Guarding the Socialite (15 page)

C
hick found Emma bawling in the supply closet, the one place she thought she'd find solitude in a house filled with Bureau investigators and frightened boarders.

Emma turned, still clutching a roll of paper towels in her hand, and then when she saw it was Chick, started crying all over again. “How did this happen? Someone sneaked into our house and did this horrible thing right under our noses,” she cried, wiping at her nose with the wad of towels in her hand. It was her worst nightmare. Her sanctuary had been invaded. Her haven was contaminated. She always promised her boarders that Iris House was a place of refuge, but what now? What could she tell them? What would she tell her investors? She fisted the paper towels and stared hard at Chick, who had wisely remained silent. “What am I going to do about the Winter Ball?”

Chick, worry and concern in her eyes, simply shook her head. “I don't know. All I do know is you can't hide in a
closet using all the paper towels,” she said, causing Emma to nod reluctantly. There was logic there. She could cling to logic.

“You're right. I need to focus,” she said, though her thoughts were still in a frightful mess. What was needed next? She looked to Chick, hoping she had the answer, which she did.

“There's nothing you can do for Ursula at the moment. You still have a houseful of scared boarders to deal with. The safety of the house has been compromised. We should look into private security at least for the next few days as a temporary measure. And you still have the Winter Ball to attend.”

“I don't know. Maybe we should cancel,” Emma said, worrying her bottom lip. Somehow it didn't seem right to throw a party when so many things had gone terribly wrong.

“We don't have a choice,” Chick said. “You know the Winter Ball is the biggest fundraiser of the season, and I hate to say this but Ursula's tragedy might actually cause people to donate more generously.”

Emma stared at Chick. “Oh, that's a terrible thing to say,” she said in a tight whisper. “I wouldn't want people to donate just because of this situation. I want them…”

“You want them to donate and be generous in their donation,” Chick reminded her, causing Emma to scowl.

“This just feels wrong,” she said.

Chick sighed and took the paper towels from her. “Perhaps, but the long and short of it is if we don't get money rolling in, Iris House will close and all of your good work will wash down the toilet because all people will remember is that some prostitute got killed here.”

Oh, God, Chick was right, Emma realized. She straightened and wiped at the remaining moisture on her
cheeks. “You're right. The show must go on, so to speak. Thank you, Chick.”

“No problem. Now, I came to find you for a reason.”

“Oh?” Emma sniffed back the remaining tears in an attempt to regain her composure. “What is it?”

“Agent McIntyre is looking for you.”

“I can't see him right now.” She balked, actually retreating into the closet farther, as if she could snuggle in between the toilet paper and the napkins. “Tell him you couldn't find me.”

“Why?” Chick asked, puzzled. “What's going on? I thought you liked him.”

“What makes you say that?” Emma lifted her chin. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, come on. This is not the time for this bullshit. Whatever you're going through, get through it because there are bigger problems out there than whatever you two are doing, right?”

Shame flooded Emma. “Oh, Chick. What's wrong with me? You're right. I just don't know where my head is. All this sordid business has messed with me in the worst way. I keep seeing Ursula and Charlotte and I feel like my mind is about to break.” She took a minute to slow down and think. After a deep breath, she asked. “Where is he?”

Only mildly satisfied, Chick said, “He's back in your office. Oh, and one more thing…if you're going to start something with the agent, then just be open about it. No one is going to crucify you for it.”

“I'm not—” She stopped at Chick's raised brow and choked back her denial. She was wasting both their time by lying. But she certainly didn't know where she wanted to go with Dillon. All she knew at the moment was that she felt safe around him and that was something she wasn't ready to let go of just yet. “I'll think about it,” she conceded.

“That's better than nothing, I suppose,” Chick grumbled, then added, “now please quit hiding in the closet.”

Emma nodded and moved past Chick. “I'll be in my office if you need me.”

 

Dillon was itching to know what was being done upstairs but as much as he wanted to be a part of the investigation, he knew Emma needed him. Besides, he also knew he could get D'Marcus to let him in a back door to Sanford's files if he absolutely had to. For the moment, he wanted to make sure Emma was okay. She looked about to break, and who could blame her? Her world was falling apart one boarder at a time.

Emma entered the room, the only sign of the emotional upheaval in the slightly reddened tint to her eyes and the pallor in her cheeks. Otherwise, she seemed the same efficient and orderly woman he'd first met, ready to take on the day and deal with whatever was thrown her way—whether those challenges were dead bodies or difficult menus.

“Chick said you needed to talk with me?” She gazed at him expectantly.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said too quickly. Total lie. But that was fine. Who would be okay under the circumstances? “If you don't mind I have to find private security for the house and make final arrangements for the Winter Ball….”

He perked up. “You're not canceling?”

“Of course not. We have obligations. I must see that this place doesn't succumb to the ugliness surrounding the house at the moment, and frankly, I refuse to let whoever is doing this ruin all the good Iris House has done in the past.”

He admired her spunk, her courage. But the thought of her sleeping in the house set his nerves on edge. “Stay with me,” he blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

Bollocks. He'd gone and said it. Well, it was out there now; he might as well run with it. “It's not safe here. Everyone should leave. I'm sure Agent Sanford has already suggested that everyone find a safe house for the evening. I'm volunteering my place.”

“For all of Iris House?” she asked with a small smile.

“Well, I would but my apartment isn't large enough,” he said, knowing he was completely bungling it. Oh, what the hell, if it got Emma out of this house he'd pack everyone into his apartment for the time being and figure out the details later. “But if the ladies don't mind taking residence on the sofa and overstuffed leather ottoman…”

“Rest easy, Dillon,” she said. “We're not going to invade your inner sanctum. And we're not leaving our home. I'm going to hire some private security and we should be fine. Plus, I know the girls and I would feel very safe if we knew that you were here with us.”

“You're asking me to stay even though I'm not on the case any longer?” he asked.

She smiled up at him with a hint of bashfulness that he found completely alluring. “I've gotten accustomed to having you around. And…I wouldn't mind if you wanted to…stay with me.”

 

Perhaps it was the near-hysterical breakdown only moments prior, but Emma was feeling positively reckless. Chick had had a point back in the closet. There were bigger issues to contend with than their attraction to one another…at least for the moment.

“The thing is, I really don't think I want to be alone tonight. I'm trying to hold it together for everyone's sake, but honestly, what I'd really like to do is to go to my room,
close the door and bury my head under the pillow for a few hours…or days.”

“I don't blame you,” he said. “No one would. And if they did, I'd have to do something drastically unpleasant to them.”

A dark thrill chased down her spine, feeling as if his fingers had just traced the vertebrae, and she inhaled sharply. “You would?” she asked a little breathlessly before she recovered. “I mean, thank you but I doubt that's necessary.”

“I'll stay,” he said.

She nodded, suddenly shy, which was completely ridiculous considering she was a grown woman and certainly wasn't above enjoying herself in a man's company from time to time. But this felt different deep down in her bones. For a moment she wondered, if they'd met casually, perhaps over drinks or some other social event, would she have felt the same sparks and sizzles that she felt now when she was around Dillon.

Well, she supposed there was no sense in wasting too much time wondering, because they hadn't met under those benign circumstances and she had other things to occupy her mind for the time being. “I have to talk with the girls. They're very upset and scared. If you wouldn't mind…”

“I'll let myself out,” he said. Then added with a grave expression, “But I'll be back tonight.”

“I look forward to it.”

And she did. Lord help her, she found herself breathing easier when only a few moments ago she'd been adrift.

Thankfully, she didn't have the time or the luxury of examining that fact for deeper meaning. She wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.

 

Dillon left Iris House and went straight to the house of Robert Gavin, where a team of agents were processing for evidence.

Gavin was glowering in the sitting room, a snifter of dark liquid clutched in his hand, as he watched the agents rifle through his personal effects. Dillon couldn't blame him for being a bit rankled, but he couldn't muster much sympathy given how Dillon knew the man had used Charlotte so grievously before she died.

To illustrate this fact, he gave Gavin a wide grin as he entered. “Perfect day for a search warrant,” he said, taking pleasure in the way Gavin's face flushed a dull, angry red. “Why don't you save us all the time and effort and just tell us if there's anything we'll find that will help solve this case.”

“This is harassment,” he said.

“No, this is due process of the law,” Dillon disagreed amiably. “But don't worry, we're pros at putting things back the way we found them.”

A crash resounded in the hallway and Dillon winced theatrically. “Or was it we're good at breaking things? I don't know, I get those two mixed up. Either way, we'll find what we're looking for. I can promise if you had anything to do with Charlotte's death…we'll happily nail you to the wall, Gavin.”

“My lawyer has advised me not to speak to the authorities at this time,” Gavin snapped.

Dillon shrugged. “That's usually what most high-priced lawyers tell their guilty clients.”

“I'm not guilty of anything aside from a predilection for experienced women.”

“We'll see.”

At that, Gavin barked a short laugh. “If you had anything aside from those damn pictures I'd be in custody. And as far as those go…there's no crime in what we were doing. And she liked it.”

Disgust curled in his belly as he pushed the images from his head. The man was vile but was he a killer? Plenty of
people were sick with their sexual fantasies but that didn't make them capable of doing what had been done to those girls. A growing sense of unease sharpened his voice as he said, “Shut it, Gavin. No one's interested.”

“So how's it feel to be on the outside looking in?” Gavin asked, his tone losing its bluster and going oily smooth. Dillon cast him a dour look and he chuckled. “Get used to it. When I'm through with you, you'll be lucky to get a job working a toll booth.”

“How touching. I didn't know you cared,” Dillon retorted, not really worried about Gavin's threats. If he had a quarter for every time some asshole threatened his job…although it did sting a bit that he wasn't actively in the investigation because of what Gavin had told his boss. Still, he wasn't about to let Gavin know this. “Why Charlotte?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly to throw Gavin off guard. It worked for a second. Then a cruel look took over his ugly mug, and Dillon had to fight the urge to put his fist in it.

“She was easy to control,” he answered simply, lifting his shoulder in a negligent shrug. “And she was wonderfully dirty. I like that in a girl.”

“Not enough to admit that to anyone else.”

He looked mildly appalled. “Surely not. She was a prostitute. Those aren't the kinds of girls you bring home to mother, so to speak.”

“You're a pig.”

He stiffened. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Agent McIntyre.”

“Cute. Quoting scripture. And a perfect one for someone who is a raging hypocrite.”

“I didn't kill her.”

Dillon cut away from Gavin, hating the uncomfortable resonance in Gavin's statement. He wanted Gavin for this crime but as much as he wanted it…it didn't feel right.
Suddenly, with a sinking certainty, Dillon knew they wouldn't find anything here.

But because Gavin was a bloody tosser, Dillon called out to the team, “Take anything of a sexual nature for DNA testing.” He offered a mild, apologetic smile that he didn't feel in the least to Gavin. “We are looking for a sexual sadist. Gotta cover all bases you know. Cheerio, lad. I'll be sure to tell Emma everything we just talked about. Oh, and by the way, you're
uninvited
to the Iris House Winter Ball.”

“That's not for you to decide,” Gavin said between clenched teeth.

“Oh, I know. This comes from Emma herself. She thinks you're a vile creature and doesn't want you anywhere near her girls. Can't say I blame her, really. And if you have the bad taste to show up, security has been instructed to escort you out. Consider yourself warned.”

And with that, Dillon let himself out. Crossing Gavin off the list of suspects only intensified the churning in his gut over the fact that the killer was out there, planning something terrible, and he had no clue how to stop him.