“Yes, these are the ones.”

  He handed over his credit card and waited while she ran it through the machine.

  Five minutes later, he and Megan walked out of the store.

  “Did you know they sell a thousand-dollar toilet seat?” she asked in a whisper.

  “What’s it made out of—gold?”

  “Plastic. But the seat’s heated. And there are a couple of special . . . attachments. Two different water sprays and something like one of those blow-dryers they have for your hands in some rest rooms.”

  He laughed. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “I couldn’t have made it up. My mind isn’t that inventive.”

  “If you say so.”

  They walked along the second-floor corridor. “We could go to the food court,” she said. “That way you can have meat, and I can have a baked potato with cheddar cheese and broccoli.”

  “Sure.”

  It was early for dinner, so there were plenty of tables. They each went off to buy food. Megan finished first and was standing by a table partially screened by a bank of greenery, waving her hand, when he stepped away from the counter with his own tray.

  He sat, eyed her potato.

  “I should buy you dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “You stocked my refrigerator.”

  A shadow passed across her face. She chewed and swallowed before saying, “You don’t owe me anything.”

  He kept his eyes focused on her until she dropped her gaze.

  “Are you worrying about the security guard?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She dragged in a breath and let it out in a rush. “I guess you can read me pretty well.”

  “Reading people is part of the job description.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Two things happened today before we met up here. Both of them are my fault. First there was Walter. I was making some notes about your tests. When I came back from getting coffee this morning, he was reading them.”

  “And?”

  “He got excited about writing you up.”

  Anger flashed through him. “Shit.”

  Her face contorted. “It’s worse than that. He can’t decide the best way to exploit the situation. The alternative to fame and glory is keeping you secret and bottling your extra chromosome.”

  “For what?”

  “An extra chromosome usually causes some sort of defect. He could see from my notes that I was impressed with your physique. So he’s wondering if there’s any advantage to your genetic makeup.”

  “You told him it kills three-fourths of the children?” he asked.

  “I tried to tell him that. He thinks he can work around the problem.”

  Ross swore again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I should have been more careful, but I was pretty shaken up this morning.” She cleared her throat. “Walter is going through a bad spell because of the break-ins—and because he’s looking for ways to bring in more money. When I was out at your house, I had to promise to charge you for private duty nursing. Thank God he seems to have forgotten about that.” Looking down at her plate, she picked up her fork and poked at her potato.

  “He’s likely to be going through a worse spell.”

  She raised her eyes to his. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m going to have a talk with him and make sure he understands there will be no write-up about my chromosomes. And no exploitation of them, either.”

  “He—”

  “Will follow my advice. I can be pretty effective,” he said, his voice low but very firm.

  She breathed out a little sigh. “Yes.”

  He cut off a piece of his cooling steak, chewed, and swallowed. “How the hell did you get mixed up with a bastard like him, anyway?”

  “For one thing, I thought he was offering me a good job. And I guess I was looking for a boss who seemed like the complete opposite of my father. I already told you about him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Walter seemed pretty nonthreatening. But since I got to Bio Gen, I’ve found out there are all sorts of ways to dominate people. I guess Walter uses passive-aggressive techniques. Or he used to. Lately he’s skipped the passive mode.”

  “You could get another job.”

  “I’ve thought about it. But there’s a catch-22. I don’t know whether I can take my research with me. I mean, I’ve used his equipment. In a way, the lab’s been sponsoring me. He told me that work I’ve done there is his lab’s property.”

  “Was that in your contract?”

  “I didn’t sign a contract.”

  “Maybe you need to see a lawyer. Maybe we both do.”

  SO far it had been a good day for Donald. He’d hassled some kids who were obviously hooking school and made a black guy conform to the no-smoking regulation. The highlight of the afternoon had been hauling a dim-witted fifteen-year-old cunt accused of shoplifting to the mall office and keeping her in custody until the cops arrived—crowding her so that he could feel her breast tremble against his arm as she stood there shaking, waiting for the Montgomery County Police.

  He’d gone into a little fantasy, imagining taking her to his secret room, making her confess all the dumb things she’d done, then telling her that what he was going to do to her was punishment for her sins.

  Then the police had taken her away. After that he’d amused himself by picking out women and thinking about whether he wanted them.

  Now it was his dinner break, which he’d timed to coincide with Sandy’s. From a distance she looked so much like his mother that he felt his stomach muscles clench.

  Brassy blonde. Too heavy because she loved to stuff her face. He concentrated on arranging his features into a delighted smile as she came out the door of Indulge Yourself.

  “You on your dinner break?” he asked.

  She looked pleased to see him. “Yes. Cathy is holding down the fort,” she said, referring to the little brunette behind the counter.

  “It’s my break, too. Want to join me?”

  “Sure.”

  They made their way toward the food court, where he got a couple of burgers and she ordered rabbit food—a salad with a few shreds of meat on top. When she caught him staring at her meal with distaste, she hurried to explain. “I’m on a diet.”

  “Aw, you don’t look like you need to be.”

  “I’ve been a bad girl.”

  “You mean in the eating department? Or do you have other vices?”

  She flushed. “I was referring to eating.”

  He tore into his burger. “I like a woman with a few vices.”

  “Oh?”

  He deliberately took another bite of his burger before answering. “I’ve been wanting to get together with you for a while.”

  “I’d like that,” she answered, making her voice low and sexy before taking a few bites of her salad.

  MEGAN leaned toward Ross. “There’s something else I should tell you,” she said in a resigned voice.

  He waited for more bad news.

  “Detective Thornton called to ask me some more questions. I didn’t want to meet with him in the lab, so I suggested a deli on the pike.”

  “He’d want to get back to you for details you might not have given him right after the attack.”

  “He got me talking about you. I probably said too much.”

  He sat up straighter. “Like what?”

  “Like that you’d been shot.”

  “Shit!”

  “He tricked me into it. I’m sorry.”

  “Tricked you how?”

  “Acted like he knew about it.”

  He nodded tightly. “He’s a smart guy. Maybe I underestimated him.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  “It’s his job to get information out of people—any way he can.”

  Megan still looked so miserable, and he couldn’t stand being the cause of the distress. Not when she was already going through a pretty bad time. Reaching across the table, he touched her hand. He should have been prepared for the effect. Or perhaps nothing could have prepared him for the heat that leaped between them.

  “Ross,” she breathed, turning her palm up, stroking her hand against his. Just his hand on hers, and he was so hard he didn’t know whether he was experiencing pleasure or pain.

  For long moments, speech was impossible. Whatever he might have been going to ask her about Thornton totally went out of his head. When his brain finally engaged again, he said, “I need to know something else.”

  She lifted questioning eyes to his, her expression dreamy; he wondered if she was as aroused as he.

  With an effort, he managed to ask, “Were you expecting anyone this morning?”

  “Expecting anyone? Where?”

  “At your house.”

  “No. What are you getting at?”

  “After you left, a car stopped at the curb. When I looked out the kitchen window, it sped away.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Who was it?”

  “I couldn’t tell in the fog.”

  He saw a little shiver go over her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but I didn’t want to keep you in the dark.”

  “I appreciate that.” Her fingers clamped themselves onto his. “But it doesn’t make me want to go home alone tonight.”

  “Do you want me to come back with you?”

  “Yes.”

  The way she said it, just that one syllable, tightened his body again. He’d stopped kidding himself. Both of them knew what going back to her house would mean.

  It was an effort to pull his hand away. They ate in silence then, but he felt the need to hear her voice, to learn everything he could about her. “You said you have a sister?”

  “Yes. Dory. She’s a couple years younger than I am, and she’s still in Boston, where we grew up.”

  “Is she a doctor, too?”

  Megan laughed. “No. She’s had a succession of jobs, cocktail waitress being the latest.” Her expression sobered again. “And she’s gotten mixed up with a succession of men who remind me of our father. I guess the difference between her and my mother is that Dory’s prepared to leave them when things get really bad.”

  “And what kind of men have you gotten mixed up with?”

  She flushed. “Not too many. I never had a relationship that went very far. I’ve always looked for nonthreatening guys. Then it turns out there’s not enough substance to make them interesting.” She said it forcefully, as if offering him a challenge.

  “So I’m not exactly your type,” he heard himself saying.

  “I told myself you weren’t.” She raised her eyes to him. “You know how far that got me.”

  About as far as he’d gotten warning himself away from her.

  “Do you want to leave?” he asked, giving her another chance to back away.

  She didn’t take it. “Yes. Where are you parked?”

  “Near Hecht’s.”

  “That’s convenient. I’m over there, too.”

  DONALD took a sip of his Coke.

  “Speaking of vices, it’s amazing what people come into the shop to spend their money on,” Sandy chirped.

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “Yeah, you’ve told me about some of them.”

  “The guy this afternoon takes the cake. Cathy was waiting on him, but I was in the stock room, and I could see him and his girlfriend. After they left, Cathy told me all about him.

  “She said a couple of months ago he bought an expensive pair of Bausch and Lomb binoculars. Top of the line. Five hundred dollars. Then this afternoon, he comes back and tells her he lost them. So he pulls out his credit card and buys a replacement pair. Just like that.”

  He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The binoculars he’d found in the knapsack outside the fence were Bausch & Lomb. And he knew they were a damn expensive pair.

  Sandy broke into his thoughts. “In fact, there he is over there eating dinner. Him and the girlfriend.”

  Donald went rigid. “Where?”

  “Over there. Behind that bank of plants. It looks like they’re getting ready to leave.” She inclined her head.

  He swiveled around in his seat and saw a good-looking couple—a dark-haired guy and a little blonde.

  They got up and walked through the court, their total attention focused on each other. Still, he bent over his hamburger, hiding his face under his cap. Then he looked at his watch. “Hey, sorry, I just remembered, I’ve got to check on a car that broke down in the parking lot this afternoon. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll see you later.”

  He stood, turned, and started down the aisle after the couple, keeping far enough behind them so that they didn’t know they were being followed.

  They walked through Hecht’s and into the parking lot, where they separated.

  Pulse pounding, he followed the guy, who headed up a lane and opened the door of an SUV. A Jeep Cherokee.

  The license number was DEK 782.

  DE—the same fucking first two letters as the SUV that had driven away from his house two nights ago. The same fucking binoculars.

  Christ! He felt his heart literally stop—then start up again in double time. He had the bastard—if he could just get a little more information out of Sandy. And if he couldn’t, there was always the DMV. Somehow he’d figure out how to get the guy’s name out of them.

  He went back into the mall and sprinted toward the food court. When he found that Sandy had already left, he bolted up the escalator to Indulge Yourself. She was behind the counter.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I figured I’d better take care of it before the mall closed.”

  She nodded, looking like she believed him.

  He leaned toward her across the counter. “I’ve been wanting a pair of binoculars like the ones you were talking about. For bird watching.”

  “They’re pretty pricey for bird watching.” She reached into the case and brought them out.

  He took them from her and turned to look at a sign in the store across the aisle, not really paying much attention to the focus. “Nothing’s too good for my hobby.”

  “I know what you mean. I try not to spend too much on jewelry. But it’s such a temptation when you see a piece you want. There’s this diamond and ruby pin in Katz’s that’s just calling to me,” she said, like she thought he might jump at the chance to buy it for her.

  He managed a noncommital response, then put the binoculars back and looked around the shop and asked, “Where’s, uh, Cathy?”

  “She went home when I got back from dinner. Why?”

  He gestured toward the binoculars. “These seem okay. But I’d like to ask that guy if he thinks they’re worth it. Can you look at the credit slip and give me his name?”

  She glanced toward the door, then back at him. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s confidential information.”

  He gave her his most boyish smile. “It would be a big help—before I spend that kind of money. I mean, I’m not some fat cat. I have to live on my salary.”

  When her expression softened, he added, “Please.” Jesus, he hated to beg, but he’d make her pay for that later. “I’d really appreciate it.”

  She hesitated a beat, making him sweat. “Okay. You can stop by tomorrow morning and look.”

  “Why not right now?” he asked, somehow managing not to shout.

  She shot another glance toward the door. “Because my boss comes in sometimes in the evenings, and if he caught me letting someone look at the charge slips, I’d be in big trouble.”

  He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I’m mall security,” he reminded her. “There’s been some credit fraud in the mall, and I need to look at your records.”

  She managed a nervous smile. “Tomorrow.”

  He could see that pressing her would be a bad idea. But he was sure of her now. Sure he could get the name. Feeling expansive, he said, “What are you doing after you get off?”

  Her face brightened. “I don’t have any particular plans.”

  “What about if we go down to Brennan’s? There’s a nice crowd there. Music.”

  “I’d like that. But I’d like to go home and change first. Why don’t I meet you around ten-thirty?”

  “Great!” He looked at his watch. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  “Yes.”

  He exited the shop, feeling better than he had in days.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ROSS PARKED IN the same spot as the night before, then walked through the darkness to Megan’s kitchen door. If someone had leaped out of the bushes and assaulted him, he would have had no warning. The scenery around him was a blur—just the way the mall had been. There was a buzzing inside his head, and his vision had narrowed to the dim triangle of light beyond the doorway.

  He stepped inside and saw that she’d turned on the fluorescent light over the sink, so that most of the room was in shadow.

  Somehow he remembered to slam the door closed with his foot before reaching for her.

  She came into his arms with a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a sob.

  “Ross.”

  He folded her close, held on, trying to bring himself back to sanity. Apparently there was still enough blood in his brain for some of the cells to function.

  “I’ve got to check the house,” he managed to say.

  Her face was flushed as she lifted it toward him. “Check for what?”

  “To make sure nobody’s broken in. I think you asked me back here because you were worried about that.”

  “Partly. And partly it was an excuse.” Her voice was high and thick.

  He made himself turn her loose, forced his mind to focus on his surroundings as he pulled the Sig .40 from the holster under his arm.

  Her eyes widened when she saw the automatic. “Why do you have that?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be prepared for trouble.”

  When he moved toward the dining room, she followed.

  “Stay here.”

  She stopped in her tracks, swaying slightly, and he exited the kitchen, checking rooms and closets before coming back to her.