Turning to the pizzas, she grabbed a slice from the closest one, carried it back to her desk in the squad room instead of staying with the others and plopped down with a sigh. Confusion was rare for her. So was embarrassment, yet she’d been feeling plenty of that lately.

  I’m not the problem. He is, she told herself with conviction. It had been years since she’d experienced feelings of disquiet when dealing with people, men or women, and to be so flustered around Noah was more than a bother. It was troubling. Very troubling.

  “It’s also dangerous,” Emily murmured under her breath. Losing her cool, for whatever reason, was not only unprofessional, but it put herself and others at risk. The ability to compartmentalize and set aside distractions while functioning as a police officer was part gift, part learned behavior. Lots of people didn’t have that ability, but she had what it took. Her instructors at the police academy had told her so. Chief Rowlings had commended her, too.

  A lack of ability wasn’t the problem, she knew. A lack of staying isolated, however, was. Oh, she had plenty of friends in a casual sense. There were her fellow officers as well as her church family to call upon if she had a need, but they weren’t the kinds of friends who made her want to bare her heart or completely trust their discretion. That was a sad facet of her withdrawal after Jake’s death. Had she been that way before? She didn’t think so, although she’d always kept a rein on her emotions, particularly in public.

  A deep voice close by startled her. A fork appeared in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped around. “What?”

  Noah gave her a lopsided smile. “If I let you play with my food again, will you come back to the party?”

  “I was just trying to please.”

  “Which can be a detriment in most relationships,” Noah said. “I told you I like it when you’re yourself.”

  Bristling because she was both embarrassed and put off, she scowled at him. “Nobody likes it when I’m too honest.”

  “I do.”

  The smile he continued to display only served to antagonize her further. “No, you don’t. You questioned my motives the first time we met, and you haven’t stopped.”

  “About becoming a cop? Maybe. But you criticized my profession, too.”

  “That doesn’t make you right and me wrong.” The urge to go on was almost uncontrollable. If Noah’s grin hadn’t waned and his countenance saddened, she might have.

  He placed his plate on her desk and walked away. Emily could tell he was headed back down the hallway to watch more videos. Imagining herself running after him to apologize for being so cross and seeing the return of his smile, she stood fast. Life had been so much simpler before Noah had come back to Paradise. At least, her life had.

  * * *

  Noah concluded that the most sensible thing to do was finish his stint at the police station and resume his real job ASAP. All he had to do was figure out how to do that while continuing to look out for Emily, which was clearly impossible.

  The thought of her being in danger for the rest of her career was enough to tie his guts in a knot. Knowing that most of her official responses would be for nuisance calls didn’t do much to calm him down, either. It wasn’t the run-of-the-mill stuff that got cops killed. It was the occasional anomaly, the summons that led to mortal danger.

  “I’m as bad as she is, for opposite reasons,” he muttered. While Emily was too brash, he was letting his imagination rule his senses and shut down his logical thinking. Most cops retired after long terms of service, and they deserved every day of health and happiness that waited for them.

  So, did he really trust God, or was he going to make himself miserable by doubting?

  The images on the laptop screen continued to pass. Noah’s subconscious caught a slightly familiar face. He jerked. Stabbed at Pause on the touch screen and slowly backed up the images until he saw things clearly.

  Was that her? The newest victim? Had she been there too, with the blondes he remembered? Perhaps her darker hair was why he hadn’t noticed her, although she was pretty enough. He corrected himself on his way to the door. She had been pretty.

  Starting to whip around the corner into the hallway, he almost collided with Emily. “Whoa!”

  “What is it?” she asked immediately. “Did you find her?”

  “I think so.” Noah led the way to the laptop. “That looks like her, right?”

  Emily leaned down to peer at the screen. “Maybe. We’ll have to let our facial recognition software match the face.”

  “Why didn’t you use that in the first place?”

  “Takes too long.”

  “How long will it be before we can tell if this is... Kristin, did you say?”

  “Kirsty. Kirsty McAdams. She’s been working as a cook at the Paradise Café. I’m surprised you haven’t met her.”

  “Maybe that’s why she looked a little familiar. I cut through the café kitchen when I was chasing after Buddy the other day.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not to me, it isn’t. You’re grasping at straws.”

  Because Emily appeared to be thinking, Noah waited for her to defend herself. When she said, “You may have a point,” he had to smother a grin. She went on. “I had planned to go over the clues that pertain to you when we shared lunch but, as you know, that plan was derailed.”

  “How about supper? Late, so I have time to do some actual casework for Max?”

  “I guess that will do. Where? Back at the safe house?”

  Astounded by her unqualified agreement, Noah arched his eyebrows. “It would be a lot easier for me if we didn’t leave town again. I suppose a meal at the Paradise Café is a bad idea since Kirsty worked there.”

  “Right. And restaurants in Springfield are out. I can’t get too far away when I’m on call. We all are until this killer is caught. The safe house would do but I really hate to go back there, don’t you?”

  In unison, they said, “My place?” and laughed.

  “Can you cook?” Noah asked.

  Emily was grinning at him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not assuming I’m a wonderful cook because I’m a woman.”

  “Hey, I’m pretty good in the kitchen, and I’m a guy.”

  The blush rising on her cheeks pleased him even more when she said, “Yeah, I noticed.”

  * * *

  Armed with a file about the crime spree in a tote and her service weapon concealed in a holster at her waist, Emily parked in front of Noah’s apartment. She wasn’t surprised to see that he’d chosen a small, simple place, probably since he wasn’t planning to stay long. She’d prayed about the image she was projecting by visiting him alone and felt assured that a business dinner was certainly not out of the ordinary, nor should it be subject to rumor.

  The street was fairly well lit, and the two-story brick building had a bright yellow vapor light directly above the main door. Notes on his apartment number weren’t necessary. She remembered his every word, down to each pause and facial expression, which was handy but also disquieting.

  Cicadas buzzed in the bushes, their calls starting at varying intervals before joining into a mutual chorus. Once the weather cooled more, the night would return to a comfortable silence.

  She shivered as she approached. The insects had stopped buzzing. No night birds sang. When she scanned her surroundings and saw nothing out of the ordinary, she told herself she was being paranoid, then huffed. “Yeah, you’re only paranoid if nobody is out to get you.”

  There was an intercom next to the entrance. Emily buzzed 201 and waited. Noah didn’t answer, and the door didn’t release.

  She pushed the button again. Nothing.

  Shadows shifted. Emily shaded her eyes from the distortion of the porch light and strained to pick out details in the distance. Being jumpy wasn’t like her. On the other hand, neither was standing under a bright light and making a target of herself.

  Rather than draw her gun, she reached up and pressed every button on the intercom, one after the other.

  The latch clicked. Emily prepared to enter. She was half turned when the door was jerked open and she almost fell through.

  A strong hand grabbed her arm. Held her. She swung the tote in self-defense.

  “Hey!” Noah fended off the blow. “It’s me.”

  “Why didn’t you let me in?”

  “Nobody else has tried to visit me here. I guess the system is broken. I looked out and saw your car, so I came down to see why you hadn’t rung.” He began to shut the door behind her.

  Emily heard a strange thunking noise just as the heavy wooden door closed. “Wait. What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “I heard something. Outside. Didn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “Well, I was.” She handed him the heavy canvas tote and closed her fingers around the grip of her gun. Her other hand reached for the doorknob. Turned it. Eased open the door while staying out of sight.

  There it was. Right at eye level. The height of her head. A rush of adrenaline made her tremble. She drew her gun, ready for a further attack.

  Behind her, Noah asked, “What’s wrong?” and Emily stepped aside slightly. “Look for yourself.”

  “Is that a...”

  Breathless, she filled in the rest of his sentence. “Yeah. It’s a knife. Call the police and report another attack.”

  * * *

  The cozy meal Noah had planned ended up being a buffet that included the two police officers who responded to Emily’s request for backup. Cal Dodge, he knew. The other man, rookie Larry Mullins, looked barely old enough to have graduated high school.

  Emily had met them at the outer door. “Be careful when you bag that knife,” she warned. “I want prints preserved.”

  Noah didn’t like Dodge’s tone when he replied, “We know our job, Zwalt,” but didn’t defend her. If he wasn’t willing to let her coddle him, he couldn’t very well treat her as if she needed his input all the time. As for pulling her in the door the way he had, he credited divine intervention. It made no difference how large or small the knife was. The intent was clear. Somebody had meant to harm Emily.

  Dodge and Mullins had come up to Noah’s apartment after examining the yard and finding no more clues. To say that Noah was disappointed was an understatement, but he made the best of the situation and offered refreshments.

  They’d finished the cheese and crackers he’d provided, and each had left with a plastic container of fresh fruit and a slice of the cheesecake he’d bought to share with Emily for dessert. Closing the apartment door behind them was a relief.

  “I had planned to broil a couple of steaks for us,” Noah told Emily. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not after all those appetizers,” she said, smiling. “Why don’t you save the steaks for another time?”

  He had to grin. “Another time? Do you mean that?”

  “Sure. We all have to eat.”

  Although he would have preferred that she emphasize being with him instead of merely sharing a meal, he was willing to take what he could get at this point. “Well, at least they left enough dessert for us to enjoy later tonight.”

  Placing the tote on the kitchen table, she waited while Noah cleared away the remaining food, then started to display pictures from the board at the safe house as well as unused pads of lined paper.

  There were two dining chairs. She sat in one while he pulled up the other, noticing that she didn’t seem to mind his nearness one bit. With his right arm resting on the back of her chair, Noah leaned closer. “What are we doing now?”

  “We’re each going to make two lists. One will be for the victims of the serial killer. The second is for the other attacks, like the knife in your door. Then we’ll see if we agree, and if we don’t, why we don’t.”

  “I’d think the results would be the same.”

  Emily leaned her head to one side and pressed her lips together as she looked at him. “That’s one of the things I want to see. The similarities don’t interest me nearly as much as the differences do.” She pushed a pad and pen at him. “Here. And no peeking. Use the photos for reference so you won’t forget anything.”

  Following her instructions had sounded easy until he tried it. Starting with the murders, he listed the three blonde women, Charity, Annie and Kit. Unsure about Vangie or the latest, Kirsty, he switched to the second list. That one, he headed with Buddy’s call drawing him to the park, then added the threat while he sat in the police car. There was no forgetting the first rifle shot, either, of course, but should it tie to the Roskov woman or to Buddy or to threats against the police?

  Noah leaned back, thoughtful. “I see the problem now.”

  “Thought you might.”

  “Where do you think the first rifle attack in the park belongs? Was that from the serial killer?”

  Emily shrugged. “Beats me. Put it wherever you choose, and we’ll sort it out later.”

  He picked up the pen and studied the crime reports strewn on the table. “Can I move these into chronological order?”

  “I mixed them up on purpose,” Emily said. “Let’s work with them this way at first, then arrange things better.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  “I’m going to add Buddy running from me at the café.”

  “Fine.”

  “Then the knifing at your place, right?” When she stayed silent, he jotted that down, then started to put Laura Bright on the second list before changing his mind due to the hospital attacks on her and Officer Anderson and starting to cross out her name.

  Emily intervened with a hand on his. “Leave that as your first conclusion. Duplicate if you’re not sure.” She pulled a face. “I’m not sure, either.”

  “Okay.” Mulling over all that had occurred, Noah understood why the police were confused. He’d been involved in most of the secondary crimes, and he was mixed up, too.

  “Has anybody managed to interview Vangie yet?” he asked, getting ready to add her name to one of the lists.

  “No. Not yet. Her mental health is in question, and they’re afraid to push her too hard.”

  “Okay.” Pen poised, Noah added her name to both lists, too. At this point he had as many doubles as he did singles.

  The incident at the police station was easier to decide about. That couldn’t have had anything to do with the serial killer, could it? That shooter had simply wanted to damage police property. Unless...

  He laid aside the pen and crossed his arms, noticing the pain that caused in his ribs and back. “I’m seeing something,” he said pensively.

  “Yes?” Emily swiveled to face him, covering her own lists as she did so. “What’s that?”

  “Me,” Noah said. “I know I’m innocent, and I hope you think so, too, but there isn’t one of these crimes that doesn’t touch my life in some way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For admitting what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since I saw you in the park. It all leads back to you.”

  “And to you,” he argued. “Remember the knife in my door tonight.”

  “Thrown here, if you’ll recall.”

  He rose so quickly he almost toppled the chair, starting to pace as he considered the undeniable connections. “What can I do? How can I stop this?”

  “We’re already doing it,” Emily said calmly. She gestured at the empty chair. “Come on. Sit back down and finish your lists so we can discuss the places where we may disagree.”

  “That’s why you wanted to do this with me, isn’t it? You wanted to prove to me that it was my fault.”

  “Not at all. You aren’t responsible if some unbalanced individual focuses on your personal life any more than I’m responsible for criminals who get off with light sentences.”

  “Not the same at all,” Noah argued. “It’s beyond my control if somebody has it in for me or my friends.”

  The expression on Emily’s face could only be described as triumph as his mind carried that thought through to its natural conclusion. She was still blaming defense attorneys, not him necessarily, but those in his profession. She might be willing to excuse him for unknowingly bringing about tragedy, but she wasn’t ready to admit how much good his work did in the grand scheme of things.

  Well, he knew better. Families had been preserved, relationships between parent and adult child restored, and on and on. Admittedly he was sometimes wrong. No one could claim unfailing discernment. His goal wasn’t perfection. It was to provide a second chance to people who had given up on themselves, on life in general.

  Returning to the table, he glanced over his lists, added the knife throwing and drew a line across the paper. The end. No more, Noah prayed silently. God help me to figure this out and stop it. Please. Soon.

  SIXTEEN

  Emily slid her list next to Noah’s and discovered that the only places where they totally disagreed were times that had directly involved her. They both thought the Roskov murder was part of the serial killer’s work. She’d put Laura Bright in the random category while Noah had decided she, too, was part of the crime spree.

  Pointing with her pen she asked, “Why this one? Is it because she’s blonde?”

  Noah nodded. “That, and the secondary attack at the hospital.”

  “So that’s why you put Anderson in the serial column?”

  “Yes. There has to be a connection, right?”

  “Maybe.” Pensive, she let her mind delve deeper. “However, he’s also a uniformed officer.”

  “So, put him on both lists.”

  “That’s becoming another problem,” Emily said. “We have an awful lot of overlap.”