A light touch on her elbow startled Emily and drew her mind back into the present. Everyone seemed to be looking at her as if waiting for her answer to a question she hadn’t registered hearing. “Sorry, what?”

  Noah half smiled. “I figured you hadn’t heard what your boss said because you took it too calmly.” The smile grew. “He wants us to set up a visual record of any crimes even remotely connected to what’s been happening.”

  Confused, Emily frowned. “We have a murder board at the station.”

  “At your house,” Noah explained, “so we can study it while recovering from our assorted injuries.”

  “Bad idea. Bad, bad idea,” Emily snapped back. “I won’t be able to rest if I’m looking at the cases all the time.”

  It did not please her to hear both Noah and her chief chuckling. Folding her arms across her chest, she stared at both men. “What’s so funny?”

  “You are,” Noah said. “There is no way a busy brain like yours is going to be able to let this go, even without reminders. Putting up the board will help you focus, and maybe it’ll even give my memory a boost. We won’t know until we try, will we?”

  “We?” Her eyebrows arched, head tilting quizzically at Noah for a few seconds before she turned to the chief. “I really don’t think this is a very good idea. After all, a lot of these latest problems occurred when we were together.”

  “Proving that Holden here wasn’t the cause,” Rowlings said. “Tell you what. Instead of going home to your house or to his apartment, why don’t you both move into a safe house on the outskirts of Springfield? It’s only a few miles out of your way.”

  Emily immediately opened her mouth to protest and was stopped by the chief. “Don’t go getting riled up. I didn’t mean for you to break any moral codes. There’s a stakeout taking place off Battlefield, and I’m rotating two teams in and out for surveillance, so you won’t be there alone. Plus, that will give you backup if any of your unidentified enemies manage to track you down.”

  “As long as I can come and go for work if I have to,” Noah said. “I won’t feel comfortable locked in.”

  Yeah, no kidding. “Strictly voluntary?” Emily asked, making sure.

  “Absolutely. Our people won’t mind, and I can quit waiting for one or both of you to get attacked again.”

  She felt Noah’s steady gaze and shivered. “I suppose we can give it a try for a short time, as long as we’re free to move around as needed. I’ll need to go home to pack a few things.”

  “Just civilian clothes. You won’t need a uniform because you’ll be officially off duty,” Rowlings said. “I’ll have someone see that they’re taken care of.” He turned to Noah. “What about you? What will you need?”

  “Laptop, paper files. I won’t know which clients until I check with my office. And the cell phone you took. My whole life is on it.”

  “Ah, sorry. It’s in the hands of the FBI, I’m afraid.”

  “I want it back. Soon,” Noah said firmly. “They can pair it with another phone and transfer everything over. I need that information in order to do my job properly.” His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “Understood?”

  Rowlings was nodding. “Simmer down. I’ll have it for you by tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

  It wouldn’t have surprised Emily to hear Noah say something negative at that point, but his self-restraint held. Given similar circumstances, she wasn’t sure she’d have been so silent. After all, there wasn’t the slightest bit of evidence tying Noah to the actual crimes, and the chief was pushing it by including him in the pool of possible suspects.

  Part of the problem, she realized, was that they were astonishingly short of persons of interest regarding the murder spree. It was assumed that because the victims were all young, pretty women of a certain description, the perpetrator was male.

  As much as Emily hated to admit it, her chief’s suggestion made sense. Seeing images and info posted should give her a better overall view of everything that had been going on.

  She shivered. It was one thing to search for a person or persons who had harmed someone else. It was quite another to be hunting a predator whose intended prey was yourself.

  * * *

  Noah decided to personally visit Max one more time before leaving the hospital. Keeping the older man informed was necessary for Max’s well-being, of course, but there was more to it now. If anything happened to Noah, Max might have to hire someone else to fill in until he was well enough to return to work himself.

  Max’s personal assistant, Olivia Brooks, was holding his hand when Noah knocked, then peeked in. “Sorry to bother you, but there have been some developments you should know about.” He noted the tug Olivia gave to pull away and that Max kept hold of her hand, so he smiled and added, “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Max smiled too. “It’s no secret, son. Olivia and I have known each other for years. Been friends. Worked together. But it took my stroke to wake us up to other possibilities for our future.” As he spoke, his eyes glistened, and he gazed fondly at the middle-aged widow at his bedside.

  Although Noah was a little taken aback, he returned Max’s grin. “Good for you.”

  “Good for both of us,” Max said. “When I thought of retiring and realized Olivia wouldn’t be a part of my life anymore if I did, I decided to pay more attention to my feelings for her.” He paused, apparently gathering his thoughts, then chuckled. “I almost had another stroke when she said she felt the same about me.”

  A sense of loss washed over Noah, as if seeing Max and Olivia happy had somehow accentuated his own separateness. He’d often assured himself that a life partner would someday cross his path, but the older he got, the more unlikely that seemed. Perhaps a deep friendship like Max and Olivia shared was what had been missing in his prior relationships. There just never seemed to be time to develop anything akin to what they’d found.

  And whose fault was that? Noah asked himself. Truth to tell, he had no idea. Nor did he know what a good marriage looked like. Oh, he had plenty of examples via his adult friends, but no real inside information, no concrete assurance that he could make a go of being a husband and father. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that that was the underlying problem. He’d rather stay single than create the kind of unhappy family he’d been part of growing up. If Max hadn’t befriended him as a youth and kept him on the track to college, no telling what might have become of him.

  Grateful beyond words, Noah shook Max’s hand and placed a brotherly kiss on Olivia’s blushing cheek. “Congratulations.”

  They both thanked him as he straightened and backed away from the bed. “I’m glad I stopped in to hear the good news, but I have other information for you.” Driving one fist into his opposite palm, he ignored the twinge in his arm. “I’m going to have to go into temporary seclusion with the police so they can pick my brain about the murders I told you about.”

  “You’re not a suspect,” Max said, frowning.

  “No, no. It’s not that. There was another incident today that involved a client who resembles the prior victims, and they want to immerse me in a case study in the hopes something will come to me that helps their investigation.”

  “What do you think?” Max asked.

  “I think they’re stretching. They’re desperate, and there’s a local officer who needs R and R, so we’re going to spend some time together, talking it through, for as long as it takes.”

  Because Max didn’t seem perturbed, Noah went on. “I’m supposed to get my phone back ASAP and will be free to drop in at the office if necessary, but I’ll be basically secluded, working with the police.”

  “Sounds like a good basis for future work here in Paradise,” Olivia interjected. She smiled. “If you decide to stay, that is.”

  Noah didn’t comment. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his mentor, and as things stood, it might be weeks or even months before the older man would be ready to return to work. He’d already told Max he didn’t feel at home in Paradise. That was enough for now.

  “I’ll get you other numbers to call if you need me before they return my cell,” Noah said.

  Max was nodding slowly. “I’d also appreciate any interesting notes you generate while they’re picking your brain. Who knows? I—we—might see something you’ve overlooked.”

  “That you might,” Noah agreed. “I seem to be a couple moves behind whenever this perp surfaces. The latest attack that may be connected occurred this morning. Fortunately, this victim is going to survive.” He chose to not go into too much detail until the police gave him permission. “I’ll email you copies of the official reports and anything else I think is pertinent.” Noah looked to Olivia. “Shall I send them to the office computer or a personal one?”

  “I’m doing my best to keep Max in the loop,” she said sweetly. “You can email it all to me, and I’ll sort it out for him.”

  Max reached for her hand again and clasped it. “She’s kept me on the right track for twenty years.”

  “And will for another twenty, at least,” Noah said in parting. “I should report back to Chief Rowlings.”

  “Who’s he sending with you?” Max asked.

  The pleased expression on the older man’s face hinted that he already knew. Noah told him anyway. “Officer Zwalt.”

  “Ah, little Emily. Splendid.”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “Little Emily is one tough, determined cop. She’s not at all the sweet kid I remembered. She’s changed. A lot.”

  “I saw that when she was here with you. Still, there’s a core of the person she used to be before that tragic loss.”

  “Jake, you mean.”

  “She told you?”

  “Briefly. She said they were engaged when he died, and that’s why she became a cop. In his memory, I guess.”

  Sobering, Max blinked back tears and stared out the window, unseeing. He sighed. “Jake was a good man, but...”

  “Don’t tell me anything negative about him, okay? I don’t want to have to keep it from Emily.”

  “Wise,” Max said. “Very wise. I look forward to hearing what you two manage to piece together. I have high hopes.”

  “Don’t get too confident,” Noah said with a tilt of his head and a farewell wave. “We haven’t made much progress so far.”

  He was almost out the door when he heard chuckling and turned. Olivia was blushing, too.

  “What?”

  “Sorry,” she replied, “it was just the way you said you haven’t made much progress with Emily. Max and I disagreed.”

  She waved him off, and Noah let the door close behind him. He supposed it was natural for bystanders to assume he had a personal interest in Emily, given the time they’d recently spent in each other’s company, but this was just business, that’s all.

  The mere thought that they were developing a fresh closeness, a special friendship, was unacceptable. The woman was crazy-brave and far too independent to suit him. The more he allowed himself to have feelings for her, the worse he worried about her safety, now and in the future. It was already going to be torture to leave Paradise, knowing she willingly faced danger daily.

  Of course Max saw things differently because his faith sustained him. So did Noah’s, except he believed that God expected His children to use common sense or He wouldn’t have given it to them in the first place.

  So, what was the sensible thing to do in this instance? Noah asked himself. A smart man would walk away from all this, refuse to be sequestered, go straight back to work without delay and let the cops handle their own problems. Right?

  What was he going to do? His unspoken answer made him smile and shake his head as he boarded the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor.

  He had no choice. He was going back for Emily.

  ELEVEN

  The safe house was nondescript and blended into the semi-seedy neighborhood perfectly. Paint was peeling on the eaves, the lawn was sparse, and dead or dying plants abutted the foundation. Coverings for the windows looked suitably faded all right, but on closer inspection, Emily realized it was impossible to actually peer into the house past the tattered drapery because there was an additional masking layer inside.

  As she piloted her unmarked car up the driveway and around to the rear, a garage door rose so she could pull directly in. The door closed behind them. She smiled at Noah. “Well, well. State of the art.”

  “I’m impressed,” he said. “What do we do now, sneak into the house through a secret tunnel?”

  “I think we just walk in,” Emily joked back. “Can’t have everything. Come on.”

  A slightly paunchy, middle-aged man greeted them at the back door with, “Welcome to my humble home,” and a slight bow from the waist. Emily knew he had to be law enforcement, but he sure didn’t look like it.

  She extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr....”

  “Smith will do. Jones is sleeping. We go on duty soon.”

  “This is Noah Holden,” Emily said. “I’m Officer Zwalt. Emily.”

  Smith shook her hand, then Noah’s. “We do our best to dress and act like normal citizens while we’re here. No titles, no real names, you know the drill.”

  “Gotcha,” Emily said. “They told us we could clean up and get a change of clothes here until our own stuff is delivered.”

  “Sure thing,” Smith said, eyeing Noah’s expensive shoes, shirt and slacks. “I recommend you stick to the sweat suits and worn jeans we have in your size and ditch the custom-tailored stuff. You look far too prosperous.”

  “I need to dress better than this when I’m arguing a case,” Noah countered. “I’ll play along for now, but I’m going to need a good suit and a couple of my own shirts for when I go to work.”

  Emily caught the older man’s eye and nodded so slightly she was sure Noah wouldn’t notice. He surprised her by frowning and tilting his head to the side.

  “You aren’t a prisoner,” she told him. “But you have to admit, every time you come and go, you’re opening us to discovery and possible attack.”

  “Opening you, you mean.” He gently flexed his arm. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “More than once,” she countered, hoping to distract him by talking to Smith. “So, point him to his room and me to mine. Our belongings should be delivered soon.”

  “The chief is having some other stuff sent over, too. Where will you want to set up?”

  “All the windows are blacked out?”

  Smith was nodding.

  “Okay.” Leading the way into a rectangular dining room she’d seen from the entry, she swept an arm over the table. “We’ll need this and the narrow end of the room to set up our whiteboard. Will that work for the rest of you? I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “We just sleep and eat here,” he said. “The whole place is basically yours.” He pointed to Noah. “And his. Knock yourselves out. Just don’t go slamming doors or playing the radio too loud. The guys coming off shift need their beauty sleep.”

  “Gotcha.” Emily chose the empty bedroom closest to the front of the house. By the time Noah changed and rejoined her, she was dressed in pink sweats and hard at work assembling her makeshift squad room. A lanky man in his thirties who looked like he could use a good meal or two was shoveling in cereal from a large bowl and watching her. He nodded to Noah.

  Spotting Noah instantly lifted Emily’s mood. “Hi. Room okay?”

  “Fine. I don’t mind sharing.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Eyes twinkling, Noah said, “You should. You get a room all to yourself, and I have to bunk in with the guy who snores.”

  “How do you know? Isn’t he still out on assignment?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Noah teased. “He was the only one nobody wanted to sleep near, so he has to be a snorer.”

  “What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

  “Some things are easy to figure out, that’s all.” He rounded the table and took a closer look at the photos already printed and posted.

  “I hope this effort turns out to be the same,” Emily said. “I’m almost done.”

  Noah didn’t comment, so she studied his expression. His concentration was intense, his brow knitting. She had grouped the crime scene pictures below those of the victims in happier times. Several were crowd shots that included more than one of them.

  As Emily tacked up the last print, Noah pointed. “There.”

  “What is it? What do you see?”

  She noted his color paling as he continued to study a scene shot. “Behind Kit,” he said. “See?”

  Emily had to lean in close to see what he was trying to show her. The image was blurry, and prior to seeing Noah again, she might have failed to recognize his more mature image, but it was him all right. Him and the waitress and Annie Hackett, the killer’s second victim. Noah had his arm around the pretty blonde’s shoulder while Kit Lovell served them.

  “Can you make it any larger?” Noah asked quietly. “I’d like a better look.”

  “I have the original scanned into my laptop. Give me a minute, and I’ll pull it up for you.”

  When he said, “Thanks,” Emily was positive he was anything but thankful, and her heart went out to him. Losing Jake had nearly destroyed her, and she hadn’t been directly responsible. If Noah learned he was somehow the catalyst for the deaths of these young women, it was bound to leave a scar, whether he still felt close to them or not.

  Yes, she wanted to solve this case. No, she didn’t want to cause her old friend pain as a result, but if that was inevitable, then so be it. People had died. It was her job to pick Noah’s memory enough to figure out what was causing a killer to continue taking lives.