Suzanne Brockmann - No Ordinary Man

“An unusual and compelling romance.”

—Affaire de Coeur on No Ordinary Man

“In No Ordinary Man, Suzanne Brockmann

tells a well-plotted story with a

frightening array of suspects.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Thanks to Suzanne Brockmann’s glorious pen,

we all get to revel in heart-stopping adventure

and blistering romance.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Brockmann’s complex characters

will capture the reader’s sympathy.”

—Publishers Weekly

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lives just west of Boston in a house always filled with her friends—actors and musicians and storytellers and artists and teachers. When not writing award-winning romances, she sings in an a cappella group called Serious Fun and volunteers at the Appalachian Benefit Coffeehouse. Readers can find out more about her and her latest books at her Web site, www.suzannebrockmann.com.

For Melanie and Jason, extraordinary kids

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Her apartment building was not very hard to get into. He just rang all the doorbells in the lobby and waited for someone to buzz the inner door open. Once inside, he quickly took the stairs up to the third floor.

He opened the door a crack, just enough to be able to see down the hall to her apartment door.

He had followed her as she did her chores today, as she did every Saturday. He had left her at the video store, knowing that she’d stop to pick up her dry cleaning and then come home. She had no idea he’d be waiting for her.

None of them ever had any idea.

As she emerged from the elevator and approached her apartment, he tensed. The timing had to be perfect. He had to wait until she unlocked the door, and was heading through…

He sprang.

She didn’t even have time to yell. His hand was over her mouth, the knife at her throat. She knew who was in control, who was in charge. She knew not to struggle. They were alone in her apartment, and finally, the game would come to an end.

He could barely wait.

“It was a dark and stormy night,” Doris drawled across the telephone line, “when suddenly a mysterious stranger appeared from the shadows of the mist.”

Jess Baxter laughed and peered out the screen door into the small circle of light thrown onto her back deck by the porch lamp. “First of all,” she said to the older woman who was her day care provider and longtime friend, “It may be night, but I’ve got all the lights on, so it’s not dark. Secondly, it’s certainly not stormy, and there’s no mist in sight. And, Rob’s hardly a stranger.”

“He’s hardly Elmer Schiller, either,” Doris countered, referring to the shy, elderly little man who had been the previous tenant in the small apartment attached to Jess’s house.

“No, he’s not,” Jess had to agree. She heard an odd, slow, shuffling, thumping sound that had to be Rob Carpenter, her new tenant, carrying something heavy up the stairs to the deck and to the door of the apartment.

“I mean, when it comes down to it,” Doris said, “what do you really know about this guy?”

“Oh, come on, Doris,” Jess replied, moving back into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of iced tea. “He’s lived down the street for months.” For the past six months, Rob had rented a neighbor’s house while the family was away in Europe.

“Where’d he come from?” Doris asked. “Where’d he live before he moved into the Hendersons’ house? What’s his family like? Where did he grow up? Any deeply rooted psychological problems? Any tendencies towards violence? Does he prefer to use a knife or a gun when committing murder…?”

“You’ve been watching too many bad TV movies of the week,” Jess scoffed, trying not to glance out the screen door as the subject in question went past, carrying another box.

“Might I remind you that there’s a serial killer on the loose?” Doris persisted. “The fact is, you don’t know anything about this guy.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to put ‘Choice of murder weapon’ on the rental application,” Jess said dryly.

“I worry about you and Kelsey,” Doris stated firmly. “Living all alone. Maybe you should get a big dog.”

“Maybe you should take stress reduction classes.”

“This is the guy who comes to your shows all the time,” Doris said. “Right? The guy you’ve told me about?”

“Well, yes,” Jess said, drawing designs in the condensation on the outside of her iced tea glass. “I’ve mentioned him once or twice.”

“A few more times than that, hon. I’ve heard quite a bit about Mr. Rob Solid-And-Dependable-Businessman. Mr. Rob Polite. Mr. Rob Ordinary-Guy-With-Real-Nice-Eyes. I think you’ve got a bigger role than tenant in mind for this one.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Doris!”

“I think you think this Rob might be good father material.”

“Really, don’t start.”

“Honey, I’m not accusing you of anything wrong,” Doris said. “It’s been two years since you kicked Ian out. It makes sense that you’re a little itchy for some male company. And heaven knows you could use some help both paying the bills and raising Kelsey. But don’t hitch yourself to some guy you don’t really know just to—”

“Doris,” Jess singsonged warningly.

“I mean, if it’s all hot and heavy between you two, if he makes your heart beat harder, then God bless him, but still, make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Doris said, rushing her words in her haste to get them out. “Ian Davis was no prize, but he never got violent—at least not with you or Kelsey. But you always hear about these polite, quiet types who end up taking a machine gun and—”

“Gee, I’m going to sleep really well tonight,” Jess said.

“For all you know, this Rob could be the guy everyone’s looking for—the serial killer,” Doris persisted.

“He could also be Elvis Presley,” Jess said, “alive and in disguise, hiding from his adoring public.”

“Jess, I’m serious.”

“Rob needed a place to live,” Jess interrupted her friend. “There’s nothing going on, and I have no plans for there to be something going on. I needed a tenant. Fast. Both for the money, and for the fact that if Rob didn’t move in, Stanford Greene was going to.”

That silenced Doris. “God,” she finally said.

“Yes,” Jess agreed, pushing open the screen door and carrying the cordless phone out with her onto the deck. “God.”