SEE HER DIE Page 10

  Elizabeth laughed. She couldn’t help it. It just popped out. She fiddled with her fork to avoid the expectant looks from the other two. “If the FBI can’t find enough evidence to take them down and obviously they can’t, how are we supposed to?” It was her turn to insist on a reality check. She’d been thinking more along the lines of checking out everyone who knew or associated with Ned. People right here in New York, not some phantom-like organization they couldn’t even prove existed.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Gloria reiterated.

  Annabelle sat in silent consideration for a time. “The FBI will be searching his computers, at the office and at home, but they won’t find anything.”

  Apprehension inched its way up Elizabeth’s spine. “What do you mean? How do you know that?”

  “The Association’s business is conducted in cyberspace, the Bureau will try tracking where Ned has been, but they won’t find anything, because he used a special system for his little hobby.”

  Elizabeth didn’t know much about computers, but she did know that, like a cell phone or a landline, anything a person did on the computer could be traced. Somehow a trail was left. “So where is this system he used?” She felt her pulse quicken at the idea of bringing down this Association. Her stomach pitched a little at the thought that the members of the demented group had likely seen her video. She tamped down the urge to gag. She didn’t even want to think about some of the games Ned had prodded her into playing. God, how could she have been so stupid?

  “At his office there’s a secret room. It was a part of the original architecture—a bomb or storm shelter of some sort. It’s like a vault. But when the building was renovated some forty years ago, it was filled in, or at least that’s what the blueprints said.” Annabelle smiled knowingly. “Apparently the contractor on the job at the time decided to save himself a little money and just boarded it over. Anyway, Ned discovered it when he had the office remodeled a couple of years ago. He decided to make it a vault for his most private files.” She sighed as she peered down at her salad. “Eventually he turned it into a media room for his forbidden pleasure.”

  Elizabeth felt sick. The more she learned about Ned the angrier she grew at herself for being such a fool.

  “You’ve seen it?” Gloria asked, appalled. “This vault room?”

  “Well, I haven’t actually seen it, but he did tell me about it. He had some sort of shield installed so the room’s presence couldn’t be detected. It’s all quite high tech.”

  “We have to go there!” Gloria exclaimed, an extra portion of desperation in her voice.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. We have to go to the authorities.” MacBride’s image loomed large in her mind. He would know what to do. Maybe she was an even bigger fool than she knew, but she really believed he wanted to find the truth.

  “How do we know we can trust the authorities?” Annabelle argued. “What if one or more of them belong to the Association? After all, they haven’t brought the Association down in all this time. I happen to know that Ned has been affiliated with the group for more than a year now. What’s the holdup?” Her fierce gaze cornered Elizabeth. “I’ll tell you why—because they’re men.”

  “We can’t trust men on this issue,” Gloria agreed. “We get the goods on the Association and we take it to the press. We could blow the whole thing wide open, then the authorities would have to take action.”

  “Not we,” Annabelle corrected. Again she looked from Gloria to Elizabeth. “His office is certainly being watched. One person slipping past anyone who might be watching will be problematic enough. But all three of us...” She gave her head a brisk shake. “It would never work.”

  Seemingly endless seconds of tension-filled silence passed as each digested what her assessment meant.

  “I would have done this myself as soon as I was notified of Ned’s murder, but the police were everywhere,” Annabelle said. “I couldn’t risk revealing anything to them.” Anger etched troubled lines into the features of her face. “I suppose, on some level I wanted to find whoever had done this to him myself.”

  Elizabeth and Gloria exchanged a look of uncertainty.

  “Even if I had been able to get into his office I couldn’t have managed,” Annabelle went on. “I was in an accident a few years ago. My right shoulder and my left arm were damaged. I have almost no upper-body strength. The hidden door is extremely heavy and there is no automatic opener. Ned explained the mechanism would be too easily detected. The entryway has to be opened and closed manually.”

  “I’11 do it,” Gloria offered without hesitation. “I can do it.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. I’m stronger than you. I’ll do it”

  “I said,” Gloria challenged, her Irish temper flaring in those green eyes, “I would do it”

  “I’m accustomed to manual labor,” Elizabeth pointed out “I know I can do it. If you get in there and then you can’t—”

  Gloria heaved a sigh of exasperation. “Fine. You do it.”

  “Time is of the essence,” Annabelle reminded them. “We shouldn’t waste any. We need to act now.”

  “Just one question,” Elizabeth wondered aloud. “Why did Ned tell you all this? Wasn’t it dangerous for him to tell anyone?” She watched Annabelle closely as she responded. Even a repeat fool like her had her boundaries. She’d only just met this woman.

  “I’m—was—his attorney. He wanted me to know,” her voice faltered and her eyes grew suspiciously bright, “in case something happened to him. Can you imagine a future renovation uncovering his naughty secrets?”

  Well, Elizabeth didn’t know this Annabelle from Adam’s house cat but she did know Gloria. She trusted Gloria. And if Gloria thought she was okay, then she must be. Besides, what choice did they have? Annabelle knew far more about Ned and his secrets than the two of them put together.

  Elizabeth, for one, did not want a future reno uncovering a video of her in a compromising position.

  ~*~

  Brian Novak was not accustomed to being rousted from bed like a common criminal. His money generally bought him a blind eye. But, Mac mused, there was a first time for everything.

  “You know, Agent MacBride,” Novak said, his hangover obvious in his rusty voice, as well as his disheveled appearance, “my attorney will be calling your superiors first thing tomorrow morning.” He reached, for the crystal decanter on the sideboard that served as a bar in his spacious great room. “I’m quite certain there’s a law against this type of behavior.”

  Agent Duncan had worked half the night and all morning to locate Novak, who’d recently moved into a criminally expensive midtown high-rise. Not one of his colleagues or cronies seemed to have his new address, but Mac had his own ideas about that. Finally Duncan had managed to run down the secretary at Novak’s design firm. Being young and new to the firm, she had been more easily intimidated. She’d rolled over on her boss like a playful puppy.

  Now, at half-past noon, Mac finally had Novak’s attention. He’d asked him where he’d been on the Friday night the doctor was murdered.

  Novak took a sip of his whiskey and made a sound of approval before smiling at the question. “You think I killed Ned Harrison?”

  What Mac really thought was that Novak had a connection to the Gentlemen’s Association, but he hadn’t wanted to press his luck by bringing up that theory unless it became absolutely necessary. Right now Novak was the only possible thread they had left on that case, and even that connection was thin. Too thin. Unlike with Harrison, they had no hard proof that tied Novak to the group. Even with Harrison the only true evidence they’d managed to gather in months of work was one intercepted telephone conversation. Mac had clung to that link, knowing Harrison would eventually make another mistake.

  Too bad he got himself dead first.

  “Yes,” Mac said in answer to Novak’s question and to the man’s utter surprise. “Actually, I do.” Duncan waited silently on the other side of the room. He’d learned the f
irst week on the job with Mac not to speak or show any emotion no matter how startled he might be at what he witnessed.

  “Please, gentlemen,” Novak gestured to the sofa and chairs, “make yourselves comfortable. This discussion could prove interesting.”

  Mac didn’t have any hard evidence connecting the murders of the women to Harrison’s death, but, in his gut, he knew they were connected. Harrison’s murderer might have been a woman, but a man had killed those women. The preliminaries on the first two victims had confirmed sexual assault. However things started out, the evidence showed the victims had resisted. Surprisingly the killer had left behind seminal fluid, which could ultimately identify him. Mac wondered if Brian Novak was that stupid.

  He dumped Elizabeth, so he must be. That notion seared Mac’s brain like a hot blade. He blinked it away, refused to allow her into his thoughts right now. She had become a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  Mac took Novak up on his invitation and settled on the sofa. Duncan remained standing near the door. That routine was another thing he’d learned. When two agents attended an interview, one always stood to maintain the subliminal intimidation factor.

  “Do you have an alibi or don’t you?” Mac asked.

  “I was at a party,” Novak said smugly. “Ned was supposed to be there, as well, but I guess he ran into a snag, so to speak.”

  The man’s treatment of Elizabeth Young aside, there was something Mac didn’t like about Novak. Maybe it was that beach-bum tan or the windblown way he wore his blond hair. Could be the earring or even the blatant way he stared at Mac. From his manner of dress to his posture, the man clearly thought he was God’s gift to women. Men, too, Mac decided. He hadn’t missed the way Novak sized up Duncan when they arrived. Poor Elizabeth. She hadn’t had a chance against a smooth operator like this. A lamb in the crosshairs of a wolf.

  Mac clenched his jaw and attempted again to banish her from his mind. For the hundredth time he marveled at just how much difficulty he was having with this case... with her.

  “I’d say he did,” Mac replied, not the least bit amused by the man’s gallows humor. “Why don’t you give me some names of people who can verify your whereabouts?”

  Novak drained his glass and set it aside. “Certainly.”

  As Mac jotted down the information, Novak rattled off a lengthy list of names and phone numbers. When Mac had crossed the t on the last one, he lifted his gaze to the other man’s. “I don’t see Elizabeth Young on your list. Aren’t you two involved?”

  That was the one time since they knocked on the guy’s door that Duncan glanced at Mac. Yeah, yeah, he knew the answer to the question. But this bozo didn’t know what Mac knew and what he didn’t. Truth was, he wanted—no, needed Novak’s take on the relationship. What did that make him? A masochist?

  “That relationship ended months ago,” Novak said with a practiced laugh. “Your people really need to sharpen their investigative skills.”

  Mac nodded and made another note on his trusty pad that had absolutely nothing to do with Novak or Elizabeth or this case. “And what exactly was the nature of your former relationship?”

  Novak took a deep breath and then slouched back on the couch, allowing his shirt to fall open and offering up his well-defined chest for display. Oh, yeah, this guy was bleeping big time on Mac’s gaydar.

  “Well, let’s just say I did her a favor.” Novak inclined his head. “I gave sweet little Elizabeth the opportunity to grab the brass ring and she went for it. She couldn’t wait to get out of that pathetic little dump of a town. I helped her achieve what she wanted and she made it worth my while.”

  Mac tensed before he could stop himself. Every muscle in his body jolted with the need to pound the hell out of this scumbag.

  A knowing smile lifted one side of Novak’s mouth as he leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees, his gaze focused intently on Mac. “She’s very good.”

  Fury sent Mac’s blood rushing to his head, throbbing there in time with the stampede in his chest. His fingers tightened around the pen as if it were Novak’s neck.

  “She’s always a little hesitant at first,” Novak went on, pretending to be oblivious to Mac’s reaction. But he knew. He knew and he enjoyed it immensely. “Has something to do with her devoutly religious upbringing, I suppose. I was only her second sexual experience. But,” he shrugged, “as hard to prime as she is, once you get her started, man, is she hot.”

  Mac put his pen and paper away and stood, his control was slipping way too fast. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve checked out your alibi.”

  Novak pushed lazily to his feet and led Mac to the front door, which he opened.

  Mac wanted to beat the hell out of him. He’d never before in his life wanted to hurt a man over a woman, but he wanted to tear Brian Novak limb from limb.

  Duncan was already heading down the corridor to the elevator, but Mac hesitated in the doorway. “I wouldn’t leave town if I were you.” His gaze locked with Novak’s. “There will be more questions.”

  Novak leaned against the doorframe as if being visited by the FBI was an everyday occurrence. The bastard didn’t even have the good sense to be worried.

  “Take her, Agent MacBride,” Novak said softly, knowingly. “You won’t be sorry.”

  Mac’s fingers curled into tight fists of rage, but somehow he held himself back. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

  He walked away without a backward glance. As angry as he was, the only thing he could think about was that video and the images it held. The way her body moved…the way her lips parted as she struggled toward release. By the time he reached the elevator, he was as hard as a rock from merely thinking about Elizabeth and what Novak suggested.

  He stepped into the waiting car and Duncan punched the button for the lobby. “Strange character, huh?”

  Mac’s only response was a grunt. He couldn’t think clearly enough right now for a proper one. Every ounce of blood in his body had raced to his dick.

  He had to close his eyes against the truth he wanted to deny.

  Novak had seen it. Had rubbed it in.

  Mac wanted Elizabeth. He wanted her riding him slow and easy at first, and then hard and fast, her head thrown back in ecstasy. He wanted her touching him, kissing him. He wanted to feel her lips, her tongue on his skin. And then he wanted to take her with such intensity that she wouldn’t even remember a jerk like Brian Novak, much less Ned Harrison, when it was over.

  He wanted her all to himself.

  Suspect or not.

  Mac shook himself. He’d lost it. That much was clear. “Duncan, I want you to take the surveillance on Young tonight.”

  His partner was about to protest but one look at the ferocity in Mac’s eyes and he changed his tune. “Sure,” he muttered. “Why not?”

  ~*~

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Elizabeth told herself under her breath one last time.

  Leaving the subway she glanced around again. No sign of the guy who’d been watching her. She’d had a hell of a time, but she was pretty sure she’d given the agent the slip. If she’d driven her truck, she would never have been able to do it. But she’d parked it in an alley and then disappeared in the subway before the guy realized what she was up to. Then she’d ducked into a group of missionaries while he searched for her in the crowd on the platform. He was so certain she’d gotten on the train that he’d climbed aboard for a second to look for her. When he moved farther down the platform, she’d sneaked aboard the car he’d just checked. She’d watched him search for her as the train took off for its next stop.

  Then she’d walked the ten blocks to the midtown brownstone that was Dr. Ned Harrison’s office. It was really dark along this part of the street. Trees and overhanging architecture all but blocked the meager light from the streetlights. But she knew her way with her eyes closed. What a joke. Look at what it had gotten her.

  Nothing but trouble.

  With the spare key Annabelle had g
iven her now tightly clasped in her hand, Elizabeth slipped into an alley and then down the backside of the row of brownstones. She tried without success to calm her racing heart, to quiet her breathing. What if she was being watched this very minute? She checked the alley in both directions. Nothing.

  Keeping close to the wall, she moved toward the rear door that would lead into Ned’s offices. Annabelle had explained she had a key because she’d been his attorney. Since he had no surviving family, his attorney would be the most likely person to settle his affairs. Annabelle gave every indication of being just as scared by the murders as Gloria and Elizabeth. This kind of aggressive action seemed their only recourse when they couldn’t know who to trust. Elizabeth ignored the little voice that warned this was all wrong somehow.

  She had to do it. Had to help exonerate herself. If they could prove the Gentlemen’s Association was involved in Ned’s death, then she would be free and clear. But they needed hard evidence.

  Taking a deep breath for courage, she pushed away from the concealing security of the shadowed wall and moved to the door. Though there was no exterior light nearby to worry about, there was just enough moonlight to guide her movements. Thank God the police hadn’t padlocked his office as they had his apartment. Made sense since his home—not his office—was the scene of the crime.

  She had the key inserted into the lock when she heard it.

  A footstep... something.

  Before she could turn around, a strong arm snaked around her throat. A punishing hand clamped down on her mouth. The scream she tried to deliver died in her throat.

  His angry breath on her cheek, his scent provoked a jolt of recognition—of dread—through her. She felt his hard body pressed against her backside. Tried to jerk away. Twisted to break free, but he only held her more tightly to him.

  His lips close enough to touch her skin, he whispered, “I knew it was you.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Open the door, Liz,” he ordered, his voice savage and cold.