“And next time, tell your partner about potential new victims before the group.”
Noah bristled, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:10 a.m.
After Winters, Eve found the shower the place to cry when people were around. The water covered the sobs and minimized eye swelling. She’d taken a lot of showers then.
Very clean, she’d been. Very clean she was now as she sat in a chair at the police department, waiting to file a complaint against Buckland. His text had shaken her badly.
“I’m Officer Michaels,” the policeman said with a kind smile. “I’ve seen you at Sal’s.”
“Bud Lite,” she said, forcing a smile of her own.
“Gotta watch that waistline,” he quipped, then sobered. “What happened last night?”
Eve told him, watching his brow crease as she related the details. “And this morning he texted me. Detective Webster has already started a trace.” She frowned at Michaels’s expression of disbelief. “You don’t believe me.”
“No, that’s not it at all. I’m just stunned. I know Kurt and this doesn’t sound like him.”
Eve tugged at her sleeve, exposing the bruise that had faded a little during the night. “He did this. And another cop, Jeff Betz, saw the whole thing.”
“Of course I believe you. I just never would have guessed it of Looey.”
Eve sat back, her own brow creased now. “Looey?”
“Yeah. That’s what some of the guys call Kurt. Don’t ask me why. Before my time.”
Looey. He was a semi-regular at Sal’s, a Michelob man who was about fifty. The Buckland she’d met wasn’t yet thirty. “What does your Kurt Buckland look like, Officer?”
Michaels put his pen down. “Why?”
“I’m wondering if we’re talking about the same man. The man who grabbed me last night was about thirty, maybe five-eleven, with brown hair and brown eyes.” She was studying Michaels’s eyes as she spoke. “Not your Kurt Buckland.”
“No.” Michaels had the same bad feeling, she could see. “Let me take your statement, Miss Wilson, then I’ll check on Kurt. I mean, Looey.”
The man who’d threatened her was not Kurt Buckland, mild-mannered Metro reporter. That made his threat all the more bizarre and terrifying. And suddenly even more personal against Noah. “Do you have a pencil and paper?”
Michaels gave them to her and quickly she sketched the man she’d seen. It wasn’t nearly the level of work she might have done before her hand was slashed six years ago, but it was a passable facsimile. “This is him,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Not bad. I’ve never seen him, but I’ll take this with me when I go see Looey.”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:40 a.m.
Noah got back to his desk to find Jack angrily throwing his own belongings in a box. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jack looked up, tight-lipped. “Moving.”
He grabbed Jack’s arm to keep him from tossing a book in the box. “Why?”
Jack faltered. “I thought… I assumed you’d be asking Abbott for a new partner.”
Noah blew out a breath. “Dammit, Jack. He was yelling at me, not you. I should have told you about Amy Millhouse, but I just found out about her this morning.” He told Jack about the latest on Kurt Buck-land. “Abbott’s gonna take care of it.”
Jack puffed out his cheeks. “Is Eve reporting him?”
“She should be doing that right now. Did you get a new cell phone?” It was an olive branch, albeit a skinny one.
“On my list to do today. There’s a store near Marshall University. I’ll get one after we talk to Donner and Lyons.” He met Noah’s eyes. “I really only had one drink, Noah.”
Noah lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes one’s all it takes. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Jack pointed over Noah’s shoulder and Noah turned.
Eve was walking toward them. For a few seconds Noah just let himself look. Her dark eyes were shuttered and there was no sign of her little sideways smile. Something was wrong. Something new, that is. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked Jack.
“Sure. I’ll wait in the car.”
Eve nodded to Jack when he passed, then fixed her eyes on Noah’s, and he knew it wasn’t going to be good. “I just finished filing my complaint against Kurt Buckland.”
“Good.” He led her to an unoccupied room and closed the door. Taking her arm, he pushed up her sleeve. “Did you show the officer this bruise?”
She tugged her hand free. “Yes. Listen. Last night I researched Buckland, found this article on your case is his first front-page article ever. Everything he’s ever done has been in Metro, just like that first article about Martha’s suicide.”
“So he bullies and blackmails to get ahead? Extreme, but it’s been done.”
“I thought so until I came here today and filed my complaint. Guess what? Officer Michaels knew him. Turns out Kurt is about fifty and that everyone called him Looey.”
Noah frowned. “I know Looey. He’s good at darts. He’s Buckland?”
“Apparently so.”
“So, then… who is the guy who took all the pictures? And who threatened you?”
“That’s what somebody needs to find out. This is personal, Noah. Against you.”
“Wonderful,” he muttered. “Another distraction.”
“So what will you do?”
“About Buckland or whoever he is? I want to find this guy and make him pay, but right now I can’t. Right now, I’m going to let the officer you talked to do his job. And right now I’m going to follow you to school. Jack and I have to talk to Donner.”
“Then we need to go, because I’m late.”
But neither of them moved. “I never got to kiss you last night,” he murmured.
“You did, at Sal’s.”
“That was a little one-sided. You never kissed me back.”
“I was too surprised,” she said, shivering when his thumb caressed her jaw.
Jack was waiting for him and they had so much work to do, but Noah needed a minute, just one minute for himself. For Eve. For both of us.
“Consider this fair warning then.” He covered her mouth with his, willing her to respond, and after a few pounding beats of his heart, she did. Lifting on her toes, she kissed him as she had in the coffee shop, nothing held back. Her arms wound round his neck and he pulled her closer, fitting her body to his. It was sweet and it was hot and he wanted so much more. But this wasn’t the place, so he forced himself to stop.
She was breathing hard, her eyes closed. Her fingers trembled as they trailed down his arms. Pressing his palms together, she rested her brow on the tips of his fingers.
“Why?” she whispered so softly he had to lean forward to catch it.
“Why which?” he asked, gruffly.
She lifted her head, her expression devastated. “Why me? Why do you want me?”
“That’s a longer answer than I have time for now. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I have to work.”
“Then after. I’ll wait.”
“All right.” She pushed his folded hands gently to his chest. “I need to get to class.”
Wednesday, February 24, 10:25 a.m.
“Detectives, I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday. Please have a seat.” Dr. Donald Donner waved at two chairs on the other side of his very disorganized desk.
“You’re a hard man to find,” Jack said. “We looked for you yesterday.”
Donner smiled distractedly. “My wife and I went to see her mother, who’s been ill.”
Noah kept his expression mild-a hard thing to do when he thought about Donner’s last interaction with Eve. But after getting his first look at Donner, Noah had crossed him off his list. Donner might have access to the list, but he didn’t have the physical strength to hoist a woman from her ceiling. “We’d also like to talk with your assistant, Mr. Lyons, but we can’t find him either.”
At this Donner frowned. “He took the afternoon off yesterday and didn’t come in this morning. That’s not like him. He’s very reliable. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”