Flawless(44)

“You were a lifesaver tonight,” Kieran told him as they drove.

“It was nothing.”

“Making Gary believe you’re with Julie? That will have him think twice.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed Danny hasn’t belted the guy yet. All of you seem to be very close.”

“Our dads were best friends,” Kieran explained. “We’ve known each other since we were born, I’m pretty sure. She’s like the other girl in the family. And,” she added, swinging around slightly to study him, “she’s not only gorgeous, she’s smart and talented.”

“Brakes on there,” he said.

“She’s not your type?”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Seriously, thank you. I’ve tried to talk Julie into getting out of that place since her marriage fell apart three months ago. I know there are smart lawyers out there, but the idiots they’ve hired have warned them that the other one will clean them out and the division of property will become a nightmare if they don’t hang in until their court date. But...”

“But?”

She shrugged and glanced at him, looking uncomfortable. “But I’ve seen what can happen when a marriage turns toxic. Today at work I interviewed a woman who—according to one of my colleagues—‘pulled a Bobbitt.’”

“Ouch,” Craig murmured.

“The guy is going to live and, of course, rip her to shreds in court. I’ve told my bosses that she suffered terribly at his hands, but claiming self-defense when she was the one wielding the knife is going to be hard.”

“Makes me even happier I was able to help Julie get away from Gary.”

“He’s never been violent, just cruel. But who knows what people will do? I don’t think the woman I interviewed was ever violent before she suddenly picked up a knife and whacked off her husband’s...you know. I guess there’s only so much anyone can take. Gary’s already nasty, so if he started thinking Julie was persecuting him or cramping his style... Well, let’s just say I’m glad we won’t have to find out,” Kieran said. She flashed him an awkward smile. “Funny. I’m a psychologist—I’m supposed to know so much about people, but the more I learn, the less I seem to understand. Please don’t tell my employers I said that.”

“If you felt you knew everything, you wouldn’t be any good at your job,” he told her.

When they reached her apartment, he once again got lucky and found parking on the street, and this time the media weren’t lurking nearby. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

“I’m fine. I can see myself up.”

“No. You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Your mother taught you that you always have to walk a woman to her door?”

He laughed. “I’m FBI. I’ve seen too much.”

“I think I’ve seen too much, too, and in less than a week.” She frowned. “And now everyone knows that the thieves you caught the other night aren’t the killers.”

“True.”

“Maybe they’ll lay low.”

“I hope so. That will give us time to see if the guys we caught can help us figure out where at least one of them met the copycats, because the killers know too much. They didn’t only study what our guys were doing—they had some kind of inside information to be able to copy them so completely.”

Kieran shuddered lightly. “Thank God the original thieves were at the store the other day.”

He nodded, then walked her past the entry to the karaoke club and to her door, then up to her apartment. When she opened the door, he followed her in before she could close it.

“I’ll take a look around,” he told her.

“I had the double bolts on,” she said.

“Very sensible,” he assured her.

He noted that Kieran had a number of stuffed toys and collectible models on display; she was clearly an admirer of Julie’s work. There was a family crest on one wall, along with a Celtic cross. Other walls held a combination of photos and paintings of New York, the Rockies and Ireland.

“Nice place,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure what happened then. He would never be sure.

She was standing against the wall, watching him. Her hair was slightly tousled, a swath of deep fire-auburn falling across her forehead.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “You can’t—you can’t watch over me every second. I mean, I appreciate what you’ve done. Julie really needed help. I don’t. I’m strong. I can manage.”

Something in her words pushed all his buttons. He found himself directly in front of her, arms out, hands on either side of her head, almost yelling.

And he never yelled.

“What are you—a complete fool? You don’t need help. You’re so tough. Well, you’re an idiot. No one is safe against a determined killer.”

“Why would anyone want to kill me?” she demanded.

“I don’t know!” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? I don’t know why anyone would be after me.”

Their eyes met and locked.

“There’s something going on with you.”