her, and she’d laugh in that rich, throaty way that always went straight to his heart.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Her voice held no hint of emotion, but he noticed her fingers grip the strap on her leather bag.
Her gaze swept his office, more out of politeness than curiosity, he would guess. “Nora told me you were doing very well.” She smiled. “I’m glad for you, Michael.” Her eyes held his. “And you’re looking well.”
The proper boarding schools had taught her to be gracious under pressure. He wondered if she really gave a damn how he was doing, business or otherwise. But he let the comment drop. “And so are you.” He swallowed. “How is Nora?”
The smile she gave him warmed her eyes. “Nora’s fine, thank you. She left this morning for Denver to visit her sister for several weeks.” Brianna hesitated, and he couldn’t quite believe that his wife—his ex-wife—was really sitting in front of him.
Hell, they were chatting away as though nothing had happened seven years ago. But his palms were damp and his throat felt as if he’d swallowed a basketball.
“I’ve been back in the city for two years, Brianna. I hardly think you just happened to find yourself in my neighborhood.”
“Of course.” She fixed those moss-green eyes on him, and he could see reluctance and something else.
“You’re right. I’ll get to the point.” She slipped her handbag strap from her arm and withdrew a large envelope from inside the bag. “I’m a psychologist now, with an office here in the city.”
Over the years, he’d kept track of almost everything about her through her aunt. Nora mentioned that Brianna had finished her doctorate, opened her office and became engaged to a London plastic surgeon. Nora also told him when Brianna’s engagement had been broken, and he cursed himself for the relief that news had given him.
“Most of my clients are women and teenagers from the city family-violence shelter.”
He noticed her hands tremble as she slid the envelope across the desktop toward him. He leaned forward, curious what would bring her to see him.
“Over the past two weeks, I’ve received four anonymous envelopes, each containing one picture.” As she spoke, Mike lifted the flap and pulled out three black-and-white photographs, all eight-by-ten glossies, and laid them across the front of his desk. “There’re only three here.”
“I left the last one with Lieutenant Jeffries at the local precinct on my way here. It was slipped under my door early this morning.” She averted her gaze from the photographs, as though not wanting to face the evidence.
“Did Jeffries say he was running it for prints?”
“Yes, although I doubt if the lab will find any. The other photos were clean, too.”
Mike nodded, then studied the pictures. Each one focused on Brianna in full close-up. The first picture showed her in a parking garage as she slid behind the wheel of a Jeep Wrangler hardtop. “Your car?” he asked.
She nodded. “I rent a parking space at a garage across from my office building.”
Anyone could have easy access to her car, especially using a zoom lens, and not be seen, Mike thought. The second photo was taken in a crowded restaurant. Brianna was in the center of a circle of women, laughing. On the table, a basket of brightly wrapped gifts hung from the beak of a tall, smiling stork.
“A colleague’s baby shower,” she said. “That was taken two days before the photo arrived.”
Mike’s gaze lingered on the next photo: Brianna, drinking wine with a good-looking, dark-haired, bearded guy at a cocktail bar. “Your boyfriend?” He hoped the question sounded motivated by professional rather than personal curiosity.
She shook her head. “No. He’s Larry Cunningham, a colleague.”
“A psychologist?”
She nodded. “Yes, we share an office suite.”
Are you sleeping with him? She looked as if she was ready to bolt from the room, so he didn’t ask, but he’d have to know sooner or later.
He put the photograph alongside the others. “The picture Jeffries still has—where was it taken?”
“I’m at the outdoor market near my apartment.” She shrugged. “I’m sniffing a cantaloupe.” She almost laughed. “Honestly, Michael, I can’t see any connection between these pictures, unless he’s trying to show me that he knows my schedule.”
“Ever consider that the stalker might be a woman?”
Her eyes widened, then her lips pressed in thought. “Possible, but I think unlikely.”
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs to the side of his desk. “Why? Do you think you know who’s behind this?”
Her mouth tightened. “My first thought is Billie Ray Bennett. He’s an ex-con with a history of violence against women. He’s angry at me because I helped his girlfriend, my client, finally leave him. She’s living in another state, safely away from him, Thank God.”
“And Bennett believes you’re the reason his girlfriend left him?”
“Exactly.” She waved her hand. “Classic denial. It’s easier for batterers to believe the problem is with those who help their victims escape than to accept responsibility for their own abusive behavior.”
Mike pulled a compact computer from his pocket and tapped at the keyboard. “Okay, Bennett is a start. Anyone else?”
She took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair. “I—I really don’t know.”
The crack in her confident shell tore a hole deep inside him. He wanted to gather her up, hold her close the way he did all those years ago when she’d awoken in his arms during a lightning storm, terrified and shaking.
But he wasn’t her husband anymore. He wasn’t the man she chose to keep her safe at night. She needed his professionalism, like any other client. A professional arrangement.
“Do you feel up to filling out some forms?” He was glad his voice sounded neutral.
“Forms?”
“The usual questionnaire. Address, phone number. That sort of thing.” He shrugged. “It can wait till later if you’d—”
“Then you’ll take my case?” The surprise in her voice was genuine.
He took a deep breath. “I can suggest one of the other TALON-6 partners if you’d rather not work with me.”
“I-I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Then why did you come?” Damn, he hated the sarcasm in his voice.
“If you want the truth…” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. “Nora refused to leave New York if I didn’t make an appointment with you.” Her mouth quirked. “I was afraid she might be in danger. You know how
