With a groan of impatience, Brian Elliott turned and his staff followed. “Reggie, get the officer a list of architects, clients, inspectors—anyone who’s been in here besides the three of us.”
“Brian, there are confidentiality issues with prospective investors,” Regina advised.
Adam squared off against Nick when they reached the top of the stairs. “You’ll need a court order for a complete list, Detective.”
“We’ll get one.” Nick offered the assurance like it was a challenge and turned back to the dark-haired owner. “How many old buildings like this do you own, Mr. Elliott?”
“I own four entire blocks in this neighborhood. I bought blighted property, so this isn’t the first break-in we’ve had. But it is the first time a task force has shown up.”
“Don’t you also own the building where the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop is located?” Nick asked.
“Yes.” His skin went pale beneath his tan. “That’s where one of the rapist’s first victims was abducted, isn’t it?”
“And the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop?” Where another victim had been taken.
“The owners are both business partners of mine.” He reached for another antacid. “Oh, God, you think the rapes happened here? Is this a conspiracy against me? Is someone trying to ruin me? There are millions of dollars at stake here if people abandon this neighborhood.”
Adam patted his boss’s shoulder. “Relax, Brian. There’s nothing to link your name or your business to those assaults. Certainly nothing that’s public knowledge.” He dared Nick to deny it. “Is there, Detective? My client isn’t under investigation, is he?”
“No.” Nick closed his notebook and tucked it inside his jacket. “But my gut tells me there’s some sort of connection between those attacks and these buildings.”
“Your gut?” Adam laughed and gestured to the stairs for his boss and Regina Hollister to head back down. “You can’t take your gut to court, Detective Fensom. Annie, I thought you had more class than to partner up with a banty rooster like this. He’s all hot air and posturing. Pure speculation.”
“I trust his gut a lot more than I trust your fancy words.”
“Still thinking small, aren’t you, dear? If there is one smirch against Mr. Elliott’s reputation, one leak to the press that in any way infringes on his ability to conduct business, I will sue you both for harassment and slander.”
She could see why a woman might be attracted to Adam—he was handsome, accomplished, good at his job. She logically understood why her craving for security and predictability would lead her to
think
he was the man for her. But she couldn’t
feel
it. She suddenly understood that she’d been struggling with humiliation and loneliness this past year without him—not heartbreak. She wasn’t feeling any attraction to Adam anymore. Not one little pang. Curious. She glanced over to Nick, who was waiting impatiently for Adam to stop talking his lawyerese, and her stomach did a little flip-flop. Her heart beat a little faster. Her skin tingled with some unnamed anticipation. Very curious.
“We’re done here.” Adam finished his speech.
Nick turned to catch her staring at him. The corner of his mouth crooked up in a questioning grin. “What?”
Oh, no. That couldn’t be.
Where was the logic in thinking she’d fallen in love with Nick?
“I need to process...this scene.” She needed to process a lot more, but feeling the heat creeping into her cheeks, she turned away and pointed to the gathering of onlookers at the top of the stairs. “Without all this audience to distract me or touch something that might be evidence.”
Nick’s eyes gaze pinpointed the emotions painting her face, but thankfully he made no comment. “Okay. I’ll take them downstairs to ask some more questions. You want me to get rid of Kapoor, too?”
She shook her head. “I’ll put him to work.”
“All right. Remember, I’m in the building. Just a phone call away.”
She pushed him on his way. “I’ll be fine. I’m on a closed-off floor. That window is the only way in here that’s not secured.”
She could still read the unasked questions in his eyes. “I’ll post the officers at the bottom of the fire escape. I’ll call you in an hour or so to check on you. Sooner if I get the interviews done.”
That sounded good to her. But she was ready to work. She needed to work so she could sort through the recent discoveries she’d made. She turned him toward the others and gave him a gentle push. “Go.”
Unable to erase the smile on her face at his reluctance to leave her, Annie set to work, gathering what she needed from her kit.
Her Indian friend from the lab was still waiting for some kind of direction. “What do you want me to do?” Raj asked.
“Why don’t you go back to the fourth floor and talk to the men there. Find out who the foreman is and who first discovered the break-in, and if anyone got a look at the intruder so we can track him down. It wouldn’t hurt to get elimination prints from the workers in case I find some up here.”
“Understood.” His phone rang and he pulled the cell from his pocket. He looked at the number and groaned before answering. “Hello. Now? Give me a sec, okay? I’m working. I will take care of it, I promise.”
“If you need to take that, go ahead.”
“Hold on.” He pulled the phone from his ear. Frustration lined his dark skin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help up here? I can move the heavy things.”
“I can manage. Go on. That sounds important.”
“All right. Holler if you need something.”
“I will. Thanks.”
He put the phone back to his ear as he slipped behind the plastic. “I’m back. Yes. Too large.” His voice faded as he headed down the stairs. “I can cover that.”
Odd. Raj had gotten upset over a call about covering something large? Was he remodeling a room at home? Talking about paying a bill? Too large? Or
two
large?
Had her friend just placed a bet?
“I really don’t know you outside of work, do I?” Instead of pondering the mysteries of Raj Kapoor, Annie turned her mental energy to the job at hand and went to work.
She relished the quiet as she moved methodically from one task to the next. She took pictures, dusted the space heater and window for prints, and studied the mattress and rolled-up plastic beside it with her ultraviolet light.
While she jotted notes and bagged samples, her brain cells kicked into overdrive as she immersed herself in the scene. But it wasn’t the evidence in the room that took her focus, it was the observations about herself and the people who’d just left that demanded her attention.
After the initial shock of seeing her ex-fiancé at the crime scene had worn off, Annie realized she’d been grinning at Nick’s inside joke about being called an odd duck rather than smiling to learn that Adam could still be concerned about her welfare. Something about the cookie-cutter image Adam shared with Brian Elliott and his assistant Regina made her think she’d dodged a very boring bullet in the relationship department. Funny how a year apart—or maybe just a couple of life-changing days spent with someone so completely spontaneous and compassionate and full of life—could alter her feelings for the man.
She didn’t crave predictability. She craved challenges and passion. She didn’t need order. She needed someone who understood how disorderly her world could be. She didn’t want someone to rescue her from the loneliness of her life. She wanted to grab hold of someone whose big family and bigger heart already made her feel included and important and happy to be exactly who she needed to be.
The facts were starting to add up.
“Nick Fensom, what have you done to me?” she whispered out loud. Now if she could only deduce whether Nick was feeling something more than friendship or a latent sexual attraction for her—and whether this closeness she felt between them would end once he decided he didn’t need to play bodyguard for her anymore.
On that sobering thought, Annie stowed the last sample in her kit, and set her camera down beside it on the giant wooden spool she’d been using as a table. There wasn’t much more she could do until she got the evidence to the lab to run the prints through AEFIS and identify the hairs and substances she’d collected. Still, she turned a slow three-sixty, surveying the room one last time for anything she’d missed.
“Like that.” Although covered with a slight layer of dust kicked up from the construction work below, a faint line of shoe prints crossed from the trash heap over to the abandoned freight elevator. With all the traffic in here earlier, she’d discounted other shoe prints she’d found as being unusable. But this was a single set, untrammeled and uncontaminated beyond the heap of old junk.
Walking beside the prints so as not to disturb them, she followed the trail across the room. They stopped at the doorway in the deteriorating wall. Adjusting her flashlight, she stooped down and examined the doorknob. The old iron plate was hanging by a single screw and showed several gouges in the wood around it. She twisted the knob and discovered that it slipped back and forth inside the mechanism and didn’t engage the lock. There was more evidence of tampering with the door frame. Even though there were slats broken and missing in the wall surrounding the elevator, if the intruder had come in here at night without a light, he might easily have mistaken the squared-off space as a room—someplace even warmer and more secure than the empty loft around it.
Annie angled her light down to the half shoe print that cut off beneath the closed door and wondered. Had the intruder gotten that door open? If so, had he discovered a broken elevator or empty shaft and fallen in? Her heart rate kicked up a notch at the dreadful possibility. She breathed in a little more deeply, her nose not detecting that distinct odor of death. Maybe he’d realized what it was and had gone back to the mattress to sleep. Or maybe he’d gone exploring after he’d slept and had fallen in.
If there was a body down there, if the man had hurt himself, maybe knocked himself unconscious, then he’d need immediate help. Annie straightened. “Hello?”
Maybe there was no one there. Maybe the intruder was safely back on his corner of the street and she was just imagining the worst because she’d seen so much death and pain these past few days that a simple broken window could never be answer enough.
“Hello?” she called louder, knocking on the wood. “Is anybody in there? Hello?”
For two seconds, she considered calling Nick. But her phone was back in her purse on the spool. If someone really was hurt in there, he’d need immediate attention. And if no one was there, why put Nick on alert and give him something unnecessary to worry about when he already had so much he felt responsible for?
With the knob broken, it took a couple tries to find the right leverage to pry the catch loose and pull the door open. “Hello?”
Annie swung it wide open and followed that last shoe print to the lip of the old shaft. She aimed her light down about six feet to the roof of the black iron cage. Suspended by thick, rusting cables and coated with years of dust and decay, the elevator looked as though it had been frozen in time between floors.
It was filthy. It was dark. It showed evidence of rats or mice nesting there. But thankfully, there was no body.
She breathed out an embarrassed sigh and chided herself out loud. “Since when did you develop an imagination? Stick to what you do best—”
A pair of hands shoved her from behind. Annie screamed and flew over the edge, crashing down into the darkness below.
She landed hard on her feet, jarring every bone in her body, and pitched forward, hitting the cable and shaking the entire cage before sprawling across the elevator’s metal roof. Her flashlight skittered over the edge and fell into the shaft below, plunging her into blackness.
Her head spinning, her cut throbbing, she got her hands beneath her and pushed her face away from the mucky layers of dirt and dampness, struggling to orient herself in the dark.
And then she heard the voice, whispered and vile, from above. “You should have quit while you were alive, Annabelle.”
“No!” She tried to spin around, lift her head, see her attacker.
But he closed the door and walked away, sealing her in with her newfound imagination.
* * *
A
NNIE
’
S
PHONE
RANG
.
And rang. And rang again.
Nick tapped his fingers against his thigh, waiting for the elevator to reach the lobby, after letting two guys in hard hats with a large box and a dolly take it up before him. Brian Elliott and Regina Hollister had left almost as soon as they’d reached the lobby, promising a meeting if he had any more questions. Adam Matuszak had stonewalled giving him any useful answers, then had excused himself with an accusatory glare when the site foreman came down to tell him the
“Indian cop” wanted to take everyone’s fingerprints. Nick had resigned himself to interviewing the workmen. Most of them had been on site since early that morning. None of them had seen a homeless man inside the building, although a few reported that there was a group who liked to gather at the corner sidewalk where the crew had left a steel drum and donated scrap lumber for the group to burn and have heat throughout the day during this icy-cold stretch of weather.
The detective in him wanted to follow up by interviewing the homeless men himself, but he wasn’t going to leave Annie. Once she was done upstairs, they could both go talk to the men.
He idly wondered what piece of evidence had absorbed her attention now and how long it would take her to realize that her phone was ringing. Then she’d have to check her pockets and discover that she’d left her cell in her purse. And then she’d have to find her purse. The impulse to grin at her adorably eccentric obsession about her work was tempered by the sound of her voice mail message coming on. “Damn it, Annie.”
Nick made a quick decision to take the stairs instead. It hadn’t been an hour yet that they’d been out of contact, but he had a feeling it had already been too long.
He charged up the stairs. He knew the woman could get lost in her work and miss things, but he said he’d call. She should have answered.