Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(34)
Striker could tell from the smile that touched her lips that she had no qualms about answering that particular question.
“After my parents’ deaths, Uncle Frazier sent me to a school in London. A man named Apollo Colter was my bodyguard, and I got to know his wife, Joan, and his son and daughter, Paul and Arian. Joan was a seamstress and I would sit and watch her work. I knew before leaving London to return to the States that I wanted to be a fashion designer. Deciding to concentrate exclusively on wedding gowns came later when I helped out a college roommate.”
She smiled as if remembering the time. “Sharon was getting married the month after we graduated, and the woman she’d hired to design her gown became ill. So I stepped in. I had fun designing Sharon’s wedding gown, and it got rave reviews. Sharon’s father was a top executive on Wall Street and he bragged about my work. I got a job offer from a top clothing design firm in New York. I worked there for a couple years before deciding to go solo.”
“Why not open a shop somewhere instead of working out of your home? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
She shrugged. “Uncle Frazier asked me the same thing,” she said quietly. “I often work odd hours when designing a wedding dress. Late nights and early mornings. I feel more comfortable working at my house than staying late anywhere else. When I’m through for the night, instead of getting in my car and driving home, all I have to do is go upstairs, shower and go to bed. I guess the ideal place would be a shop that also had living quarters attached.”
Striker was about to ask Margo another question, one specifically about her uncle’s girlfriend, when his phone rang. From the ringtone he knew it was Stonewall. “What’s up?”
Intense anger boiled up inside him. “Got it.” He didn’t even take the time to put his phone back in his pocket. Instead he tossed it on the console. Without looking over at her, he slid his car seat back up, started the ignition and said in a tense tone, “Buckle up, Margo.”
“What’s wrong, Striker?” she asked, quickly snapping on her seat belt.
He pulled out of the parking lot. “Just what I suspected. The real assassin is still out there and he’s struck again. Twice.”
The color drained from her face. “Twice?”
“Yes. He made a hit on another juror, as well as one of the prosecuting attorneys.”
Striker pulled into traffic, and when he came to a light, he glanced over at her. “You know what that means?”
He saw the tragic look in her eyes before she shook her head.
“That you’re going to be stuck with me until that bastard is caught.”
*
DR. RANDI FULLER watched the monitor. Her plane to South Carolina would take off in thirty minutes. She had returned home to Richmond from Charlottesville, staying just long enough to have a quick visit with her family, water her plants, gather up her mail and repack. Now she was on her way to Glendale Shores.
This would be one vacation she needed. She should have known better than to get involved with the Erickson case, given that Special Agent Tommy Felton was in charge of the investigation. She had hoped his attitude toward her had changed, but it hadn’t.
She was about to grab a candy bar when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse. “Dr. Fuller.”
“This is Chief Harkins, Dr. Fuller. You were right. We were holding the wrong man. The assassin struck again, less than an hour ago, killing two people. Both had been in the courtroom that day.”
Randi pressed a finger to her temple. More senseless deaths. Anger spread through her. She’d tried warning the authorities, but they hadn’t listened. “And why are you calling me, Chief Harkins? I told you that you had the wrong man but you didn’t believe me. None of you even took my findings seriously.”
There was a pause on the line and then the chief of police said, “I apologize for that, and we will now, Dr. Fuller. As for what we need you to do, I’d like for you to consider returning to Charlottesville and working with us to apprehend the real killer. The feds have their way of doing things, and the Charlottesville Police Department has theirs. My main concern is keeping the people in this city safe.”
There was another pause and then he said, “Since news of those two killings hit the airwaves—after we had all but guaranteed the people we had the right guy in custody—this department and the feds are dealing with egg on our faces.”
“Serves you right,” Randi snapped.
“Yes, it does. So will you give us another chance and assist us?”
Randi nibbled on her bottom lip. Why should she assist them? It wasn’t like she owed the Charlottesville Police Department or the FBI anything. But she did owe it to the people living in fear, who would continue living that way until the real assassin was caught.
“Dr. Fuller?”
She sighed. “The only way I’ll consider helping is if I’m given a private office at police headquarters where I can work. That way I can concentrate solely on the case and everyone around me. Your people, doubters or otherwise, will see how I operate and gain more confidence in my abilities. I refuse to work out of a hotel room like before.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Harkins said quickly.
Randi didn’t tell him all the reasons she wanted to be located at police headquarters. She was convinced someone on the inside—probably more than one person—was working with Erickson and the only way she could expose those involved was to be in the thick of things.