Witness... And Wife?. Kate Stevenson
to red alert.
“What things?” she snapped. Then, as though sensing Luke’s interest, she lowered her voice and repeated the question in calmer tones.
Luke wasn’t fooled. Her white knuckles and stiff spine betrayed her. Rising swiftly, he crossed the tiles on silent feet and peered over Cassie’s shoulder, noting the caller ID display on the phone. Out of Area.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a swell of bravado, “but if you’re threatening me—”
Intuition told Luke the person on the other end was no ordinary crank caller; instinct warned him to tread with care. Cautiously he touched her shoulder to attract her attention. She shrugged from beneath his hand, then went rigid in response to whatever the caller was saying.
With sudden clarity Luke realized he would never win Cassie’s cooperation if they continued to fight. If he didn’t give in to her demands—or at least give the appearance of doing so—she was apt to bolt and ruin any chance he had of protecting her. Gritting his teeth, he resisted an urge to wrestle the phone from her grip and tell the creep what he thought of him in no uncertain terms.
Cassie slammed the receiver down so hard it rang in protest.
“What did he say?”
“He’s watching,” she replied without turning.
Reacting to the thread of fear weaving through her anger, Luke reached out to touch her but was deterred by her rigid stance. Frustrated, he punched in the numbers that would set in motion a trace of the call, by the phone company, when what he really wanted to do was wrap his fingers around the caller’s neck.
She faced him. “It’s the murderer, isn’t it?”
“Possibly,” Luke hedged.
“Probably,” she corrected. She rubbed at her upper arms, as though warding off a chill. “He described the house. The rooms. Duffy. He said he hoped I was a good girl who kept her opinions to herself.”
Though the quaver in her voice wrenched at his gut, Luke knew better than to offer assurances. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Do? I already went back over my notes like you asked. No likely suspects. The people Wainright mentioned by name are either dead or in prison.”
“You said you intended to continue digging so you could wrap up your story. Have you changed your mind?”
Indecision clouded her eyes for the merest fraction of an instant. Then, just as he expected, defiance replaced it.
“No.”
It was time. Time to convince her he was on her side. Time to secure her cooperation and make sure she didn’t go off half-cocked. “Okay. Where do we start?”
“We?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “But you said—”
“I’ve changed my mind.” When her expression conveyed disbelief, he motioned toward the phone. “The caller changed my mind.” Infusing his voice with what he hoped sounded like resignation, he continued. “Besides, what’s the point in working at cross purposes?”
Cassie stared at him, obviously unconvinced of his sincerity, but Luke knew when to hold his tongue. Given time, she would realize that the advantages of his offer far outweighed her reservations.
After long seconds his patience was rewarded when she gave a reluctant nod. “Okay, we work together.”
“Equal partners,” Luke agreed with a smile.
Chapter 4
Judge Wainright’s clerk, Chelsea Sparks, was every male’s fantasy. Tall and willowy, with a liquid fall of hair so platinum it could only have come from a bottle, she was padded in all the right places. Indeed, her ample curves strained the limits of her smartly tailored suit in a manner that was nearly indecent.
Feeling like nothing more than a mushroom in comparison, Cassie poked at her own wild mass of permed curls and watched Chelsea’s pouty Elizabeth Arden lips form into an expression of profound sorrow.
“He was the greatest boss a girl could have.”
Cassie shifted uncomfortably under the syrupy flow of sentiment and wondered how long the woman had practiced the slight quaver in her voice and the sad flutter of mascaraed eyelashes. The display was so blatantly false, it curdled Cassie’s stomach. How could the woman just sit there, a room away from where her boss was murdered?
Deliberately Cassie looked at the closed door, ignoring her clenched stomach and clammy skin. Luke had expressed doubts about returning so soon to the scene of the crime, but Cassie had overridden his concern. Now, forcing herself to breathe deeply, she admitted he might have been right. Thank goodness she’d skipped breakfast.
She darted a glance at Luke, who leaned against a bank of metal file cabinets, pen and notepad in hand. He was eating up Chelsea’s performance, if the silly smile on his face was any indication.
Not that Cassie minded. As far as she was concerned, Luke could play the fool over any woman he wanted. Even one so obvious as Chelsea Sparks.
A throbbing ache settled in the spot between Cassie’s shoulder blades. She wished she hadn’t insisted she and Luke combine their efforts. It had seemed a logical solution at the time. Luke could conduct some of the interminable interviews necessary to a murder investigation while she tried to pinpoint the reason for Judge Wainright’s call and work on her articles.
Perfectly logical, mocked an inner voice, except for one small detail.
Watching Luke in action was driving her crazy. His slow smile. The lazy focus of dark eyes half-hidden behind heavy lids. His loose-jointed stance. His demeanor was so potently male it conjured up visions of sultry nights in shadowed bedrooms.
She squirmed in her seat, dismayed at the direction of her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to once again fall under the spell of raging hormones. She was far too familiar with where that could lead. With conscious effort she forced her thoughts back to what had brought her here—drugs, mayhem, murder. Not the most soothing of subjects, but definitely safer, she decided as she caught Chelsea’s murmur of distress in response to something Luke had said.
“I realize this is difficult for you, Ms. Sparks,” Luke commiserated.
Chelsea managed a tremulous smile that would have done credit to a vestal virgin. “I don’t mind. I know you’re just doing your job.”
Luke nodded approval of her attitude as he thumbed open his notepad. “I’ll be as brief as possible, since I see you’re busy.”
“Busy?” Chelsea followed his gaze to the half-filled cardboard boxes on the floor. “Oh, yes. I’m moving. But I have plenty of time to get things in order. I don’t start my new job for a couple of days.”
“New job?”
“Judge Kimball’s clerk recently retired, and he was kind enough to offer me the position.” Spurred by Luke’s raised brows, she elaborated. “He and Judge Wainright worked so closely, it’s rather like keeping it in the family, you know.” She fingered the gold chain at her neck and sighed.
The movement drew attention to her deep cleavage, a fact Cassie concluded was not wasted on Luke, based on the pregnant silence that followed. By sheer force of will, she refrained from shooting him an exasperated glance before she steered the conversation back on course. “What was Judge Wainright like to work for?”
“Wonderful. He was positively wonderful.” Chelsea appeared ready to launch into a soliloquy about her former boss, but before she could start, Luke segued to the next question.
“So you were aware the judge was working late?”
She nodded. “Yes, he had a trial starting first thing Monday morning and wanted everything ready. He often stayed late. Lots of people do here. There are fewer interruptions