stop him.
Abbie slipped the book back into the drawer, her mind turning back to that warm August night before she’d returned to college to start her sophomore year. How far Jace had come since then. How far they’d both come.
She’d tried not to think about that night after she’d gone back to school. It had hurt and shamed her too much to dwell on what she’d done.
She’d never regretted making love with him; that part had been wonderful, because after the quick flash of pain, she’d been awash with such feelings of tenderness and completion, she’d wanted to stay in his arms forever. But it wasn’t to be.
The room blurred as tears filled her eyes and suddenly Abbie saw her father step through the patio door to see why the pool lights were on. “Abbie? Abbie! Are you out here?”
Oh, yes…she’d been there. Forty short yards away in the gazebo, she’d pressed a horrified finger to Jace’s lips and prayed that, without an answer, her dad would go back inside and they’d have a chance to dress. Then her father started up the knoll toward them, and she’d had to beg him not to come any closer.
Her dad’s disillusionment when they finally appeared turned to rage when he saw she’d been with Jillie Rae Rogan’s bastard son. Especially since weeks before, he’d seen them talking at the fair and warned Abbie to stay away from him. When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.
“You knew I’d be home by eleven,” Abbie heard her father thunder again, speaking as if Jace wasn’t there. “You wanted me to see this! Dammit, Abbie, you deliberately dragged that kid back here to rub my nose in it!”
The betrayal in Jace’s eyes nearly destroyed her. “Jace, he’s wrong!” she’d cried. “I swear it!”
“Am I?” her father raved on. “You’ve been rebellious all summer. Well, fine. From now on you make your own choices and to hell with what I think. But if you ever see him again, you’ll never get another dime from me for your education. You want to go back to college? You want to go to law school? It’s your choice. Just remember that his mother was a whore and he’ll never be anything better!” Then, swiping a dismissing hand in the air, he’d stalked back to the house. A moment later, Jace was gone, too.
Abbie lolled her head back in the violet chair, tears running from the corners of her eyes, feeling as spent tonight as she’d felt fourteen years ago. He’d never let her explain. Not then, not when she’d phoned him and not when she’d tried to see him at work. Now, when she considered her father’s financial blackballing, it was easy to see why he’d acted the way he had tonight.
Abbie touched her lips. She could still feel the tender pressure of his mouth…still feel the rise in her stomach, still feel the strength of his arms after that champagne bottle smashed. He’d been her friend, her lover. And she’d hurt him terribly.
Her cell phone rang. Slowly, Abbie left the chair to remove it from the charger on her dresser. After wiping her eyes and clearing her throat, she checked the caller ID window. And for the second time that night, fear rippled through her. Unfolding the phone, she spoke quickly.
“Stuart, what’s happened?” She’d already spoken to him today, and a second call—especially this late—was unusual.
The elderly senior partner of her law firm replied in a kind, soothing voice. “First, calm down. What I have to say is nothing for you to be concerned about.”
But it had been important enough for him to contact her well after ten o’clock, and that made her question his statement. Abbie drew a breath, then swallowed. “Okay, I’m calm. Tell me.”
“They had to release him, Abbie. They couldn’t hold him any longer. Detectives Powell and Rush searched his apartment from top to bottom and found nothing to link him to the shooting or the greeting card you received.”
Abbie’s heart raced. She’d been dreading this, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t expected it. “I guess that means they didn’t find Maryanne Richards’s gold cross and chain, either.”
“No.”
“Is he still under surveillance?” Since the trial had ended, Powell and Rush, the officers who’d originally arrested him, had blatantly dogged Danny Long’s steps, hoping he’d do something to justify locking him up again. They’d yanked him in for lineups on every peeping, rape and homicide case in the past four weeks. And Danny had smiled sweetly through all of it.
“Yes, he’s still being watched. I understand that at the moment, he’s tucked away in his apartment.” A hint of discomfort entered his tone. “Unfortunately, Mr. Long’s new attorney has threatened the city with a harassment suit if Powell and Rush don’t back off, so your friends in the department will be watching him from a distance now.”
When she didn’t reply, Stuart seemed to read her mind. “Abbie, you’re safe where you are, and getting him off the street has become a priority with many officers who respect what you—” he halted abruptly, then finished cautiously “—what you might have done.”
Abbie sighed, guilt joining her anxiety. Stuart knew she’d done it, but he’d never asked because he also knew she wouldn’t lie to him. To admit her sin, and have him do nothing would put him in a grave position with the bar. “Please thank them for me,” she murmured.
“I already have—for both of us. I want that sick animal behind bars as badly as you do.”
Abbie doubted that. Stuart was the dearest, most supportive man she’d ever known. But he wasn’t being stalked by a disturbed twenty-three-year-old in a red baseball cap who’d raped and murdered, and he hadn’t been the target of sniper fire. She had—two nights ago, outside her apartment, on the same day she’d received the pretty musical greeting card with the cheery—and chilling—sentiment. Can’t wait to see you again.
They weren’t the exact words her client had used as he left the courtroom a free man, but they were close enough to stop her heart. Danny’s blond hair, glassy blue gaze and saccharine smile coalesced in Abbie’s mind, and gooseflesh prickled over every square inch of her.
Stuart’s voice gentled. “Have you heard from Collin?”
She nearly laughed. “Stuart, he didn’t have time for me when we were married. Why would he contact me now?”
“Simple courtesy?” he returned, obviously annoyed. “He lives and works here in the city, so he’s aware you’ve had trouble.”
“Believe me,” she said truthfully, “I’m not losing sleep over Collin’s lack of courtesy.” Tires crunched in the circular driveway below. Moving to her bedroom window, Abbie peered down and saw headlights approach. “Stuart, I need to say good-night now. My dad and his fiancée just came home, and I’d rather not be discussing this when they come inside.”
“You haven’t told them?”
“I haven’t told anyone—especially them. I didn’t see any reason to put a damper on their wedding or their honeymoon cruise, especially since they aren’t at risk. My dad can be impossible, but he loves me in his own way. If he knew there’d been an attempt on my life, he’d cancel the cruise and sit on me until the danger had passed—even though he and Miriam have been looking forward to this for months.”
Stuart’s tone held a hint of reproach. “As a father
