No Escape From War (Trouble for Hire #1) - Cynthia Eden Page 0,15

when she switched to that beat. He’d gotten extra growly and fierce. Rose knew he’d worried about her, so she hadn’t told him a lot about her cases. She’d tried to protect him.

Turned out, I was the one to need protection.

Rose continued determinedly, “A woman reached out to me. She felt like someone was stalking her, but the police didn’t have any evidence. It was like the man was a shadow, but she felt him. She wanted help, and I wanted to help her. I tried to help. But I couldn’t find anything solid on him, either.” Rose stopped.

War waited. His stare was so intense and deep, seeming to see right through her. “All of this was happening when we were together?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t mention it to me.”

“The night I was so late for our date, I got a frantic call from her. She needed me. By the time I got to her place, though…” She inhaled. “I found her on the floor of her bedroom. The sheet was still around her neck. I pulled it free. I tried to help her. I tried and—I didn’t know he was still there.”

War’s hold tightened on her. “What?”

“I didn’t know he was watching me. Not until the next morning when I got the flowers from him with that stupid note. Like we’d shared something special together during the night.”

War shook his head. “No.”

“My DNA was all over her. I explained to the cops that I was there to help her. They told me to keep the story quiet because they were investigating. I did.” She’d been too close to the case. To the victim. “I started digging, though. Realized there were other women in Florida who’d been strangled—two others within the last six months. A twenty-one-year-old had been strangled with a rope outside of Jacksonville. A thirty-three-year-old from Tampa had been found with a curtain wrapped around her neck. Then, here, in Pensacola, I found Janet Post.” And that memory would always be burned in her mind. “Three days ago, he took another woman’s life, Barbara Briggs. I tried to warn her. I desperately needed her to believe me about what was happening, but she didn’t. Not until it was too late.”

His hands were still curled over her shoulders. “How did you know he was going after her?”

She wasn’t looking into his eyes. Her gaze had fallen to the strong column of his throat. But at War’s question, her stare lifted to once again meet his. “Because he told me.”

“What?”

“He’s been contacting me. Ever since that night with Janet, he contacts me, at least twice a week. I was putting together everything he’d done, making a connection that the cops hadn’t, and…I don’t know if he liked the recognition or what, but he started calling me. He told me he would even give me a head start to save the next victim.” This hurt so much. “He gave me stupid fucking clues, like we were playing a game together. Only it wasn’t a game. It was real. It was someone’s life. I was scared to death and desperate.”

“Rose…” His shoulders shoved back in a hard roll. “The bastard has been playing with you?”

“I tried to save Barbara. I swear, I tried. I figured out the clues. I went to Barbara. I went to the cops. No one would listen. They thought I was just after a story. Then when Barbara died, and I’d been seen arguing with her, after I’d already been at the murder scene of another woman…guess who suddenly became such a major person of interest in the investigation?”

“If he was calling you, you have proof. You can give your phone records to the cops—”

“He used burner phones. I can’t trace him. They can’t trace him. All they have…is me.”

“You can still talk to them—”

“My DNA was on Janet. I was seen arguing with Barbara. I was even in Tampa when the victim was killed there. A conference for reporters.” She’d been there. “It looks bad. At the very least, the cops figure I might be involved with the killer.”

“But you tried to save the victim.”

“Tried and failed,” she mumbled as she pulled away from him and paced toward the big picture window on the right. She heard the faint thunder of the waves as they crashed into the shore. “I’m not going back to the cops yet—you’re giving me these forty-eight hours—because I’m still trying.”

“I don’t follow.”

Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to War. “That’s why I want forty-eight hours.