Tempting the Devil (14 page)

“I didn't say it was a him.”

He ignored that. “Don't you care about anything but your damned story?” If he'd been kind and cajoling just a moment earlier, his voice was pure, icy anger now.

“I care about justice. I care about the person who trusted me.”

“As long as you get a headline.”

“That's unfair.”

“Is it? God save me from reporters and their righteous stupidity.”

Her back stiffened. “You're an arrogant ass.”

“Been said. At least I concede my shortcomings.”

Her mouth clamped down before she said something she would regret.

“We're talking about murder, Ms. Stuart,” he continued. “Capital murder of three police officers. You think these people would stop at searching a reporter's house? Hell, you're lucky they didn't burn it down with you and that cat in it.”

He drove up and parked in front of her house. She looked around. The lights in Mrs. Jeffers's house next door were still on. No one occupied the house on the other side.

She stepped out of the car, her keys in her hand. His fingers brushed hers as he took them from her, and once again anger and attraction warred with each other. She had to wrench herself away from her ridiculous preoccupation with him.

He took the keys from her as she reached the top of the stairs and steered her to his side. He took out his gun before turning the key in the lock. Then stepped in as he opened it.

“Wait out here,” he ordered.

He was back in several minutes and opened the door wide. Then he inspected the lock. “Doesn't look tampered with.”

She went inside. Everything looked as she'd left it earlier today.

She went to her office first. Everything of value to her was in there. Her notebooks. Her computer. Her research ranging over several years. This was her life far more than the bedroom.

The desk looked the same. So did the computer. She looked at the top of the desk, and her heart skipped. Although her desk was always covered in piles, she knew exactly what was in those piles. She had gone through them hours ago to make sure she was erasing all traces of Sandy and the attorney to whom she was sending her package.

The notebooks were out of place. She'd stacked them, according to date, starting with the oldest on the bottom. Now they were reversed.

With increased panic, she checked her top drawer. She'd left her address book there along with a credit card, tucked inside the book next to the cover. She always kept it there because she did a lot of research and sometimes had to pay a fee for a certain article. The card was in the book, but not in its proper place.

She turned to the computer and turned it on. Then she saw a smear on the rug beneath. It looked as if someone had tried to clean something, but couldn't quite do it. Blood from scratches? She turned to Ben Taylor, who was regarding her with intent interest, as if he realized she'd found something.

“Someone's been in here,” she said.

His eyes asked the question.

“Notebooks are out of place. So is a credit card. And there's a spot on the rug.”

“Do you have any valuables?”

“Not really.”

“Check the rest of the house. See if anything else is missing.”

It didn't take her long. She didn't have much. A few inexpensive pieces of jewelry. The computer. A large television set and VCR.

She reported back to him. “Nothing.”

“It looks like someone didn't want you to know anyone was here. Your Daisy spoiled their plans. Once your intruder bled on the floor …” He pulled out a cell phone and called the local police.

“They'll be here shortly,” he said.

She pictured an intruder snooping in her office.

And became sick to her stomach. She also realized in that moment that all her mother's clichés had a root of truth.
Don't catch a tiger's tail
.

Curiosity killed the cat
.

She'd just barely escaped killing the cat and now she feared she had the tiger by the tail.

Or was it the devil?

chapter ten

The Atlanta police and crime scene technicians swarmed Robin's apartment like a horde of locusts.

It was nothing like the first time she'd been burglarized five years ago. Then a lone police officer came over, told her to make a list of missing items and take it to the local precinct. End of interest. She'd been highly irate at the time.

She suspected the mention of FBI and Hydra had drastically increased their diligence.

After Ben Taylor had called the police, she'd conducted a more comprehensive search, but everything outside her office seemed to be in place. The fact that nothing—apparently—had been taken was even more frightening than if it had been a common burglary.

She'd barely gotten started when the police arrived. She was aware of their incredulity when she said nothing was missing. The locks on the doors and windows looked undisturbed.

“If someone entered here, they knew their business,” said one officer. Robin didn't appreciate the “if” and started to say so when Taylor interrupted and took the officer to one side.

The officer was more polite when he returned. “We'll start in the kitchen.”

“Can I go into my office?”

“No. Let us do our job.”

Ben Taylor nodded and turned to her. “We'll just be in the way. It's eleven but I noticed your neighbor's lights are still on. Maybe she saw something.”

“That would be Mrs. Jeffers. She and Damien stay up late. She's probably dying of curiosity about the police cars out here. She's just too well mannered to come out and ask.”

“Damien?”

“Her guard dog,” Robin said. “I think Mrs. Jeffers would be delighted if you questioned her.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Would Damien have alerted her if anyone came around your house?”

“Maybe,” she said.

It was amazing how at ease she felt with him, even after his harsh condemnation an hour earlier.

“Let's go,” he said. The two of them walked to the house next door. It, too, was an old Victorian, one that looked like an aging dowager.

She rang the bell.

Mrs. Jeffers immediately appeared at the door as if she'd been sitting next to it. The inside door opened and her neighbor peered out the storm door, then opened it.

Damien wriggled out of Mrs. Jeffers's arms and tried to jump into Robin's arms. Being less than a foot tall, he didn't make it. Robin caught him halfway down and scooped him up before he fell to the ground.

“I swear that dog likes you better than me,” Maude Jeffers said.

“He doesn't see me as much as he sees you,” Robin mollified her. She kept Damien when Mrs. Jeffers was out of town. “Mrs. Jeffers, this is Ben Taylor with the FBI. My house was broken into earlier, and Daisy was hurt. I wondered whether you saw anything unusual today.”

“FBI, you say,” Mrs. Jeffers said, her eyes narrowing. “You have credentials?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Taylor said, whipping them out even as he stared at the aged teacup poodle that frantically licked Robin's face.

Mrs. Jeffers examined them closely. “Always wanted to do that,” she said as she handed them back. “I can scratch that off my list now,” she added with satisfaction. “What's the FBI doing investigating a burglary?”

Ben Taylor looked taken back. Apparently he wasn't accustomed to such questions from feisty ladies in their eighties.

Robin thought about letting him answer, but that would be too cruel. And he
had
been kind tonight. “Mr. Taylor thinks it might have something to do with a story I'm covering,” she said before he could utter a word.

“The murders,” Mrs. Jeffers said with delight. “Come in, come in. It will take me only a moment to make some tea.” She opened the door wide and stepped back.

They had no option but to follow.

“No tea for me, ma'am, thank you,” Taylor said. “But can you tell me if you saw anything unusual earlier?”

“Just a cable truck.”

“When was that?” Taylor shot back.

“About six. I thought they were working late. Can't get my cable fixed when it goes blooey. Takes weeks. Dratted cable company never works late. Should have known it was strange. Especially when Damien barked. He doesn't bark at everyone.” She paused. “You said Daisy was hurt?”

“She was unconscious. Blood was on her claws. She probably jumped on whoever came in.”

“Brave as my Damien. He's a good guard dog, you know.”

Robin had to smile at the picture of a brave Damien. The only danger to an intruder was being licked to death.

“She's going to be okay?” Mrs. Jeffers asked.

“I think so. The vet is keeping her for observation.”

“Poor Daisy. She was just beginning to trust me.”

“Can you describe the cable truck?” Taylor broke in.

“Just like every one. White with blue lettering. I only saw one man.”

Ben Taylor turned back to Robin. “Any cable service scheduled?”

She shook her head.

“Can you describe the man?” he asked Mrs. Jeffers.

“Tall and skinny. Blond. Wore a hat but his hair was longish.”

Taylor was looking at Robin's elderly neighbor with admiration. “Would you be able to help a police artist sketch him?”

Her face lit again. “Dear me, I think so. Wouldn't swear to it, though.” She whispered to Robin. “That's on my list, too.”

Robin saw that rare smile play on Taylor's lips.

“I'll ask a sketch artist to come by in the morning. He'll call first.”

“Oh my, that's exciting.”

“Thank you for being so much help,” he said. “You and Damien.”

Mrs. Jeffers beamed. “Anything for the FBI.” She looked at Robin. “Such a nice young man.”

Robin winced. Mrs. Jeffers had been trying to fix her up with men friends since she'd first moved in.

Ben Taylor's usually somber eyes glittered with amusement he no longer tried to hide. “It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Jeffers.”

He went out the door. Mrs. Jeffers put a restraining hand on Robin and whispered, “Oh he's a lovely one. You should set your sights on him.”

Lovely, indeed
.

Robin muttered to herself as she followed Ben Taylor down the steps.

Ben didn't usually enjoy interviews, but he'd been captivated by this one. Usually people were nervous, even when there was no reason to be. Mrs. Jeffers was irrepressible as well as observant, and he saw a side of Robin Stuart he hadn't seen before. He made a mental note to send an FBI artist to the house.

“I like your neighbor … and her guard dog.”

“Damien is very protective,” she said defensively.

“I don't doubt it for a moment.”

She gave him a suspicious look, then walked faster than he would have thought possible with the brace.

He caught up with her. “What's the list she mentioned?”

“Everything she wants to do before she dies. It's a very long list. She'll have to live to a hundred and fifty to do it all. Diving out of a plane is one.”

“At eighty?”

“Eighty-two to be exact. She saw an ex-president do it. She figures that if he could, she could. She's saving her money.”

“And the FBI is on the list?”

“No accounting for taste.”

She was obviously still irritated with him about several of his earlier observations about her good sense. Damn it, he was right. She was being foolish to the extreme. So why did she get under his skin, and why was he beginning to like her so much?

Why, for God's sake, had he wanted to lean down and kiss her when that dog jumped into her arms? Maybe that quick grin and delighted laughter that warmed him in places that had been cold.

The woman he'd taken to the vet and then to the eccentric neighbor was not the same hard-headed, stubborn, story-at-any-cost reporter he'd expected. There was a naturalness and caring about her that appealed to him in a way no woman had for a long time.

Don't even think about it
. Even if he didn't have a lousy record with women, he spent nearly his entire salary on his ex-wife.

More important, Robin Stuart was protecting information he wanted. Hell, had to have. Not only for his investigation but for her own safety. That was becoming increasingly important to him.

Disturbingly important.

The crime scene technicians were still working when they returned.

“We'll need Ms. Stuart's fingerprints to compare with the others,” the senior officer told them. “We'll also need the names of people who've been in the house.”

She nodded.

“We cut out the section of carpet where you found the stain. We'll check the DNA with what Agent Taylor has. That wraps it up.” The officer hesitated, then added, “Strange thing about the doors. Doesn't look like anyone tampered with the locks. You sure they were all locked?”

“I'm certain of it.”

“Then it was a real pro. Take my advice, miss, and get a good security system.”

“I plan to.”

Ben watched her face. He wished he saw more fear there. Not for fear's sake, but she was taking everything too lightly. She had no idea of the rat's nest she'd just disturbed. The fact that nothing was missing told him they were looking for information. And if they didn't get it one way, they might well try another.

He needed it before the bad guys got it.

If only he could convince Robin Stuart of that.

When the police and technicians left, Robin headed back to her office. “I want to check the computer,” she told Ben.

She sat down in her chair and turned it on, then checked the log. “Someone started opening files at 6:08 p.m.,” she said.

“Did they need a password?”

“No.”

She went through the computer files in her head. Some e-mails from her sisters, even some random thoughts for a novel someday. Much too much of herself were in those files. She suddenly realized she was shivering.