were certainly not major. The first three abductions had taken place in large cities. But if he had found it easy enough to seize women off busy streets, would he grow bolder and seek out quieter locations?
He drummed his fingers on the desk. Thus far, the local populace had not felt the first whiff of panic. But thus far, the girls reported as “missing” had not been what the locals would consider “good” girls. Not that the people here were cold or uncaring; it was quite the opposite. But since the victims had been known to work the streets and to have fallen into the world of drugs, the average man and woman here did not worry.
It was sad, indeed, tragic. Hearts bled. But women who fell into the ways of sin and addiction left themselves open to such tragedy.
But MacNiall didn’t feel that way. There was a killer on the loose. And no matter what the state of his victim’s lives, he had to be stopped.
And he had the power to stop him? MacNiall mocked himself.
He had come home—as far as Edinburgh, at least—when Robert called and told him that there had been no leads on the case and he was just about at wits’ end. Then, just two days after arriving in Edinburgh, Robert had told him of a new missing persons report.
The strange thing was, he’d felt an urge to return even before he’d gotten the phone call. Actually, he’d wanted to ignore the haunting sense that he’d needed to be here. But after speaking to Robert, he’d taken the first flight out of New York.
So here he was. Yet, really, why? There were fine men on the case, and he wasn’t an official anymore.
But they needed … something. Hell, they needed to realize what they were up against.
Bruce was afraid that all available manpower would not be put on the case until the killer upped his anger or his psychosis, or until the “wrong” victim was killed.
By then, God alone knew what the body count could be.
He pressed his fingers against his temples, remembering the other reason he was actually anxious to have the group gone—his dream. How could he explain having such a strange dream?
Then again, maybe it wasn’t so strange. After all, he had found the first body. That vision would never leave his mind.
And now maybe it was natural to meet a woman, find her irritating beyond measure and then sexy as all hell…. And then fear for her.
Annoyed with himself, he snapped the drawer shut and rose to join his uninvited guests in the kitchen.
The setting was a wonder to behold. Toni was certain that Bruce MacNiall thought as much, because he paused in the doorway. And for once, he certainly wasn’t angry. He gave that slight arch to his brow and curl to his lip that demonstrated amusement, then he wandered in and took the seat left for him at the head of the table.
Everyone was there, seated and looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I’d kept the rest of you waiting,” he said pleasantly, taking the napkin that had been arranged into an elegant bird shape from his plate.
“Almost hate to use this,” Bruce said, looking around the table.
“Please, they’re nothing to fold,” Kevin said. “I’ve worked in a number of restaurants. That’s the fate of most theater majors. Actually, though, I’m a set designer.”
“So Ryan told me,” Bruce said.
“We each have special and unique talents,” Gina said.
“I’ve heard a few,” Bruce said.
“That’s right, you were out riding with our Ryan,” Thayer said, clapping his hand on Ryan’s back. “He’s our master of horse and arms! There’s not an animal out there our boy can’t ride.”
“Yes, Ryan is quite skilled,” Bruce agreed.
David lifted a hand. “Costumes,” he said.
“Yes, and he juggles,” Kevin said. “He’s really a fantastic actor, as well, but we are the technical whizzes.”
“And they’re both so humble and modest,” Toni said sweetly.
“Sorry, modesty never gets us the job,” Kevin reminded her.
“Touché,” she agreed.
“And you? What were you doing in Glasgow?” Bruce asked Thayer.
“Piano bar,” Thayer said ruefully.
“I’m marketing and promotions, and whatever else is needed,” Gina said. “The jill-of-all-theatrical-trades, but my major was actually on the business side.”
“Ah.” Bruce stared at Toni then, waiting.
“Writer,” Toni said, certain that he thought her one hell of a storyteller all right.
“Now you see,” Kevin said. “Her imagination is legendary.”
“So it seems,” Bruce mused, staring at her.
“Our Toni is far too modest. She wrote a one-woman show on Varina Davis—she was the one and only first lady of the Confederacy—and spent six months performing it for sold-out audiences in Washington, D.C.,
and then Richmond. She writes, acts, directs, sews and is a regular vixen with a paintbrush. Naturally, we do whatever is needed.”
“Like scrubbing floors,” David said.
“And cleaning latrines,” Thayer added.
“Sewing, wiring, flats, paints … we’ve done it all,” Toni told him.
“And what part of the States are you from?” MacNiall asked them, looking around at the group again.
“I’m from Iowa, originally,” Gina said. “Toni’s from the D.C. area, David’s a native New Yorker, Ryan is from Kentucky and Kevin’s from Philadelphia.”
“We went to college together,” Toni murmured.
“NYU,” David offered.
“Most of us went to college together. Toni, Ryan, David and I went to college together,” Gina corrected softly. “Then, when Ryan got his job with the Magician’s Castle, I moved to Baltimore. Toni moved nearer to D.C., but we stayed close. When she wanted to mount her Queen Varina show, I spent time down there to help her, David did her costume and set. We met Kevin about that time, almost two years ago, and then we finally met Thayer and dragged him in on the scheme the last time we were in Scotland.”
“And that was …?”
“Just about six months ago, right?” Ryan said, looking for agreement from the others. “We were at a castle owned by the Menzies family. Clan members had bought it, done some renovations and then opened it for tours.”
“Ah,” MacNiall murmured, still watching them. Toni wondered what he was thinking. He looked at Thayer. “You were in Glasgow and you just
