He put the receiver on her lamp table, then sat on her
old sofa and pulled his laptop from a backpack as if nothing was strange about
a grown man having a pink baby monitor when there were no babies in the house.
And
never would be
.
“Why? And where did you get it?”
“It was going to be Dana’s baby shower gift. I’ve had
it in my truck for a week.”
Eve studied the receiver, fascinated. “Where’s the
camera?”
“It comes with two. One is above your front door and
one is outside the building door, downstairs. Wireless, range is almost four
hundred feet. Infrared night-vision.”
“Freaking cool. When did you install it?”
“One after I walked Callie to her car and the other
just now, after Webster left. I activated the receiver while the coffee brewed.
It’s not rocket science.”
“What did Webster say to you?” she asked, her eyes
narrowed.
“What I already knew. That you don’t think you’re in
danger, but he thinks you are.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes not
leaving hers. “And that he’s interested in you.”
Briefly Eve closed her eyes. “David, please.” He made
no apology and she sighed, turning her focus back to the camera. “If I were in
danger and some killer did come after me, a baby pink camera would tip him off,
don’t you think?” she said and he frowned.
“Give me some credit, Evie. I put the one downstairs
where it couldn’t be seen. And if he comes close enough to take the camera out,
we’d get his face.” He connected a video cord from his laptop to the receiver.
“We’ve got streaming video and an alarm that screeches if either camera is
disconnected. Gotta love it.”
“On a
baby monitor
? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“All for under three hundred bucks. Technology meets
parental paranoia,” he said, then shrugged. “And my paranoia, too. I thought it
would give Dana a little peace of mind to have the cameras versus the old audio
monitor. She has all those foster kids, coming and going. Most are good kids,
but all it would take would be one bad one.”
Eve’s throat tightened.
He still loves her.
What a waste of a life. Of a good heart. “Amazingly thoughtful,” she said
roughly. “A little used by the time she gets it, but…”
He didn’t smile. “I’ll get her another. Tomorrow I’ll
install something less noticeable for you than a baby pink camera, but it’ll
work for tonight. A woman living alone should be careful. A woman living alone
who’s tied to two dead women should be terrified.”
Alone
pierced like an arrow so that she almost didn’t hear the rest. “I have a gun.”
“Then give it to me. If anyone comes through your door
tonight, I want to be ready.”
A chill chased over her skin. “You’re serious.”
“About your safety? Deadly serious. Now drink your
coffee before it gets cold.”
Tuesday, February 23, 12:35 a.m.
Noah quietly let himself into his house, considering
the way he’d left Eve, and the fine line between pursuit and harassment. He
didn’t want to cause her pain, stress, grief, any of those bad things. Just
yesterday he’d been all set to protect her from himself. But she’d said she
didn’t want to be protected. He wanted to believe her.
She’d said she was broken. That he didn’t want to
believe, but understood. He sat down on the edge of his bed. Out of habit he
picked up the photo he’d held so many times and remembered how broken he’d felt
when he lost Susan and the baby.
He thought about how he’d handled his grief, compared
it to how Eve had coped. They really weren’t that different. They’d both
hidden, escaping reality, Noah into the bottle, Eve into the virtual world.
They’d both set themselves free.
And for what? To work. To protect the innocent. He
thought of Eve’s Nemesis avatar. He put the picture back, and got ready for
bed, wondering how Eve punished the guilty in her world. She’d told him that
some of her red-zone cases had relationships in Shadowland that spanned from
the casual one-night stand to marriages.
His knee-jerk reaction was to wonder what possible
satisfaction a man could have in a pretend relationship. Then he considered the
relationships he’d had over the years. They’d been cordial, but empty, and when
they were over, he’d walked away as had the woman, whichever woman it had been
at the time. He’d missed the sex and the occasional benefit of sharing a meal,
but other than that, there’d been nothing.
Pretend relationships were a relative thing.
And now, sitting in his silent house, on the edge of
his empty bed, he understood the lure of a virtual relationship. If one was
lonely, sometimes a conversation could mean more than a quick roll across the
sheets. He smiled grimly. Well, at least
as
much.
He stretched out in his empty bed, but again, sleep
would not come. He tossed and turned. And when he finally did fall asleep, he
dreamed again, this time of Eve in an ambulance, while paramedics brought her
back from death with the paddles.
His eyes opened and he stared at his ceiling. That
wasn’t a dream. He’d read it online in a newspaper archive. She’d died twice on
the way to the hospital after having been discovered by her guardian, Dana Dupinsky,
who saved her life.
Greer the Guardian
. The name took on new meaning. Eve’s real-life guardian had protected
battered women and in working with her, so had Eve. Now she protected the
subjects in her study who were being stalked by a man they thought was fantasy.
Noah’s sigh echoed off the walls of his empty room.
He’d been given the role of guardian and protector once, so long ago now. He’d
failed his family, abysmally.
And now you’re alone.
He did, however, have purpose. He had a badge. He’d
catch this killer, then he’d do the paperwork and move on to the next homicide.
A depressing future. He’d been sober for ten years,
but at this moment wanted a drink so badly he could taste it. He rolled over,
grabbed his phone, hesitated.
I hurt Brock last night
. He couldn’t do that again. Wouldn’t.
The phone in his hand rang, startling him. It was
Brock. “What’s wrong?” Noah asked.
“Nothing. I, uh, didn’t see you at Sal’s tonight and I
got worried.”
“I’m working a case. Besides, I said I wasn’t going
back,” Noah added, annoyed.
“Well, forgive me if I doubted you really meant it
this time,” Brock flung back. “Eve wasn’t behind the bar tonight. Sal said she
had an emergency.”
Subtlety had never been Brock’s strong suit. “I know.
She was with me.”
“That’s good then,” Brock said cautiously. “Isn’t it?”
Noah’s temper flared. “No. She’s got a goddamn target
on her head. And she wasn’t
with
me. In fact she told me she wasn’t with
anyone, including me.”
“Ouch. You need another bout in the ring?”
Noah thought of the harm he’d wreaked the night
before. “No, but can you meet me for coffee? I need to get out of my house.”
Out
of this empty shell of a house.
“Of course,” Brock said. “Usual place?”
“Yeah. In a half hour?”
Tuesday, February 23, 2:00 a.m.
That Hunter guy was still there.
Sipping coffee in the frozen seat of his SUV, he
glared at the red pickup truck with Illinois plates from a block away. They’d
turned out the lights in the living room. It appeared David Hunter was staying
the night. No matter. It would be easier to shoot him in bed anyway.
Webster had come, then gone again.
What did Eve
tell him? What did she know?
It doesn’t matter
, he told himself.
Even if she knows about Shadowland, she can’t
know about me
. Still, the clock inside his mind was ticking. He needed to
move.
But carefully. Hunter had hidden something behind the
bush next to the door to Eve’s building.
Let’s see what it was, shall we?
He approached from the side of the building, grimacing
when snow went in his shoes, wet and freezing. Another pair of shoes, ruined.
He came up on the bush, his head down, the lapels of his coat pulled around his
face.
Whatever it was, it was pink. He picked it up then
furiously turned it lens down, grateful he hadn’t approached from the front.
Stay
calm.
The camera had not captured his face, only his thumb as he’d grasped
it. And he was wearing gloves.
It’s all right
.
He placed the camera in the snow and ground it under
the sole of his shoe.
What the hell kind of surveillance camera comes in
pink?
He’d put his hand on the downstairs building door when
he heard something inside. Footsteps, muted murmurs. Someone was coming. Hunter
and Eve.
So? Kill them
.
Finger on the trigger, he retreated to the shadows,
waiting for them to emerge. But they did not. He crept as close as he dared.
Through the door’s leaded-glass side panels he could hear arguing in loud
whispers, but he could see no one.
“Call 911.” It was Hunter. “Just do it. For God’s
sake.”
“Okay, okay, I’m dialing, but don’t go out there.
David.
No
.”
“I thought you said it was just a dog,” Hunter hissed.
“Stand back and let go.”
“Maybe it is. If it’s not, I don’t want you hurt.
Hello? We may have an intruder outside.” She gave the address. “Yes, I’ll stay
on the line… No, we won’t go outside.”
“Give me your phone and take mine,” Hunter demanded.
“Call Webster and tell him to get his ass over here. I’ll hold with 911.”
He couldn’t see them unless he stood straight in front
of the leaded glass, where he could be seen as well. If they took even a few
steps toward the stairs, they’d be in range.
Just shoot the glass, break the
window, then you can see.
And wake the neighborhood?
That would be the best way to get caught. The police
were on their way.
Dammit
. He was running away for the second time
tonight. Hating Hunter, he crept back the way he’d come, destroying his
footprints as he did so.
Unfortunately, now Eve would be watched all the time.
Protected. He had to lure her away. Climbing into his SUV, he was two blocks
away when he saw the cruiser in his rearview. He gripped his steering wheel and
twisted viciously. It should have been Eve’s throat in his hands.
He jammed one hand into his coat pocket and felt the
syringe that had been meant for Eve. His mind was racing. He’d been all primed.
Ready.
I’ll never sleep tonight. Just one. One to take off the edge.
He turned the SUV toward the city. He knew where to
find what he wanted.
Tuesday, February 23, 2:25 a.m.
Noah received Eve’s call as he and Brock had finally
gotten around to the topic he’d really wanted to discuss. Eve. He’d sent Brock
back to Trina and a warm bed and with a combination of dread and anticipation,
he’d come back here. Again. For the third time in one night.
Noah looked up at the pink camera over her door. There
would be an interesting story to that. The door was opened by the officer who’d
responded to the 911. Eve was sitting in her chair, arms around her knees. She
met his eyes with weary resignation.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “David made me
call.”
Hunter was on the sofa, arms crossed tightly over his
chest. “Damn straight I did.”
“Who put up the pink camera?” Noah asked.
“I did,” Hunter said grimly.
“Why are you here, Detective?” the older officer said.
“This isn’t a homicide.”
Noah flicked a glance at Eve. “It’s personal. Did you
find evidence of an intruder?”
“Somebody was out there,” the younger cop said.
“Footprints were wiped out. One of the other cameras was pushed into the mud.
Should we go door to door?”
“CSU will check the perimeter at first light. We may
do door to door then. Send me a copy of your report.” The cops left and Noah
closed the door. “What happened?”
Hunter told the story while Noah examined the pink
video receiver.
“The system triggers an alarm,” Hunter finished, “if
the camera loses a signal. When the guy ground it into the mud, the alarm woke
me up.” He hesitated. “Eve has a registered gun. She’d given it to me. I
started down the stairs, but she followed.”
“It’s my apartment,” Eve said stubbornly. “My problem
and my goddamned gun.”
Hunter shook his head. “And that’s it. We didn’t hear
him or see him.”
Noah met Hunter’s grim eyes. “Good thinking. And fast
action.”
Hunter shook his head again. “I should have gone out
after him.”
Noah watched Eve roll her eyes, but she said nothing.
“We don’t know if this guy is armed,” Noah said. “We’ve got three dead. We
can’t be taking chances.”
“Told you so,” Eve muttered.