A Profiler's Case for Seduction(50)

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, and realized that he had fallen off the cliff, that he was in love with Dora Martin and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, wasn’t sure there was anything he could do about it.

When he was dressed, he walked over to her side of the bed and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead. “I’ll check in with you later today, okay?”

“I’ll be at the bookstore tonight until eight-thirty,” she replied. “And if I was a good woman I’d get up right now and fix you a quick breakfast before you leave.”

He smiled down at her. “You are a good woman, Dora, and I’ll grab a doughnut at the briefing.” With a murmur of goodbye, he walked out of the bedroom.

He left the house with a vision of her snuggled beneath the sheets, a vision he wanted to hang on to forever. But he knew all too soon it would be shoved to the back of his head when he focused again on murder and kidnapping.

The sun streaked pink and orange bands of welcome across the eastern sky as he walked toward his car parked at the curb in front of her house.

Autumn was in full swing, with a bracing nip in the air that made him want to whistle with a kind of happiness he’d never known before. Funny, he’d never wanted to whistle in his life, but Dora made him want to whistle...and sing...and dance.

When he reached his car he was about to get in behind the steering wheel when he saw a white piece of paper stuck beneath his windshield wiper.

Was it a parking ticket? He looked around but didn’t see any no-parking signs in the area. He plucked the paper out, and the words written there caused him to reach for his gun, to lower his body and gaze around himself with narrowed eyes.

His heart pumped adrenaline through him, but he saw nobody in the area. The street was deserted and there was no movement anywhere in his sight to indicate that whoever had left the note might still be in the area.

He holstered his gun and slid into the driver seat, the note still clutched in his hand. He laid the note on the passenger seat and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Richard’s phone number. When Richard answered, Mark spoke only four words.

“We’ve got a problem.”





Chapter 11



“Troy Young is innocent and you are in danger, Mark”





Mark stood in front of his team and read the note that had been left under his windshield wiper, now in a clear plastic evidence bag.

“Crap,” Donald muttered to everyone and nobody. “Where was your car parked when you found the note?” he asked.

Mark felt the warmth that crept into his cheeks. “I was parked in front of Dora’s house. Apparently the note was left at some point during the night.”

“Attaboy,” Lori said with a grin.

Mark ignored her as the flames in his cheeks grew hotter. “I found it when I left this morning, tucked under my windshield wiper, but I have no idea exactly when it was left or who put it there.”

“Troy Young remains in jail pending charges right now, but I have a feeling before the day is done he’s going to be kicked loose. The D.A. isn’t comfortable with what evidence there is against him and he’s already been held as long as possible. Even so, he remains our main person of interest,” Richard said.

He looked at Mark and continued, “The fact that whoever wrote the note believes that Troy is innocent is less concerning to me than the statement that you’re in danger.”

Mark nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that and I’m wondering if the stalker that Dora has is really my very own personal stalker.”

“Just what we need, a new mystery,” Larry said with a groan.

“I haven’t hidden the fact that I’ve been spending my downtime with her,” Mark said, ignoring Larry’s pained expression. “So, I now think it’s possible that if I take this note at face value, then somebody is after me, not Dora.”

Mark wasn’t a coward, but he also wasn’t a foolish man. He took the threat to himself very seriously, especially considering the fact that the author who had penned the note had given no indication where the danger might come from or who might want him hurt or dead. Still, there was a certain amount of relief in the realization that the danger was pointed at him and not at Dora.

“But if that’s the case, then why didn’t the stalker just shoot you when he was by Dora’s house?” Donald asked, his brow wrinkled into a thoughtful frown. “Why wait until you gave chase?”