Have You Seen Her?

"Yes," Steven replied. "But all young women must be cautious. The danger is very real."

Je

"Do you have any suspects?" another reporter shouted.

"The investigation is ongoing," Steven replied. "I will say one thing. This vile perpetrator believes he is smart. I believe he's becoming a little too smug. He'll make a mistake and we'll catch him." He looked into the camera. "We will catch him." He turned back to the media. "That's all."

Needing to do something, Je

Ned shook his head. "I'm not hungry. But I could sure use the company."

So Je

Friday, October 7, 5:30 P.M.

Neil found Thatcher standing at the bulletin board, staring at the pictures of the girls. Grudgingly he admitted the man really cared. "I thought you'd be home by now," Neil said.

"I'll leave soon. I was just wondering if our boy has seen the press conference yet."

"And what he'll do when he does?" Neil asked.

Thatcher nodded. "Yeah. I want to push him, but I don't want another 'after' photo."

There wasn't a whole lot to say to that, so Neil left it alone. "Have you arranged for protection for Je

"No need to tonight," he said. "She's staying at the hospital with Casey."

"I know, but what about tomorrow night? Assuming Rudy is Parker, Je

I know? Steven turned, eyes narrowed and pulse hammering. "I've thought of that," he said tightly. "What I want to know is how you know she's staying with Casey tonight."

Davies didn't look away. Smug bastard. "I dropped by the hospital today, just to see how her friend was doing." He lifted a brow. "Professional courtesy."

Steven gritted his teeth. Professional courtesy. Over his dead body. "Did you now?"

Davies nodded. "I did. I was concerned about how she was holding up."

Sonofabitch. Steven recognized the gleam in Davies's eye. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. "So you're not only the soul of discretion but the soul of beneficence as well?"

Quick on the draw, Davies's jaw tightened. "I guess that was an intended slam on my parentage."

Steven shrugged. "Take it how you want. Just don't be paying Je

Davies's eyes narrowed and it occurred to Steven that they stood poised for battle like those mountain goats who butted heads over pack leader rights. "Is that a command?" Davies said softly.

"Take it how you want. Just leave her alone."

"What about tomorrow night? How will you keep her safe?" Davies persisted and Steven thrust his fisted hands in his pockets.

"Don't trouble yourself about Je

Davies's dark eyes flickered in controlled rage, then heturned on his heel and left.

Friday, October 7, 6:10 P.M.

He switched off the television set with a snarl. He'd spent pre cious minutes away from pretty Alev in the barn this afternoon to come home and watch the press conference on television. He d returned, just now, to watch the six o'clock news to see if that diot Thatcher had anything new. Instead, he'd seen that idiot Thatcher try to make himself look smart. He'd known the police would posture, would try to stir him up, to make him angry, but the words still stung.

Smug. Thatcher had called him smug. "It's Thatcher that.'s smug," he muttered. "Arrogant bastard." Prancing around like he actually had a clue. Like he actually had any of this under his control.

He opened his closet door where dozens of faces surrounded by long, dark hair smiled at him:

He focused in on her picture with a scowl. He'd thought she was different. More worthy than the others. Showed even a smart man could be fooled by a competent enough actress. He slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and fingered the sil-ver Jaguar he'd carried since Tuesday night. Since he'd sat in the parking lot in front of her apartment and watched through her window as she kissed Thatcher like the slut he now knew her to be. He'd been so angry… One minute the hood ornament was on her car and the next, it was in his hand.

He twisted the warm metal in his fingers, wondering how it would feel when it was her warm skin between his fingers. When he held her hair in his hands. And he wondered just how smug Thatcher would be when he himself got the final prize.

Chapter Twenty-three

Saturday, October 8, 12:55 P.M.

"Nicky, come away from the window," Helen said. "She'll be here when she gets here."

Nicky looked back with his little boy frown. "She's late."

Matt ruffled Nicky's red hair. "She is not late. She said she'd be here at one. It's five till."

Nicky looked at Helen plaintively. "But she'll be here, right, Aunt Helen?"

She'd better be, Helen thought grimly. "She'll be here, honey. Go get Cindy Lou ready."

"Okay." Nicky raced to get Cindy Lou and Helen walked over to the window to take his place.

"She'll be here, Aunt Helen," Matt said, digging into a bag of chips. He pointed to the street. "See, here she is. Punctual to the minute."

Helen felt the slightest bit guilty for not believing Je

Je

Je

"Told you she'd come," Matt muttered as he walked by, giving Helen a meaningful look. Helen glared back at Matt and Je

"Nicky's had his nose pressed against the glass for the last two hours."

Je

"We were sorry to hear about Miss Ryan," Helen said.

"Yeah, will she be all right?" Matt asked.

Je

"Well, that's good news." Helen brought out a Nicky-sized jacket. "Nicky! Je

With a yell, Nicky came racing through the kitchen, dragging poor Cindy Lou on a leash, stopping just short of Je

Je