Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,19

you didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to be labeled suspect number one because the woman you’d been sleeping with vanished. A woman who could have destroyed your career if she said the wrong word to the wrong person.”

That sure sounded like a motive to Victoria.

Dr. North yanked a hand through his hair. Not so perfect now. “It’s not what you think! I had nothing to do with her disappearance! Nothing!”

Wade didn’t look convinced. Victoria understood his suspicion.

“She wasn’t going to marry him,” Dr. North suddenly announced. “She was breaking it off with Lucas. She told me that. Kennedy wanted grad school. She didn’t want to settle down with that kid—­she had plans.”

Now this was interesting. Victoria crept closer to him.

“She had plans,” Dr. North said again, shaking his head. “So many plans . . .” His sigh was sad. And then . . . then he turned his stare on Victoria.

And his gaze sharpened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as his eyes seemed to bore into her. “But I just realized . . . I think we’ve met before.”

What? “No, no, I don’t think we have.” Her denial was adamant. She would’ve remembered him.

But he cocked his head to the side as he studied her. “Doctor . . . ? Are you also a doctor of psychology?”

A brittle laugh escaped Victoria at that question. “Hardly. I’m a forensic anthropologist.” She was also an M.D., though she didn’t think it was relevant for him to know that information.

He stared blankly at her.

Wade straightened to his full height and moved his body just a bit, positioning himself between Dr. North and Victoria. “She’s a doctor of the dead.”

“The . . . dead?”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s what I said.” Wade definitely sounded annoyed. “Now, how about we keep talking about Kennedy. You remember her, right? The woman you just admitted sleeping with? The woman who had such plans—­”

“But I—­” Dr. North seemed to be floundering. And he’d moved so that he could stare directly at Victoria once more. “I know we’ve met.”

Wade snapped his fingers in front of the other man. “Could you focus? I mean, hell, do you just have a compulsion to hit on every beautiful woman you see? Is that one of your issues?”

Dr. North’s mouth flopped a bit, rather like a fish. Then fury tightened his face. “I think I’ve answered quite enough of your questions. I don’t know where Kennedy Lane is. I don’t know what happened to her. And it’s time for you to leave.”

Victoria nodded curtly and headed for the door. She could feel the doctor’s gaze following her—­and she didn’t like the weight of that stare.

I don’t know him.

Or at least . . . she didn’t think that she did.

“Innocent men don’t hide,” Wade said flatly behind her. “And they also don’t stonewall when a woman is missing. They try to help.” His voice was mocking as he added, “Thanks so much for your help, buddy.” Then she heard his footsteps following her.

They exited the office and paused in the little lobby area. There was a reception desk to the side but no one was behind it. No one had been there when they arrived, either.

The door was shut—­sharply—­behind them.

“At least he didn’t slam it,” Victoria said as she gave Wade a weak smile. “But I’m thinking that interview didn’t go so well.”

His eyes glittered. “Do you know him?”

“No.” She didn’t think that was a lie.

“Then he was just trying to throw us off. Change the topic because he didn’t want to answer any more questions about her. Nice technique, but it’s not going to work for long.”

Was that what it had been? The knot in her stomach eased a bit.

He put his hand at the small of her back. She tensed, and hated herself for that.

Wade leaned in close to her. His breath feathered over her ear as he said, “One day, you won’t.”

“I . . . won’t?”

“You won’t get nervous when I’m near. You’ll like it when my hands are on you.”

Actually, that was the problem. She already liked it when his hands were on her. Did he think that she tensed up because she was rejecting his touch? No, far from that. She liked it too much.

They headed toward the stairwell. She reached for the door—­

But it flew open before she could grab the handle.

A man stood there, a guy with sun-­bleached hair, a golden tan, and an expression carved with absolute rage. He wore a T-­shirt and loose jeans, and he