Security Measures. Joanna Wayne
of different looks. She had her father’s eyes. She wondered why her mother had never told her that.
JANICE ROLLED OVER as the first light of dawn crept into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, instantly alert even though it had been after 3:00 a.m. before she’d fallen asleep. A line of light crept under her bed room door, more than that cast by the night-light she left burning in the hall.
Someone was up, and she had no doubt that it was Vincent, roaming her house as if he belonged there. He’d always believed that whatever he wanted was his for the taking. Apparently prison hadn’t changed that.
She shuddered and touched the cool, hard surface of the phone. All she had to do was pick it up and call Ken Levine. He’d have cops at her door in a matter of minutes. They’d arrest Vincent and stick him right back behind bars where he belonged.
Then it would be just her and Kelly—and Tyrone.
The dark images of a horrible night hit with a rush and the darkness of the room transformed itself into a river of red. Blood pooled on the thick Persian rugs, splattered the walls and dripped from the ceilings. She could hear Tyrone Magilinti’s laugh and see the machine gun in his hand.
The images faded. She took her hand from the phone. Vincent was a Magilinti, too. He had been there that night as well, though she hadn’t seen him until the cops had busted their way inside the century-old mansion.
Her body stiffened when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her door and then a soft knock. Sliding from beneath the covers, she grabbed her white cotton robe from the foot of the bed. She padded across the floor and opened the door just a crack.
“I brought you coffee.”
She swallowed hard. There were two cups on the tray. And Vincent was standing there in jeans—no shirt, no shoes. His hair was still wet from the shower and a few drops of water clung to the dark curly hairs that speckled his chest.
Unexpected memories flooded her mind, but this time they were cruelly erotic. “Thanks,” she said, taking a cup from the tray, “but I prefer to have my coffee alone.”
“We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“You really want to make this difficult, don’t you?”
His gall amazed her. “This is difficult, Vincent, but none of it is my making.”
He pushed his way past her, set the tray on the bedside table, then went back and closed and locked the bedroom door. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to give it to you straight.”
She pulled her robe tighter, suddenly chilled through and through. “I thought you said all you had to say last night.”
“I’ve learned more since then.”
“Like what?”
“Kelly left the house last night after you went to bed.”
Her suspicions soared. “You’re lying. Kelly would never do that. Whatever you’re trying to do here, it’s not going to work.”
“She went out her window.”
“I set the alarm before I went to bed. If she’d opened her window, it would have gone off and I would have heard it.”
“Apparently she’s bypassed the alarm system some way.”
“She wouldn’t know how.”
“Then someone did it for her. Check the window. See for yourself.”
She didn’t want to believe him, yet he was either telling the truth, or he was a very good liar. “Why would she go out that late?”
“Look, I know this is disturbing, but it will be better if you let me say what I have to say without arguing with me.”
She took a long sip of the coffee. It didn’t do a thing for soothing her nerves. “I’m listening.”
“I was doing a routine check of the outside of the house when I saw Kelly climbing out of her bedroom window. She didn’t see me, so I followed her out to the street, then joined her. I walked with her to the park, where she was supposed to meet a friend named Byron. He didn’t show, but I think he was there and ran away when he saw me.”
Janice dropped to the edge of the bed, not wanting to believe Vincent, but afraid to discount his story. Kelly had been so rebellious of late; Janice worried that she might be taking up with the wrong crowd at school. “I’ve never heard her mention anyone named Byron.”
“She met him through an Internet chat room.”
“I’ve forbidden her to ever talk to strangers on the Internet.” Fear and aggravation melded and made Janice’s voice a lot shakier than she’d intended. “She deliberately broke my rules.”
“She’s a teenager,” Vincent said. “It comes with the territory. You surely remember that.”
She ignored his last remark. “I’ll take care of it from here.”
“You can’t tell Kelly that I told you this.”
“Surely you don’t think you can tell me how to discipline my daughter.”
“I told her I wouldn’t squeal on her. It’s better if she thinks she can trust me in this.”
“I will not have her sneaking out to meet some boy she met on the Internet.”
“I think it could be a lot worse than that.”
“Worse?”
“I think Tyrone could be behind this. I’m not sure how or why, but the relationship sounds suspicious. It started just after Tyrone was released on parole. It could have been Tyrone’s way of locating her or of finding out about her schedule and habits. I’ll look into it, but you have to work with me and not go blowing Kelly’s trust in me.”
She raked her fingers through her hair, pushing the blunt ends behind her ears. The irony of his words grated on her nerves. He was a convicted felon, yet he talked about trust as if it were an integral part of his dealings.
“I’ll need some time alone in Kelly’s room to check some things on her computer. I’ll ask if I can check my e-mail, but you’ll need to keep her busy so that she doesn’t come in while I’m snooping.”
“I don’t want you in her room, and…” Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Ken. Could he possibly know Vincent was here?
“I have to answer that,” she said.
Vincent took the phone from her and checked the caller ID for himself. “The Justice Department?”
“It’s probably the marshal who’s handling my case,” she said, knowing he’d surely figured that out for himself.
“Answer it, but don’t say anything to let him know that I’m here.”
She took the call. “Hello.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I’m awake.”
“I have a bit of bad news.”
“What is it?”
“They haven’t apprehended Vincent, and they suspect that he may have left the area. But they have Tyrone under surveillance just in case Vincent tries to see him. There’s been no change in Tyrone’s behavior. He’s reporting for work every day and staying close to home at night.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“Damn good. We know Tyrone’s not a threat. I’m more concerned about Vincent, though.”
“Why is that?”
“I looked over his prison records. The last psychological evaluation of him indicates he’s delusional at