LITMIR.BIZ

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know was stationed at the gate. Archer flashed his ID and explained that he was working on the Lock Rapist case as an independent investigator with Detective Banes.

      The officer nodded. Clint had cleared him. He waved him through.

      Ahead of him, Archer saw several parked police vehicles. He pulled up behind one and scanned the breezeways of the nearest apartment building. On the second floor, the front apartment’s lights blazed, spotlighting an officer standing at the door.

      He sprinted up the stairs. When he entered the apartment, he saw Resa sitting in a dining-room chair, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wide, her face pale. She saw him and her shoulders relaxed visibly.

      Across the room, Clint glanced up from examining the inside of the windowsill. He gave Archer a slight nod, glanced at Resa, then went back to his job.

      A kid who looked like a college student except for the badge pinned to his belt was balanced precariously on a tiny, non-functional fake balcony under the window and dusting the outside sill.

      Archer reined in the urge to yell at the kid to watch where he parked his butt. This wasn’t his case, he reminded himself. It was his ex-partner’s.

      Instead, he went over and knelt down beside Resa’s chair. She reached out to him, her green eyes searching his face. After an instant’s hesitation, he took her hand.

      “I’m not sure they can decide if he was inside or not. Detective Banes said he could have slipped the note under the windowsill from the inside.” Her voice quavered. “He thinks the Lock Rapist has been inside.”

      She squeezed his fingers and it took a lot of willpower not to wince.

      “You did the right thing—almost. You got the phone calls backward.” He gave her a little smile. “You should have called 911 first, then called me.”

      She nodded miserably. “You were the first person I thought of.”

      That surprised him. He frowned. The idea that she’d thought of him first scared him. Being someone’s first choice in a crisis was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted was to be left alone.

      The envelope in his jacket pocket burned his skin through the layers of fabric—a painful reminder that being left alone was no longer a choice. He was involved.

      “Hey, you did good.”

      She pulled her hand free of his. Her fingers intertwined in her lap. Their knuckles turned white. He had an unwanted urge to touch her again. To untangle her fingers and rub them until warmth spread through them and up to put color back into her face.

      He glanced at Clint, who was still involved in the evidence gathering.

      “Resa,” he said quietly. “Did you touch the note?”

      “No,” she said. “You told me not to.”

      “Could you read it?”

      She nodded, pressing her lips together tightly.

      “Tell me what it said.”

      She shut her eyes. Tears squeezed out between her closed lids. “It said, ‘You can’t shut me out. I’ll get you.’”

      He stood and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

      He stepped through the front door onto the concrete balustrade that connected the apartments.

      “Hey, bud,” he said to the young officer at the door. “Got a glove on you?”

      “Sure, Detective.” The officer dug in his pocket and pulled out a latex-free exam glove.

      Archer took it and stretched it over his hand, then he retrieved the envelope from his pocket and slid the scrap of paper out of it.

      Detective Archer. You’re not as smart as you think you are. I’m looking forward to Theresa Wade. Think she’ll be as good as her sister was? Or your wife? I’m pleased to be working with you again. If you release these two notes to the media, I might give you a break.

      “Son of a—”

      “Geoff.” Clint appeared at his side. “What’s that?”

      He put the note inside the envelope and handed it to his ex-partner. “Resa’s not the only one who got a note tonight.”

      Clint pulled the envelope open and peeked inside. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “It is the Lock Rapist.”

      “That’s right. Now do you think you can put a guard on her?”

      Clint sent Archer a frustrated look. “Don’t you think I wish I could? I don’t want any more attacks. But we’re past stretched to the max. The president is on his way down here tomorrow to present some award to the Tennessee Valley Authority, so almost all my men are working double duty.”

      “She’s in danger, Clint.”

      His ex-partner’s green eyes darkened. “I understand that. I’m hoping I can free up an officer within a couple of days.”

      “A couple of days? What’s she supposed to do in the meantime?”

      “Come on, Geoff. What do you want me to do? I can’t pull a babysitter out of thin air.”

      Archer felt frustration rise up in him like bile. “Damn it, Clint.”

      “You’re so worried, why don’t you keep her?”

      “Me?” He laughed harshly.

      “Sure. Let her stay with you until I can free somebody up.”

      “No. No way.”

      “Okay, then yeah, I guess she will be on her own.”

      He glared at Clint. “That’s unacceptable. Okay. Hell, why not? I’ll take her home with me. She’s already there till all hours of the night anyhow.”

      “Are you kidding me? You’re not really considering it. You can barely take care of yourself.”

      “What does that mean? I’m doing just fine.” He flexed his hand, stretching the shortened tendons and setting his jaw to keep from wincing. “If you’re worried about my ability to protect her—if I have to shoot anybody, I’ll just use a blowgun and poisoned darts.”

      Clint stared narrowly at him for a few seconds, his brows wrinkled with doubt. “I’ll free up an officer as soon as I can.” He looked down at his shoes, then back up. “Geoff, take care that she doesn’t become a pawn in your self-destructive game. She’s had a hard time.”

      Archer stared at him, anger burning through his nerve endings. “My self-destructive game? What the hell, Clint? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

      Clint shrugged without speaking.

      He clenched his fists. “Trust me, Detective,” he growled, “I have no intention of committing Suicide by Perp. If it comes down to him or me—it’s going to be him on that cold slab in the morgue.”

      “So now you’re a vigilante.”

      “Get off my case. You’re the one who wanted me to protect her. You work on freeing up an officer to guard her. Meanwhile, she’s going back with me.”

      “Well she’s got to come downtown first, and give us a statement.”

      “Fine.”

      “Good.”

      Archer’s scalp burned with the fury he was struggling to hold in check. Clint had no right acting so high and mighty. The Lock Rapist case had been his before it was Clint’s. He was the one who’d failed to stop him, whose arrogance and certainty that he was doing the right thing had caused the rapist to escalate, and that had caused the death of his wife.

      Keeping Resa Wade safe was his responsibility, because it was his fault that she was in danger.

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