Kelly couldn’t stop thinking about Trent…

The way he’d held on to her hand as they scaled the roof. Or the feel of his hands moving over her body as he gently checked her for injuries. She couldn’t let her mind dwell on how he held her.

“I need to go out for a while before I do something we’ll both regret,” Trent said, looking so deep in her eyes that Kelly couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare back at him, knowing full well that the longing inside her was reflected in her eyes for him to see.

“You have to stop looking at me that way,” he murmured, his face closer somehow or maybe it was her imagination. “I can’t…not react.”

Before she could stop herself, she touched him. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face up to his. That mesmerizing mouth swooped down on hers, kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

There was no gentleness this time, no tender brushing of lips, this was passion personified….

Agent Cowboy
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and with the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing full-time and in 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345 or visit her Web site at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Kelly Pruitt—She’s on the run from the people who killed her boss. She can’t trust the police or the FBI…can she trust the cowboy who shows up at her door?

Trent Tucker—As a Colby Agency investigator, it’s Trent’s job to find Kelly and to solve the mystery surrounding a multiple homicide and her disappearance. But can he keep her alive long enough to sort through the pieces of the puzzle?

Ray Jarvis—Kelly’s boss. Is he laundering money for the cartel?

Ann Jones—Is she friend or foe? She took the bullet intended for Kelly. Did she invite murder into Kelly’s life?

Cyrus McCade—The FBI special agent is running interference for the cartel. He wants Kelly Parker dead.

Norton Davis—Is the FBI special agent set up to take McCade’s fall? Or is the twenty-five thousand dollars in his pocket an investment for his future?

William Lester—Is the senator trying to help a friend or bring down an old foe?

Detective Hargrove—Is he working for the investigation or against it?

Detective Kennamer—He’s in it for the money.

Heath Murphy—Trent’s backup from the Colby Agency.

Darlene Whitehead—Is she in love with Ray Jarvis or his money?

This book is dedicated to a lady who listens to me whine when I’m worried; who says all the right things when I think everything is going wrong; and who is simply a good friend. To my agent, Pattie Steele-Perkins.

Thanks for being my sounding board.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Houston, Texas

Friday, 4:45 p.m.

Kelly Pruitt watched as her boss greeted his final appointment for the day at the front entrance of his small Houston office. A frown wriggled its way across her forehead. Something wasn’t quite right about the scene playing out before her but she couldn’t put her finger on the problem.

“Hold my calls,” Ray Jarvis said to her as he ushered the client into his private office.

“Yes, sir.”

Once the door was closed Kelly shrugged. She hadn’t made the appointment. She hadn’t even known her boss expected anyone else this close to five o’clock on Friday evening. He usually liked to get away a little early on Fridays. Especially since this one kicked off a long holiday weekend.

Happy New Year.

She certainly hoped the new year would see to fruition the fulfillment of all her boss had promised her. Kelly shuffled together a pile of “to be filed” records on her desk and decided that filing would be her final task for the day. She preferred leaving her desk un-cluttered. Mondays seemed a little less daunting when she came in to a clean desk to start off the workweek.

As she moved from drawer to drawer, file folder to file folder, slipping in the relevant documents, she considered that she hadn’t completed five years of college, including obtaining her MBA, to perform clerical duties in a small Houston investment firm. But, during her extensive job search, she had been forced to see the one major strike against her—youth. It seemed, she’d found out the hard way, that no one wanted to hire her in the position she was qualified for because she was only twenty-two. Graduating high school a year early and maintaining a perfect four-point-oh grade point average in college didn’t matter in light of her lack of experience.

After searching for three solid months without the first bite, Raymond Jarvis finally offered her a job as his “administrative assistant.” He promised her a junior partnership after one year of dedicated service, assuming she lived up to his expectations.

She, apparently, had done so. Ray had told her at Christmas that the upcoming year would be hers. In a show of good faith, he’d already started interviewing actual secretaries to take over the clerical duties.

A smile stretched across Kelly’s face, erasing the frown that had nagged at her earlier. Very soon she would take her rightful place in the ever-changing world of high finance. She couldn’t wait. No more monotonous filing, no more tedious reports, no—

“Kelly.”

As she dropped the last record into the appropriate folder, she looked up to find Ray emerging from his office, then carefully closing the door behind him.

Before she could ask what he needed, he hurried to where she stood by the long row of five-drawer high file cabinets. “I need you to put this away some place safe.”

She accepted the small computer disk he offered. “Does it pertain to a particular client’s file?” She had organized the computer disks the same as she had the hard copies of files. Whoever took over would have no problem following her system.

“Ah…” He gave the question entirely too much consideration before answering. “No…just…ah…”

Was it her imagination or was he sweating? A new line of concern formed along her brow. What in the world had made her boss so antsy?

“Just take it home with you and lock it up with your personal files.”

“My personal files?” she echoed, surprised by the suggestion. His gaze collided with hers and for just one instant she recognized fear in his. “Ray, is—”

“If,” he cut her off, the fear she’d seen in his eyes vanishing in the same instant, “you don’t mind. It’s just that if something happened here then those files would be safe.” He pressed her with his gaze, some unreadable emotion making her suddenly uneasy. “I’d really feel better about it if I knew you had a copy safely tucked away. You might need it…sometime.”

She nodded uncertainly. “All right. I’ll take care of it.”

He smiled to put her at ease, the expression clearly strained. “Don’t bother waiting for me. The other offices in the complex have already closed. Lock up and go on home.” He started to turn away but hesitated and glanced back at her. “Happy New Year.”

She managed a dim smile. “Same to you.”

When he’d gone back into his office and closed the door firmly behind him, she stared down at the disk. What on earth was this about? She’d worked for Ray for just over six months and she’d never seen him behave this way. Strange. Spooked, almost. He was always the epitome of cool and calm. His ability to make snap decisions under intense pressure never ceased to amaze her. What was it about this disk—her gaze shifted to his closed office door once more—and this client that made him so uncharacteristically agitated?

Kelly considered all that she’d noted about the client. Mid-thirties, she guessed. Well dressed in a charcoal suit. Dark hair. Not particularly handsome, but attractive in a generic, polished businessman sort of way. Nothing about him gave her pause—it was her boss’s reaction to him that didn’t fit. He hadn’t even introduced her to the client and he never failed to do that.

Ray Jarvis prided himself on a family-like atmosphere at his place of business. He’d told her over and over again that he hadn’t chosen an upscale office building downtown for that very reason. He preferred the smaller, more personal atmosphere of this quiet, off the beaten path, office complex. As he’d pointed out, his immediate neighbors, a mortgage company and an orthodontics office, had already closed for the weekend.

For the first time since she’d started working here, Kelly felt uneasy…alone. Somehow set apart from the rest of the world. It was completely ridiculous. Whatever was bugging Ray appeared to be contagious.

The bell over the front door jingled, drawing her from the troubling thoughts.

“Am I early?”

A genuine smile curled Kelly’s lips as she greeted her friend, Ann Jones. “Definitely not.” She felt better already just having another warm body in the room.

Ann, looking regal as always, came over and gave Kelly a hug. “That tyrant isn’t planning to keep you late today, is he?” She glanced at Ray’s closed door.

Kelly shook her head. Ann knew Ray was a push-over. “No. He’s with a client. Just give me a couple minutes to finish clearing my desk and I’ll be ready.”

“Make it fast. I’m in a hurry to get started on this weekend.”

Kelly laid the disk on her desk next to her purse and quickly sorted the messages Ray had yet to return. That annoying frown bored another line across her forehead. Why hadn’t he taken care of his messages? He hadn’t returned a single call all afternoon. There had to be something going on that she didn’t know about. Maybe something had gone wrong in his personal life. But then she remembered distinctly that he’d told her earlier in the week that he and his girlfriend had big plans for the weekend. They were going to New Orleans for the festivities. Maybe they’d broken up last night and he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

Kelly almost hated to leave under the circumstances. She liked her boss, considered him a friend, as well. Maybe she should hang around and simply ask him if everything was okay.

“Can I use your phone?” Ann asked abruptly.

Kelly stepped aside and gestured to her desk. “Sure. I’ll get my coat.”

Ann reached across her desk and snatched up the receiver then swore. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I think I knocked something off your desk.”

The disk lay on the tile at Ann’s feet. “I’ll get it,” Kelly said quickly. She should have put it in her purse already. Ray obviously considered it important.

Just as she crouched down to grab the disk, Ann shifted her stance and inadvertently knocked it beneath the desk with the toe of her high-heeled shoe.

“Well, damn, Kelly, I’m sorry,” she muttered as her fingers paused in their work of entering the telephone number she wished to call. She moved slightly aside, as far as the phone cord would allow. “I’m a real klutz today.”

“No problem.” Kelly eased onto all fours and crawled under her desk to retrieve the disk, all the while mentally kicking herself for not having put it away as soon as Ray gave it to her. Her fingers curled around the disk at the same moment that the bell over the front entrance jingled. She turned too quickly, banging her head against the desk’s middle drawer. Cursing herself silently, she clenched her teeth a moment to allow the ache to pass. The modesty panel prevented her from seeing who’d entered the office so late on Friday. Surely there wasn’t another appointment she didn’t know about. Whoever it was she had every intention of letting him or her know that the office was now closed.

When she would have backed from under the desk an odd sort of pop hissed through the air. Rubbing her throbbing skull, Kelly stilled. What the hell?

Something plunked against the top of her desk and then struck her in the small of the back, sending her scooting fully under the desk to escape whatever had fallen. Irritation and impatience vying for equal footing she turned so she could see what had hit her. Before she could demand an explanation from Ann the sight of the phone receiver dangling over the edge of her desk silenced her.

Why was…

A blur of movement captured her attention, derailing her thoughts, as something else hit the floor.

It took three full seconds for Kelly to realize it was Ann. An ever-expanding circle of crimson engulfed her white blouse starting in the center of her chest.

Confusion obliterating all else, Kelly leaned forward for a closer look and her heart stalled in her chest.

Blood.

Her gaze jerked upward, to her friend’s face. Her brown eyes were open, unblinking, staring at the ceiling.

When Kelly would have scrambled from under the desk to help her friend, the sound of purposeful footsteps stopped her.

The thud of those heavy steps moved closer and closer to her desk. Kelly held her breath as booted feet and dark clad legs came into view. Big. Male. One black boot nudged Ann’s motionless body but she didn’t move, didn’t react…those unblinking eyes glued to the ceiling.

Ann was dead.

The realization hit Kelly like a bullet between her eyes, straight into the brain. Dead. Ann was dead.

If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again.

The automated voice seemed to scream from the dangling telephone receiver. Kelly’s eyes widened as fear mushroomed inside her. If he reached for the phone…would he see her? Every instinct urged her to draw more fully into herself, to press against the modesty panel in an attempt to get farther away from the threat.

But she didn’t dare move.

A gloved hand reached for the receiver. The audible click told her he’d placed it in its cradle.

For two endless beats she waited for him to bend down and see her…to drag her from her hiding place. She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

And then he moved away. By the sound of his steps she knew he was moving toward Ray’s office. A scream welled in her throat. She had to warn him! But if she moved…if she uttered a single word.

The door opened…banged against the wall.

More of those hissing pops.

Not a single protest was uttered.

Only the muffled sound of something falling to the carpeted floor of her boss’s office. Ray…his client.

Then the stranger was moving about again.

Still in Ray’s office.

She should run.

If she made it out onto the street she could scream for help.

But everyone else in the complex was already gone.

No one would hear her.

He—the man wearing the boots—would kill her, too.

As if he’d heard her thoughts he moved back into the corridor outside Ray’s office…came closer to her desk.

She could feel her heart pounding against her sternum. Please God, she prayed, don’t let him know I’m here. The blood roared so loudly in her ears she felt certain he could hear it…could feel the fear swelling inside her.

“It’s done.”

She cocked her head and listened. Who was he talking to? He hadn’t picked up the phone on her desk. No one else had come in. A cell phone…maybe.

“Jarvis and the assistant.” Pause. “Him, too. No survivors.”

Oh God. He had killed Ray and the client in his office. Her eyes glazed with tears as her gaze settled on her friend. Ann. He thought Ann was…her. The assistant.

“I have the disk.” Pause. “No. There are too many possibilities to assume this would be his only copy. I suggest you send in a team to tear this place apart.”

Her fingers tightened around the disk in her hand.

“I’m doing that now.” The whir of the blinds being lowered punctuated his statement. The lights went out next. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

In the eternity that followed, he moved through the entire suite, Ray’s office, the lounge and rest room, the conference room, and then back into the lobby. The bob of a flashlight’s beam accompanied his movements. He’d turned off all the lights and lowered all blinds. Her heart thundered so hard she wondered if a heart attack was imminent. Then she heard the whoosh of the front door as he exited the lobby.

That’s when she started to shake.

He was gone. Outside. He’d told the man on the phone that he’d wait out front. A team was coming to tear the place apart.

She had to get out of here.

But how?

He was watching.

She licked her lips and gave her body the order to move. Yet it took several seconds before her muscles reacted.

Slowly, one inch at a time, she eased out from under the desk. She bumped into Ann’s body and a moan tore from her lips. Kelly clamped a hand over her mouth and resisted the urge to heave. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and over her hand.

Ann was dead.

Ray was dead.

So was the unidentified client.

She had to get out…to run!

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, Kelly crawled away from the desk…huddled against the wall behind her chair.

What should she do now?

She couldn’t go out the front. Wouldn’t risk going out the back. He could be watching there, too. But she had to hide somewhere before the others arrived.

Her mind whirled with confusion. One escape scenario after the other tumbled through her mind, each one less feasible than the last. She squeezed her eyes shut in the darkness and forced her thoughts to slow. She had to think clearly here. Had to have a strategy.

There was no place to hide that they wouldn’t look.

A whimper escaped her brutal hold on her emotions. They were going to kill her.

The phone.

She could call for help.

She edged toward her desk once more.

The police would arrive in mere minutes.

Relief flooded her.

A scrape of boot heel on concrete echoed just outside the door.

She froze.

He would hear her.

No matter how fast the police arrived it would be too late.

She’d already be dead.

She had to hide.

Leaving her shoes behind to aid in her stealth and moving as quickly as she dared for fear of making even the slightest sound, Kelly headed toward the lounge. She knew the floor plan by heart, which prevented her from bumping into anything since Ray was a stickler for everything being in its place.

Inside the bathroom she drew the door closed behind her. It was as dark as pitch but she didn’t dare turn on a light. She had to think. Had to hide.

They would likely look in the vanity cabinet which was the only place in the room she could conceal herself. There really was no safe place. Not Ray’s office, not the lobby or the lounge including the bathroom, definitely not in the small conference room. Not a single room in the entire suite offered any hope whatsoever.

She was dead.

Another whimper burgeoned in her throat.

Her fingers clenched more tightly around the disk.

No.

She had to get through this.

Had to do it for Ray and Ann.

Whoever had done this, she would see that they paid. If this disk contained evidence, she couldn’t let them find it. It had to be about the disk. He’d told the caller he had it, but apparently suspected there could be a copy. She stood on shaky legs and tucked the disk into the pocket of her slacks. Think, Kelly, she ordered. There had to be a way to do this.

There was a toilet, a small supply cabinet and the vanity in this room.

She looked upward. Though she couldn’t see a thing, she remembered the acoustic tiles that made up the ceiling. There would be room above them but she couldn’t be sure the slim framework would hold her weight. She couldn’t take the risk. If she broke anything or knocked something down he would know someone had been here.

Where could she hide?

Dammit! There had to be a place.

The ventilation return.

She stood stock still as she considered the possibility. It was in the corridor. The opening was twenty by thirty inches, she knew. She’d bought the filters often enough, even changed them on occasions. Her heart started to beat faster once more, this time with anticipation. That would work. Though she couldn’t escape that way since the duct would lead directly into the heating and cooling unit, she could hide.

Holding her breath, she exited the bathroom and moved noiselessly through the lounge. She listened intently for ten seconds before slipping back into the corridor. She prayed the killer was still outside.

He was supposed to be hanging around out front. He’d said he would wait. She chewed her lower lip and forced herself to think. She could sneak into Ray’s office and call for help. There wasn’t a phone in the lounge. But there was one in Ray’s office and in the conference room.

Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Stupid! Stupid!

She pressed against the wall and moved cautiously toward the conference room. Dark or not, she had no desire to go into Ray’s office with…with him in there dead.

“It’s about time.”

The words echoed from just outside the front entrance.

The sound paralyzed her.

More voices.

It was dark outside and she couldn’t see a damned thing, but she could hear.

She didn’t have time to make a call.

She had to hide.

Only two small latches held the grill closed over the return duct. She turned them one at a time, then drew the grill open. Her fingers trembling she moved the filter out of the way, setting it to one side in the duct. Sliding in feet first, she settled into the duct and then pulled the grill closed. The latches were a bit harder to turn from the inside, but she managed. Just as she angled the filter back into place footsteps echoed in the lobby.

They were inside.

She’d barely made it.

The seeking glow of flashlights moved about. Low voices murmured but she couldn’t make out the words. She eased as far into the long metal tunnel as she dared, putting as much distance between her and the opening as possible.

The heating unit kicked on and air from the corridor rushed over her, the roar of the unit drowning out all other sound. She made herself as small as possible and waited for the temperature in the office to reach the necessary point so that the thermostat would turn off the flow of air.

The irritating roar came three more times before the endless waiting was over. Between the blasts of climate-controlling activity, she heard the intruders rummaging through every filing cabinet, desk and supply cabinet in the entire suite that made up the financial consulting and investment firm of Raymond Jarvis. Tears stung her eyes. Ray was dead. She pushed the horror away and focused on figuring out what these awful people could be looking for. It didn’t make sense. They didn’t keep money here. No negotiable stocks or bonds. She simply had no idea. The whole thing was crazy. Unless…it simply was the disk in her pocket.

Had Ray done business with the wrong kind of people? She couldn’t believe that. She had access to his accounts and files. If there was anything under-handed going on it was definitely well hidden. She might not have any prior experience but she knew the signs to look for. Ray was clean, she was certain of it.

She thought of the disk he’d given her and his insistence that she take it home with her.

Had he suspected something like this might happen?

The grill on the return duct suddenly opened.

Kelly’s heart stuttered to a stop. Her breath evaporated in her lungs.

The filter poked inward and a pair of gloved hands felt along the surrounding walls. She pressed her face against her arms and held her breath.

“There’s nothing here.”

She didn’t dare lift her head until she heard footsteps retreating in the corridor. The grill door stood open, the filter bent and sticking haphazardly to one side, affording her scarcely any protection from view. But the inside of the duct was dark and so were her clothes. It wasn’t likely anyone would see her unless they stuck their head in and shined a light directly on her.

Keeping her face shielded with her arms, she listened as the men, four she decided, set the office to rights. Two of them didn’t like it, but one had ordered that they were to leave things as they found them. She heard the killer’s voice once or twice more. It made her want to run like hell, but she couldn’t move…could scarcely afford to draw a breath.

What felt like an eternity later, the intruders left by the front entrance.

For a very long time Kelly huddled there in the silence, afraid to move.

Then she started to cry.

The tears came in long, choking sobs.

When she’d regained control of her emotions, she eased out of the long, dusty tunnel. She sat on the corridor floor for a while before she tried to stand. Still emotional, Kelly felt her way along the corridor. Since the lights were still out and she didn’t trust instinct to keep her from banging into something. When she reached her desk, careful to access it from the front, she snatched up the telephone and punched in 9-1-1.

Dear God.

How could this have happened?

Who were those men?

She hadn’t seen their faces and couldn’t identify them.

The killer’s voice echoed inside her head. She did know his voice. But that’s all she knew about him.

But he knew her.

He’d come here to kill her.

Thought he had.

What would he do when he learned she was still alive?

“9-1-1, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

Kelly hung up the phone without saying a word.

Chapter Two

Chicago, Illinois

Saturday, 2:00 p.m.

Victoria smiled as she viewed the lovely thank-you cards embossed with hers and Lucas’s name.

Lucas Camp and Victoria Colby-Camp

It didn’t seem possible, but her dream of sharing her life with Lucas had finally come true. She fingered the raised lettering, her heart warming at the memory of her wedding day.

The chapel had been filled to overflowing. Her loyal staff from the agency as well as numerous members of Lucas’s unit of specialists had attended. Dear friends from the community here in Chicago as well as in Washington, D.C., had come to witness the moment so long in the making.

Leberman had failed. He’d tried for years to destroy her. Had been successful in murdering her husband and stealing her son. But Victoria had not given up. With Lucas’s strong, loving support, she had fought Leberman and won. Her chest constricted when she thought of all that her son had endured at the evil bastard’s hand. He’d abused Jim endlessly, brainwashed him and turned him into a killing machine. But, in the end, Leberman’s plan had failed. For as soon as Jim realized the truth, something long-buried inside him had pushed to the surface, ultimately saving Victoria’s life as well as his own. He had not been able to complete the mission for which he had been trained for most of his life: killing his own mother. That was behind them now. They had to look to the future.

Victoria had her son back, she was now married to the man she loved, and Errol Leberman was rotting in hell. Life was just as it should be.

The ceremony had been every bit as beautiful as she had dreamed it would be. She and Lucas had pledged their lives to one another. Had publicly taken the vows that their hearts had taken long ago. They’d been in love with each other for years. And somehow, as the ceremony had concluded with the minister pronouncing them husband and wife, Victoria had known that James, her first true love, had been watching. She felt his love even now, and his blessing. He would want her to be happy. He would want their son to be safe and happy.

Her son grew stronger each day. The road to recovery after such a thorough brainwashing and such horrendous abuse would be long and arduous, but James Colby, Jr., was a strong man. Plus, he had a woman who loved him at his side. Tasha North, the undercover agent who had gotten close to him before his true identity was known, had fallen deeply in love with him. Victoria suspected that the next wedding she attended would be her son’s. But he had a ways to go yet. The nightmares were still an ever present part of his life and he still suffered memory lapses.

Time was all he needed.

Victoria pushed away from her desk and strolled toward the kitchen of her new home. She and Lucas had decided that a new home was in order. Her son had asked her to keep the lake house, though she wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to go there from time to time. Whatever it took to make him happy was all that mattered. She’d sold her small home in the gated community where she’d lived since her first husband’s death. That home had been a place of slow healing, of coming to terms with the cruel fate she’d been dealt. She wanted her life with Lucas to begin in a new place where memories would be made, not relived.

The lovely home, only thirty minutes from her office, was not only large and sunny, it was also in the midst of a quiet neighborhood where security gates and guards weren’t necessary. She no longer felt the need for such extreme measures. The devil she had feared so long was no more.

The only thing that wasn’t as it should be just now was work. She’d returned to the office for a few weeks, but Lucas wasn’t quite ready to share her so completely. He’d promised to take another month off after their wedding if she would. How could she turn down an offer like that? Lucas Camp taking a month off from work in addition to the time he’d already taken for their wedding? That might not happen again in this lifetime. In truth, she could use some more time with her son. They’d lost a great deal of that precious commodity, she wanted to make up for every minute and then some. She had a competent staff who could take care of things a while longer.

She found Lucas in the kitchen preparing an afternoon snack tray of fruit and cheese. The wine was already breathing on the counter. Another smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward. Who would have guessed that he would be so domesticated? It just didn’t get better than this.

“Surely you haven’t finished all those thank-you cards already?” Lucas teased as she joined him at the kitchen’s generous island. He’d tried to talk her into allowing her secretary, Mildred, to help her with the work of responding to all the gifts they had received, but Victoria refused. She wanted to attend to each one personally, even if getting around to it had been a long time coming.

“I’m making headway,” she allowed, determined not to let him know just how slowly the process was going.

“Ian called,” Lucas told her.

She’d heard the phone ring but had assumed it was for Lucas. “Really?” Anticipation percolated through her. She did so miss her work. “Is everything all right at the office?” It was Saturday, the office was closed. Or it was supposed to be, unless a case had gone awry. A twinge of anxiety quickly followed the path the anticipation had taken.

A muscle in Lucas’s jaw flexed once, twice, before he answered. Not good. “Everything’s fine. It’s just that a new client contacted Ian when he couldn’t reach either you or Mildred.”

Their home had a new telephone number, one the few clients she gave her personal number to wouldn’t have, and Mildred was spending the holiday weekend with her niece, Angel. With no children of her own, Mildred thought of Angel as a daughter…thought of her child as a grandchild.

Putting her reflections aside, Victoria asked, “Did Ian mention a name?” She knew Lucas was being purposely evasive. At this rate he’d never be ready for her to return to work permanently. It was more than simply his desire to be with her. He wanted to protect her, she’d suffered a great deal. But, he also fully understood how she felt. She would not allow her agency to suffer.

“Senator William Lester from Texas.”

Bill? Victoria frowned. She hadn’t spoken to him in years. Not since his daughter had gone missing. They’d feared kidnapping, but no ransom had come. The FBI couldn’t garner any leads so Bill had come to the Colby Agency. It hadn’t taken Victoria’s top-notch staff long to determine that the somewhat rebellious girl had run away with dreams of becoming an actress before bothering with college. She’d come home willingly and had since turned into a fine young lady, graduating from her father’s alma mater at the top of her class. She’d simply been young and gullible and hoped to spread her wings a little more than her strict father had allowed. She’d lived and learned. Luckily. Considering the young people who went missing every day and turned up dead, it could have ended very differently. Victoria knew firsthand.

“What’s going on with the senator?” Victoria prodded since Lucas didn’t appear compelled to fill her in.

His hands stilled in their work of arranging grapes on the tray. “We don’t know.” His solemn gaze met hers. “He won’t talk to anyone but you.”

Renewed anticipation soared through Victoria. “Well, I suppose I’d better get to the office then.”

“He and Ian are on their way here.”

Victoria took Lucas’s hand in hers. “Thank you. I know you don’t want to allow work to intrude right now. I appreciate your patience.”

Lucas pulled her into his arms and her heart fluttered at the strength he emanated. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you, Victoria.” He smiled, the intensity of it made her quiver with pleasure. “Your loyalty to your staff and clients is part of what I love about you. I just want to be sure it’s safe for you to dive fully back into work.”

She tensed ever so slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but, of course, he did. “Lucas, I’m aware that you still feel there are unanswered questions. I appreciate the concern, but Leberman is dead, what difference does it make how he gleaned his information about us?”

“It may not make any,” Lucas conceded. “But I have to be certain. There is no margin for error when dealing with a man like Leberman.”

She nodded. “I don’t disagree with that assessment and I’ve consented to this additional leave. However,” she dreaded his reaction to the next part, “eventually I’ll be returning to work unless you have overwhelming evidence that persuades me to do otherwise.”

“Understood,” he relented, almost too easily. Did he know something already? Had he discovered some new evidence that had prompted him to insist on this additional leave? He would tell her in his own time. “Now, let’s take the wine and the tray into the parlor and await our guests.”

Within moments of their settling, the doorbell rang. Lucas greeted Ian and the senator and escorted them to the parlor. Victoria banished thoughts of Leberman and his evil legacy back to some rarely visited recess of her mind.

“Victoria, I apologize for the intrusion,” Ian said, clearly torn between doing the right thing for the agency and following the strict orders Lucas had issued.

“It’s perfectly fine, Ian.”

“Victoria.” The senator embraced her briefly. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“You’re looking well, Bill,” she returned. “How’s that lovely daughter of yours?”

“Getting married in June,” he beamed. “Her fiancé is in politics as well.”

“That’s wonderful,” Victoria enthused. “I’m sure you’re very proud.”

“Have a seat, Senator,” Lucas suggested, “and I’ll do the honors.” He gestured to the refreshments he’d prepared.

When they were seated, Lucas served the wine. Ian, as she had known he would, declined since, for all intents and purposes, he was on duty.

Victoria savored her wine as Lucas and Bill conversed about the current political climate in Texas as well as Washington. She could simply sit and watch her husband for hours on end. She did so love this man. But there was a time for that and it wasn’t now.

“So, Senator, tell me what brings you northward.” Lucas broached the matter at hand first. But then that was Lucas. He did things his way, in his own time and always one step ahead of even his sharpest peer.

The senator looked from Lucas to Victoria and back.

“You may speak freely,” she said before he could say what she felt certain he was thinking. “Don’t doubt the loyalties of either of these men.”

Bill nodded. “Of course.” He fingered the stem of his glass a moment before beginning. “I’m sure you’re aware that most states have their drug issues, those that border other countries in particular.”

She nodded. She was very much aware of the drug situation in Texas, especially along the border of Mexico where traffickers used the wide-open space to their advantage. It was nearly impossible to cover all those miles with any real efficiency.

The senator cleared his throat and continued. “I have reason to believe that the Texas drug cartel extends very high in the political hierarchy of the state.”

Victoria lifted a skeptical brow. “How high?” Uneasiness crept over her. Whenever one politician accused another there was always a question of motivation. Bill Lester was a fine man, but he was only human.

“The governor’s office.”

After sipping her wine she set her glass aside. “If I recall,” she said cautiously, not wanting to put him on the defensive, “this is the same governor with whom you have openly exchanged heated words in the past?” She’d put it as delicately as she could. The truth was, Senator William Lester and Governor George Vann had been at each other’s throats for years. The two men openly despised each other and the whole world knew it.

“One and the same,” he admitted. “But this is different. I’m trying to keep my suspicions to myself until I’m certain.”

“You think the governor is enabling the cartel in some way?” Lucas tossed out. “Turning a blind eye here and there perhaps?”

“That and possibly more,” Bill explained. “Now it appears the FBI may even be involved.”

“In what way?” Ian wanted to know. He was a former U.S. marshal himself, and his wife had been an FBI agent for many years, so his reservations were understandable.

Bill loosened his tie. “Raymond Jarvis operated a small financial consulting and investment firm in Houston. I’ve known him for years. Considered him a friend. He came to me about two months ago and expressed concern regarding one of his new clients. Though neither of us could be sure if this client was connected to the cartel, we both worried that it was a major possibility. Ray was running scared. He felt certain this client was using him to launder drug money. He wanted me to help him.” The senator looked pointedly at Victoria. “Considering my history with the governor, whatever goes down where he is concerned needs to come from some other source. Otherwise, he’ll insist that I had a hand in making him look bad. I can’t risk the truth being overlooked because I was involved in bringing his wrongdoing to light. I suggested that Ray contact the FBI and go from there.”

“Did he take your advice?” Victoria had a feeling the man had, which accounted for the senator’s suspicions where the Bureau was concerned.

“About one month ago Ray told me that he was working with an agent. He seemed relieved so I left it at that. He said he’d keep me posted.” He rubbed his forehead and released a heavy sigh. “Last evening someone entered Ray’s office and killed him, his assistant and the FBI agent who’d been working with him.”

Victoria and Ian exchanged a look.

“Do the police have any leads?” Lucas inquired.

The senator shook his head. “Not yet. Nothing appears to have been touched. We have no way of being certain if anything was taken since the two people who worked at the office, Ray and his assistant, were both murdered.”

“And the agent,” Ian asked next, “had he left any reports or evidence he’d gathered regarding Raymond Jarvis’s claim? Perhaps he had discussed the case with a fellow agent.”

“That’s the really strange part. There is no indication whatsoever that the agent had ever even met with Ray before. The only thing connecting him is his presence at the scene and an envelope with Ray’s company logo on it. The envelope contained twenty-five thousand dollars in cash. The homicide detectives discovered it in the agent’s jacket pocket. You can imagine the conclusion those in charge of the investigation have drawn.”

“Convenient,” Lucas commented.

“My thinking exactly,” Bill agreed.

“What do you need from the Colby Agency?” Victoria ventured, cutting to the chase.

“I’m sure the authorities will do what they can. The Bureau is coordinating their investigation with the locals. But, considering this turn of events with the Bureau, I’m not sure I can count on the normal channels of law enforcement. I owe it to Ray to find out what happened. To do that I need the best.” His gaze settled on Victoria’s. “Your agency is the best. I want you to find out what went wrong. Why Ray and his assistant are dead and why an FBI agent with an outstanding record is not only dead but suspected of having taken a bribe.”

“Trent Tucker comes to mind,” Victoria said to Ian. “He grew up in Texas. Used to be a bounty hunter there. I’m certain he would be the best man for the job.”

“I’ll call him at home and brief him on the situation,” Ian added. He turned to the senator. “We’re going to need access to any resources at your disposal. Copies of the detectives’ reports. Forensics assessments.”

“I can get anything you need,” the senator told him. “Tell Mr. Tucker I’ll provide a copy of whatever the police have on the case.”

After settling on the final arrangements, Victoria and Lucas saw their visitors to the door.

“Thanks again, Victoria,” Bill said solemnly. “I knew I could count on the Colby Agency for top-notch work and discretion.”

Once Ian and the senator had gone, Lucas closed and locked the door behind them. He leaned against it then and allowed the weight of his gaze to rest upon Victoria.

“You promised me this additional time,” he reminded.

“I did,” she acquiesced.

“Fair enough.”

Though she knew Lucas was only concerned for her welfare, the gravity of his last comment had felt very much like a warning. And yet she sensed it was not. He only wanted the best for her. Lucas Camp would go to any lengths to protect her.

Dread trickled through her. He had to know something to be playing out this scenario so doggedly. And whatever it was, it could not be good.

Galveston, Texas

Saturday, 4:30 p.m.

KELLY HUDDLED in the shower stall beneath the hot spray of water and still it did nothing to make her feel warm again. She kept seeing the blood soak through the white silk of Ann’s blouse. Kept seeing the third eye someone had given Ray. And the man who’d been in his office—she shuddered—the whole back of his head had been blown off.

Stuff like that happened on television…to other people. Not to quiet, insignificant folks like her…like Ann and Ray. It was crazy. Didn’t make sense.

Even after nearly twenty-four hours, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the television. It was as if seeing it on the news would make it more real.

She’d lain in that air duct for long minutes, maybe hours, before she’d crawled out. She’d turned on the desk lamp in Ray’s office and seen more than she wanted to with that meager glow. Eventually she’d sat down next to Ann and held her cold hand. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there, until she’d realized she had to go. Had to hide before they came back and found her. Before the police found her. Her hang-up on the 9-1-1 operator would eventually culminate in the police’s arrival.

If anyone discovered that she was still alive, the killer would come for her.

She’d watched enough movies and read enough suspense novels to know how that went. She was a witness. She had evidence. She thought of the disk. Whoever the bad guys were they would want her dead.

She had only one option. She had to learn who the bad guys were and then take the evidence to the police. But she couldn’t do anything until she was sure who the enemy was. She refused to trust even the police with her life until she knew the situation a little better.

That might make her a fool, but at least she was a living one.

Once she’d worked up the nerve and to keep up the necessary pretense, she’d taken Ann’s car, the keys had been clutched in her icy fingers. Her purse had been in her car. Kelly had driven straight to Galveston and hidden out in Ann’s home. She’d never been in any trouble, not even a traffic ticket—at least not until that morning. She’d forgotten to put her driver’s license in her purse yesterday morning. She’d taken them out to verify a check the night before and then stuffed them into her jeans pocket. Stupidly she’d forgotten about it and had driven to work without her license. The one time in her life she’d been driving without them and she’d been pulled over. Not only did she get a ticket, but there was a hefty fine attached.

Just her luck.

Anyway, there were no prints on file, no nothing. She had no record whatsoever. She and Ann were about the same size. They had the same blond hair, just different eye colors. Ann’s was more brown than hazel. Kelly’s was definitely hazel. If the police thought Ann was her for just a few days maybe it would buy Kelly enough time to figure out what the hell was going on.

The water started to cool so she forced herself to get up and out of the shower. When she’d towel dried, she wrapped herself in Ann’s robe and forced herself to consider eating. She hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours. She would need her strength if she was going to conduct this investigation. There was no one she could call upon for help. She didn’t have any real friends to speak of, other than Ann. She shuddered. An only child, her parents had passed away shortly after she’d graduated high school. First her mother to cancer, then her father to grief. He hadn’t lived a year after her mother had died. He’d loved her too much to live without her.

Kelly made a disgusted sound. If only men like that existed anymore. Her father had been the bravest, truest man she’d ever known. A cowboy through and through. But Kelly hadn’t been able to bear living on the ranch without them. She’d leased the place and moved to the big city to finish her education and start a new life.

She might never find herself a cowboy to love her the way her father had loved her mother, but she would have the career she’d always dreamed of. Even that possibility looked dim now.

Her whole life was down the toilet.

She opened a can of soup and poured it into a microwave safe bowl. Surely she could keep soup down. Felix, Ann’s big old calico cat, curled around her legs. Kelly supposed Felix wanted to eat, too.

When she’d heated her soup, she put it on a tray with a glass of milk and crackers. Then she opened a can of cat food for Felix who purred appreciatively.

Gathering her courage around her, Kelly sat down on the sofa and turned on the television for the first time since all this insanity started.

She surfed until she found a channel showing the news. While the weatherman spouted his forecast for a warmer than average New Year’s Eve, she forced down the soup and crackers, only then realizing how hungry she was. By the time the image of Ray’s office flashed on the screen, she’d managed to eat enough to sustain her. Any appetite she’d had left vanished as the reporter gravely related the events of the previous night. The numbness set in again. The man who’d been in Ray’s office wasn’t named, which she found odd. She wished now she’d had the nerve to look in his wallet for identification. But no way could she have done that. She’d been lucky to get out without vomiting, which would have left evidence of her survival.

She turned off the television and took her tray back to the kitchen. Working on autopilot, she cleaned up after herself and went to Ann’s office.

Kelly studied the disk for a few moments before inserting it into Ann’s computer. She wasn’t sure what she would find, but there was no putting it off any longer.

She had to know the truth.

Starting with the disk seemed as good a first step as any.

Chapter Three

Flight 1101 from Chicago to Houston

Monday 9:30 a.m.

At six foot three, a first-class seat was about the only place Trent Tucker was comfortable on a commercial airliner. Not to mention it gave him a little more privacy to peruse the kind of reports he was reviewing this morning.

Heavy icing had delayed all flights departing from Chicago on Sunday so he’d had no choice but to postpone his departure until Monday morning. To bring him up to speed and to prevent further delay, Senator William Lester had kindly faxed him the reports and photos pertinent to the Jarvis case last evening.

The images in the photos were gruesome. Three murders. Each victim cut down in the midst of going about his or her business. What Trent needed to know was had that business been the motivation for murder? Were three people dead because Raymond Jarvis had gotten in bed with the wrong folks? And was twenty-five thousand dollars enough to buy an FBI agent with an otherwise spotless record? Or was it merely a fraction of the full payment? What about the assistant? Was she involved or had she simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time?

Trent shuffled the pages until he came to the data sheet on Jarvis’s assistant. Kelly Pruitt would turn twenty-three her next birthday. She had no close family and had graduated from a Texas university at the top of her class. She had no criminal record and a perfect credit score. The money she’d inherited when her parents had died had seen her through college and then some. She had a handsome savings and a healthy balance in checking. Midsize and modest summed up her taste in automobiles. Her living space appeared a bit more luxurious, judging by the address. She just didn’t fit the profile of someone looking to get involved in criminal activity.

The next data sheet detailed the life of her forty-eight-year-old boss. Unlike Kelly, Ray Jarvis had scraped by in college, making the necessary grades by the skin of his teeth. He’d first gone into business with a partner who later became his wife. Unfortunately, fourteen years and two children down the road, the two divorced and dissolved the partnership, which was on the brink of bankruptcy. Jarvis, however, had learned a few things. Picking up the pieces of his life he’d started his own business and thrived. Ten years after that he was on the verge of becoming a major player in the financial world of the Lone Star state.

Jarvis had worked hard to get to where he was, it didn’t make sense to Trent that he’d get greedy at this point and risk everything. But then, he wouldn’t be the first guy who had turned stupid as he neared fifty. A midlife crisis took its toll on many.

The FBI agent, Norton Davis, seemed an even less likely candidate for duplicity. Thirty-one, a wife and new baby, the man had a stellar record. He had been third generation law enforcement and a pillar of the small community where he and his family resided just minutes outside Dallas.

None of it made sense. And yet, three people were dead and dirty money had changed hands.

A gasp startled Trent back to the present.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” the flight attendant said. Her eyes were wide as her gaze went from the photos spread on the tray in front of him to his. “I…thought you might like some more coffee.”

Trent shuffled the photos and reports into a file folder and smiled up at the nervous woman. “No thank you, ma’am.”

She managed a shaky smile. “You must be the detective.”

“That’s right.” He didn’t bother with the distinction of private detective. She was already nervous enough. Of course, seeing photos of a homicide scene would do that. But she would know a detective was onboard since he’d checked his weapon, which was packed and secured for the flight along with his one piece of luggage.

The stewardess nodded and continued down the aisle, her posture a little stilted.

Trent glanced at his watch. He had another thirty minutes before arriving in Houston. Plenty of time to further analyze the data he’d reviewed. Immediately his thoughts went to Kelly Pruitt. His gut told him that she was the true victim here. He doubted she had known what she was getting into. Jarvis, if he had gotten involved with the drug cartel, had brought this on himself. Agent Davis knew the risks and hazards of his job. But Kelly Pruitt was just a kid…she’d had no idea that death lurked so close.

At thirty-three, Trent was old enough to know that youth didn’t necessarily equate to innocence, but he had a feeling about this young woman. He leaned back in his seat and stretched out his long legs as best he could. If she proved as innocent as he suspected, he would make this right for that little lady. Whoever had murdered her wouldn’t get away with it. He’d spent six years as a bounty hunter in the great state of Texas. Sniffing out and bringing in his quarry was what he did best. Patience and persistence always paid off in that line of work and there wasn’t a more patient or a more determined man on the planet.

“YOU MUST BE Mr. Tucker,” a man suggested as Trent exited the gate at Houston’s Hobby Airport. “Detective Hargrove.” He extended his hand. Houston’s police department would be working aspects of this case along with the FBI—because the senator didn’t trust the local Bureau.

It hadn’t been necessary for the detective to introduce himself. Trent recognized the cop instantly. Wrinkled suit, probably hadn’t been home all weekend, and a five o’clock shadow well before noon. If he was the detective in charge of this case, Trent doubted he’d get any rest before it was solved. With a senator breathing down his neck he likely wouldn’t even sleep until he had a suspect. He looked to be about forty. Fairly trim, but with a haggard expression that lent credence to Trent’s conclusion.

Which, considering what they had to go on, wasn’t happening anytime soon. This was one of those dig in for the long haul kind of cases. Trent could feel it all the way to his bones. There would be no clear-cut answers. No handy suspects. This one would be solved one tidbit of revealed evidence at a time. Slowly and methodically.

The idea didn’t intimidate Trent in the least. Waiting out his prey was something he did especially well.

Trent shook the other man’s outstretched hand. “I appreciate you coming out to meet me like this considering it’s a holiday,” Trent offered.

Hargrove rolled his bloodshot eyes. “What holiday? Until I catch the perp in this case I doubt I’ll even see my family again.”

Trent had been right. “I understand.”

“You want to go to the scene first, right?”

“Right.”

After a trip to luggage pickup, Hargrove led the way to the short-term parking area where two dark sedans waited. He gestured to one and offered Trent a set of keys. “I figured the least we could do was provide you with transportation seeing how you’re going to be cooperating with us and all.”

Trent accepted the keys. “Sounds fair to me.” He tossed his luggage in the back seat and settled behind the wheel. The Houston Police Department didn’t want him uncovering anything without keeping them fully informed. He imagined there would be a tracking device somewhere on the sedate-looking vehicle just so they would know where he was at all times. No one wanted this case to go any farther south than it already was. And no one, not H.P.D. or the senator, wanted the Bureau to know Trent was involved.

Forty-five minutes after leaving the airport, Hargrove turned into a small parking area that supported a minioffice complex on the fringes of Houston proper. Three separate suites made up the complex with Jarvis’s on the end. An overgrown jungle of shrubbery camouflaged the aging building from its newer two-story neighbor.

Yellow crime-scene tape and a posted warning at the entrance marked the area as off-limits to anyone but official personnel. To breach that line was a criminal offense.

Hargrove unlocked the door and entered the premises. Trent took his time as he moved inside, studying the layout and looking for anything that appeared out of place. The lobby was relatively small, tiled floor, upholstered chairs and a couple of tables covered with magazines for waiting clients. The assistant’s desk stood on the far side of the room where the space narrowed into a corridor that led to the other offices, he surmised.

The assistant’s desk was tidy. A small green plant occupied one corner. A chalk outline on the floor behind it represented the young woman who had been murdered there.

“Her purse was taken as evidence,” Hargrove told him, noting the path of Trent’s gaze. “There wasn’t much in it though. A few dollars, a credit card, sunglasses, and lip gloss and tissues.”

Without looking up from the outline, Trent asked, “No driver’s license or other ID?”

“Apparently she left home without her license that morning, even got a ticket on the way to work. Oh.” The detective shook his head. “Forgot to mention that, the ticket was in her purse as well.”

Trent nodded.

“Look around all you’d like,” Hargrove said as he handed him a pair of latex gloves. “Jarvis’s office, a lounge and a conference room are that way.” He gestured to the corridor. “I’m going to make some calls.”

Hargrove took a seat in the lobby and fished out his cell phone. Trent, thankful for the opportunity to view the rest of the scene alone, tugged on the gloves and entered Jarvis’s office first. He preferred making his own assessments, with no outside influence.

The leather executive chair behind the desk carried the mark of a single bullet hole and the dried remains of a good deal of blood. Some of the life-giving fluid had dripped onto the beige carpet. One of the upholstered chairs in front of the desk was overturned. The agent had likely stood and faced the shooter after Jarvis took a bullet. That would explain the overturned chair and the spray of blood and brain matter on Jarvis’s desk. According to the M.E.’s preliminary report, the bullet had entered his forehead, leaving a small round hole, but had exited the back of his head removing a wide swath of all in its path.

Again, an outline on the floor marked the place the agent had fallen. Trent shook his head. He never doubted his first impressions and this had the look and smell of a setup.

The shooter hadn’t simply walked in at just the right time to take out all involved. He had known when the agent would be arriving. Had known when the other offices would be closed, allowing additional privacy. These killings had been planned down to the precise moment—after the envelope of money was in the agent’s pocket. Almost too precise.

Trent took his time going through the office, then the lounge and conference room. Everything was just as it should be. Not a single thing looked out of place.

When he returned to the corridor, he walked the full length of it. Checked the rear emergency exit, which led into an alley that backed up to a small strip mall. He moved slowly back up the corridor but stopped midway. Something snagged his attention. The grill on the return duct wasn’t fully closed.

He crouched down and found one latch loose, the louvered grill that served as a door was held closed at the top only. “Hargrove!” he called.

The detective appeared pretty damned quick for a guy running on forty-eight hours or more with no sleep. “Yeah?”

“Got a flashlight?”

“In the car. I’ll get it.”

Trent released the one latch and pulled the grill open. The battered filter lay discarded to the side. He leaned forward and looked around inside but couldn’t see anything. Why would the filter be in that condition and moved to the side? He pulled the filter from the duct and looked it over before setting it aside.

“Here you go.” Hargrove came up behind him with a black, heavy-duty police issue flashlight in hand.

“Thanks.” Trent surveyed the inside of the duct. About ten feet long. Not much to see other than the thin layer of insulation coating the sheet metal. As far as he could tell it was undisturbed. But when he drew back something snagged his attention.

A couple of strands of hair. He reached for it. Pulled it loose from the grill and studied it. Blond. Fairly long.

“Whatcha got there?” Hargrove squatted down next to him. “You think the unit sucked those in from the floor or whatever?”

Trent shook his head. “I don’t think so. These two hairs were snagged on this metal edge where the grill frame fits into the duct.” He pointed to the spot where he’d pulled them loose. “I think they got caught there when someone stuck their head in here.”

“To change the filter maybe?” Hargrove suggested.

Trent shrugged. “Maybe.”

But whoever had changed the filter last hadn’t done a very good job, he didn’t bother to mention.

“You wanna go over to the morgue now?”

“Yeah.” Leaving the grill open, he stood. “I think I’ve seen all I need to here.” His gaze settled on the detective’s. “You got an evidence bag?”

“Sure.” Hargrove pulled a plastic bag from his jacket pocket and bagged the hair. “You want me to put it with the rest of the stuff forensics is going over?”

“Why not?”

DETECTIVE HARGROVE was a team player. Trent was glad for that. He wasn’t grandstanding and didn’t mind outside interference. Trent felt damn lucky. It rarely worked that way. Most cops didn’t like P.I.’s horning in on their cases. But then, he supposed, any sort of help would be a relief considering the way the senator was pulling rank.

The morgue was like all others. Cold, clinical and smelling of chilled flesh. Focusing on the task rather than the environment, Trent considered the bodies one by one. Jarvis and the FBI agent were pretty much what he had expected. The assistant, however, was not.

Trent walked all the way around the extended drawer and considered the victim from both sides. She looked older than twenty-two. A little tall for the description on her license as well. And the shape of the face wasn’t quite right.

“Has anyone identified the body?” Trent asked the detective who hovered a few feet away.

“Not yet. There’s no family other than a distant cousin who lives in Massachusetts. She’s flying in tomorrow to claim the body.”

Trent had a feeling she was going to be startled. “Did you print her or verify her identity with her dental records?”

The detective shrugged. “We haven’t got a response back yet on the request we put out for dental records and she doesn’t have any kind of record so she’s not in the fingerprint database. Printing her seemed pointless.”

When little was known about the victim and there was no family left behind to provide information, a request was sent to local dentists and physicians to see if the victim was one of their patients. But a response took time.

Trent surveyed the body again, his gaze going back to the eyes. “Contacts?” He nodded toward her eyes.

“Not according to the M.E.’s preliminary report. Full autopsies weren’t necessary since the cause and manner of death was obvious but he would have listed contact lenses in the abbreviated autopsy reports.”

Trent studied the color a bit closer. “Then why are her eyes brown when her driver’s license says she has hazel eyes?” His gaze shifted to the detective who didn’t bother to ask how Trent had gotten a look at her license. When he’d been a bounty hunter in Texas he’d had his sources. He’d wasted no time yesterday getting a copy of each victim’s driver’s license so he’d have a clean visual.

A frown had marred across Hargrove’s forehead. “I don’t know.” His gaze collided with Trent’s. “Are you suggesting that she isn’t Kelly Pruitt?”

Trent considered the body again, his gut clenching in anticipation. “Run her prints just in case.” She had similar blond hair to that of the image in Kelly Pruitt’s license photo as well as the hairs he’d collected from the grill over the duct at the office. “You might want to compare her hair with those we found, though it might not be relevant since the hair could be left over from a previous assistant.”

Hargrove swore. “The last assistant Jarvis employed was a brunette. I’ve already questioned her. If this woman isn’t Kelly Pruitt and we didn’t discover that fact until now, there’s going to be hell to pay.” He swore again. “And there was that 9-1-1 hang-up. We thought maybe she tried to call before she collapsed.”

Trent understood completely. He wouldn’t want to be in the detective’s shoes because he had a bad feeling that this body belonged to someone else.

If his instincts were on the mark, Kelly Pruitt was still alive. Out there. Somewhere.

The only question was whether she was hiding from the killer or abetting him.

KELLY’S EYES OPENED and she groaned.

The pages she’d printed out were plastered to her face, she realized with another groan. She raised up from the desk, peeling away the research she’d worked on until dawn. Felix the cat stretched and made a languid sound before leaping from the desktop and scurrying from the room. At least one of them had gotten some real sleep last night.

Her shoulders ached and her head throbbed dully. She should have stopped and gone to bed hours ago. Swiping a hand over her face, she sighed. But then sleeping would have allowed her to dream and she just hadn’t been ready to face those haunting nightmares again. The images from Friday evening poured one over the other into her mind. She banished them instantly and forced her cramped legs to hold up her weight as she pushed out of her chair.

She couldn’t say much for falling asleep at the computer, but at least the night had passed without her having to relive those horrors yet again.

She staggered to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The disk Ray had insisted she take home with her had revealed nothing as of yet. Access required a codeword. Hours of guesswork had not revealed the proper nine-letter word. She’d tried combinations of letters and numbers with no luck there, either. Whatever was on the file she couldn’t access it. Yet. She had no intention of giving up.

Her clothes left in a pile on the floor, she stepped into the shower and let the hot water sluice over her tired muscles. It felt like heaven after a long stretch in hell. Frustration at not being able to access the disk had sent her on another mission. She’d perused Ann’s inbox as a means of distraction. Her friend hadn’t received any new e-mails since last Thursday, which surprised Kelly just a little. The only interesting part of her exploration was the numerous cyber love letters from Romeo.

Kelly shivered when she thought of the man’s sexy style of delivery. He took even the most innocuous of comments to a whole new level. No wonder Ann had been enamored with him. She’d told Kelly she had herself an online romance going. Things had definitely been heating up. Though the two, apparently, had not shared actual personal data. Romeo had not revealed his real name, address or profession and, as far as Kelly knew, Ann hadn’t, either.

Of course, that was the safe way to handle the situation, but what was the point? Though Kelly had to admit that she found his e-mails titillating, how could they compare to the real thing? She washed her hair and lathered her body, her too vivid imagination conjuring the feel of strong arms and a hard male body. Unfortunately that couldn’t be faked in cyberspace.

After a quick rinse and toweling off, Kelly scrubbed the residue from the steam-fogged mirror and stared at her reflection. How in the world was she going to get her life back? Would the police listen if she simply came forward and announced that she was still alive and told them the truth about what really happened?

Or would a move like that simply get her killed?

She thought of the data she’d downloaded and printed from Ray’s files. Since he worked from home and the road quite often, he’d set himself up a way to access his files remotely. He’d given the code to Kelly last month when he’d had to go out of town for his last remaining aunt’s funeral. She supposed even a workaholic like Ray didn’t want to pull out his laptop at a funeral.

Kelly had studied the files and determined the ones as most likely candidates for money-laundering. Overseas accounts with diverse investments. Not a single one jumped out at her. Every entry to the records appeared as it should be. She didn’t recognize the names on the accounts, all were corporations—another red flag when looking for trouble spots. Whenever an individual or group of individuals wanted to dilute a situation, they formed a “dummy” corporation and invested widely. These sorts of transactions were the most difficult to monitor.

But there were other ways that could slip under the radar of anyone looking for questionable activities.

Kelly knew most of the individual account holders. She’d met them or at least spoken on the phone with them. But being polite and cordial didn’t make them innocent. There was simply no way for her to know who could be trusted and who couldn’t. Whatever the case, someone Ray had come into contact with had grown dissatisfied with his work and had decided his services were no longer needed. Either that or Ray had figured out that a client he represented was not what he seemed and that knowledge had proved fatal.

She turned up the volume on the television as she padded through the living room. Keeping tabs on the investigation was necessary, she reminded herself as she rummaged through Ann’s kitchen in search of something to eat. Her appetite was still AWOL but eating was essential to survival.

The news anchor’s voice snared her attention with one simple statement: “Now, for an update on the multiple homicide at a Houston investment firm.”

Kelly dismissed thoughts of food and hurried to the living room to watch the report. She settled on the sofa as a reporter standing in front of Ray’s office filled the screen. She could see the yellow crime-scene tape fluttering in the breeze where it was strung across the front entrance. Her gut clenched with dread.

Ray was dead.

Ann was dead.

“The Houston Police Department,” the reporter droned solemnly, “has just released the name of the third victim in the still unsolved multiple homicide. Special Agent Norton Davis of the Dallas Federal Bureau of Investigations was murdered in the private office of Raymond Jarvis. We don’t know yet whether Agent Davis was a client of Jarvis’s or conducting an investigation into the firm’s activities, both seem unlikely given the geography and jurisdiction. However, sources close to the investigations say—”

Kelly muted the sound and sat in stunned silence for a long while. An FBI agent. No wonder Ray had been nervous. She blinked. She should have gone to the police already. Should have told them what she knew.

But then news that she had survived would leak to the press.

Her gaze focused on the crime-scene tape flailing behind the reporter. If the killer hadn’t hesitated to kill an FBI agent, what hope did she have of surviving once he realized his mistake?

None.

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