A Profiler's Case for Seduction(67)

“I don’t think that,” he replied, and for the first time his features softened. “But your relationship with Melinda has brought up questions that have to be answered. It’s placed you in the person-of-interest category within my team.”

Dora considered forcing him to drag her to the courthouse, to do his business officially, but then she thought of how that might reflect on Micah, on everyone who respected her.

“Come on, then.” She finally relented and started down the sidewalk.

He hurried to catch up with her and, as they had earlier in the day, they suffered a silent walk to Dora’s house. Dora tried to ignore the scent of him, which smelled of soap and shaving cream and the kinds of things she’d once wanted in her life.

She tried to forget how it had felt to be held in his arms, to taste the passion on his lips and go to sleep with him by her side.

Rather, she wanted to stay focused on the stunned surprise that had lit his features as she’d told him about her past. She wanted to remember that after she’d spewed everything that had been inside her, he hadn’t mentioned a word about it, he’d simply asked her about her relationship with Melinda.

She knew what that meant—that he’d rejected her past, that he’d rejected her. Even though in her long-range planning of her life it shouldn’t matter, that didn’t stop the pain. That didn’t stop the old, hurtful memories from playing in her mind.

Despite her efforts to the contrary, thoughts of her past had intruded into her afternoon. She’d mentally wrapped her arms around the little girl she had been, comforting the child who had never had a chance, who had only wanted to be loved.

When they reached her house, she unlocked the door and entered. She left the open door behind her as the only invitation to him. She didn’t want him here but recognized he wasn’t here as Mark Flynn, friend and lover. He was here as FBI agent Mark Flynn seeking answers to a crime.

When she reached the living room she shrugged out of her lightweight brown jacket and turned to face him, steeled for whatever might lie ahead.

He sat on the edge of the sofa as if he had a right to be there, and that only stirred the edge of irrational anger a little bit higher inside her.

“So question me,” she said, refusing to sit. She just wanted this over. She wanted him out of here, where he no longer belonged.

He frowned and, with a deep sigh, pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “I need to know where you were on the day of Melinda’s disappearance.” He stared down at the paper, as if unwilling to meet her gaze.

“That’s easy to answer. The semester hadn’t started yet, but I was working six days a week at the bookstore, which was open. After my bookstore shift I was back here alone. It’s going to be a little difficult to provide an alibi for that time because I don’t have friends I invite over to my house. As you should know by now I don’t go out and hang with the younger students. Before you I was completely focused on work and school, not on kidnapping and murder plots.”

She couldn’t help the bitterness that laced her tone. Even though she understood he was here to do a job, she resented the questions, the inquiry into her very character. It would have been better if the questions were asked by another agent...not Mark, who should already know the answers.

“Dora.” For the first time his gaze met hers and in the deep depths of his eyes she saw sorrow and regret. She hated him because he was going to make her cry, because even though she refused to be in love with him, he was breaking her heart all over again.

* * *

“Dora,” Mark repeated, his heart heavy as he saw the tears that filled her eyes. “You know I don’t believe you had anything to do with any of this, but the questions have to be asked to make a complete record.”

He patted the sofa next to him. “Please sit down.”

She resisted for several heartbeats and then eased down on the opposite end of the sofa from him. She didn’t want to sit close enough to him that she could smell him, that she could feel the body heat she knew radiated from him.

“Let’s just get this over with and then you can be on your way,” she said.

For the next few minutes Mark asked her the questions he needed to ask to prove that she had nothing to offer the case, that she had nothing to do with whatever theory of the crime Mark believed or that the team believed.

Her alibi of working in the bookstore was an easy one to check. In the couple of weeks before school began, the bookstore would be a busy place as students prepared for the coming semester. There would be hundreds of witnesses who could place her there during the time of Melinda’s kidnapping and the murders.