A Profiler's Case for Seduction(37)
Lately Melinda would occasionally fall silent, as if in her own world inside her head, and a small curve would lift her lips. But when jarred out of her thoughts, there was a second when her huge green eyes looked hard and wicked and frightening.
The truth of the matter was that Amanda had begun to distrust the woman she’d once admired above all others. She certainly couldn’t talk about her feelings with Ben, who had always been a besotted fool where Melinda was concerned. If Melinda told Ben to jump off a cliff he wouldn’t hesitate if he knew it would make Melinda happy.
She thought about the FBI agent she’d met. Mark. He’d seemed nice and she’d always liked Dora, but what would she tell them? That something strange was going on but she couldn’t put her finger on it? That her coworker was sleeping with the boss and Amanda was jealous of the relationship they seemed to have formed? A relationship based on sex and secrets?
She tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear with a weary sigh. Maybe everything seemed strange because she was functioning on empty. What she needed more than anything was about twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in her near future.
She drained the last of her coffee and headed to the computer where a screen saver of butterflies filled the monitor with splashes of color. It would take all night for her to accomplish what Melinda wanted done by morning and even then it wouldn’t be a complete job. There was just too much to do.
Fighting back weary tears, she sat down and got to work.
Chapter 8
Mark raced after the dark figure that he’d seen at Dora’s window. It was definitely a man. Clad all in black and with a ski mask on, the man made it difficult to discern anything else about him other than he was fast on his feet.
“FBI...halt!” Mark yelled, but the figure continued to race ahead.
Unwilling to fire a gun in the dark without knowing who else might be around, Mark followed after him, slowly gaining ground in the foot chase that took them from Dora’s house, down the sidewalk and across to the campus grounds.
A ping off a nearby tree had Mark jumping for cover as he realized the man he pursued not only had a gun but wasn’t afraid to fire it.
He dove behind a trash bin, his heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. When he saw the back of the figure, he left his cover and once again continued the pursuit.
They were in the middle of the campus now, between the history department building and a row of fraternity houses. When the man in black turned back toward Mark, Mark leaped behind a tree. He heard the sound of a bullet whiz by.
Once again as the figure disappeared around the side of a building, Mark burst out from behind the tree. He ran at full speed, ignoring the stitch that nagged at his side.
His heart pounded so hard it felt as if it threatened to burst out of his chest. His only thought was that he needed to get to the man—he needed to find out who he was and what he wanted with Dora.
When he reached the corner of the building, he paused and then whirled around in a shooter stance. And there was nobody to shoot.
The moon shone down on the empty ground, and Mark had no idea in which direction the man had gone to completely disappear. He searched for another fifteen minutes and then headed back to Dora’s house, his heart still banging with fight-or-flight adrenaline.
Why would a man with a gun be at Dora’s window? One thing was clear—Dora’s imaginary stalker definitely wasn’t an imagination. Somebody was after her and what he needed to figure out was who and why.
By the time he reached Dora’s house his heartbeat had returned to something resembling normal and his gun was back in his holster. He’d already contacted a couple of the members of his team to do a sweep of the campus and intended to meet them at Dora’s place. Mark wanted to see if they could find the bullets that had just missed him.
With a bullet they would at least find out what kind of gun had been used, and if and when that gun was found the markings on the bullets would match to it.
In the meantime he needed to make sure that Dora was okay and he needed to have an in-depth talk with her about who might want her harmed.
She unlocked her door after he knocked and called out her name. When he stepped inside the entry she fell straight into his arms. Tears streamed down her face as she hugged him close. “I was afraid. I was so afraid for you.” She stepped back and gazed at him from head to toe, as if to assure herself that he was truly okay.
“He got away from me. But the man at your window had a gun.” He ignored her gasp of shock. “Your imaginary stalker is very real, Dora, and nobody comes knocking on a window on the side of your house with a gun in his hand and goodwill in his heart.”