Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

“What is it Paul? What happened?” She put her hands on his face, keeping his gaze on hers, forcing him to face her.

“I had a visitor last night,” he said, letting her go when she began to struggle in his grasp.

“What do you mean? What kind of visitor?”

Paul took her hand, led her to where a counter held a coffee area and several bottles of water. Handing her a bottle and several napkins, he said, “You wore the lipstick. Help me get it off, will you?”

He wouldn’t say anything until she’d completed the task. It surprised her slightly when he took the damp cloth and dabbed at her cheek. “I transferred some right back to you, it appears,” he said, smiling. The smile was warm, open. Different.

The way he was looking at her made her want to shiver. It was as if he were looking through her, seeing something no one else saw. It scared her.

“You said the past. And that you had a visitor. What’s going on?”

He led her back to the chairs and they sat down. He continued to hold her hand. “Tibbet decided that perhaps your stalker would come after me. Since the mystery shooter tried for me once, and failed, he decided to stake out my place, lie in wait.”

“Tibbet?”

“Not personally, but when shots were fired, he was on scene pretty quick.”

“You were shot at?” Torie squeaked. “Again? Last night?” Oh, my God. Would it never end?

“Yeah, but they didn’t catch the guy. Problem is, it put our two culprits who messed with the computer systems in the clear as your stalker.”

“But Paul, someone shot at you. Again. At your home. ” She could hardly take it in. The shots at the restaurant were surreal, almost impossible to take in as gunfire. But the fact that someone had deliberately tried to shoot into his home, kill him that way, rocked her.

“Yeah. It scared the crap out of me, I can tell you. One more inch to the right…” He stopped short. “Well.”

“Oh, my God, Paul.” She gripped his hands. He’d nearly been killed. With horrible words between them. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” He was in trouble, getting shot at because of her.

“I’m okay, Torie.”

“No, no. You’re not. Nothing’s okay about this.” She wrenched her hands from his and rushed to her feet, pacing the floor. “I should do what Todd did, go away, get away so no one gets hurt. I don’t want to be the reason one more person gets hurt.”

“You’re not the reason,” Paul said, coming up behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “This guy’s nuts, Torie. Whoever he is, he’s responsible. Not you. You may be a catalyst, but he’s responsible for his actions.”

“I need to go. You—I can’t have you hurt, not because of me.”

He turned her gently, taking her once more into his arms. Wrapped tight, she still resisted. He had to let her go. She had to leave, protect him.

“No,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “We started this together, we’ll finish it together.”

His words took her back. She froze into immobility.

Started it?

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what happened at the party, eleven years ago.”

“Nothing happened, Paul,” she protested, but her voice was shaking.

“That’s not true, Torie, and you know it.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not the issue, not right now. I’m not sure it’s true, either, but we’ll have to get into that later. Right now, it’s about who did it.”

She wrenched away from him, going to the table, leaning against it, her arms wrapped around her middle. “No one did anything.”

Paul closed his eyes, sighed. “Yes, Torie, they did. Someone violated your human rights, your dignity, and your privacy. Someone took your choices away from you, and they nearly did a whole lot more. Why nothing had happened to you when I got there, I don’t know, but it’s a bloody miracle you weren’t raped.”

Horror flowed through her. “You told Tibbet.”

Paul nodded. “I had to. He thinks this may go all the way back to that incident, the fraternity party. He believes that whoever started that may be the one who is still stalking you. He thinks that inciting incident may have led Todd’s killer to murder him, and that this guy is so obsessed with you, he drives off or hurts anyone he thinks is getting too close.”

From horror to betrayal, Torie was awash with emotions. She’d come to the office so confident, so full of energy, and it had all disappeared.

Was her life ever going to stop seesawing from one extreme to another? Where would the next blow fall? Her family? Her mother?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally managed to get out.

“I know,” Paul said, starting to move toward her. When she flinched, he stopped. “I didn’t want to spring this on you. I didn’t want to tell Tibbet, but he knew, Torie. He knew something had happened. Something bad.”

“What else did you tell him?”

“I told him everything.”

Shame and horror washed over her and she felt faint. From a long way away, she heard Paul calling her name. Sinking into the chair at the conference table, she wanted to vomit.

“Put your head down,” Paul ordered. “Breathe, Torie. Breathe.”

He’d seen the cop drive into the parking garage when he went out to get coffee. What was the detective going back?

Of course he’d come back, another part of his mind reasoned calmly. There’d been another incident.

Damn it, he’d missed. How could he have missed twice?

His luck, so phenomenal except for the lottery, hadn’t helped him kill Paul Jameson.

The police had nearly caught him. Instead, they’d milled around in the dark, looking for him while he sat in a tree, waiting for them to leave. He hated trees. He was still itching from something which had bitten him, as well as nursing scrapes and bruises from the fall he took getting down.

He had to get to Paul before the police talked to him again. They were digging deeper. Nothing connected him with anything in the past or present. He had no ties to Paul, or Torie.

And yet, they were his main priorities.

Now they both had to die. He’d seen them kiss. He’d seen them together.

She would never turn to him.

Knowing that, he made his plans.

Chapter Eighteen

“I trusted you,” Torie whispered, head between her knees.

“I know,” Paul murmured, crouching down to face her. “And I betrayed that trust. I didn’t mean to, not the first time. I did it deliberately this time, and you can hate me for it, but Tibbet believes that it may be the key to stopping whoever’s stalking you, killing people. If that’s true, then it might keep you safe, and alive. I can’t lose you again, Torie.”

“W-wh-what do you mean?”

A knock sounded, and Martha entered at Paul’s hail.

“Detective Tibbet is getting impatient, sir,” she said. Catching sight of Torie, she shifted from professional to concerned in the blink of an eye. “Good heavens, are you all right, Ms. Hagen?”

“Please,” Torie managed weakly. “After all this, please call me Torie. And no, I’m not okay, but I’ll get through it.”

Martha hurried to the refreshment area to get a bottle of water, pour some in a glass. She glanced at the open bottle, the napkins covered with lipstick, but she didn’t say a word. Handing Torie the glass, she went back and tidied up, pulling bottles out of a cabinet to replenish the stock.

“Drink a bit of water, it’ll help. Would you like something stronger, Torie? You look like you’ve had a shock.”

“No, the water’s fine, thanks,” Torie managed, taking a sip.

“Very well. Mister Jameson?”