Dangerous (The Complete Erotic Romance Novel) (65 page)

Of course, first she’d have to convince them to even try to identify the man.

She was invited to sit in the front seat of that dark sedan that had been parked on the street. She knew she’d never forget the sight of Reid being put in the back of the cruiser in handcuffs. It seemed so surreal. The plainclothes detective got back into the driver’s seat and started the car. He glanced her way. “Seatbelt on?”

“Of course.”

He nodded and drove behind the cruiser. They sat in silence, even as Kendra’s thoughts spun. If that guy was stalking Reid, this cop might have seen him.

“Have you been watching the house all week?” Kendra asked.

The cop glanced her way again. “What if I have?”

“Well, have you seen anyone else?”

He smiled wryly, then shook his head. “Moynihan’s good. He doesn’t move until he knows he’s right. I think you should get used to being without your boyfriend for a while.”

“But I know he’s wrong.”

The cop’s smile broadened, a clear sign of his skepticism.

“Those houses have a lot of property, and it all slopes down to the ravine in the back. Anyone could come near the house without you seeing them.”

“From the ravine side? In this snow?” The cop shook his head. “Think again. That land is the best security system money can buy. Only a skilled climber could come at the house that way.”

“Is there a lot of traffic on that street?” Kendra asked.

He shook his head. “Quiet as the grave. Easiest surveillance job ever.”

“There must be people walking.”

He gave her a pitying look. “Rich people don’t walk. Even their staff don’t walk.”

“Forster must have walked.”

“Who?”

“Reid’s driver. He was fired earlier today. He doesn’t have a car of his own and he could hardly take one of Reid’s. He must have walked.”

The cop gave her a look. “No one walked out of that house today. Stirling left in his car and came back in it. You came in your car at the same time. That was it.”

“Maybe Reid gave Forster a ride.”

The cop frowned and turned his attention to the road. “You could be wrong about him leaving.”

“You could be wrong about what you saw.”

The cop glared at her.

Kendra glanced at the empty take-out coffee cups littering the back seat. “How long since you last slept? Maybe you nodded off for a few minutes. It could happen on such a quiet job.”

“No! There was no one except the appliance repair guy,” he snapped, then shook his head. “Crazy rich people getting their appliances fixed while they’re away.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The people next door. They’re away, but they had to give the keys to the appliance repair guy.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think people deserve to get ripped off, when they’re just that stupid.” He shrugged. “But then, maybe they trusted the reference.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Same appliance guy came to Stirling’s house the other day. Maybe people around here trust him.”

Or maybe he wasn’t really an appliance repair guy.

Kendra gripped her bag and tried to think of a way to convince Moynihan to take her seriously. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be easy.

In fact, she was starting to wonder how she could tempt the killer to reveal himself. Taking that kind of chance was exactly what Reid had forbidden her to do, but Kendra had no choice.

But she had to defy him.

She had to do whatever she could to see him cleared and freed.

* * *

S

In which Reid’s worst nightmare comes true...

Chapter Twenty-Five

The police detective didn’t believe her.

Kendra never imagined telling the truth wouldn’t fix things. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. She’d told the truth, but the detective had been resolute. They were convinced Reid was a killer.

Without being able to prove him innocent of a crime that occurred long before she’d met him, there was nothing else she could do. It wasn’t a situation that made Kendra happy. She wanted to fix this. She wanted to help clear Reid’s name.

Instead she was truly powerless.

She hated it.

She couldn’t go back to her apartment, not after she’d promised Reid she’d stay at his house. And she didn’t want to be home alone, anyway. The police officer was waiting when she was done being interviewed by the detective, and he asked where she wanted to go. Apparently, he was supposed to drive her there. She decided to go back to Reid’s house as promised. She called Jade on the way but got her roommate’s voice mail. There was a message from Jade, too, one that made no sense. She babbled on about the guy not being the guy and asked Kendra to call her. Kendra tried again, but had to leave another message.

Just another frustration on a frustrating day. She dropped the phone back into her purse, not having the inclination to start a conversation with the cop. They rode in awkward silence.

“He’s innocent, you know,” Kendra said, because she couldn’t not say it.

The cop smiled. “They all are, in somebody’s view. Usually in their own, too.”

“Reid didn’t kill his wife.”

He gave her a cool look. “Believe what you need to.” He drove into the residential area where Reid lived and slowed before turning the last corner. “You ready?”

Kendra stared at him in confusion. “For what?”

“The wolves will be at the door, I guarantee it.”

“Wolves?”

“Reporters. This is a big story. They’ll be at the house, waiting.”

Kendra had been so concerned with Reid she hadn’t given a thought to the rest of the world. She felt naive for not anticipating the reporters, and didn’t relish any kind of confrontation. “At the house? Can they do that?”

“The road is public property. They should stay on their side of the line.”

Kendra folded her arms across her chest, not liking the sound of that. “Thanks for the warning. Who exactly is it that you serve and protect?”

“The property of charged killers falls pretty low on the list.”

“He’s not convicted.”

The cop shrugged and turned the corner. He was right: there were dozens of reporters. Kendra saw three cable television trucks, one with the logo of a national network emblazoned on the side. Just the sight of them made her gut tighten. The reporters turned as one at the approach of the cruiser, then the lights for the cameras were turned on. She wanted to run, but knew she had to go through them to the safety of Reid’s house.

“Pull up your hood,” advised the cop matter-of-factly. “At least they won’t get a good picture that way. When I stop at the top of the driveway, get out and run for the door. You have keys?”

“No.”

He winced. “You’d better hope the staff are on it.”

Hope wasn’t good enough. Kendra pulled out her phone and called the house. The line was answered immediately. “Jackson? It’s Kendra Jones. The police are driving me back to the house. Can you please let me in?”

The older man’s tone was warm and firm. “I’ll be watching for you, Miss Jones. Be careful.”

“Thank you, Jackson.” Kendra pulled up her hood and gripped her purse just as the cop drove the cruiser alongside the first reporters. She closed her eyes against the sudden flashing of the cameras, then ducked her head. The cop eased the car forward as reporters shouted questions at the car

“How do you feel about Stirling’s arrest?”

“Are you Kendra Jones?”

“Are you in fear for your life?”

“Can we get an interview?”

Kendra ignored the endless barrage of questions. She felt the car turn at the base of the driveway, its progress slow but steady, then it stopped.

“Not yet,” the cop said. He backed up the car then, ensuring her side was closest to the front door. “Just another minute.”

The car stopped.

“Now,” he said, disengaging the power locks.

“Thank you!” Kendra whispered, then flung open the door. She shut it before she ran toward the front door of the house, her hood still up. The door opened right in front of her to reveal the foyer, the reporters shouting questions behind her, then closed securely once she was inside.

Jackson stood behind the door, and locked it decisively. “May I take your coat, Miss Jones?”

“Yes, thank you, Jackson.” Kendra exhaled and looked around herself with relief. It was tranquil here, with the gentle sound of the fountain in the foyer.

And she was safe.

Jackson was hanging up her coat. “I assume Mr. Stirling has everything he needs for the moment?”

“If he doesn’t, they won’t give it to him.”

“Do not fear for him, Miss Jones. His legal team is already in consultation and making plans for the morning. He will not be inconvenienced for long.”

Kendra smiled, liking the sound of that. “Is that how he used his one call?”

“Of course not, Miss Jones. Mr. Stirling might have had other plans for that call. I advised his lawyers as to the day’s events.” The older man turned and gestured toward the house. “We thought you might be hungry this evening, so dinner is ready. Would you like a glass of wine to start?”

* * *

It was a nightmare, but one from which Reid couldn’t awaken.

It was late and he was locked in a jail cell, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He still felt sick about the information the police had shared with him. He’d seen Alana in the morgue, of course, and had identified her body. She’d been nude there, covered by a sheet. After his arrest, Moynihan interrogated him. The detective had started the interview by snapping down photos of the crime scene.

Reid doubted he’d ever forget them.

If it had been Moynihan’s plan to shock him, the ploy had worked. Alana had been bound, hand and foot, and locked into the collar he’d bought for her.

The one he’d never seen her wear.

The one that had launched their last fight.

But there she had been, wearing it. Worse, she’d been murdered while wearing it. The detective had shown Reid photographs of the rope burn marks on Alana’s wrists and ankles, proof of how she’d struggled and been unable to defend herself. Whoever killed her had given her plenty of time to fear the outcome of her situation, plenty of time to realize her helplessness. The notion sickened Reid.

Then she’d been shot twice, through the heart.

Moynihan said Alana’s body had been stored, refrigerated until recently, and they thought she’d been dead since her disappearance two years before. Her body had been moved here in his limo, and there were biological traces in the trunk of the car from her body. How could that be?

Who moved her body here?

The stalker’s nest revolted him, even though he knew the detective had only given him glimpses of the evidence they’d gathered there. That someone had been across the street from Kendra’s apartment, monitoring her home, watching her as she slept, photographing her was more than Reid could bear. That there was a folder with a picture of Kendra in it labeled ‘Next’ had been enough to bring him out of his chair.

But he couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t protect her.

He couldn’t even warn her.

He sat down hard and put his head in his hands. The only thing he could do was try to solve the riddle. Reid knew very well the police thought he was the killer, but he knew it wasn’t true.

Who was?

Had Forster been responsible for Alana’s death? Reid couldn’t imagine his driver had that kind of violence in him. But Forster had driven the limo from the old house to this one. Forster had left the limo running while he went into the house, allowing (or facilitating?) its theft. Forster had been sleeping with Alana, and was possibly the father of the child she was carrying.

Why would he kill her? Why would he have killed his own child? Reid couldn’t imagine his driver doing such a thing.

But if not Reid and not Forster, then who?

And why?

Who would take so much time and trouble to make it look as if Reid had killed his wife?