it’ll become clear when we talk to your fiancé. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“It seems that I’m the last person Robert wanted to confide in…” Hugging herself, she stared out the window. “His note said he was leaving town for a while. I guess he just needed to get away. From me…”
“From you? Or from someone else?”
She shook her head. “There’s so much I don’t know. So much he never bothered to tell me. God, I wish I understood. I could handle this. I could handle anything. If only I understood.”
What kind of man is Robert Bledsoe? Sam wondered. What kind of man would walk away from this woman? Leave her alone to face the danger left in his wake?
“Whoever made that hang-up call may pay a visit to your house,” he said. “I’d like to keep an eye on it. See who turns up.”
She nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“May I have access?”
“You mean…get inside?”
“If our suspect shows up, he may try to break in. I’d like to be waiting for him.”
She stared at him. “You could get yourself killed.”
“Believe me, Miss Cormier, I’m not the heroic type. I don’t take chances.”
“But if he does show up—”
“I’ll be ready.” He flashed her a quick grin for reassurance. She didn’t look reassured. If anything, she looked more frightened than ever.
For me? he wondered. And that, inexplicably, lifted his spirits. Terrific. Next thing he knew, he’d be putting his neck in a noose, and all because of a pair of big brown eyes. This was just the kind of situation cops were warned to avoid: assuming the role of hero to some fetching female. It got men killed.
It could get him killed.
“You shouldn’t do this by yourself,” she said.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have backup.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You promise? You won’t take any chances?”
“What are you, my mother?” he snapped in exasperation.
She took her keys out of her purse and slapped them on the dashboard. “No, I’m not your mother,” she retorted. “But you’re the cop in charge. And I need you alive and well to crack this case.”
He deserved that. She’d been concerned about his safety, and he’d responded with sarcasm. He didn’t even know why. All he knew was, whenever he looked in her eyes, he had the overwhelming urge to turn tail and run. Before he was trapped.
Moments later, they drove past the wrought iron gates of her father’s driveway. Nina didn’t even wait for Sam to open her door. She got out of the car and started up the stone steps. Sam followed, carrying her suitcase. And ogling the house. It was huge—even more impressive than Lydia Warrenton’s home, and it had the Rolls-Royce of security systems. Tonight, at least, Nina should be safe.
The doorbell chimed like a church bell; he could hear it echoing through what must be dozens of rooms. The door was opened by a blonde—and what a blonde! Not much older than thirty, she was wearing a shiny spandex leotard that hugged every taut curve. A healthy sweat sheened her face, and from some other room came the thumpy music of an exercise video.
“Hello, Daniella,” Nina said quietly.
Daniella assumed a look of sympathy that struck Sam as too automatic to be genuine. “Oh Nina, I’m so sorry about what happened today! Wendy called and told us about the church. Was anyone hurt?”
“No. No, thank God.” Nina paused, as though afraid to ask the next question. “Do you think I could spend the night with you?”
The expression of sympathy faded. Daniella looked askance at the suitcase Sam was carrying. “I, uh…let me talk to your Dad. He’s in the hot tub right now and—”
“Nina has no choice. She has to stay the night,” said Sam. He stepped past Daniella, into the house. “It’s not safe for her to be alone.”
Daniella’s gaze shifted to Sam, and he saw the vague spark of interest in those flat blue eyes. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” she said.
“This is Detective Navarro,” said Nina. “He’s with the Portland Bomb Squad. And this,” she said to Sam, “is Daniella Cormier. My, uh…father’s wife.”
Stepmother was the appropriate term, but this stunning blonde didn’t look like anybody’s mother. And the look she was giving him was anything but maternal.
Daniella tilted her head, a gesture he recognized as both inquisitive and flirtatious. “So, you’re a cop?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bomb Squad? Is that really what you think happened at the church? A bomb?”
“I’m not free to talk about it,” he said. “Not while the investigation’s underway.” Smoothly he turned to Nina. “If you’re okay for the night, I’ll be leaving. Be sure to close those driveway gates. And activate the burglar alarm. I’ll check back with you in the morning.”
As he gave a nod of goodbye, his gaze locked with Nina’s. It was only the briefest of looks, but once again he was taken by surprise at his instinctive response to this woman. It was an attraction so powerful he felt himself at once struggling to pull away.
He did. With a curt good-night, he walked out the front door.
Outside, in the darkness, he stood for a moment surveying the house. It seemed secure enough. With two other people inside, Nina should be safe. Still, he wondered whether those particular two people would be of much help in a crisis. A father soaking in a hot tub and a spandex-and-hormones stepmother didn’t exactly inspire feelings of confidence. Nina, at least, was an intelligent woman; he knew she would be alert for signs of danger.
He drove back to Robert Bledsoe’s house on Ocean View Drive and left the car on a side street around the corner.
With Nina’s keys, he let himself in the front door and called Gillis to arrange for a surveillance team to patrol the area. Then he closed all the curtains and settled down to wait. It was nine o’clock.
At nine-thirty, he was already restless. He paced the living room, then roamed the kitchen, the dining room, the hallway. Any stalker watching the house would expect lights to go on and off in different rooms, at different times. Maybe their man was just waiting for the residents to go to bed.
Sam turned off the living room lights and went into the bedroom.
Nina had left the top dresser drawer hanging open. Sam, pacing the carpet, kept walking back and forth past that open drawer with its tempting glimpse of lingerie. Something black and silky lay on top, and one corner trailed
