Mallory Kane - The Heart of Brody McQuade

Egan headed for his room.

Brody headed for his. At his door he turned back. “Caldwell.”

Egan sighed and let his forehead fall against the door frame.

“Stay up there in Austin. I want to hear back on the lab’s findings as soon as they happen.”

“Let Hayes do it. He’s already there. He can—”

“You were at the scene. I want you. Send Hayes back here. I’ve got a job for him, too.”

“Yeah?”

Brody nodded. “I want him to chase down the items that were stolen from the apartments.”

“I don’t think Briggs or Zelke had anything stolen.”

“I’m talking about the break-ins where nobody was home.”

“What for? You said yourself nothing traceable was taken.”

“The perp is smart. But what use has he got for an antique humidor or an emerald bracelet?”

Egan’s mouth stretched in a yawn. “Maybe he smokes cigars. Maybe his girlfriend will get a real nice birthday present this year.”

“I’m banking on him preferring money. If he pawned the stuff or sold it to an antique store, maybe we can trace it. And if we can trace it, we can trace him.”

Egan rubbed his eyes. “Good point. What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I want every single entry card for Cantara Gardens accounted for. Victoria’s penthouse card, the manager’s master, the household staff. I especially want to know who’s asked for a replacement card in the past eight months. And what they do with cards when tenants leave—or die.”

“Makes sense. That’s got to be how the perp gets in without setting off the alarm system.”

“Somebody, either on purpose or accidentally, gave the murderer entry into Cantara Gardens, and I intend to find out who it is.”

THE BRUISES WERE WORSE this morning. Victoria lifted her chin and touched the sore places with her fingers, watching her reflection in the downstairs-bathroom mirror.

Icy fear slid down her spine and nausea swirled in her gut as she recalled those hot, rough fingers cutting off her breath. She wrapped her arms protectively around her middle and rested her forehead against the cool mirror, waiting for the queasiness to pass.

She’d showered last night after the police and Brody had left, but this morning she still felt dirty—violated. And her pristine apartment had ceased to be a sanctuary. She’d slept on the sofa in the living room because she couldn’t make herself get into the bed where the man had attacked her.

It didn’t matter that Detective Sergeant Deason had stationed an officer in the elevator lobby. It wouldn’t have mattered if the officer had been guarding her bedroom door. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep in that bed again.

The attacker would be back. Brody McQuade had said so last night, and she knew he was right.

A harsh jangling sent her heart into her throat.

Phone . It was just her phone. She took a deep breath and shook off the panic that had gripped her. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how much the phone’s ring sounded like her security alarm?

She picked up the handset on the third ring, glancing at the ornate clock perched on a shelf. Was it really only seven-thirty?

“Victoria, sweetheart.”

It was Tammy Sutton, the wife of the powerful chairman of the San Antonio City Board. Victoria grimaced. She could tell by the tone of Tammy’s voice that she already knew what had happened.

“Hi, Tammy,” she said, forcing a brightness into her voice.

Of course Tammy would know about the break-in. Not even uber-Ranger Brody McQuade could stop the police from reporting the incident to Kenneth Sutton.

“I do apologize for calling so early, but I heard about your attack and I just had to see if you’re all right. What on earth happened?”

“I’m not sure I should be talking about it.”

“Nonsense. I’m your friend. You need someone to lean on right now.”

Friend? Hardly. She and Tammy were on a couple of charity committees together. Victoria’s grandmother would not have approved of the cavalier way people threw around the word friend these days. She’d have called them speaking acquaintances.

“That’s very nice of you to offer—”

“Sweetheart. It’s what friends are for.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Tammy’s mouth, she thought. The woman was up to something. Victoria almost laughed at that thought. When was Tammy Sutton not up to something? The woman could chew up and spit out anybody, then rinse her mouth with a Long Island Iced Tea.

“Tell me what happened. Could you identify the attacker? Did he say anything?”

“No. It all happened so fast. And he didn’t say a word. He just tried to choke me.”

“Oh, my God! And you didn’t see anything?”

“Not a thing.” Victoria wasn’t about to give Tammy the details of how she’d come awake just as the man grabbed her and flipped her onto her stomach. The horror of what could have happened still chilled her to the bone.

“Oh, Victoria. Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t—”

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken. Now I really have to get ready for work.”

“Work? Victoria, what is the matter with you? You’re in no shape to work. My God, you could have been killed.”

Victoria’s mouth tasted like ash. She could happily have gone all day without hearing that. She licked her lips and sucked in a breath. “Working will help. In fact, it will help a lot, since I’ve got stacks of paperwork to finish. For once I’ll welcome the boredom. I’m fine, really.”

She was so not fine, but she wasn’t going to let anyone know that. She’d built her reputation as an attorney—face it, she’d built her life—on her ability to stay cool no matter what the situation.

She’d had trouble hanging on to her signature cool last night in the presence of Brody McQuade, and that dismayed her.

She didn’t like the sense of safety she’d felt from the moment he’d walked into the room. She didn’t like the sexual attraction that had sparked between them in an arc of electricity that she’d have sworn was visible.

Most of all, she didn’t like Brody’s air of supreme confidence. He knew he was in charge and his confidence was palpable to anyone he came in contact with.

She’d dealt with guys like him, guys who used bullying to get their way. For some inexplicable reason, she was drawn to the caveman type, but at least she’d learned to recognize them and avoid them.

“Hello? Victoria?”

“Oh, sorry, Tammy. I…I thought I heard something.”

“See? You’re obviously too upset to work. Why don’t you spend a few days at my lake house? It’s got all the comforts—even the freezer’s stocked.”

“Thank you, but I can’t leave in the middle of this investigation.”

Tammy Sutton had always been gracious at dinners and teas, but she’d never made overtures to Victoria. Until today. Victoria couldn’t help but wonder what Tammy’s motive was.

A faint beep sounded in Victoria’s ears. “Tammy, I have another call. It could be the police.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll let you go. We must get together for lunch soon.”

“That would be lovely. Bye.” I won’t hold my breath until I hear from you .

She picked up the incoming call. “Hello?”

“Victoria, are you all right?” It was Caroline Stallings.

“What’s going on, Caroline? How does everybody know about my attack?”

“It’s on the early-morning news. They didn’t say much about your condition, so I had to call. I’m so glad you’re not in the hospital.”

“How do they do it? The media, I mean. I didn’t see a reporter anywhere.”

“Tell me about it. I often get the idea that certain people would be happy to have every move they made played out on television. So they delight in talking to the press about anything.”