emple Nolan was more than stunned to find out the tag number belonged to Daisy Minor, he was disbelieving. Sykes had clearly said the woman was blonde, and Daisy's hair was brown. Moreover, he doubted she had ever seen the inside of a nightclub; she was the very stereotype of the community old maid who lived at home her entire life, was beloved by the neighborhood kids because she gave out the best candy at Halloween, and went to church three times a week.

But then a vague memory tickled, a snippet of conversation between two of the city clerks he'd overheard when he passed them in the hallway, about Daisy turning over a new leaf or getting her petals plucked, something with a horticultural flavor. Maybe Daisy was kicking up her heels a little. It still sounded so out of character for her he couldn't quite believe it, but it was worth checking out.

He could have asked Nadine, his secretary, if she'd heard any gossip about Daisy, but that icy finger of fear made him more cautious. If Daisy was indeed the woman Sykes had seen, Temple didn't want Nadine to remember that he had asked questions about her just before her death or disappearance, whatever Sykes arranged. So he told Nadine he was stepping out for a minute, then walked over to the library. He didn't even have to go inside; he looked through the glass door and saw Daisy seated behind the checkout desk, her head bent over some paperwork—her blond head. Daisy had lightened her hair.

He felt almost sick to his stomach.

He walked back to his office, his head down. When he entered, Nadine said in alarm, "Mayor, are you all right? You look pale."

"An upset stomach," he said, telling the truth. "I thought some fresh air might help."

"Maybe you should go home," she said, looking worried. Nadine was the maternal type, always baby-sitting her grandchildren, and she tended to dispense more medical advice than the doctors in town.

He had lunch scheduled with the mayor of Scottsboro, so he shook his head. "No, it's just indigestion. I had a glass of orange juice this morning."

"That'll do it," she said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a bottle. "Here, have some Maalox."

Meekly he accepted two tablets and obediently chewed them. "Thanks," he said, and went back into his office. One of these days Nadine was going to diagnose indigestion in someone who was really having a heart attack, but at least in his case he knew exactly why he had a sour stomach.

He made sure his door was securely shut, then went to his pri-

vate phone and called Sykes. What had to be done... had to be done.

Jack borrowed a pickup truck from one of his officers, pulled off his tie, put on sunglasses and a John Deere cap, and followed the mayor to his lunch with the mayor of Scottsboro. He saw nothing suspicious, but that didn't make him relax. Where Daisy was concerned, he couldn't relax. All his instincts, honed razor sharp by years in a dangerous job, were on the alert and scanning for a target.

Daisy, of course, was oblivious of the storm he could sense gathering around her. One of the things he enjoyed most about her was her absolute positiveness; it wasn't blindness to the bad things that could happen, just an acceptance that not everything was wonderful and a conviction that most things were. Look at her attitude toward Barbara Clud, the gossiping bitch: That was just the way Barbara was, so if you went to that pharmacy, you had to expect her to tell what you bought. Right now, however, he would have felt better if Daisy had a more suspicious view of the world; she might be a little more cautious. At least she was getting a dog for protection. If he couldn't be there at night, at least she'd have a sharp-toothed alarm system.

After lunch, the mayor went back to Hillsboro. Jack checked in with Eva Fay, then drove to Huntsville and located Todd Lawrence's antiques store, which was named, simply, Lawrence's, nothing cutesy. Jack went in still wearing the John Deere cap, which, judging from the cool look given him by an approaching salesman, marked him as the bull in the china shop.

The salesman was middle-aged, average in size, and disturbingly familiar. Jack seldom forgot a face; it came from years of studying everyone around him. This man had been at the Buffalo Club; in fact, if Jack wasn't mistaken, he had danced with Daisy on that first night. His suspicions locked into overdrive.

"Is Mr. Lawrence in?"

"I'm sorry, he's occupied at the moment," said the salesman in smooth tones. "May I help you with something?"

"No." Jack took out his ID and flipped it open. "Mr. Lawrence. Now. And you'll need to sit in, too."

The salesman took the ID and studied it, then coolly returned it. "Chief of police of the Hillsboro Police Department," he said sarcastically. "Impressive."

"Not as impressive as a broken arm, but what the hell, I'll go with what works."

An unwilling smile touched the salesman's mouth. "Tough, too." He shifted his balance just a little, but the subtle changes in his stance made Jack's eyes sharpen.

"Salesman, my ass," he muttered. "This is about Daisy Minor."

There was another change in expression, a sort of rueful resignation. The salesman sighed and said, "Oh, hell. Todd's in his office."

Todd looked up when Jack and the salesman entered the small private office. His eyebrows rose as he recognized Jack, and he gave the other man a swift questioning glance before shifting into pleasant-businessman mode, rising to his feet and extending his hand. "Chief Russo, isn't it? The cap threw me off for a minute." He looked quizzically at the green cap with the yellow John Deere logo. "How... retro."

Jack shook his hand and said amiably, "How full of bullshit. Why don't we all sit down, and you and the martial arts salesman here can tell me how I'm jumping to all the wrong conclusions, that you aren't sending Daisy around to certain targeted nightclubs and bars, and that Bruce Lee really isn't shadowing her to— what? Catch her doing something illegal? Not likely."

"Howard," said the salesman, grinning. "Not Bruce."

Todd steepled his fingers and tapped them against his lips, watching Jack. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine." Jack didn't have time to bullshit around. "Then let's talk about what possible reason a straight man could have for trying to convince everyone he's gay, and what would happen if I blew his cover."

Todd gave a light laugh. "You really are reaching now, Chief."

“Am I? You know, when I first moved here, I rambled around a lot, learning the roads and the country, so I was in a lot of places where normally you wouldn't expect to see Hillsboro's chief. I was also paying a lot of attention to Hillsboro's citizens, asking who people were and learning their faces, so I knew you by sight."

"Your point?"

"My point is, if you're posing as gay when you check into a motel with a woman, you shouldn't enter the room at the same time, and you really shouldn't try to suck her tonsils out while you're still trying to get the key card in the lock. Plays hell with the image. Want me to describe her?"

"Yes," said Howard, fascinated.

"Never mind," Todd said, his face suddenly impassive. "You get around to some out-of-the-way places, Chief."

"Don't I?" Jack agreed. "Let's get back to my original question: What in hell are you doing with Daisy?"

"I can tell you what I'm doing," said Howard. "I'm trying to make sure she doesn't get hurt in any way. The nightclub scene can be rough on women."

"Then why send her there? It's like sending a kitten into a bear cage."

"You make her sound totally helpless. She's an intelligent, observant woman who just wants to dance and meet men."

"Given what's out there in the bar scene these days, even intelligent women are ending up raped, maybe just by one man, maybe by all of his buddies, too—and that's if she's lucky and

doesn't die. Did you warn Daisy about letting anyone buy her a drink? Or leaving a drink sitting on the table while she dances?"

Howard sighed. "That's where I come in. I keep an eye on her, watch to see if anyone salts her drink with something."

"So she's never out of your sight, right? You never go to the bathroom, or lose sight of her in the crowd."

"I do the best I can."

"Best isn't good enough, not when you're using her as some kind of shark bait." He leveled a hard stare at Todd. "So let's start hearing some details, and they'd better be good or you're outted."

Todd rubbed his jaw. "That threat usually works in reverse."

Jack merely waited. He had stated his intentions, and where Daisy was concerned, he didn't back down or negotiate. Her safety was too important.

Todd studied Jack's expression, evidently reading his determination. "It's personal, the reason I've been... working with Daisy."

Jack said softly, "I'm taking the whole thing personally."

"So she got to you, huh?" Todd smiled. "I knew, with just a little sprucing up, she'd turn heads. All she needed was a boost in her self-confidence. She's so damned charming, with that sparkle in her eyes like a kid on a roller coaster, I figured all she needed was more flattering clothes to really pull in the men."

"Let's get to the facts," Jack growled.

"Okay, in a nutshell: A friend of mine went to the Buffalo Club with a couple of friends. She was bummed out, not in the mood for dancing. While her friends were dancing, a guy came on to her, offered to buy her a drink. Because she was bummed out, she let him. The last thing she remembered is getting sleepy She woke up the next morning in her own bed, naked, alone, and it was obvious something had happened. She'd been raped and sodomized. She did the smart thing, didn't shower, called the cops, went to the hospital.

"From the evidence, at least six different men raped her. She had only a hazy memory of the guy who bought her the drink. The cops had nothing to go on but some blurry fingerprints in her apartment, none of which showed up in the files, so the men have no priors. Dead end. Unsolvable crime, unless one of the bastards is caught for the rape of another woman and his DNA matches the DNA in the evidence samples of semen."

It was a far too familiar story. Date-rape cases were difficult to prosecute even when the victim knew her assailant. When it was a stranger whom she couldn't remember because she'd been drugged, catching the bastards was almost impossible.

Rage had him grinding his teeth. "So you decided to try catching them yourselves, by using Daisy as bait. Don't you think the cops could have handled it better, with a female police officer trained for such situations?"

"Sure, except they weren't doing it. Budget limitations, low-priority case. You know how it works. There's way too much crime and not enough money, not enough officers, not enough jails or prisons. Every department has to prioritize."

"I'm tempted to really hurt you," Jack said, keeping his voice even with an effort. “And I could, despite Howard here. What were you going to do if some asshole did drug Daisy? Go vigilante and shoot him in the parking lot?"

"The idea has merit."

"What are the odds it would even be the same guy? There's a lot of that shit out there."

"I know it would be a long shot. But it would be a beginning. Someone to talk, name some names, who would name other names." Todd spread his hands on the desk and stared at them, his face grim. "There's more to the story. My friend was the same woman you saw me with that day. She was at the Buffalo Club in the first place because we'd quarreled. She wanted to get married, I told her I couldn't because of... other things—"

"Like this assignment you're working."

Todd flashed a quick glance up at Jack. "Yeah," he said flatly. "Like this assignment. Besides, marriage is a big step. I was kind of glad to have the assignment as an excuse. I was crazy about her, but... hell, I guess I had cold feet. So that's why she was at the club."

Jack nodded, thinking he got the picture. Normal relationships were hard enough; when the woman had been raped, she understandably had a hard time trusting men again, or enjoying sex. "Did she get into therapy?"

"For a while. It didn't do any good. She killed herself."

The stark words fell like lead. All expression was gone from Todd's face, from his eyes.

Howard swore. "Jesus, man—you just said a friend was raped. God, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I," said Jack. "You're grieving, you felt guilty, so you set Daisy up for exactly the same thing that happened to the woman you loved. You fucking bastard, I'd enjoy killing you." His clenched fists were shaking with the need to do just that.

"Don't go overboard with the sympathy, Russo," Howard said sarcastically.

Todd managed a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. "That was fast. You're in love with her; that's why you're so hot under the collar."

"Daisy doesn't deserve being used that way." Jack shoved away the comment about loving her. Whether or not he did was something he'd have to work out; he definitely cared about her and would do whatever it took to protect her. And whatever it took meant using whatever means necessary, with whatever

weapons he had at hand. Something else was going on, something these two weren't involved in; alone, Jack would be hard-pressed to cover all the bases, but he figured he now had help.

"There's something else concerning Daisy, something I don't understand, but it's put me on edge."

A little expression filtered back into Todd's eyes. "What?"

"This assignment you're working... are you federal, local, or private?"

Todd and Howard exchanged a quick glance. "Federal. It involves interstate fraud."

"Fine. I don't need the details. I just need your help and I wanted to know what level I'll be dealing with."

"We can't compromise this setup—"

"You won't have to. Something peculiar happened this morning. The mayor called me, wanted me to run a license plate number, said he'd seen the car parked in the fire lane at a doctor's office. He gave me the small-town bullshit, how he didn't call a patrolman to write a ticket because he didn't want to upset someone who was sick—"

"Yeah, right, Temple Nolan with a big heart," Todd muttered.

"So I ran the number, and it was Daisy's. Not only would

Daisy never park in a fire lane, she wasn't at the doctor's office. I know. So the mayor lied about where he got the number. If he'd seen the car himself, he'd have known it was Daisy's. Someone else wanted him to find out who the car belonged to."

"Maybe someone at the Buffalo Club saw her and was interested, wanted to find out where she lived and how to contact her."

"Someone who figured she'd never come back to the club and that was the only way he'd have of finding her? Someone who also happens to know the mayor?"

"Okay, so it's a thin idea. Do you have anything better?"

"No, all I have are the little hairs on the back of my neck, and they're standing straight up."

"That's good enough for me," said Howard. "From the accent, I know you're not from around here, but I can't quite place it. You're not just a small-town chief, though. What's your background?"

"SWAT, in Chicago and New York."

"Guess your little hairs have seen their share of action."

"They've never been wrong."

"So what do you want us to do?" asked Todd. "There's nothing to go on, no direction."

"Not yet. For now, I just want to make sure she's safe. The good news is, the address on the registration is for her mother's house. There's no official record now of her real address, unless someone has the strings to find out from the utilities—which the mayor does, with the city water department, but unless he knows she's moved, he has no reason to ask."

"Can you get into the files, take out that information?"

"The water bills are computerized. I'm no hacker, so I can't get into the system from outside, but maybe I can from the inside. What about the phone and electricity companies?"

"I'll see what I can do about blocking that information," Todd said. "And she needs to have her number unlisted, or any bozo can call information and get it."

"I'll handle that," said Jack. "I don't know what I'm looking for, I don't know why anyone would want to track her down, and until I do know, I want a shield around her."

"We've been working a situation for a couple of years now. If things come together, Howard and I will be busy and won't be able to help. You know how it works. But until and if the case breaks, we'll do what we can to help." Todd drummed his fingers on the desk. "Off the record, of course."

"Of course. Just friends helping friends."