mother had rushed him to the emergency room, a team of doctors and nurses had worked on him for what seemed like hours. When they finally managed to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized, Dani had tried to tell her mother about the letters and the phone call.

Rena Williams had turned deathly pale and, clutching Dani’s hand, had made her promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone else about her secret admirer, especially the police. Going to the authorities might put them in more danger. Look what had happened to her father.

Dani had been so fearful for her mother’s fragile health that she’d finally agreed to keep silent. She didn’t go to the police, but the promise her mother extracted from her took a toll on their relationship. They were no longer able to meet one another’s eyes, and it seemed to Dani that her mother blamed her for their terrible secret.

“At least you’ve made up with your brother,” Michael said with another sigh.

“Sort of,” Dani agreed. She supposed that was the one good thing to come of all that had happened to her in the past four years. Until a few weeks ago, she hadn’t heard from Nathan since he’d left home right after the fire. He hadn’t even called after their father’s accident. Then recently, he’d turned up at Drury. She’d come out of class one day, and there he’d stood, looking so different from the last time she’d seen him that she almost hadn’t recognized him.

He’d cut his hair, and the jeans and jacket he’d had on were clean and respectable. With something of a shock, Dani realized that somewhere along the way, her brother had grown up. He was no longer a boy, but a man. He’d just turned twenty-three, but the tentative smile he gave her reminded her of the day her parents had brought him into their home, an uneasy nine-year-old who’d wanted nothing more than to belong.

It would have been so easy to respond to that smile. To reach out to him. Lean on him as she once would have done. But there’d been something in his eyes that day—a lingering darkness that made Dani wonder where he’d been and what he’d done. And why he’d come back into her life.

In her dream, Michael was still holding on to her. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“You were willing to give your brother a second chance, so I’ve decided to do the same. I’m going home this weekend. I don’t expect anything to come of it, but who knows?” His expression turned bleak. “R.J. can be a real bastard when he wants to be. The only thing he cares about is making money, and he doesn’t understand why I don’t feel the same way. But…he’s the only family I’ve got. For now,” he added cryptically.

Dani put a hand to his cheek. “Michael, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

He gave a short laugh. “Let’s not celebrate yet, okay? I’m not expecting miracles.”

“But at least you’re making the effort.”

“Right. I’m making the effort.” He drew a breath. “I hate leaving you, though. I want you to come with me, but I’m not sure that would be such a good idea—”

She pressed a fingertip to his lips. “Don’t worry about me. You should do this alone. You need time to work out things with your brother, and besides, I plan to spend the whole weekend studying. Midterms are coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“And you’ve got an A in every class. Why do you do this? Why do you put such pressure on yourself?”

His criticism rankled. “Because I’m not rich like you. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on. If I don’t keep up my grades, I’ll lose my scholarship.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to worry about money? I’ll take care of you.”

She drew away from him. “I’d never ask you for money.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask. I want to take care of you.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Don’t you understand?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m in love with you. I want to marry you.”

“Please don’t say that,” she begged.

“I have to. I want you to know how I feel.” His gaze deepened. “I know you don’t feel the same about me. Not yet. But you feel something. I can see it in your eyes. And I think you could love me, too, if you’d let yourself.”

“I’m not ready for anything serious,” Dani said almost desperately. “I have to concentrate on my grades, finish school—”

“I know, I know. The last thing I want to do is put more pressure on you. But, Dani, do you have any idea how much I want you?” His arms tightened around her. “Sometimes I think I’m going to die if we don’t—” He kissed her then, not roughly or hungrily, but gently. Persuasively.

And it would have been so easy to let herself be persuaded. She loved Michael, too. She did. But something held her back. Something made her pull away even as she wanted to cling to him.

He rested his forehead against hers. “It’s okay. I won’t rush you. We’ll talk when I get back on Sunday.”

He walked away from her then, his shoulders hunched against the cold, a solitary figure trudging through the snow. And as Dani stood watching him, that dark premonition slithered back into her soul.

Someone was watching her.

The dream shifted then, and she was huddled with her roommate in the icy cold dawn, watching in horror as firemen pulled students from the smoldering dorm.

Her secret admirer was there, too. She could feel his cold breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, “I did it for you, Dani.”



DARIAN AWAKENED from the dream as she always did, frightened, trembling, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she grew dizzy. The images were so vivid in her mind that she could almost believe she was back on that snowy campus instead of safe and sound inside her Houston town house.

She lay staring at the ceiling, weak and exhausted, as the memories came rushing back. She put a hand across her eyes, but that never stopped them. Might as well let them come.

Rolling over, she glanced at the bedside clock. Just after midnight. Hours still until she had to get up.

Sighing, she let her mind drift back to the aftermath of the fire. It hadn’t been until much later the following morning that she’d learned Michael hadn’t gone away after all, and that the fire might even have started in his room.

The implication had almost shattered her, but the final, devastating blow had come later, when she’d received word of her inheritance. That same day, she’d gotten another letter, written in what looked to be her own handwriting: I did it for you, Dani.

The precise script matched hers exactly—just as it had in the letter she’d received after Paul Ryann’s death—that Dani had even toyed with the terrifying notion she might be suffering from a split personality. Was it possible she’d sent herself those notes? Was it possible she’d set those fires, hurt her own father…and couldn’t remember?



“YOUR DOUBTS ARE NATURAL, Dani. You feel guilty for the deaths of your friends, and you’re looking for answers. But you’re not responsible for what happened,” Dr. Gaines had said when she’d returned to Allentown after Michael’s death.

Dani stared across the desk at him. “If I’m not responsible, then who is? Why is this happening? Why did Michael and Paul have to die just because…they loved me?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he said softly.

Because some psycho, someone that Dani might not even know, wanted her. Wanted to have her under his complete control. The notion was more than terrifying. It was monstrous.

“I’m more convinced than ever that what we’re dealing with here is a form of erotomania,” Dr. Gaines said grimly. “Your secret admirer is laboring under a false belief that you and he are in love, that the two of you belong together. That conviction keeps him tied to you, Dani. So tied, in fact, that he followed you all the way to Connecticut. I suspect he would be willing to follow you anywhere.”

Dani shuddered at the implication.

“You see, without the object of his obsession, an erotomanic feels as if a part of himself is missing. That’s why his delusions are so tenacious. Without his object—without you—he’s nothing.”

Dani wanted to put her hands over her ears and block the whole bizarre conversation, but she couldn’t do that. She had to face the reality of what was happening to her. Her family’s safety depended on it. “Why me? What did I do?”

Dr. Gaines made a helpless gesture with his hand. “It could have been something as simple as a smile or a kind word that captured his fascination. In all likelihood, he’s someone who has had little or no real contact with you, but he’s so deluded that he actually believes he’s having a relationship with you.”

“So he had to kill Paul and Michael?” Dani cried in horror. “He had to hurt my father?”

“He felt threatened by them. Erotomanic stalkers can be very vindictive. They believe their victims love them, and they can become violent when they perceive obstacles that are keeping them from that love.”

Dani closed her eyes. “Then why aren’t the police looking for him? Why do they think I’m the one who did something wrong?”

“Because most police departments, particularly those in small towns, still don’t know how to deal with stalkers. Until recently, stalking wasn’t even a crime in most states. Your case is particularly complex because your secret admirer isn’t just delusional and violent, he’s also extremely cunning. He planned those murders very carefully. He even taught himself to mimic your handwriting so precisely that if you took those letters to the police, they could only conclude that you’d written them yourself. And in each case, he made sure that you were the one who had the most to gain from the victim’s death. He made sure that you had both motive and opportunity. There wasn’t enough evidence to arrest or convict you, but certainly enough to cast doubt upon your character, and therefore, your credibility. It’s another way he has of gaining power over you. Not only has he isolated you from your family and your community and even from future relationships, but by planting your necklace near that fuel tank, he’s also proven how easy it would be to frame you. In essence, he now has total control over your life.”

“What can I do to stop him?” Dani asked desperately.

“The truth?” Dr. Gaines glanced away. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”



LYING IN HER DARKENED BEDROOM, Darian felt the old panic well inside her again, but she shoved it away, reminding herself she was safe here. She’d regained control of her life. She had a new name, a carefully chosen identity. Only one person in the whole world knew how to find her, and he would never tell. He would never betray her because he was the one who had saved her. Yes, she was finally safe. Her family was safe. She didn’t just have a new name, she had a new career, a whole new life. The inheritance from Michael had allowed her to start over, and she’d used it to buy herself security.

When she’d first moved to Houston, she’d selected her town house because the complex was ensconced behind eight-foot walls, and both cameras and guards monitored the electronic security gate around the clock. No one could get in without proper authorization.

Darian had chosen her particular home because it was wedged between two other units, and she liked knowing who was on either side of her. And for the past five years, she’d had the same neighbors—to the right, the Lindermanns, a young, professional couple, and to her left, Mr. Delgado, a retired oil executive.

Darian hadn’t gotten to know the Lindermanns or Mr. Delgado well, but she’d been comforted by their presence. Then, a few weeks ago, Mr. Delgado had decided to move to Phoenix to be near his daughter. He’d left abruptly, and now his empty town house made Darian uneasy.

Slipping out of bed, she stole across the room and eased into the hallway to check the upstairs control panel on her security system—just as she had countless times on countless sleepless nights.

Reassured that it was set and working, she returned to the bedroom and walked over to the window to glance out, reminding herself that this was one of the safest areas of the city.

But as Darian drew back the curtain, she gasped. A man stood across the street, smoking underneath a streetlight.

What was he doing out there? she wondered in panic. It was a little late for someone to be out for a stroll or even to be walking a dog.

As Darian watched, the man lifted his cigarette, took a long drag, then threw the butt to the pavement and ground it beneath his foot. There was something familiar about that action. Something…symbolic…

She put a hand to her mouth. Did she know him? Had she seen him do that before?

He tilted his head slightly, as if staring up at her window, and Darian jerked away, letting the curtain fall back into place.

Thoroughly unnerved now, she wondered if she should call the front gate and alert the guard of the man’s presence. But…he wasn’t doing anything illegal, and besides, he had to be a resident of the community or he would never have been allowed inside the gate.

She had nothing to worry about. Nothing to be afraid of. Not even her own family knew where she was. She was perfectly safe here.

Still, Darian had an almost overwhelming need to connect with someone who could reassure her. Someone who wouldn’t ask a lot of questions.

Opening her nightstand drawer, she removed the disposable phone she’d purchased several days ago. The throw-away wasn’t as anonymous as using a calling card at a pay phone, but it was a lot more difficult to trace than a landline or a regular cell phone.

Punching in her brother’s phone number, she waited through several rings before he finally picked up. It was the dead of night, but he sounded wide awake when he answered.

“It’s me,” Darian said softly.

“Dani?”

“Don’t call me that.”

She heard a muffled voice, then a second later, a door closed in the background. Evidently her brother wasn’t alone.

As if to confirm her poor timing, Nathan said impatiently, “What the hell am I supposed to call you? You won’t tell me your new name or where you live. I can’t even get in touch with you if there’s an emergency. I’m at the mercy of your calls, which are damn few.”

Darian sighed. “We’ve been through this, Nathan. You know why I can’t tell you where I am.”

“Because you think my phone could be bugged or the call could somehow be traced. That’s why I gave you my cell phone number.”

“Cell phones can be monitored.”

“Do you know how paranoid that sounds?”

“Of course I do. And do you have any idea how nightmarish it is to know that two people died because they loved me? Because—”

“Someone else wants you,” Nathan finished. “So badly he’ll kill to make sure no one else has you.”

Darian was still trembling from the dream. She slid out of bed and walked back over to the window. Parting the curtain, she peered out. The man was gone.

“Are you still there?” Her brother’s voice sounded so strong he might have been in the next room.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“So why did you call, Dani?” He said her name almost defiantly.

She closed her eyes. Her brother’s lingering resentment was still something she didn’t understand. “I’m…lonely, I guess.”

“Then come home.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. Come home and we’ll go to the police together. We’ll make them listen.”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Darian said. “I tried that before, remember? They didn’t believe me when Paul died, and they won’t believe me now. He’s seen to that.”

Nathan’s voice hardened. “Has it ever occurred to you that your little disappearing act only makes you look guiltier? Maybe that was part of his plan, too.”

Darian closed her eyes briefly. “It doesn’t matter. He can’t find me here. And as long as I’m out of the picture, Mother and Dad are safe. And so are you.”

Nathan said nothing for a moment, and in the ensuing silence, Darian heard another door open and close somewhere in his house. Then a whisper. Someone had come back into the room with him. Someone who was trying very hard not to make her presence known.

“I’ve interrupted something,” she murmured. “I should let you go.”

“No, no, I was up. I do my best work after midnight.”

Darian climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “So how was the latest exhibit?”

“Not bad. I sold four paintings, and the gallery has commissioned a dozen more.”

“Nathan, that’s wonderful.” Darian was still astonished by the way her brother had turned his life around. The troubled young man who’d dropped out of college at nineteen, who’d refused back then to even consider his future, was on the verge of becoming a phenomenon in the art world. Dani had even read a write-up about him in Art in America.

She had to admit that at times she envied him. She’d once wanted to be a journalist more than anything in the world, but she’d had to give up that dream when she disappeared. Dr. Gaines had advised her that the first thing her stalker would look for was her professional affiliations.

“I’d offer to send you a painting, but you’d have to give me your address. And you can’t do that, can you?”

“No.” Darian didn’t mention the fact that she’d already acquired one of Nathan’s paintings. She’d bought it from a local gallery, but she couldn’t tell him because that knowledge might give him a clue to her location.

Sometimes all the deception and subterfuge got to her, but she always tried to keep in mind that her isolation wasn’t just for her own protection, but for her family’s, as well.

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, of course, but it’s still hard. Especially on Mother.” He sighed. “I drove out to see her the other day.”

“How is she?”

“The anxiety attacks are getting worse. She can’t leave the house at all these days. Or won’t. She doesn’t even keep her appointments with Dr. Gaines anymore.”

Her father and brother were confused and frustrated by her mother’s agoraphobia, but Darian understood it. Sometimes she wished she had the luxury of remaining behind the same four walls. It was a scary world out there. No one knew that better than she.

“And Dad? How’s he doing?”

Nathan gave a harsh laugh. “You know Dad. He makes a point of keeping himself busy when I come around.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” Nathan sounded almost angry with her. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” But sometimes Darian still wondered what she had done to bring all this on her family? Had she smiled at the wrong person? Led someone on?

Dr. Gaines had made it clear from the start that her stalker could be someone she didn’t even know. Or someone with whom she’d had only the briefest of contact. Someone who’d seen her in the store one day perhaps. Or someone who had sat behind her in class. Someone who was now convinced that she belonged to him.

“It’s late,” she said. “I’d better let you go. I…just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Promise you’ll stay in touch?”

“As often as I can.”

“And call Mother. She misses you.”

Darian swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “I miss her, too. I miss all of you. I love you, Nathan.”

“I love you, too…sis.”

The line went dead then, and Darian tossed the phone into the trash can where she would get rid of it first thing in the morning, just as she’d disposed of all the other connections to her past.

Turning off the bedside lamp, she snuggled down under the covers, but it was a long time before she fell asleep. Sometime after she finally dozed off, she was jerked awake by a strange sound.

Darian lay listening in the dark, her heart pounding in fear.

The noise had come from Mr. Delgado’s empty apartment. It was an odd, muted rasp that sounded as if something was being pulled through the walls.




CHAPTER SEVEN


GREG MELCHER ANXIOUSLY checked his watch. It was already after midnight, and he still had another hour or so before his plane touched down at Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston. He’d hoped to be on the ground by now—checked into his hotel and plotting his next move—but a severe storm front had delayed his flight out of LaGuardia.

His pulse quickened with excitement. Seven years of searching was about to come to an end, and he couldn’t wait to see Dr. Darian West’s face when he confronted her with what he knew.

But that meeting was still hours away, and Melcher had more pressing concerns. Like getting off the damn airplane in one piece. As he watched lightning flicker in the distance, he gripped the armrests. The bad weather had followed them south, and he hoped like hell the storm wasn’t some kind of omen.

Like a lot of other Americans, Melcher hadn’t really enjoyed flying since 9/11. Before that, he hadn’t thought twice about getting on a plane, and had usually been able to sleep through most flights. Nowadays, he was a nervous wreck during takeoffs and landings, and he never fully relaxed until the plane taxied up to the gate.

As his gaze remained fixed on the window, he decided the lightning was getting closer. The flashes seemed to be just beyond the wing tip now, and the plane dipped ominously as it hit a patch of turbulence.

Damn, he needed a drink. He was flying first class, so he could have whatever he wanted. All he had to do was press the call button, but he suppressed the urge. As soon as he landed, he’d have to get behind the wheel of a rental car, and he remembered from prior trips to Houston that the heavy traffic didn’t abate much after midnight. He’d need all his faculties to navigate the clogged freeway systems that crisscrossed the city.

Besides, Melcher had learned the hard way that drinking and driving didn’t mix. If two broken legs, a broken back and a fractured skull hadn’t taught him that lesson, then nothing would. Luckily, he’d wrapped his car around a tree instead of another vehicle, and had managed to avoid, through a complicated series of back-room negotiations, a license suspension. He was six months on the wagon and counting. He could do this.

Closing his eyes, he gulped in several deep breaths and tried to relax. Tried to remind himself that he’d escaped death once before, and he could do it again.

What he had to do was get his mind off his present predicament. He had to forget the fact that he was riding in the equivalent of a giant tin can, completely at the mercy of the weather. And fate. Couldn’t forget about fate. That bitch always seemed to bite him on the ass when he least expected it.

Okay, so what was his next move going to be? he wondered, as he consciously tried to loosen his grip on the armrests. God knows he hadn’t taken the time to formulate a plan before leaving New York. When he’d opened the e-mail attachment from an anonymous sender, Melcher hadn’t taken the time to do anything except grab a cab and race back to his East Village loft, where he quickly packed a bag and then headed straight for the airport.

Funny how that photograph had brought it all back when he honestly hadn’t thought about Danielle Williams in years. It wasn’t like he was obsessed with her or anything. His life certainly hadn’t come to a screeching halt just because he hadn’t been able to solve Paul Ryann’s murder eleven years ago. Quite the opposite.

He’d left Allentown shortly after Danielle had. While she’d headed North to Drury University, Melcher had gotten a job with the San Antonio Express, and from there, he’d gone to the Boston Globe where he’d stayed until landing his dream job in New York.

During the five years he’d worked the police beat for the Times, Melcher had seen some rough shit. The crimes he’d covered ran the gamut from gang rapes to ritualistic murders. He’d even won a Pulitzer for his reporting on the Asian mafia and the murder of a prominent U.S. prosecutor. He’d written three novels, two had become bestsellers and one had been optioned by Clint Eastwood for a major motion picture. He’d become an expert guest on the talk-show circuit, providing commentary on everything from the latest celebrity trial to government corruption, and he’d appeared on such widely divergent programs as Live with Regis and Kelly to The O’Reilly Factor.

Melcher had money, he had prestige, and he had a beautiful ex-model girlfriend who wanted to marry him. By every account, he had it all, but there was still one thing that eluded him. Peace of mind.

He’d never been able to put that old murder behind him. He’d never been able to forgive Danielle Williams—a seventeen-year-old kid—for pulling something over on him.

The death of Paul Ryann and his family still niggled at Melcher. Still made him wonder, when he woke up in the middle of the night, just which piece of the puzzle he’d missed.

And then seven years ago—four years after Paul Ryann’s death—Melcher had heard about the dorm fire at Drury University. He’d still been working in Boston when the report had come over the wire, and recognizing the name of the school, he’d immediately hightailed it up to Connecticut to nose around for himself.

He’d learned within hours of arriving on campus that Danielle Williams was connected to yet another fiery death. However, the Hanover Police Department, along with the campus police, had closed the case almost immediately, insisting that Michael Farmer’s death was an accident. The case remained closed even when Danielle inherited half a million dollars from her dead lover’s estate. Even when she disappeared without a trace two weeks after Michael’s death…




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