The Chosen - BEVERLY BARTON

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he sent you to tell me the good news.” Judd walked past her and straight to the coffeemaker. After lifting the pot, he asked, “Want some?”

      “Yeah, sure.” She turned and faced him.

      He removed another cup from the overhead cabinet, poured both cups full, and held one out to her. She went over, took the cup from him, and lifted it to her lips. The brew was strong and bitter. She suspected it had been sitting on the warmer for quite some time. Possibly since early morning.

      “Can she identify her attacker?” Judd asked.

      “I don’t know. We were told that she lapsed into a semicoma in Recovery, shortly after regaining consciousness for a few minutes following her surgery.”

      “She probably won’t come out of the coma.”

      “She might.”

      “Wishful thinking isn’t worth a damn.” Judd pulled out a chair from the table, set down his coffee cup, and slumped into the chair.

      Standing behind him, Lindsay watched as he sipped the black-tar coffee. Judd Walker, multimillionaire, former playboy, former distinguished and respected lawyer, looked like a homeless bum. God in heaven, his long hair was dirty, greasy, and matted, as if it hadn’t been washed or combed in weeks.

      Lindsay walked over to the other side of the table so that she stood directly in front of him. “If you want to go to Kentucky—”

      His vicious laughter chilled her to the bone. “Is that why Griff sent you this time? He thought you could persuade me to give a damn?”

      “He sent me because he thought you’d want to know that this could be our first real break. He actually thought you might still want to see your wife’s murderer brought to justice.”

      Judd’s mocking smile vanished. “What I want is to have five minutes alone with him. Just five minutes.”

      “I doubt you’ll ever get that chance,” Lindsay said. “But if he’s captured and then convicted, I’m sure it can be arranged for you to be there when he’s executed.”

      “It won’t be quite the same if I can’t do the job myself.” Judd downed the remainder of the liquid sludge he called coffee. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve pictured this monster in my mind? I never see a face, only his hands holding a meat cleaver and chopping, chopping … chopping. And then suddenly he’s not the one with the cleaver. I am. And I’m the one doing the chopping. I’m chopping him into a hundred little pieces.”

      Judd repeatedly pounded the table with his big fist. Over and over again. The table shook. Judd’s heavy strikes grew harder and harder. His breathing became deeper and louder. His eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance.

      Lindsay placed her cup on the counter behind her, then turned back to Judd, and grabbed his wrist. He flung her off him so forcefully that she toppled backward and landed against the refrigerator. Her back hit the fridge with a resounding thud. Judd shot up out of the chair and glared at her.

      She stood there, straightening herself to her full five-four height, her gaze riveted to his as he came toward her. When he reached her, he spread his palms out flat against the refrigerator, on either side of her head, and brought his face down to hers so that their noses almost touched.

      “I know why Griff sent you here,” he said. “What I don’t know is why you came.”

       Chapter 4

      Lindsay hunched down just enough to slip under Judd’s outstretched left arm, managing to escape his searing glare and his big, hovering body. Sucking in several deep breaths and mentally warning herself not to participate in Judd’s manipulative game-playing, Lindsay psyched herself up for the inevitable battle of wills. Chuckling as if he found her actions amusing, Judd turned around to face her. She hated that cold, insincere grin he had perfected over the past few years. There was something disturbing about a smile that projected misery instead of mirth.

      “What’s wrong, Lindsay—afraid you can’t resist me?”

      She clenched her teeth, a scathing comment on the tip of her tongue. He’s baiting you. He wants an outraged reaction. Don’t give it to him.

      “If you plan to go with me to Kentucky, you’ll have to take a shower and—”

      “I’m not going.”

      He’s still playing his little game, she reminded herself.

      “Fine by me,” she said. “I’m just Griffin Powell’s messenger.” She reached for the cell phone clipped to her belt. “I’ll call him and tell him—”

      “Why did you come here? Really?”

      “My boss sent me to share some information with a client we couldn’t reach any other way.” That’s it, Lindsay, you tell him.

      Judd studied her, his gaze raking over her insultingly. “Are you sure you didn’t come back for a repeat performance?”

      She felt the heat as it rose up her neck and flushed her cheeks. An involuntary reaction that she could not control. Pink-cheeked embarrassment. The curse of blondes with fair skin.

      Don’t tell him what you think of him. Do not give him the satisfaction of knowing what happened between the two of you the last time you saw each other devastated you. You’ve worked through it, have come to terms with the humiliation, convinced yourself that you never actually loved Judd.

      “I’m heading back to Knoxville. I’ll call Griff and tell him you no longer have any interest in the Beauty Queen Killer.” Lindsay turned and headed out of the kitchen.

      “Wait!”

      Keeping her back to him, she paused.

      “If she doesn’t die … if she can give Griff a description … let me know. Okay?”

      “I’ll pass along the message.”

      “You hate me now, don’t you?”

      He’s still playing you. Never forget that you cannot trust Judd. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, for me to hate you?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, but no, I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you.”

      She walked straight down the hall and to the side door leading to the porch.

      “Lindsay!”

      She opened the door and went outside, increasing her pace, wanting nothing more than to get away, to escape from this place and the man who still had the power to rip out her heart. A part of her did hate Judd, hated him as much as she loved him.

      After sitting down on the soft, gray leather seat inside her Trailblazer, she closed her eyes and willed herself under control. No tears. Not one. She had cried her last tear over Judd Walker. As far as she was concerned, he could rot in hell.

      She made a quick call to Sanders for an update on the situation in Kentucky and was told she needed to contact Griff before bringing Judd to Williamstown. No point now. She inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine, then made the mistake of glancing through the side window at the lodge.

      Judd stood on the front porch. Watching her.

      Crap!

      She hit the button to lower the window and called out to him. “Gale Ann Cain’s sister discovered her in time to keep her alive until the paramedics arrived. The sister caught a glimpse of a man in a trench coat and sunglasses leaving the apartment building just as she arrived. He could have been our Beauty Queen Killer.”

      When Judd came down the steps, Lindsay’s pulse raced. He walked over to the car and leaned down so that they were eye to eye.

      He didn’t

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