A chill ran down Trey's spine. "Holy Christ."
She nodded and brushed moisture from her eyes. "The guy she left with that night had to have been the one who did it. I thought... I know it's crazy, but I thought maybe he'd come back here. To the bar."
His heart lurched to a stop. "You're not serious. Is that who you're looking for?"
She nodded. "I saw him that night. I got a really good look at him because he was flirting with me a bit, too. I'll know him if I see him."
"What the hell do you think you're going to do if you see him? Jesus, Marli."
"I don't know. Call the police." Then she made a rude noise. "They aren't doing anything about it."
"That's crazy. I'm sure they're investigating it."
"You said you're an FBI agent." She looked up at him. "That's why I thought maybe you could help somehow."
He made a noise that was almost a growl. "When did this happen?"
"Two weeks ago." She dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet, found a small photograph and handed it to him.
Trey gazed down at the image of a very pretty woman. The candid photograph captured her quiet reserve. His eyes narrowed as he took in her heart-shaped face and long, platinum blonde hair.
"This is Krista," Marli said, her voice thick. "She was my best friend."
"She was blonde," he murmured.
Marli nodded. "Yeah. I was always jealous of her perfect straight hair."
He looked up at her. He loved Marli's hair, the way it bounced and gleamed with fiery highlights. His gut clenched hard. "You're blonde, too."
She blinked at him.
"What do you know about the case? What have the cops told you?" he asked, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting.
"Not much. I heard more on the news than I heard from them. They interviewed me a million times, until I barely remembered my own name. But they sure didn't tell me much."
"They have a suspect?"
"Oh, yeah. It was all over the news." She gulped. "Apparently some serial killer. He's been traveling across the country raping and killing women."
Trey froze. His skin went iceberg cold. Son of a bitch.
Time stood still as he processed what was going on here. It was un-fucking-believable. The room shifted out of focus, then back in.
Marli shuddered and swallowed hard. "That bastard. I can't believe... Oh, shit." The tears started again and she furiously wiped them away with her fingers. "Damn it."
"It's okay." He set the photograph carefully on the bar. He brushed her tears away gently with his fingertips. "It's okay."
Why the hell hadn't he heard about this? Jesus Christ. Sheldon Barnes had killed again, and where had he been? Wallowing in self-pity. He hadn't been watching the news at all lately, and no one from the Bureau had bothered to pick up the phone and tell him. Shit. Guilt struck him like hammer blows.
"Not only is it hard because she died, and how she died...but I've been a basket case ever since." She drew in a long breath. "The cops told me not to worry, said if it is this guy, he doesn't usually stick around. He takes off for somewhere else."
"That's true," he murmured.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "What do you mean, 'that's true'?"
His lips twisted and he ran his tongue over his teeth. He needed to think.
Now he understood the shadows he'd seen in Marli's beautiful eyes. She was nuts, of course, even to think of trying to find Sheldon Barnes, although he couldn't help but admire her courage. After everything she'd been through, it was a wonder she wasn't cowering in her house twenty-four-seven. He didn't know whether to be impressed or pissed. This was one gutsy woman.
But, overwhelming guilt poured through him. That motherfucker had gone on to kill again, and he'd killed this sweet woman's best friend. The agony in her eyes was like a jagged blade sawing at his insides.
"Trey?"
"Mmm?"
"You know about this guy, don't you?"
His heart beat once, twice, three times. "Yes."
She waited patiently. Something was going on and she wasn't sure what.
"I've been working on the Sheldon Barnes case....I mean, I was working on the Sheldon Barnes case. Since he murdered Kathy Richards in San Diego about seven months ago."
She continued to gaze wordlessly at him. Dear God, he knew all about the serial killer, then. His eyes met hers, then looked away.
"I...was having some personal problems," he continued, his voice low and raspy. "And I screwed up big time. I got suspended from my job."
"Oh."
Emotions played across his face--disgust, anger, frustration. "I also... was in the hospital for a while. Then I had physical therapy. And they made me go for some counseling." He shook his head. "My suspension was up a couple of weeks ago, but I took another month's leave of absence. My plan was, like I said, to drive up to San Francisco, see my buddy Kent. We trained together at Quantico."
She put her hand to her mouth, her heart constricting. What on earth had he done that was bad enough to get him suspended? It was obviously corroding his insides like powerful acid.
"So I was taken off the case, obviously." Bitterness edged his voice. "But I know that guy." He stared across the room, past people laughing and talking and dancing, his eyes so intense she shivered. "I've studied him, talked to his family. I know that bastard better than anyone does. But I didn't know he'd killed again."
He looked back down at her. "I'm so, so sorry, Marli."
"What are you sorry for?" The corners of her eyes tightened as she looked at him and her insides squeezed at how disturbed he seemed to be by what had happened to him, and how he clearly didn't want to admit it.
He shook his head. "Marli." His voice was suddenly urgent and he settled his hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him so he could look into her eyes. Her body tensed. "Sheldon Barnes doesn't stick around after he kills someone. He's done this before and always takes off. Travels across the country. It's not likely he's still around here. And if he is, you can't be looking for him. He's a psychopath. He's dangerous."
"But--"
"Marli, you asked for my help. And here's my advice--let the police do their investigation."
She hated controlling, domineering men. At that moment, however, her body a quivery mass of stressed-out, stretched-thin nerves, she wanted to listen to this man, lean on him and let him tell her to forget about trying to find a murderer.
She was terrified. Terrified for what Krista must have endured the last moments of her life. Terrified for herself. Afraid of life without her best friend. Afraid of finding the guy and what she would do then. More afraid of not finding him.
"You don't understand," she whispered. She looked up at him, his sexy, gorgeous dark face full of concern, wavering in the tears that filled her eyes.
"What don't I understand?"
"I have to find him. I just have to."
He stared at her, their eyes connecting in a way she'd never experienced, like a link between them joined them, drawing them closer.
"We'll...they'll find him," he assured her urgently. "You have to believe it. But you can't do it yourself. You just can't."
"Fine." Disappointment weighed her down, her body heavy as she slid off the stool and reached for her purse. "Thanks for nothing."
He didn't even try to persuade her to stay. She looked at him for about three heartbeats, then leaned over and brushed her mouth over his.
"'Bye, Trey."
A sound downstairs caught her attention. Marli could barely hear over the noise of the water filling the tub in her bathroom. It was probably nothing. Just her stupid nerves acting up again.
But again she heard it, a grinding, grating noise coming from the lower level. Her heart stuttered to a stop, then started pounding painfully hard in her chest. She turned off the water and listened again for it. Her breath stuck in her lungs and she started slowly out of the bathroom toward the stairs, dressed in only her panties and a T-shirt. She heard it again.
"Jesus, no, no," she whimpered to herself, frozen in place at the top of the stairs, holding the chrome banister. Her fingers clenched it as her eyes darted around. Call the police, call the police, her inner voice chanted, but she was so paralyzed with fear she couldn't even remember where her phone was.
The noise stopped. She could hardly hear over the banging of her heart as she waited. A car engine roared outside, tires squealed, and then there was a pounding at her door. She jumped again, eyes in danger of popping out her sockets.
"Marli!" The voice outside called to her, but it was familiar. It was her next door neighbor, Jeff.
Her legs shook as she stumbled dangerously down the stairs and over to her front door. She pulled open the narrow blinds on the sidelight and peered out. Jeff stood there, his brows knit together, his mouth turned down. He pounded again.
"Jeff! What is it? What are you doing?"
He saw her face in the window. "Are you okay? Jesus, Marli, some guy was trying to break in your front door!"
Chapter 4
Marli leaned her forehead against the cold glass and gulped. Her whole body was a quivering mass of jumping nerves. With trembling hands, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to let Jeff in.
He grabbed her upper arms. "Are you okay?" he demanded.
She nodded mutely, not sure if she could speak. Her knees so weak she thought she might fall, she turned out of Jeff's grasp and staggered into her living room, then collapsed on the edge of her couch.
Jeff followed her, after forcefully shutting and locking the door behind him.
"You've got to call the cops." He went into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless handset from the base, then handed it to her.
She took the phone, but did nothing. She didn't even look at Jeff, but closed her eyes.
"Marli. Call the police."
She looked at the phone and, with a curse, Jeff snatched it from her limp hand and dialed 911. She vaguely heard him report the attempted breakin through a fog of confused fear.
"Shit," he said with disgust as he hung up. "They won't come until tomorrow. You're safe, the guy's gone, it's not an emergency. Jesus."
Marli shakily pushed her hair back from her face, aware she was wearing a T-shirt and panties. Not that Jeff would notice. He was completely, openly gay. But he was a great friend and neighbor.
"Did you hear him?" she asked, finally finding her voice. "How did you..."
"I was just getting home," he said. "I guess he didn't notice me. I saw him at your door. I could tell he was trying to break in, so I yelled at him and ran over here. He took off."
"Thank you, Jeff," she said in a choked voice. "Oh, my God."
"Who was it? Any idea?"
Trey's image flashed into her head. He could have followed her home from the bar. Sure, he'd said he was a cop, but how did she know that for sure?
No. It didn't feel right. He'd been so sweetly understanding, backing off when she wanted him to, his aura of safekeeping wrapping around her.
But who else? Was it just a coincidence? A murderer was out there on the loose. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I have no idea, but I've never been so terrified. I'm a basket case as it is, then this happens." She looked up at Jeff, still standing there with the phone in his hands, looking concerned and anxious.
"You want me to stay here tonight?"
She considered that. She hated to seem weak and helpless, but damn, she was scared. "Yes," she whispered. "Would you mind?"
"Of course not. I'll sleep on your couch."
"Thank you. Do... Would you like some coffee or something?"
"Yeah. Sure."
He stayed with her while she made some tea for them, both of them knowing sleep was going to be impossible.
"Tomorrow I'm going to get an alarm system installed," she told him. "I've been so nervous ever since..."
He nodded. "That's a great idea. A single woman living alone should have an alarm system. You should've done that when you moved in here."
"Yeah. I should have." Shehated feeling like this. She was a strong, independent, fun-loving woman reduced to a teeth-chattering, stuttering child.
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