Paula Graves - Forbidden Temptation

There had to be something she could do besides hide.

Lily leaned toward her. “If you need me to stay with you, I really do think Casey’ll be okay with her daddy for one night.”

“I’ll be fine.” She looked up at her sister. “But before you go, I could use your help with something.”

DANIEL SPENT THE DRIVE from the Chinese restaurant to Rose’s house on the phone with his assistant, going over the research he wanted Steve to do for him over the weekend. “I need as much background as you can find on Mark Allen Phagan, born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and currently a lawyer in Birmingham, Alabama, and a man in his early thirties named Jesse Phillips,” he said as he pulled into the alley behind Rose’s house. “Only info I have on Phillips is a current place of employment-Professional Security Systems in Birmingham.”

“Got it,” Steve said. “Anything else?”

Daniel stared at the empty parking spot where Rose’s Chevrolet had been earlier that afternoon. “That’s it, for now.” He rang off quickly, tucking the phone in his breast pocket.

Parking, he grabbed the bag of Chinese food and walked around the house, hoping Rose’s car was there.

But the car in the driveway wasn’t hers.

Tamping down his rising alarm, he tried the doorbell. No answer. He knocked on the door hard enough to sting his knuckles. “Rose?”

Still no reply.

The back door was locked, as well. He pulled out his phone to call her cell phone and noticed the voice mail message indicator. He retrieved the message and found himself listening to Rose Browning’s terse voice.

“Daniel, it’s Rose. I’ve changed my mind. You can’t stay here. I’m heading out on an errand, but I’ll be home by five at the latest if you want to call.”

His heart thumped against his ribs. An errand? Was she insane? He dialed her cell-phone number. Her voice-mail message picked up immediately.

Damn it!

Anxiety overtook anger as he waited for the beep. “Rose, it’s Daniel. What’s going on? Call when you get this message.”

He ended the call and leaned against the door frame, his pulse racing. What if she’d made the call under duress? Her voice had sounded odd. Strained and tight.

He pressed his forehead against the door, muttering a low curse-at himself for not taking her with him to the motel, at her for leaving the house when he’d told her to stay put.

Tamping down his rising fear, he sank onto the wrought iron bench by the back door and tried to figure out what to do next.

ROSE PULLED INTO a parking space in front of a squat brick-and-steel storefront on Seventh Avenue. The sign on the front wall read, Professional Security Systems.

“Doesn’t your prime suspect work here?” Lily asked.

Rose nodded.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I can’t sit around and wait to read about the next victim.” Rose unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door.

Lily met her on the sidewalk. “How is coming here supposed to help?”

“If Jesse Phillips is the killer, then odds are, he’s at least considering killing some of the women he works with. If so, I’ll see a death veil and I’ll know who the next victim is.”

“And do what? Warn her?” Lily shot Rose a pointed look.

“I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“That’s a recipe for disaster,” Lily warned.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Rose countered. “I get a brochure on their services and I go home. No harm done.” Rose didn’t feel quite as sanguine as she sounded, but she preferred action to inertia, and taking a look around Jesse Phillips’ workplace seemed relatively safe. She pushed through the front door and stopped short.

Covering the face of the receptionist was a shimmering death veil.

“Do you see something?” Lily whispered.

Rose nodded.

Another woman stepped into the reception area, carrying a slim stack of file folders. A death veil flickered over her features, as well.

“Ms. Browning?”

A man’s voice close by jarred her nerves. She jerked toward the sound, trying to hide her growing alarm.

Jesse Phillips stood a few feet away, his gaze fixed on her. A tremor rattled through her, and she took a defensive step back before she registered the fact that Jesse wasn’t alone. Frank Carter stood to his right, gripping Jesse’s upper arm in his tight grip. A second man, obviously another detective, gripped his other arm.

Rose cleared her throat. “Detective Carter.”

Frank released Jesse’s arm and stepped closer. His voice was low and intense. “You’re seeing something.”

Rose glanced at her sister. A faint death veil shimmered over her features, as well. Rose’s stomach clenched into a knot.

“What is it?” Lily asked, touching Rose’s arm.

“Every woman here is wearing a death veil,” Rose murmured. “Including you.”

Lily’s eyes widened with alarm.

Rose pulled a powder compact from her purse. Holding her breath, she checked her reflection in the mirror.

It was there. Fainter than the others, but unmistakable.

She looked up and saw four sets of eyes staring at her. She focused on Jesse Phillips, trying to read his expression. Another shudder moved through her, making her hand shake.

She slapped the compact closed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Frank caught her elbow as she started toward the door. “You see more than one at a time?”

“Not usually,” she admitted. “I did at the neighborhood meeting. And now. The last time, they faded away.”

“How do you explain it?” Frank asked, his brow furrowed.

The other detective and Jesse Phillips moved past them, heading out the door. Rose waited before answering Frank. “I don’t know. Maybe he gets excited after a kill. Can’t decide who’s next, so he imagines killing them all.” Rose jerked her elbow from Frank’s grasp and fled outside. She filled her burning lungs with cool October air.

Lily caught up with her. “Rose?”

Rose closed her eyes, afraid to look at her sister. Please let it fade, she thought.

“Look at me.” Lily’s voice shook.

Rose opened her eyes. Lily’s face was clear. She almost wilted. “It’s gone.”

Lily released a huff of breath.

Frank approached, brow furrowed. “You still see anything?”

Rose glanced at her car window. Her reflection stared back, now free of the death veil. “No. All clear now.”

Frank nodded slowly, his expression still troubled. “We have to take Phillips in for questioning. Are you sure you’re going to be okay getting home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Rose assured him. She nodded toward Phillips, who gazed at them, a scowl on his face, as the other detective nudged him into the backseat of the sedan. “You think he’s a viable suspect?”

“There are things in his background we want to clear up.” Frank’s expression was guarded. “If I have more questions for you, I’ll be in touch.” He turned and walked toward the sedan.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Lily asked as they got in the car. “You still look a little shaken.”

Rose waved off Lily’s concern. “I’m good, really. The death veils must mean Jesse’s the killer, don’t you think?”

“Could be,” Lily agreed.

Rose pulled up the alley behind her house. “Maybe they’ll get a search warrant for his house and they’ll find something.”

“You think he kills them at his own house?”

“He must kill them somewhere-Daniel says nobody’s found a murder scene yet, just the dump sites.”

As if her mention of Daniel conjured him up, she spotted his Jeep parked where her car normally sat. And the man himself sat on the wrought iron bench on her back patio, a large plastic bag lying on the concrete next to him.