Man with the Muscle. Julie Miller

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      Watching her?

      A beam of light hit the side of her face, blinding her. With a startled yelp, she raised her hand to block the light and turned. “Stop it!” She pointed through the fence. “Were you …? How …?” Her pulse raced faster than her thoughts could keep up. Run. No. Even as the instinct shot through her, she knew she had no place to go. Game face, Audrey. Get your Rupert Kline, killer-in-the-courtroom game face on. With a noisy sniffle, she pulled back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Could you get that light out of my face, please?”

      She was going for confidence, strength, with that order. But her bout of crying and uncertain fear made the tone husky, revealing she was far more rattled than she cared to admit.

      “Audrey Kline?”

      Oh, boy. Here it comes. “I don’t have any statement to make at this time.”

      “Okay.”

      Okay? In a moment of confusion, her strength deflated. “The light?”

      Thankfully, the man tilted the flashlight down to the ground. Not a reporter. Not a killer. He wasn’t giving off a whiff of anything beyond leather and starch and clean, musky man. She didn’t need to see his face to know from the width of his chest—and the assault rifle pointed down to the ground at his side—that she’d been discovered by the SWAT officer she’d been ogling only minutes earlier. “Better come out of there, ma’am.”

      He pulled back the hedge where she’d been hiding. No way had he just climbed that fence. She’d been so busy sobbing and sniffling, then spying through the trees, that she simply hadn’t heard his approach from the opposite direction. She pointed over her shoulder as she stepped out. “There was someone over there. Maybe just having a smoke, maybe something else.”

      “And you were checking it out?” He let the hedge spring back into place and positioned himself between her and the noise she’d heard. He pointed the beam of his flashlight into the trees on the other side of the fence.

      “No, I …” Despite the warm, rich timbre of his voice, she detected the tinge of sarcasm there. “How do you know me?”

      Apparently, he didn’t see anything more than she had, although he did pause a moment to touch the microphone at his shoulder and ask someone called Trip to take another check through the Cosgroves’ backyard. “You’re with the D.A.’s office.”

      Audrey struggled to wedge her defenses back into place when he faced her with the abrupt pronouncement. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

      “I saw you on the news earlier tonight. Besides,” he continued as he shone his flashlight on her chest, “I can read your name tag.” He swung the light to the badge hanging from a chain around his own neck. “Alex Taylor. I’m with KCPD.”

      Her gaze darted from his black vest to the handgun strapped to his right thigh, over to the ominous-looking rifle and back up to dark eyes that were nearly black in the shadows. “I figured out you were a cop for myself.” Her throat grated as she coughed to clear it. But she managed a smile as she moved around him. “Nice to meet you. Excuse me.”

      “You can’t go that way.”

      She shrugged off the gloved hand on her arm and gestured out to the street. “Well, I can’t go that way. I’ll just cut through the neighbor’s yard and circle around to my car.”

      “No.”

      “No?” She uttered a sound somewhere between a sob and a curse. “I know it means nothing to you, but I have a reputation to uphold in this city. I have on no makeup and I’ve been crying my eyes out. If you recognized me, then those reporters who track my every move certainly will.”

      “Do you always hide in the bushes when you’re upset?”

      “Do I hide …? You …” Audrey clamped her mouth shut as her temper rekindled other emotions. She tipped her chin to look him in the eye. “I’m not trespassing on your crime scene. All I need is the chance to slip away undetected so I embarrass neither my family nor the D.A. You can’t stop me.”

      He took a single step and blocked her path. “Yes, I can.”

      Oh, God. He was serious.

      Temper. Grief. Frustration. Humiliation. Any one of those could have busted through her tenuous control of her emotions. Being hit by all four at once released the flood gates again. Audrey’s eyes stung.

      “Don’t do this.” She swiped away the first tear, chiding her own weakness.

      “You don’t cry pretty, do you?”

      She croaked on a sound that was half laugh, half groan, and swiped at another tear, willing it to be her last. “Gee, thanks. Is that the best line you’ve got?”

      “Never found the need to use lines. Here.” He reached behind him and pulled a blue bandanna from his pocket. The hint of a smile eased the firm line of his mouth as he held out the cloth like a peace offering. “Was the woman inside a friend of yours?”

      With an embarrassing snivel, Audrey nodded and snatched the gift from his fingers. She wiped her cheeks and nose, then pressed the soft cotton, still warm from the heat of his body, against her eyes. “Thank you.”

      “There’s nothing pretty about losing an innocent life, is there?”

      Although his hushed voice was as dark and soothing as the night around them, she got the faint impression that he was speaking about something personal rather than philosophical. Audrey shook her head. “No, there’s not.”

      He shifted his stance, his eyes sweeping the area around them. “Look, I’m not trying to be a hard-ass when you’re clearly dealing with something here. But KCPD has established a perimeter and wants to control the crowd for a reason.”

      “I heard about the bomb.”

      “We’re thinking that was an empty threat—neither the dogs nor my team have found anything.” He nodded his head toward the street. “But it got the perp the response he wanted. Detective Montgomery—he’s in charge of the investigation—thinks the killer is getting off on all this attention. Chances are he’s here somewhere, watching.”

      Audrey tensed and glanced over her shoulder, remembering the footsteps she’d heard.

      “So you can see why it might not be too smart to wander off on your own.”

      She turned her gaze back to Alex Taylor’s face, feeling more than a little unsettled by the possibility he was suggesting. “There has to be a hundred people involved with the party tonight. Double that if you count all the press and cops and curiosity seekers. You really think the killer is one of them?”

      “I’m not the detective. But I do make sure everyone stays safe. Especially someone from the D.A.’s office who has a major trial coming up.”

      “What do you know about that?”

      “Like I said, I watch the news. I’m one of the men who brought in Demetrius Smith. You cannot let that murderer walk.”

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