men attending the Northland Survivor Group together? And what other information might she have?
His need to know what she knew was the only reason he invited her inside. Watching her podcast the few times he had, he’d recognized she was tenacious and ambitious...two dangerous traits when it came to her digging into the Vigilante Killer case.
He guessed the killer was one of two men, but he needed to know what Monica knew about the case, because if the truth came out he’d be charged as an accomplice.
Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, he told himself as he ushered her into his family room. “Drink?” he asked as she eased down onto his sofa and he walked over to his minibar in the corner of the room. Maybe he could get her relaxed enough she would give up all the information she’d already gleaned about the case.
She gazed at him with a sudden wariness in the depths of her amazing blue eyes. “I just want you to know that my producer and my cameraman are in a car just up the street. Warren and Wally always have my back and they know I’m here. And with that said, I’d love a cold glass of water.”
What did she think? That he’d invited her inside to kill her? He had no idea if she really had a Warren and Wally just waiting to run to her rescue, but he certainly had no intention of harming her in any way.
He handed her a glass of ice water and then carried his Scotch and water to the recliner chair opposite her. “Let’s get one thing straight right now—I’m not going to be on your podcast,” he began. “But I’ll tell you off the record how I felt when I learned that Max Clinton was murdered by the Vigilante Killer.”
“Do you mind if I record this?” She pulled a cell phone out of her oversize bright red purse.
“Actually, I do mind,” he replied. He didn’t want anything about this on tape. “I told you this was off the record. Besides, I’m not sure you need a recording for what I’m going to tell you. When I heard that Max Clinton had been murdered I felt nothing except for a bit of relief that he would never harm another woman again.”
“Yes, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she replied.
He nodded and for just a moment his thoughts were filled with Suzanna. They had always seemed to know what the other was thinking or about to say. “It’s a twin thing,” they’d say to their friends. He’d felt gutted since her death, as if half his soul had been stolen and would never be returned.
“And where were you on the night that Max was murdered?” Her question made the here and now slam back into him.
But, God, she was attractive. Today she was clad in a pair of black jeans that hugged her legs and a red tank top that matched her red heels and hinted at a bit of cleavage.
How many men had lost themselves in the depths of her blue eyes or in the utter charm of her smile and spilled their guts? She smelled of something citrusy with mysterious spices that were incredibly evocative.
“Where were you when Max was murdered?” she asked again.
He mentally shook himself and focused on the question, not on how sexy he found her. “I was at Doug’s Tavern in a meeting with the mayor, half a dozen city councilmen and some local architects. We were discussing the renovation and renewal project going on downtown. Then I came back here and slept.”
“Alone?”
He gave a curt nod. “Yes, I was alone.” He knew Max’s time of death was sometime between midnight and two in the morning. And that meant he had no real alibi for the time of the murder. He’d been questioned briefly by the police the day after the murder, but he hadn’t heard anything more from the authorities.
“And how did you learn about Max’s murder?”
“I read it in the newspaper like most of the people in Kansas City.”
“Would you like to tell me something about your sister?” Her features radiated a soft sympathy.
Oh, he’d love to talk about his sister...about the loving, wonderfully magical woman she had been. But it would cheapen Suzanna to talk about her to this stranger who was only looking for her next scoop.
“No,” he answered simply. “Why are you here talking to me?”
“When Max Clinton was murdered, and a V was carved in his forehead, I knew he was a fourth victim of this particular killer. The police tried to keep the V out of the new reports from the very beginning, but somebody leaked it to the press.”
He looked at her in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“I have a friend on the police force,” she replied.
“You mean you have a snitch.”
“Friend...snitch...whatever you want to call him, he occasionally gives me a little inside information that keeps me up to date with what’s going on with the crime in Kansas City. I also heard there’s going to be a news conference tomorrow and the police are going to ask the community for their help in catching this person.”
Interesting. Jake would definitely like to know what was going on in the investigation into the Vigilante Killer, and Monica Wright just might make an interesting partner of sorts.
“You still haven’t told me what, specifically, you want from me?” he said.
“Initially I thought you would make a good human interest story for my podcast, but then I got a tip about you and the three other men attending the Northland Survivor Group.”
“Who was your source for that?” he asked.
She smiled and her eyes gleamed with both intelligence and wit. “I don’t give up the name of my sources. So do you know Nick Simon, Troy Anderson and Matt Harrison?”
“I do. You’re right, we all attended meetings there around the same time, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“So it’s just an odd coincidence that the killer has gone after the men who ruined all your lives?” She shook her head and once again her eyes shone with keen intelligence. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in those kinds of coincidences. The killer seems to have a connection to the survivor group, and that means you might know him.” She leaned forward. “If you know something about the killer, then please tell me.”
“Why should I tell you anything?” he countered. “I don’t even know you. You’re just somebody who showed up unannounced on my doorstep.”
“So why did you invite me?” she countered.
“Because you caught my interest when you mentioned the survivor group and the other men.”
“Have you ever seen my podcast?”
He took another sip of his drink before replying. “I’ve caught it a couple of times.”
“Then you should know I’m good at what I do. I dig into investigations and there’s nobody in this city who wants to identify this killer more than me. I want this... I need this to prove to everyone that I’m here to stay, that what I do with my podcast is a real job.” Her cheeks flushed pink, as if she hadn’t meant to say so much. She leaned back.
