REVOR DENSMORE HAD NEVER BEEN MORE SHOCKED IN HIS life than when the news reports made it plain Sarah was being held as a suspect. This was terrible. How could they possibly... why, there wasn’t a shred of evidence against her. Not a shred. How could there be? He’d been careless last night and left behind the shell casings, causing himself a moment of worry, but they could in no way be linked to Sarah. As for himself, all he had to do next was dispose of the pistol—after first filing off the registration number, of course. He hated taking care of such menial details himself, but he could hardly ask his secretary to handle it, now could he?

The most important thing was to make certain Sarah was all right. She was so pale, in the news footage shown. She had discovered the bodies of both Judge Lowell Roberts, her previous employer, and the Lankfords, which suggested she was like the miscreants who set fires, then called in the report, pretending they had discovered it so they could deflect suspicion from themselves. The police were wise to such tactics, which he supposed explained why she was under suspicion, but, oh, dear... he’d done her such a terrible wrong.

Not once had he considered that she would be the one who found the bodies. Not once. He should have realized it, because of course she was the most logical person to do so; she was conscientious, meaning she would be the first one on duty in the morning. The shocks he’d made her endure had to have been terrible. He couldn’t think how he could have arranged for someone else to discover the bodies, but he could have thrown a blanket over them or something. People nowadays always had those throw things draped everywhere, like shawls for furniture; he detested such clutter himself. He could have used them, however, to spare Sarah a measure of shock.

He was so distressed by his thoughtlessness that he had his secretary cancel his appointments and left his office early. What to do, what to do?

The first order of business was to get her released, but how? He could scarcely call the police department and demand her release, not without explanations he didn’t care to make. Then the brilliant idea occurred. It was risky, but worth the gamble if it freed Sarah.

Even as efficient as he was, it still took him a few hours to accomplish the deed. Then, not knowing what else to do, he drove to city hall and parked in the parking lot of the nearby bank and waited. He didn’t want to join the jackals who were lingering with their satellite-dish-equipped vans and videocameras, and, really, he had no idea how long it would be before the effects of his plan were discovered. But when Sarah was released, he intended to be there to offer his support.

Why, in retrospect, things couldn’t have worked out better. She would be upset, in need of a safe haven. He could give her that, and more... so much more.

He had carefully chosen his vantage point, and when he needed to change the angle of vision to better see what was going on—it was so frustrating not to know exactly; he hated being kept in the dark like this—he would simply walk down the sidewalk as if he were going to the dry cleaners, or whatever.

Luck was on his side, but then, it always was. He became more and more exasperated as he waited; the incompetent yokels, what was taking them so long? Just as he reached his limit and decided to go home—after all, no one would expect him to wait forever—he saw Sarah leave the police department by a side door at the back of the building. She was with a man, probably a detective, since he was escorting her across the narrow drive to the parking lot the police used. The news crews spotted them, of course, as they got into an unmarked city car of common lineage. One reporter ran to his car and jumped in, but Trevor timed things perfectly, smoothly swinging the Jaguar into traffic at just the right moment to block the reporter from pulling out. There was more traffic behind him, inadvertently performing the same blocking maneuver.

Trevor kept his eye on the unmarked car as he followed, keeping at least one car between them. Really, he was getting very good at this.

Where was he taking her? Back to the Lankfords’ house? Surely not. But she had no other home. To a friend’s home, then, or a hotel. The good news was that she obviously had not been arrested, just detained and questioned, and now they had decided they had no reason to hold her. He wasn’t certain exactly how police procedure worked, but he did know that if she had been arrested, she would have been detained until a bond hearing, where bail would either be set or denied.

All he had to do was follow to see where she was being taken; then he would decide how best to approach her. This time she would come to him. He was certain of it.

“Do you have any preferences?” Detective Ahern asked her. “Which hotel, I mean.”

“I don’t care.”

Ahern glanced at her, at a loss. He’d gone into the interview room thinking, like everyone else, that she was guilty. Her reactions during the interview, plus some logical thinking, had convinced him she wasn’t. Normally he didn’t concern himself much if someone was upset; in his line of work, it was to be expected, and unless they were hysterical and throwing punches or objects, he left them to handle things on their own. This was different, though; because of her connection to Cahill, she was one of theirs. This was more personal.

“The lieutenant told Doc to stay away from you until things settle down. The press would go crazy if they found out you’re living with him.”

“I’m not,” she said flatly.

He was about to step knee-deep in shit, he just knew it, but he plowed on. “So if Doc isn’t around much, that’s why. He wants to be. By the way, he’s been arguing us into the ground all day about your innocence. He believes in you, Sarah. We’re working our butts off to get this thing figured out, but he—”

“Detective Ahern,” she said.

“What?”

“Shut up.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Now what?

He was saved by a call coming in on his phone. Eyes widening, he listened in disbelief.

“Shit!” he said explosively.

She jerked upright, and he had the impression she had actually dozed off in those few seconds. “What?”

“There’s been another killing.” He stepped on the gas. “If you don’t mind, I’m taking you to the Mountain Brook Inn. It’s close by, and I need to get to the scene.”

“That’s fine.”

He was agitated. “It sounds like the same MO, Sarah. We’ll know more when we investigate, but if it is, you’re totally clear. The press won’t bother you.”

“Why?” She shook her head. “Who?”

“I don’t know; I just have the address. But evidently the kill is recent, just a few hours old. You couldn’t have done it.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Shit. We have a maniac on our hands.”

When they reached the inn, she said, “Just let me out in front. I’ll check myself in.” She shrugged. “Now it doesn’t matter if they know I’m here, does it? I may get some phone calls, but they won’t be beating down my door.” With this latest development, she had gone from suspect to... what? Material witness? Incredibly unlucky?

“Do me a favor,” Ahern said. “Use a false name anyway. Use ‘Geraldine Ahern,’ that’s my mother’s name. That way we can find you.”

“Okay,” she agreed. This wasn’t something she cared about. Right now, nothing was. She just wanted to be alone, and she wanted to sleep.

She got her purse and got out of the car. Before she closed the door, Ahern leaned over and said, “We’ll have your clothes brought to you. Just sit tight.”

She’d have to sit tight, she thought as she watched Ahern drive away, unless she called a taxi, because she didn’t have a way of going anywhere. The TrailBlazer was still at the Lankfords’ house.

She was so exhausted that for long moments she simply stood there in the late afternoon warmth, trying to dissipate the chill that seemed to go all the way through to her bones. What would she do if the staff at the front desk refused to let her stay here? If they had been watching television today, her face and name would have been all over the news. They might even think she had escaped custody, though why she would then try to check into a nearby hotel was more than she could imagine.

The events of the day crashed down on her, sapping what little strength she had left, swaying her on her feet. She closed her eyes, struggling for control.

“Miss Stevens?” asked a softly hesitant voice. “Sarah?”

Dazed, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at a man who looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place him. He stood a few feet from her, watching her with concern. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, hadn’t realized anyone was near.

“Are you all right?” he asked shyly; and then she placed him. Saturday night. The party.

“Mr. Densmore,” she said.

He looked pleased that she remembered him. “Please call me Trevor. My dear, I’ve been thinking about you all day. This is terrible, what’s happened. You must have been so afraid.”

Her throat locked, and she stared at him. After the events of the day, this gentle sympathy was almost her undoing.

“The newscasters made it sound as if the police suspect you, but that’s ridiculous. You couldn’t possibly have done such a thing; the very idea. Are you staying here for the time being?”

“I—” She swallowed. “I haven’t checked in yet.”

“Then let’s go in and get you a room so you can rest. Have you eaten anything today? There’s a café here, I believe. I’d be honored if you’d join me for a meal.”

He was a virtual stranger, but after only one meeting he had more faith in her than Cahill had. The difference between them slapped her in the face, sent her reeling. She didn’t realize she had swayed again until Mr. Densmore reached out to touch her arm. “My dear, you’re on the verge of collapse. Come with me. You’ll feel better after you’ve had something to eat, I promise.”

It was so easy just to let him take charge. All but the most simple actions seemed beyond her capability now; it was a relief not to make decisions, not even about what she ate. Before she knew it they were in the café and he was quietly ordering hot tea and soup for her, making soft comments that didn’t require replies but nevertheless wove a sort of buffer zone around her and gave her something else to concentrate on. All day the same scenes had been replaying in her mind, all day the same horrible thoughts had chased around and around, and he offered surcease from that. She listened to him, and she allowed herself to forget, just for a little while.

He was gentle in his insistence that she eat, but relentless. After a day of feeling battered, it was good to be taken care of. She made herself eat half the bowl of soup, and sip the hot tea. At least she began to feel a little warmer, but her mind was still in a fog and she was surprised when she suddenly focused on what Mr. Densmore was saying.

“You still want to hire me?” she asked in dazed astonishment.

He blushed, and fiddled with his teaspoon, unnecessarily stirring the already stirred tea, then precisely placing the spoon on the rim of the saucer. “I know this is terrible timing,” he said. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t that,” she said quickly. “It’s just—I apologize. I’m so tired I can’t concentrate. Thank you very much for your offer, but, Mr. Densmore... it may not be safe. My employers seem to be—” She stopped, her lips suddenly trembling, unable to go on.

“That can’t have anything to do with you,” he said firmly. “It’s just a horrible coincidence. It’s been on the news that there’s been another incident, so that proves you aren’t involved in any way.”

The media was on top of things today if it was already on the news about this latest killing, she thought tiredly. But they were in a high state of alert, monitoring the police radios and 911 calls, so it was possible they were at this latest scene almost before the cops were.

Another person was dead. She should be horrified for the victim’s sake, for the family’s sake, but all she could feel was grateful that she wasn’t there.

“My offer still stands,” he said, his shy smile beginning to form. “I was impressed with your abilities when I saw you on television, and again last Saturday. Please think about it. My estate is extensive; I’ve been coping with part-time staff, but it would really benefit from permanent, expert supervision. It’s very quiet, and I have excellent security.”

Her mind felt filled with cotton, but one thought at least was clear: the job offers wouldn’t be pouring in this time, the way they had after the Judge was killed. After what happened to the Lankfords, she would at the least be regarded as a jinx, though this last killing would at least prove she wasn’t a murderer. Not many people would want someone like her in the house. Probably Mr. Densmore wouldn’t have, either, if he hadn’t already met her and formed his own opinion about her character.

She should take her time finding another position. She should advertise in the papers in Atlanta and Palm Beach, maybe even New Orleans. She could stay with her parents while she searched, assuming the police would let her leave the area. Right now, even with this newest development, that was a big assumption.

Since this job was falling into her lap, the simplest thing would be to take it. She would have somewhere to live, and something to occupy her mind. When she felt better, when she was more herself, then she could decide what to do on a permanent basis.

“I have to be honest with you, Mr. Densmore. After what’s happened, I don’t think I want to stay in this area. I’m grateful for your offer, and if you’re still interested in hiring me knowing that it may be temporary—”

“I am,” he said quickly. “I understand completely how you feel. But after things have settled down and you see the arrangements at my estate, I hope you’ll change your mind about leaving.”

She took a deep breath. “In that case, I accept your offer.”