No longer was she that naive, overly protected daddy’s princess, attracted to the town’s bad boy. Now she was a clinical psychologist who knew about life and the sex drives that motivated smart people to make foolish mistakes. She understood his dangerous side, too. His obsessive need to prove himself by overcoming any challenge.
Seven years ago, she’d been that challenge. The daughter of the wealthiest man in town, she was everything the son of the town drunk couldn’t have.
She suspected his penchant for danger had been further honed by his experiences with Special Forces. The framed picture hanging on the wall beside his desk of those haunted, grim-faced soldiers came to mind. Even with his face camouflaged with paint, Mike stood out as the team leader.
She felt a tinge of envy. Mike shared something with those men that she had only dreamed of sharing with him as his wife. She knew he would connect with them, need them and trust them in ways he’d never been able to with her.
The cords of her neck throbbed. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her head. Damn, why was she putting herself through this torment? She pulled herself up and got to her feet. With the questionnaire in hand, she hurried to the secretary’s desk. The sooner she got this over with the better.
MIKE FINISHED his conversation with Police Lieutenant Sam Jeffries, hung up the phone and stared out his office window on the twenty-first floor. Ribbons of bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled along the streets of midtown Manhattan. Millions of people, and one of them held a camera, watching, waiting, stalking Brianna. Waiting for the right moment to…to what?
Dammit, Bria. What have you gotten yourself into?
From what Lieutenant Jeffries had confirmed, the company that installed and serviced the security systems for Brianna’s apartment building was highly reputable. Mike recognized the company name and agreed.
The apartment manager had told Mike that the timer on the video cameras had stopped last night at 11:54 p.m. The repair crew had found a timing-delay loop spliced into the building computer system. Whoever had done it required sophisticated know-how and equipment. He doubted this was the work of Billie Ray Bennett, unless the guy worked for the CIA.
Mike took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. But the image of how frightened Brianna had looked beneath that cool demeanor kept eating at him. If they’d been friends, he would have pulled her into his arms and promised her that he’d keep her safe.
But they weren’t friends. No, she was a client, and she’d made very clear that’s all she was. Hadn’t she said that she didn’t foresee any problems working with him?
He rubbed his chin, grudgingly admiring that ability in her. No doubt she’d realized long before she decided to leave him that their marriage had been the worst mistake in her life. On that they could agree.
He glanced at the photographs of Brianna in front of him, forcing his mind onto the case not the woman.
What kind of mind would go to such trouble to stalk her? He took a deep breath and moved back to his desk. If she agreed, he’d begin the case immediately. Once he installed the electronic equipment in her home and office, it wouldn’t take long to find the answers. But his experience told him they didn’t have much time. Whoever was behind sending her these photographs wouldn’t be satisfied for long with only scaring her. More than likely, the stalker already knew that she’d gone to TALON-6.
A rap sounded at his door, then Brianna entered. “Your secretary said it was okay to come in.” She handed him the questionnaire before taking a seat.
“I just spoke with Lieutenant Jeffries,” Mike said, glancing over her form. “The police lab wouldn’t get to the fingerprint results for a while. I took the liberty of asking him to forward the photograph to the crime lab I use. We’ll get the results faster.” He glanced at her. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course.”
“Jeffries will need your written authorization.” He pushed the standardized form across his desk at her. “If you’ll sign this, I’ll fax it right out to him.”
“Great.” She picked up a pen, glanced over the agreement, then signed her name. When she sat back in her chair, he noticed her fingers were clenched. “I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Michael.” Her eyes were wide and serious.
“My coming to you like this is strictly business. If we work together, I don’t want…” She ran her tongue along her lower lip. “What I mean is, I don’t see any reason to mention the past. I hope we can agree to this.”
He felt a spark of anger. She really meant that she was able to put the past behind them, but she wasn’t so sure about him.
Dammit, if she wanted it all business between them, then that’s what she’d get. “The past is forgotten.” He waved his hand as though brushing at a fly.
She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Good. Now, I’d like to know what you’re planning to do.”
He rubbed his thumb along the compact computer on his desk. “I’m expensive. I use the latest technical equipment, much of which is continually being updated by my team and me. I’ll assess your home, your office, then come up with a figure.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fair.”
“Bottom line is that I’ll do whatever needs to be done to see that you’re protected.”
Her gaze leveled with his. “I want to be kept informed of what you plan to do, and approve any actions you take beforehand. Agreed?”
He took a deep breath. She had no idea what she was asking. But he figured she needed to feel in control. “Of course,” he said finally. Somehow they’d work out the details. “In the meantime, I’ll need a complete list of your clients, plus a—”
“That’s confidential information.”
He glanced up from his notes to see her eyes snap with challenge. For a moment, he felt a touch of envy for those in her life she defended so staunchly. “Your clients are all suspects, Brianna. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t take that approach.”
“I know my clients. Almost all are battered women. None of them would be capable of this.”
Mike leaned back in his chair. “Sorry, but I’ll need to see that list.”
She sighed. “If you insist, I’ll go over my client list with Dr. Cunningham. He deals more with criminal psychology. I’ll have him profile any of my clients whom he believes might be the stalker.”
Mike’s gaze fell to the bearded man in one of the pictures on his desk. “That Cunningham?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Let me know when you talk with him. I’d like to sit in—”
“Mike, that’s impossible. My patients’ records are confidential.”
He knew enough not to press her, but he’d see those records, with or without her help. He decided to change the subject.
“First, I’ll take some measurements of your home and apartment—”
“Why?”
Was she going to challenge his every action? Damn, of course she was! They could never agree on anything.
“TALON-6 needs to know the dimensions and cubic yards of space in each room.” He was pleased with the neutral tone in his voice. When she still looked confused, he added, “To determine the range for the audio and special listening devices we may need.”
“Oh.”
“I’d like to start immediately. I’ll schedule a complete debugging surveillance for phones and all vehicles. Do you want to