she had a long night ahead of her. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding Mary.
The next morning, after only about four hours of sleep, Julianne was at her desk by seven-thirty. She wanted to go over the last of the files she hadn’t gotten to the previous day.
When she heard someone entering the squad room shortly after she arrived, Julianne was surprised. From what she’d been told, the detectives came in at eight-thirty. She’d assumed that she’d have some time to herself before the room filled up with noise.
Her surprise doubled when she looked up and found Frank standing over her desk. Something instantly tightened inside of her. Every nerve ending had inexplicably gone on high alert and she wasn’t completely sure why.
“Can I help you?” she asked, successfully stripping her voice of all emotion and the tension.
He studied her for a moment before asking, “Whose picture were you showing around on McFadden last night, White Bear?”
The question caught her utterly off guard. Stunned, Julianne couldn’t answer him immediately. How had he known where she was last night? Was he following her? That had to be it, but why?
A sudden thrust of anger surged through her. This wasn’t going to work. She wanted out. Her eyes narrowed. “You were spying on me?”
He heard the accusation in her voice, but managed not to rise to the bait. While she was part of his task force, he was accountable for her. He needed to know exactly what he was getting himself into. “I was driving down McFadden when I saw you.”
Julianne pressed her lips together, trying to choose her words carefully. She had a temper, but most of the time managed to bury it. Now it was closer to the surface than usual. She wasn’t sure she believed him, and yet, what sense did it make for him to be spying on her?
For now, she gave him the benefit of the doubt—as long as he could answer her question to her satisfaction. “What were you doing there?”
How had this gotten turned around to be about him? Still, he’d learned that in order to get something, you had to give something. So rather than pull rank, which he was obviously entitled to do, he answered her question.
“I was retracing what I thought might have been the last victim’s steps. What were you doing there?”
He waited to see what kind of an answer she’d give him. It didn’t seem plausible that she would be out, her first night on the case—her first night in Aurora—showing around one of the victim’s photographs to the ladies of the evening on that particular corner of the world.
She hated being accountable to anyone. It had taken her a while before she could trust Captain Randolph and follow instructions. This was not going to be easy. But she owed it to Randolph to try. The man had put his reputation on the line and taken her side during the investigation into her uncle’s death.
“Asking questions,” she replied tersely.
His eyes never left hers. It impressed him that she didn’t flinch or look away. “Isn’t that a little in the overachiever range?”
She shrugged carelessly. “The sooner this case gets solved, the sooner I can go back to Mission Ridge—and get out of your hair.”
“Very noble of you,” he commented. She wasn’t sure she detected a note of sarcasm in his voice. And then he pressed, “So that’s all you were doing? Showing one of the victim’s photographs around?”
She raised her chin, silently daring him to disprove her. “Yes.”
His eyes pinned her. “Which one?”
Julianne blinked, her mind scrambling for a name. She stalled for time. “Excuse me?”
“Which victim?” he asked. “Which victim’s picture were you showing around? Seems like a simple enough question.” The longer she didn’t give him an answer, the less he believed her.
Damn him. She didn’t like being cornered. It took Julianne only half a beat to make a selection. He wouldn’t know the difference. Not unless he’d gotten out of the car and questioned the hookers she’d talked to after she was gone. And even then, he wouldn’t get an answer. Some of them seemed pretty out of it.
“That one.” Julianne pointed to the photograph of a somewhat bedraggled woman whose picture was heading up the third column.
He turned to look, then approached the bulletin board. “That’s Andrea Katz. She was a computer programmer for Dulles and Edwards.” He looked back at Julianne. “Why would you be asking around about her there? Andrea Katz wasn’t found anywhere near that part of town.”
Why was he pushing this? “Okay, so it was the one next to her.”
Again, he turned just to verify what he already knew. He’d gone over and over this board time and again, searching for the one connection he needed. The women’s likenesses were all embossed in his brain.
“Ramona Hernandez. Hooker. Found in a Dumpster behind a diner in the older part of the city,” he recited. “Want to try again?” he asked cheerfully.
It was getting harder and harder to hang on to her temper. “What do you want from me, McIntyre?”
“The truth, White Bear. I’d like the truth. Is that too much to ask?”
He was crowding her space. She was a very, very private person, one who had trouble filling out anything beyond her name on a form, feeling that it was her business, not anyone else’s. But what harm would telling him do, Julianne silently argued with herself. And if it would get him off her back, maybe telling him would be worth it.
“Okay,” she bit off the word. “In my off hours, I thought I’d try to find my cousin, Mary. Mary White Bear. She’s a runaway. Just before I left Mission Ridge, someone told me that they thought they saw her in Aurora.” Again Julianne lifted her chin pugnaciously. He’d agitated her and part of her was almost spoiling for a fight. “Satisfied?”
Questions about the woman before him began materializing in Frank’s head at a prodigious rate. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed into annoyed slits. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?”
Now there they had a difference of opinion. He allowed a smile to curve his mouth. “You could tell me why you thought you had to lie about that and keep it to yourself.”
She hadn’t told Randolph about Mary and she got along with the Captain fairly well. Julianne couldn’t see herself voluntarily sharing something so personal with a stranger. She shrugged carelessly, combing her fingers through her hair and sending it back over her shoulder. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I figured you wouldn’t want me distracted.”
“I don’t,” he agreed firmly. “But what you do in your time away from the job is none of my business.” And then, because there was an aura of danger about this woman he needed to find out more about, he qualified his statement. “Unless you wind up killing someone.”
Julianne looked at him sharply, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Had he looked into her background? Did he know about her uncle?
Frank
