and she’d have ended up in the hands of the State Police again.
Until she figured out just who was trying to kill her, she intended to trust no one but herself.
The churning in her stomach began to ease. After taking several more deep breaths, she resolutely hobbled up the front steps. The blue light hovering near the door became agitated, and a stern voice asked for her name and apartment number, adding the warning that she was about to enter a crime scene. As if she didn’t already know. She flipped open the monitor’s control box and punched in the State override code. The sharp voice stopped, and the globe ceased its whirling. Of course, when the State boys did a link with the unit to check who was coming in and out of the building, they’d know she—or at least someone with access to the codes—had entered. But hopefully, by then, she’d be long gone.
She edged inside the door and quickly scanned the lobby. There was no one around. She limped across to the stairs and looked up. Everest had surely never seemed so high. She grabbed the handrail and began to haul herself up.
By the time she got to the first landing, the pain in her feet was so bad her legs were shaking and her head was spinning. She collapsed in a heap and stared at the remaining steps in despair. She was never going to make it the rest of the way. Not like this. Sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, then groaned as her stomach rolled and rose. On hands and knees,she lurched toward the nearest planter. Luckily for the plant, she’d consumed little more than coffee over the last twenty-four hours.
Once she’d finished heaving, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, closed her eyes and leaned back against the balustrade. God, she felt awful. And there was still another set of stairs to climb.
She was contemplating how she was going to manage it when the softest of sounds flowed across the silence—a resonance as soothing as the whisper of silk shimmying across a bed.
She opened her eyes and looked up. A man stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. The warm corridor light flared strangely across his back and shoulders, almost giving him the appearance of wings as it cast his features into shadows.
A dark angel
, she thought, and wondered briefly if death had come to collect her.
Nah
. Hell was more likely to be her last resting place.
He moved, and the angel image fled. What remained was a tall man, with dark brown hair, dressed in a dark gray suit. The color of choice for those in the SIU.
She groaned again. She really wasn’t up to another tête-à-tête with the boys from the spook squad—if indeed he was one of them.
He walked down the steps, loose-limbed yet somehow graceful, then stopped near her feet and knelt down. He reached out but didn’t quite touch her right foot. She sucked in a gasp of air anyway. “Don’t—”
“I wasn’t,” he said, voice soft as he glanced up at her.
She knew those eyes. Would have recognized theodd, green-flecked hazel depths anywhere. This was the man who’d rescued her last night.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered, unable to keep the hint of annoyance from her voice. “And how did you find me?”
A dark eyebrow rose. “Haven’t you heard? The SIU knows all.”
So she’d guessed right; he was with the spook squad. “Let me see some ID.”
He reached inside his suit jacket and drew out a small ID card. She studied the photo and eye scan, and then glanced down at his name. Gabriel Stern. Assistant director, no less. Which was better than being confronted by Hanrahan, the formidable man in charge of the spook squad, she supposed, but it still begged the question—what was it about either her or her case that required involvement by the squad’s upper echelon?
She handed back the card. “Not a good photo, Mr. Stern.”
“They never are. And please, call me Gabriel. I prefer less
Until she figured out just who was trying to kill her, she intended to trust no one but herself.
The churning in her stomach began to ease. After taking several more deep breaths, she resolutely hobbled up the front steps. The blue light hovering near the door became agitated, and a stern voice asked for her name and apartment number, adding the warning that she was about to enter a crime scene. As if she didn’t already know. She flipped open the monitor’s control box and punched in the State override code. The sharp voice stopped, and the globe ceased its whirling. Of course, when the State boys did a link with the unit to check who was coming in and out of the building, they’d know she—or at least someone with access to the codes—had entered. But hopefully, by then, she’d be long gone.
She edged inside the door and quickly scanned the lobby. There was no one around. She limped across to the stairs and looked up. Everest had surely never seemed so high. She grabbed the handrail and began to haul herself up.
By the time she got to the first landing, the pain in her feet was so bad her legs were shaking and her head was spinning. She collapsed in a heap and stared at the remaining steps in despair. She was never going to make it the rest of the way. Not like this. Sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, then groaned as her stomach rolled and rose. On hands and knees,she lurched toward the nearest planter. Luckily for the plant, she’d consumed little more than coffee over the last twenty-four hours.
Once she’d finished heaving, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, closed her eyes and leaned back against the balustrade. God, she felt awful. And there was still another set of stairs to climb.
She was contemplating how she was going to manage it when the softest of sounds flowed across the silence—a resonance as soothing as the whisper of silk shimmying across a bed.
She opened her eyes and looked up. A man stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. The warm corridor light flared strangely across his back and shoulders, almost giving him the appearance of wings as it cast his features into shadows.
A dark angel
, she thought, and wondered briefly if death had come to collect her.
Nah
. Hell was more likely to be her last resting place.
He moved, and the angel image fled. What remained was a tall man, with dark brown hair, dressed in a dark gray suit. The color of choice for those in the SIU.
She groaned again. She really wasn’t up to another tête-à-tête with the boys from the spook squad—if indeed he was one of them.
He walked down the steps, loose-limbed yet somehow graceful, then stopped near her feet and knelt down. He reached out but didn’t quite touch her right foot. She sucked in a gasp of air anyway. “Don’t—”
“I wasn’t,” he said, voice soft as he glanced up at her.
She knew those eyes. Would have recognized theodd, green-flecked hazel depths anywhere. This was the man who’d rescued her last night.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered, unable to keep the hint of annoyance from her voice. “And how did you find me?”
A dark eyebrow rose. “Haven’t you heard? The SIU knows all.”
So she’d guessed right; he was with the spook squad. “Let me see some ID.”
He reached inside his suit jacket and drew out a small ID card. She studied the photo and eye scan, and then glanced down at his name. Gabriel Stern. Assistant director, no less. Which was better than being confronted by Hanrahan, the formidable man in charge of the spook squad, she supposed, but it still begged the question—what was it about either her or her case that required involvement by the squad’s upper echelon?
She handed back the card. “Not a good photo, Mr. Stern.”
“They never are. And please, call me Gabriel. I prefer less
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