“Wake up dear,” Elgin heard her mother’s muffled voice. “You’ve slept enough. It’s time to wake up.”
But she hadn’t slept enough. Not nearly. Her head still seemed fuzzy and her body exhausted. A few more minutes.
“Wake up,” the voice called again and while it sounded female, she now recognized that it didn’t belong to her mother. Or Martha. Kind but firm, it kept insisting.
So finally, Elgin opened her eyes. Or at least she tried to. But the overhead light flashed unexpectedly bright and she shut them immediately. Too late. It shot past her eyes and exploded in her brain, setting off a chain reaction of pain that filled her skull with a mushroom cloud.
“Doctor,” the voice called, “she’s coming around.”
Footsteps and movement and a large hand picked up her wrist. Cautiously, she opened her eyes a fraction.
“Hello,” boomed an entirely too loud, too cheerful male voice. “Glad you decided to rejoin us. We were beginning to worry.”
Her eyes, growing accustomed to the light, opened a little more. The voice came from a kindly looking old man in a white coat. He seemed very tall, looming over her like an NBA center. It took several seconds for her to realize she was lying down and he was standing up.
“What’s your name?”
“Elgin Collier.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Wednesday the last time I checked.”
The room started to materialize out of the muddle in her mind. Propped up a little on a narrow bed with a thin sheet and cream colored blanket laid loosely over her, her shirt and jeans gone, replaced with a shapeless cotton bag with armholes and covered in tiny blue dots. Metal rails stood at attention on either side of her.
“Do you know where you are?”
“A hospital, I think,” Elgin mumbled. Thinking made the nuclear holocaust in her head worse.
“How many fingers?”
“Three.”
“Tell me the last thing you remember.”
Elgin squeezed her eyes tightly shut again, the light and the pain becoming unbearable. Thought lay beyond her, mired somewhere in the wreckage of what had been her brain.
“Come on,” he coaxed gently, “the last thing.”
“I…I was standing on the… No, I was crossing the street…I think.”
Fragments of thought and recollection flitted through her mind like shredded videotape, spliced and jumbled together but making no sense. And full-scale nuclear Armageddon raged between her temples.
“Please,” she whimpered,” my head…pain…please…” She felt tears stinging.
“We’ll give you something for the pain,” he promised. “Head, neck and spine x-rays were negative but we had to make sure you didn’t have a concussion and we had to wait until you were awake to check. You’re plenty banged-up and you’re going to be awfully sore for a while, but considering what happened, I’d say you got off pretty lucky.
“I’m going to admit you overnight just to make sure we haven’t missed anything, but you should be right as rain in a couple of weeks.”
She felt a small needle prick in her arm, almost lost in the pain now engulfing her entire body.
“What…what happened?” she croaked.
“There was an accident,” the voice replied but it was getting muffled and far away again. So was the pain.
Elgin wanted desperately to ask about the accident but she could feel herself stepping on to a cloud and drifting away. In her head, the mushroom cloud fizzled to a firecracker. One thought though emerged from the chaos just at the edge of consciousness.
“Pete,” she mumbled, “Pete…”
“I’m sorry,” the young uniformed police officer apologized, “but only authorized personnel allowed beyond the tape.”
Harm snorted. “I’m looking for Duff Gustafson. Where is he?”
“He’s busy right now with the investigation, sir. If you’d like…”
Spotting his friend, Harm waved a long arm and shouted.
“Yo, Duff.”
A plainclothes detective looked up from the group of uniformed officers semi-circled around him. Seeing Harm, he nodded and raised his hand. Nimbly, Harm ducked under the tape and in a few quick strides, joined the other man.
“Fan out for ten blocks in all directions,” he told the officers gruffly. “Check streets, alleys, parking lots. Anywhere someone might have stashed a car. Ring doorbells and get permission to check private garages. Buttonhole anyone you meet. Anybody gives you grief, run ‘em in for obstruction. I want that car.”
Roarke “Duff” Gustafson was the grand old man of the local detective squad. At least sixty with graying hair and dark eyes, he came across as a barrel-chested bull, seeming much larger than his five-foot-nine stature. Combined with a hard New York accent he could wield like a billy club, he epitomized the quintessential old-line cop. Only people like Harm who’d breached that crusty armor plated exterior knew of the warm, gentle soul inside. He’d also been one of Pete’s Academy instructors and later, a personal friend.
The officers scattered and the detective turned to Harm.
“What kept you?” he inquired, mock cynicism drenching his words. “When I got here and found out about Pete, I figured you’d be leapin’ tall buildings to get here.”
“I left my cape in my other suit,” Harm shot back, picking up the game but knowing the seriousness of the matter. “The central monitoring system picked up the call on the scanner. Soon as they heard the address, they knew we had trouble and called me. I sent Jessica to pick up Sarah and take her to the hospital then came right over.”
“How is he?”
Harm glanced quickly away and then back. “Don’t know yet. Jessica says he’s still in surgery. Right now, that’s all she knows. I told her to call me every half hour…more if…if anything…”
They avoided each other’s eyes for several seconds.
“So what happened?” Harm asked, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.
“Hit and run. Pete and the lady…” he consulted his small notepad, “Elgin Collier, were crossing the street, apparently to catch a cab she’d called from the beauty shop over there.” He gestured in the general direction behind him.
“Cabby said he’d just turned the corner up at Franklin heading this way when a car suddenly came tearing out of that alley.” Again he gestured. “Pete managed to push the lady out of the way but didn’t have time to jump clear himself. EMT’s say the only reason he didn’t die on the spot was because he somehow managed to move just enough the car sideswiped him instead of hitting full on.”
“I suppose it would be too much to hope the cabby got a license plate number? A look at the driver?”
“No such luck,” the detective confirmed. “Paying attention to the pedestrians and the traffic and the car just came outta nowhere, hit ‘em and screeched around the next corner at Pullman. He sped up but by the time he got there, all he saw were tail lights disappearing onto Broadway.”
“What about the car?”
“Big and black. His exact words.”
“Any other witnesses?”
“Beauty shop owner said she didn’t see anything. Heard tires squealing and a ‘thump.’ Went to the window, saw the bodies in the street and ran out. I guess this Collier woman is a friend of hers. Pretty shook up. Saw a car speeding around the corner but beyond thinking it might’ve been black, she couldn’t tell us anything. With lunch over, most people had gone back inside the buildings.”
“Is there any possibility this could have been accident?” Harm pressed. “Drunk driver? Speeder who couldn’t stop?”
“Over here,” Duff ordered, turning and walking a few feet to the middle of the street, Harm following after him. A large pool of blood and a smaller one about two feet away were drying on the sun-baked afternoon asphalt.
“You used to be a cop,” the old detective commented. “You tell me.”
Harm surveyed the scene, tracing the path of the car in his mind, watching it speed out of the alley, engine roaring, striking Pete as he pushed Elgin Collier to relative safety and then continuing around the corner and away. His gaze swept the entire street.
“No skid marks,” he observed quietly.
“Nice to see being a private eye hasn’t ruined your cop sense completely.”
“Pretty obvious.”
“Which brings us to the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Why? I mean, I assume this had something to do with your client, this Collier woman.”
“I can’t breach client confidentiality, Duff, and you know it.”
“Why was Pete with her?”
“Harm’s Way was hired to investigate a problem Ms. Collier has and to provide her with personal security.” He frowned and looked into the middle distance. “Today was supposed to be the last day of the assignment. Pete and Sarah were going away for a few days.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Look, Duff, Ms. Collier isn’t exactly my client. I mean, I was hired for her but not by her. It’s sort of complicated. I understand she’s been admitted to St. Luke’s overnight for observation but her doctor seems to think that aside from some cuts and bruises, she’ll be fine. You can talk to her and she can tell you whatever she feels comfortable with. No doubt my client will want to talk to you as well.
“I can’t say for sure, of course, but if you want my opinion, both personal and professional, yeah, I’d say it was meant for her.”
“Any idea who might have been behind the wheel?”
“Not a clue. Yet.”
“Okay Harm,” the other man agreed, “I’ll leave it at that until I talk to the lady. But this is a police investigation now. Anything you know or find out, you give to us. I know how you feel about Pete. I feel the same way. But I won’t have you pulling some lone wolf, avenging angel crap on me. You’re not a cop anymore. You get sideways of this investigation, I’ll throw your ass in the can. Remember that.”
“Harm,” he growled into the tiny cell phone, almost lost in his huge hand.
“It’s Jessica.”
The sound of her voice made his stomach tighten and he gripped the steering wheel harder.
“Pete’s out of surgery,” she continued solemnly. “Doctor says he came through okay and he’s probably gonna make it. There’s a lot of damage though, internal organs, broken bones. He’s in Recovery right now. As soon as they take him up to ICU and get him settled, they’ll let Sarah see him. Right now, only family’s allowed. Twenty-four hours at least.”
Her voice faded and Harm could almost see her gathering strength to drop the other shoe.
“His right leg is shattered,” she whispered, “both bones almost crushed below the knee. Probably got run over by the wheels. They did what they could but…but with the nerve and muscle damage, they’re not even sure they’ll be able to save it. If they do, he’ll probably never be able to use it again.” Tears overwhelmed her.
At least she had her tears, he thought bitterly. All he had were rage, frustration and a horrible sense of helplessness. A red haze of violence engulfed him, something primitive and elemental. Plainly and simply, he wanted to kill this bastard with his bare hands. Or better yet, with his car. Feel the impact of steel on bone and flesh, the thump of his bumper and wheels squashing him like a bug.
“All right,” he murmured, “stay with Sarah. As long as she needs you. Don’t worry about the office. I don’t want her going through this by herself. You’re on the clock and the company credit cards are yours to the max. Whatever she needs or wants. Make sure the doctors know anything Pete needs…specialists, medicines, therapy…anything, is covered. Tell them not to bother Sarah with the details. Just do it.”
“You’re a nice man, Campbell Harm,” she sniffled.
“Yeah, well don’t go spreading that around,” he told her gruffly. “It’s lousy for the image.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. And thanks for calling. I appreciate it. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
Flipping the phone closed, Harm’s mind had already focused on the problem of finding the driver. Chances were slim to none that the police would be able to catch him. If the car had been stolen, it would have been abandoned, probably within the ten-block police search area and would, no doubt, be found wiped clean and devoid of forensic evidence.
A bulletin would have gone out almost immediately to mechanics and body shops to be on the lookout for any suspicious body damage to the front of big, black cars. That meant, the car was probably at the bottom of the river or more likely, hidden safely in a garage, no doubt far from the crime scene and would remain so for several days or weeks or months even until the furor died down and it could be taken somewhere and safely repaired.
As much as Duff might be personally involved, a hit and run, especially that cost no lives, would very quickly get moved down the priority list by the other myriad, never-ending crimes of a big city.
No, it fell to him to nail this sonofabitch. It would require a cunning, foolproof trap. He didn’t know just yet how or where he’d spring that trap but he did know one thing: he already had the perfect bait.
Irresistible.
He’d known it from the first moment. Something…mystical and magical about her that excited his heart and his mind as well as his cock. She’d captured his soul; his body had simply followed her Siren song.
What had begun as furtive glances, stolen caresses, secret longing from afar, smoldering under its cover of anonymity had suddenly blazed forth into uncontrollable passion. A fiery heat sweeping away everything and everyone standing between them.
All the careful planning, thoughtful work was about to pay off. In a little while, he would possess her at last.
Closing his eyes, the thought of her stirred his cock. Warm, full, inviting lips. Eyes, dark and lit with desire. Ivory velvet skin, hot with longing, under his fingertips. Her body, naked, waiting only for him.
His cock strained inside his silk briefs and bulged like an angry fist against his zipper.
You have to put it out of your mind, he told himself, at least for a little while. Until you’re safely away and she’s yours alone.
But the picture of her refused to leave him. In his mind, her nipples hardened under his fingers, his tongue raising them taut and erect as his cock. Soft moans and purrs of pleasure and need escaped her.
Her scent overpowered him…a hint of wildflower perfume, hot, ragged, peppermint breath and aroused female musk surrounding and tying him to her like silk cords. He had become a willing prisoner.
No use, he knew. She called him and his body, mind and soul screamed to go to her.
Quickly, he moved to the other room, locked the door and removed his trousers and briefs, releasing his strangling cock. Reaching to the vanity, he grabbed a tiny bottle of hotel lotion and shook a large dollop into his hand, sitting there creamy and white as she would be soon.
Closing his eyes, he smoothed the thick, cool cream over the length of his cock, the shaft like hot steel, the head tender and engorged. He felt her kneeling in front of him, taking him gently into her mouth. Her tongue made slow, soft circles around his swollen tip and her sucking sent shock waves of molten lava through his blood.
“How handsome you are,” he heard her murmur, taking her mouth from his cock and running her lips lightly down the underside of his cock to his balls. “So big and hot and just for me.” Her teeth nipped playfully at the tender skin of his sacs for a moment before she retraced her path.
The tip of his cock slid into her waiting, anxious mouth but didn’t stop, instead, slowly taking him up, almost to his full length, easing up and down in a rhythm that made his blood pound white-hot in his ears and his body quiver.
He felt her hands on his ass, grabbing and kneading as her tempo increased. The pleasure of her wrapped itself around him like a velvet cloud. She knew exactly how to fill him to bursting with need and desire and exquisite torture. Soon, he’d have a lifetime of her. Completely, willingly, totally, his.
With that last thought, he erupted, physically and spiritually, his seed spurting out over his fist, his soul shattered by the sheer power of her over him.
Spent, he sagged against the vanity, still keeping his eyes shut, letting himself drift slowly back to earth. Soon, she would be his but for the moment, the fantasy would have to suffice. But even as this climax faded, the thought of her still stirred in him.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and grinned into the mirror, his hand still holding his cock. This had been the fantasy…the reality would be a thousand times more.
“That scene turned out really well,” Sheila told her. “I didn’t know how the hero jacking off while fantasizing about the heroine right before the wedding would work, but it does. Romantic and hot. I can’t imagine a guy being so horny for me he couldn’t even get through the wedding ceremony without…relieving the pressure as it were.”
“All through this book,” Elgin told her quietly, “they’ve had great sex, but there’s always been that ‘open door.’ The knowledge that either one or both could just walk away. Now, they’ve resolved their problems and are ready for the big ‘C,’ commitment. Far from looking at it as closing off his options, he sees it as the beginning of a lifetime of love. And great sex.”
“Well, it’s an ingenious little twist…seeing it from the guy’s point of view on his wedding day…and I loved it. I’m sure Gillian’s readers will too.”
“Hopefully,” Elgin agreed with a sigh. “All I know is that I’m glad it’s put to bed. After writing and re-writing, I’m frankly tired of looking at it. I just want to go somewhere and read someone else’s words for awhile.”
“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself with these edits. They could have waited until you’d recovered.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever recover,” Elgin answered quietly. “Oh, the pain relievers take care of the bruises and aches but every time I close my eyes, I hear squealing tires and that sickening thump. Sometimes, I’ll be working or walking or…or just sitting and suddenly, I’m back there on that street again. Flashbacks, the doctor called them. Says they’re very common after a trauma.”
She trembled and Sheila put her arms around her friend.
“After everything that’s happened,” Sheila ventured, “I don’t see why you still want to go away. Especially to that God-forsaken place. If you want a change, why don’t you and I go down to the Islands for a while? In the daytime, we’ll sip tall, cool, exotic things with rum and little umbrellas, and at night, we’ll chase good-looking native cabana boys. With any luck, we may even catch a couple.”
“It’s precisely because of what’s happened that I do want to get away, particularly to the retreat. I don’t want to be around anyone, even you. I just want to be far away from here, from the stalker, from Pete. Which reminds me, have we heard from Dr. Criner yet?”
“Not yet. Being one of the top orthopedic men in the country…maybe the world, he’s a busy guy, even for an old college chum like me. But I did get through to him. He’s giving a paper at some kind of symposium in Toronto and then he’ll fly down and consult on the case.”
“You made sure to tell him that no one, especially Pete or Mr. Harm, is to know that I’m paying for this?”
“Yes, El, I told him and he understands that you don’t want your name mentioned although he doesn’t understand why. He’s going to tell them that he read about the case in the paper and he thought it sounded interesting and decided to come down and see if he could get a look. They won’t turn him down. Frankly, I don’t understand why you don’t want Pete to know you’re helping him. I know he doesn’t hold you responsible for what happened.”
“Perhaps not,” the other woman answered, “but I do. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been out on that street. He tried to tell me I shouldn’t go to the appointment because the stalker would know about it. But would I listen? No. Like always, I knew more than anyone else. I feel guilty enough as it is. Letting Pete or Harm know I hired Dr. Criner would be admitting I was wrong. I couldn’t stand that.”
“That is the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Sheila snorted. “Even from you.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve finished the re-writes and as soon as I can get packed, I’m gone.”
“And what about the stalker? Have you considered that he may just be sitting downstairs waiting for you to leave so he can follow you? Get you alone?”
“Already taken care of,” Elgin smiled. “The day I decide to leave, Martha’s going to put on my clothes and a pair of dark glasses, have Ben hail her a taxi and with suitcases in hand, is going to the airport where she’s going to fly first-class to San Juan and then a lovely cruise through the Panama Canal and a nice visit with her family in California. All at my expense. After she leaves, I’m going down to the parking garage, get the totally inconspicuous blue sedan I’ve rented and leave by the side entrance. And when I’m gone, even mega-P.I. C. A. Harm won’t be able to find me.”
“The reason Elgin’s been pushing herself about the re-writes is so she can get away from here…the city, her condo and especially the accident. Martha says she hardly sleeps and when she does…well, she seems to think a change of scenery is what she needs.”
Harm felt a quickening of his blood, his mind racing ahead of the woman’s conversation. Could it be…a second chance?
“I’m no doctor,” he replied carefully, “but after all that’s happened, maybe a good long rest away from everything is just what she needs.”
Suspicion flashed in those hazel eyes and for a moment, he feared he’d overplayed his hand, squandered his opportunity.
But the look flickered and disappeared.
“Perhaps,” she agreed cautiously, “but what about the stalker?”
Anxious excitement pulsed through him and it took an effort on his part to continue appearing calm.
“Has there been anything else since the accident? Deliveries? Contact of any kind?”
“Not that I know of and Martha would tell me even if Elgin wouldn’t. Why? Is that significant?” Sheila leaned forward a little.
“Hard to tell,” he replied, shrugging slightly. “Obviously he wanted to get Ms. Collier’s attention, convey his feelings with the increasingly personal gifts…”
“And grabbing her ass in the elevator and killing that homeless man,” she added coldly.
Harm stifled a grunt of exasperation. Why couldn’t this silly bitch shut up so he could make his point and get to the heart of the matter?
“Well, since we don’t have any proof those incidents are connected, we’ll leave them out of the equation. For now, let’s just say his frustration mounted as she ignored him and that frustration only increased with his inability to get into her computer and track her movements and her change in habit. No doubt he felt rejected and angry.
“Catching her going to the beauty parlor for her regular appointment, especially on the arm of another man, may have pushed him over the edge. In a moment of rage, he ran his car at them, probably intending nothing more than to scare them. But something went wrong and now he’s guilty of hit and run, being hunted by the police. For all we know, he could be in another state, another country, by now.”
Sheila eyed him for a moment, weighing his words.
“But you don’t believe that for an instant, do you?”
Bingo! He had her. Leaning forward, he folded his hands on the desktop.
“No, Ms. Forbes, I don’t,” he told her solemnly. “The car was parked in that alley, waiting for them. It sped up as it came down the street toward them, and there were no skid marks that would have indicated the driver tried to slow down or swerve to avoid them. In combination with everything else, including the possibility that this person did indeed kill that homeless beggar, I think Ms. Collier could still be in serious danger.”
“Then perhaps going away to her retreat for the summer might be a good idea.”
“Depends.” He had to be careful now. Lead her to the right conclusion but not seem overly anxious. “Where is this retreat? Is it secluded? Does she have a telephone to call for help? How far away would that help be? How long would it take to get to her? Are there close neighbors? Would she be alone?”
“I’ve never been there myself, but from what Elgin and Martha tell me, it’s in the middle of nowhere someplace upstate. No phone, no neighbors. Says that’s why she bought it, although she’s spent practically no time up there. But she’s truly frightened now and predictably, she’s running. It’s her pattern when she doesn’t want to face something.”
“What about her secretary? Is she going?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Sheila sighed. “Elgin’s cooked up this hare-brained scheme for throwing the stalker off the scent and getting away. Says when she’s gone, even you won’t be able to find her.”
Sounded just like that wise-ass bitch, he thought, but he had to keep his head.
“Beyond advising strongly against it, I don’t know what else to suggest.”
“What about surveillance?” Sheila offered. “Shadow her as you did in the beginning. She wouldn’t even have to know.”
Smart question but he had all the answers now…
“Tailing someone in a large, crowded city,” he began slowly, “is one thing. Tailing them in the country is another. For one thing, it’s hard to remain anonymous, blend into a small, isolated place where everyone knows each other and a stranger sticks out like a sore thumb.” He paused a heartbeat and shook his head.
“No, I don’t think having someone tailing her, especially the multiple people needed for twenty-four/seven duty for three months would work.” Pausing again, he looked into the other woman’s eyes for some sign his clues were being picked up.
“Maybe if we could plant someone at her cabin…a handyman say… Of course, in that case, she’d probably choose someone local.”
Sheila sat quietly again and Harm forced himself to wait as well. The suspense was killing him.
“Suppose,” she said finally, “she brought someone with her?”
“Brought someone with her?” he repeated, sure now of her direction and almost breathless with excitement.
“Yes. A secretary or a companion. You must have female detectives who could pretend to be her secretary but would really be her bodyguard.”
Another sharp question. Smarter than he’d given her credit for. But he’d always been good at thinking on his feet and he recovered quickly.
“Of course we have female agents,” Harm answered, “any one of whom would be excellent. But…”
“But what?”
“I just had a thought. Something almost guaranteed to provide Ms. Collier with optimum personal protection and privacy.”
“And that would be…?”
“A male agent.”
“What?” Sheila barked, amazed at the suggestion.
“Certainly. Not only would she have protection from the stalker should he actually find her, but from the local wolves as well. Nothing would insure Ms. Collier’s privacy like a man around the place.”
“That makes a certain amount of sense,” she agreed. “In fact, I like the idea very much. Provided, of course, that you handle this personally.”
He wanted to jump for joy! Leap across the desk and kiss her. But the scene had to be finished.
“I don’t know, Ms. Forbes,” he feigned concern. “I mean, aside from the personal animosity that Ms. Collier seems to have for me which might make close, daily contact unpleasant for both of us, I have a business to run. I can’t just go off and leave it for three months. I have several very good men…”
“Peter Fowler is a good man,” she cut in, “and he ended up in the street, half dead. ‘Good’ is no longer acceptable, Mr. Harm, I want the best and that’s you. I’ll give you a retainer today of whatever amount you say. The arrangements in our last contract were agreeable. Have a copy sent over at your convenience. I’ll call Ellie and tell her you’ll be by tomorrow to discuss the details of the trip. Say three-ish. I’ll call you if there’s a change.”
They got to their feet and shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr. Harm. I hope this whole thing is resolved by the time you get back.”
“I hope so, too, Ms. Forbes.”
“Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.”
For a long time after she left, Harm slouched lazily in his chair and considered his good luck. He’d gotten a second chance to catch the guy who’d almost killed his friend. So far he’d eluded the police, but he wouldn’t get away from C. A. Harm.
As soon as he got the location of this retreat, he’d send his people in to scout the place. Check out the terrain, the locals, the cabin’s physical layout. A GPS tracking device on the car. Infrared scanners and night vision scopes for stealthy, round-the-clock surveillance.
Of course, using Elgin Collier without her knowledge as bait for a lunatic didn’t sit completely well with him but he had no choice if he wanted to catch this guy. And he did want that. Very much.
Besides, she wouldn’t be in real danger; he’d see to her safety personally. That’s what he got paid to do. And a man hanging around her, living in her cabin with her, only increased the pressure, upped the chances that his quarry would be forced into making a move.
Pete hadn’t been expecting him. But Harm would be waiting. With both barrels.