He turned and glanced down at her hand. She wasn't sure he'd reciprocate, but slowly he acquiesced. A firm grip.
"Can we get started?" The man was all business.
Tony raised his fingers in a wave. "Hey, how's it going? We got ourselves a room to talk. It's up on two. Raven will take you there. Can I get you some coffee? I'll brew a fresh pot."
Delacorte glared at them both, probably wondering if the coffee was laced with strychnine. Raven knew their brew didn't need poison to be considered downright lethal. But the man eventually accepted the offer.
"Yeah, make it black."
As Tony disappeared among the throng of people, Raven escorted Delacorte to the elevators. After she punched two on the elevator panel, they were hoisted to the second floor. Glancing to her right, she caught his reflection in the dull metal doors. Those eyes. She remembered her visit to St. Sebastian's cemetery, seeing the name Delacorte chiseled in stone. The man's past reflected in his eyes now. Then again, maybe she read too much into him.
When they reached their destination, the doors opened. Out of reflex, Raven touched his elbow to direct him to the interrogation room. An innocent gesture. But the intensity of his stare took her aback. Her reaction had been tangible—like an electrical shock to the heart. Damn it all. Control yourself, Mackenzie.
"This way." She swallowed hard. "We've got number four."
Delacorte held out his hand, indicating she take the lead. Still, he hadn't said a word since the first floor. His effortless sensuality unnerved her. Only one way to combat that.
"You know, if you've lost your voice, maybe we should stop off on three. File a report."
Her sarcasm earned her continued silence on his part, but for an instant, she thought she saw a spark of humor in his eyes. His expression softened for a second. It caught her by surprise.
Aha! Score one for the Raven lunatic. She basked in the glow of her small victory. More than likely, wishful thinking tainted her perception. She'd love to melt his icy veneer to see what lay beneath. Then again, maybe his true nature would leave her wishing she'd left well enough alone. The thought of him with his guard down sent shivers across her skin. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like this. It scared the hell out of her!
He allowed her to enter the room first, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the table strewn with photographic evidence. Raven was eager to see his reaction after they'd staged it for that purpose. And if he didn't recognize the church, she would ask him point-blank about the significance of the location. But his reaction had been anticlimactic. If Delacorte had been shocked by the graphic nature of the scenes, he never let on. His expression remained poised and unreadable as he sat in one of the chairs.
"The body was found in the small chapel at St. Sebastian's." She hesitated, allowing him time to react. Her eyes held firm, watching for a change in his body language. But the man looked unflappable as he thumbed through the photos.
"Was Mickey religious?" she finally asked.
A low chuckle escaped his chest, sounding more like he'd cleared his throat. "The only thing Mickey revered was the almighty dollar." Raising his gaze, he added, "And himself."
"Dunhill must pay pretty well. His apartment's nicely furnished and his clothes cost more than I'll make in a lifetime." She sat in the chair across from him. Her eyes never left his.
"That sounds like you're insinuating something, Detective." A thin smile appeared, then vanished. "Tomorrow morning, eight sharp at the Dunhill Tower on Michigan, ask for me. I trust you can detect your way there. I've got you set up with the Human Resources Department. They've been instructed to give you all that you need on Mickey Blair."
As if he'd heard a sound, he raised his head toward the large picture mirror along the far wall. Staring beyond his image reflected in the glass, Christian shifted his focus. Raven knew Tony stood in the next room, watching. Uncanny; the man seemed to sense her partner's presence.
"We'll want to see his office, too." Her voice rose a notch, echoing in the small room as she tried to distract him. "And any other place he might have personal effects."
"I'd anticipated that." He stood and stepped toward the glass, then turned abruptly to face her, leaning his back on the mirror with his arms folded across his chest. "You'll get what you need."
Raven believed in a strong offense when everything else failed. Time to be direct.
"St. Sebastian's. Are you acquainted with the church?" She stood and stepped toward the man, mimicking his stance, standing a safe distance from him. "It's quite charming, a historical area of Chicago."
A long moment passed. Silence. His face changed almost imperceptibly. Then a lazy smile curved his lips. She found her eyes drawn to those lips—like a damned moth to a proverbial flame.
"You're fishing, Detective, and without a license. I came here in the spirit of cooperation. You and your partner in there have turned this into an interrogation." Without a glance over his shoulder, he rapped on the mirror twice, a signal for Tony to quit playing games. "Am I a suspect?"
Before she answered, the door opened, with her partner holding a cup of coffee. "Took a little longer than I figured. Sorry."
Raven commended Tony's effort, but by the look on Delacorte's face, he wasn't buying any of it. Ignoring her partner's poor acting, the Dunhill Security man offered more.
"I was at the cemetery that night. But I think you know that. And I'm not in the mood to share anything more on the subject. So if you're gonna book me, then let's do it. I'd like time to call my attorney so I can make it out by dinnertime. Otherwise, I'm out of here."
His jaw clenched, and the look in his eyes dropped the temperature in the room. Christian pushed by her, but stopped when she placed her hand on his chest and raised her voice.
"Hold it."
She tried pushing him back to a comfortable distance, but he wouldn't budge. The man's chest felt as solid as a brick wall. And he wielded his gaze like a weapon. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand.
"Okay then. You like cards on the table, let's do it."
She persisted as her blood churned. "What do you think about the message on the body? I didn't figure Mickey for a religious fanatic, not after seeing his criminal record. So my next leap was to assume the message had been intended for someone. And lo and behold, we meet you, Christian. Now that's what I call too much coincidence. Seek the truth, Christian. What does it mean?"
"I have no idea," he replied. "But I think you'll have to agree, it's not likely I'd kill the man, then sign my own work, directing the police to my door." He remained calm, staring at her and completely ignoring her partner. "Am I free to go?"
Closing her eyes, she filled her lungs, then let out a breath. Calm down, Mackenzie. He was right, of course. Still, she needed to make another point.
"We've granted you some privileges with regard to this investigation, in exchange for the complete cooperation of your employer. We could have subpoenaed the information we needed and left you out in the cold, yet we extended Mrs. Dunhill a special courtesy. Cooperation is a two-way street, Delacorte. I get the distinct impression you're holding out on me."
Raven knew she was posturing, having no intention of allowing him into the investigation completely. But what he didn't know would be no skin off her nose.
His eyes narrowed. She felt him harness his emotion, his hostility given away only by the slight stiffening of his jaw. In a move she hadn't anticipated, he stepped toward her, closing a gap already too awkward. Instinctively, she sucked in a breath and held it, filling her senses with the subtle cologne that tempered his act of intimidation.