No, the house he grew up in was home.
But his mother had made it clear recently that she didnt want him coming home so often. Shed lamented that it was time for him to get a life. And for her to start living again.
Whatever that meant.
Well, I just hope whomever you have working on this is competent, Patrick stated and replaced his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.
Sharon inclined her head. Im sure they will be. A knock sounded at the door of Sharons office. Come in, she called.
The door opened and a young woman, devoid of any hint of makeup, who looked to be in her early twenties, stepped inside. Her short burgundy-red hair spiked up in all directions and her big violet-colored eyes showed hesitance and wariness as she glanced at Patrick. She wore an ill-fitting dress suit and though the drab brown fabric hung off her shoulders, Patricks gaze fell to the hem of her skirt where her shapely calves were emphasized by heeled pumps.
Im sorry, I dont mean to interrupt, the woman said in a soft voice.
We were just finishing, Patrick offered, feeling the need to banish her uncertainty.
She smiled slightly, and the soft curving of her mouth unexpectedly grabbed at his chest. She turned her gaze to Sharon. Mrs. Hastings?
Sharon stood and came around the desk to offer her hand. I am. And you are?
Anne Johnson. The admin office sent me up.
Ah, my temp. Did they explain the project to you?
Yes.
Perfect. I was just telling Professor McClain about the new computer system.
A strange lump formed in Patricks stomach. This young, fresh-faced student was not his idea of a competent person to handle such sensitive material.
He gave Sharon a sharp-eyed glance. If she noticed his disapproval she ignored it. Instead Sharon pretty much dismissed him by pulling Miss Johnson toward the computer to show off the new notebook-style system that would be arriving within the next few days.
The cell phone attached to his belt vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID. His sister. He needed to take the call, but he wanted to stay and learn more about this temp that would be working on the computer issue.
Ill be going now, he said, unsuccessfully trying to hide his irritation at being ignored by the two ladies.
Sharon nodded distractedly. Patrick met Miss Johnsons wide-eyed stare for a moment before she hastily dropped her violet gaze. The impact of those interestingly colored eyes left him slightly off balance. He frowned some more. He didnt like being off balance.
He stepped out into the corridor and flipped open his phone. Meggie?
He listened to his sisters tear-filled tirade. Finally he interrupted, Meg, have you talked to Dr. Miller about this? Hon, you know how the subway upsets you, so why do you insist on taking it? He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, but couldnt quite manage it.
No, Im not upset with you. Things here are a bitstressful.
He acknowledged her suggestion that he see a psychologist for stress management. Ill take that into consideration. Promise me no more subway rides. Take a cab or walk. Isnt that one of the reasons you moved to Manhattan was so you could walk instead of sit in a car?
I love you, too, sis.
He hung up with a sigh. As proud as he was of his little sister for forging out a life in the art world which she was passionate about, he couldnt help but worry. Her obsessive-compulsive disorder flare-ups seemed to be more frequent the more she tried to push herself to overcome the disorder. But at least she knew hed always be here for her.
As he headed back down the hall of the fourth floor of the main building on the lower campus of Boston College, Patricks thoughts turned back to the new computer system and he decided hed double backup all of his work, just in case. He was not going to trust the wide-eyed Miss Johnson with his lifes work.
Lidia entered the outer office of the District Attorney, Christopher Porter, in the old courthouse of Atlantic City. The wood paneled walls and wooden desk made the small space seem cramped. In the corner next to the filing cabinet, where a woman in a blue sweater and navy slacks sat with an open drawer in front of her, a limp palm tree tried to bring some color to the room.
The woman turned as Lidia noisily closed the door behind her.
Lieutenant Taylor?
Lidia nodded and flashed her badge at the mousy brown-haired woman. Her pale face and unrefined features were dominated by wide hazel eyes. The name plate on the desk read Jane Corbin.
You may go in, hes expecting you, Jane said, her voice low and timid. She adjusted her sweater over her ample chest and turned back to the filing cabinet.
So much for chitchat. Lidia gave one solid knock on the wood door before entering. Porter sat at his desk, his gaze on a report in front of him. His salt and pepper hair caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window behind him. He looked up and pinned her to the floor with his intense gray eyes. Hello, Lieutenant. Have a seat.
Lidia sat across the scarred pine desk. Porter didnt waste time with pleasantries but went right to reviewing the details of Domingos arrest.
Domingos DNA matched the blood found at the crime scene. They had him on tape entering the hotel and exiting through a service door during the time of the murders. And they had an eyewitness. It couldnt get better than that.
For over two hours, Porter shot off questions and she shot right back with answers.
But no matter how much he pushed Lidia, he wouldnt find any flaw in the investigation or the arrest of Domingo. Theyd done everything by the letter of the law. No way would Domingo walk on a technicality from the homicide division.
From this point on, the burden to convict lay with the D.A.s office.
Tired and hungry, she finally barked, Enough. If she didnt get out of the musty office she was going to scream.
Porter started, his sharp gray eyes widening slightly. He wasnt accustomed to her abrupt manner but in time, if they continued to work together, she had no doubt, hed get used to her.
All right. Fine. For now. He closed the file lying in front of him with a snap. We have a solid case. As long as our witnesses continue to cooperate, we should see Domingo behind bars by summers end.
Theyll cooperate, Lidia assured him with confidence. The three witnesses all claimed to have held Jean Luc Versailles in high regard. All three were reluctant to come forward but thankfully were doing the right thing.
Theyre secure?
Frustration twisted in her gut. Two are in WITSEC. One refused, but is in hiding. Weve maintained contact with all three.
Im pushing to have the case moved up on the docket. But you know the system.
Yeah, like molasses in a freeze.
Porter gave her a sidelong glance as he closed and then picked up his briefcase. Where are you originally from?
Michigan.
Ah.
Ah?
You have a way about you thats different.
Heat crept into her cheeks. O-kay.
I like it, he said.
His grin disarmed her. He really was handsome. How had she not realized that before? Sharp, cool and calm under pressure. His thick graying hair once had been very dark but the lighter strands were attractive. She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
Lidia mentally stepped back and assessed the situation. He was a widower, like herself. They were colleagues, working toward a common goal. Shed seen him at church a few times. All pluses. Before she could talk herself out of it, she asked, Want to grab a bite to eat?
Love to. He held the door open for her.
A confused mixture of pleasure and angst stretched through her system. Great. Lidia walked out of the office and in the hall, very aware of Porters hand at her elbow.
She couldnt believe it. She had just asked the D.A. out to dinner. She hadnt been on a date in at least five years and had no intention of starting a relationship beyond the confines of work.
So why was she so looking forward to the evening?
Two days after shed first stepped onto the campus of Boston College, Anne found herself lugging Professor McClains new notebook to his office on the second floor. She hefted the box a little higher so she could knock on the professors door. She waited a moment before knocking again. When no reply came, she shifted the box to her hip and tried the door handle. Locked.
Great, she muttered and bent to put the box on the floor. Once free of the encumbering box, she shook out her arms and stretched her back. Shed sent the good professor a note telling him shed be delivering his computer at five oclock, long after his last class of the day ended.
She checked her watch. Okay, so she was a few minutes early. Still.
She leaned against the smooth green-painted wall to wait. At least the halls were empty and peaceful. So far her job as a BC temp was going well. Boston College lay in the suburb of Newton, eight miles outside of Boston proper. Newton Center had lots of coffee houses and wonderful trinket shops. Plus a commuter train stop that could take her into Boston when she wanted. She really liked the area. Too bad she wouldnt be staying long.
And she hadnt come here without doing a little research. The current campus site on Chestnut Hill had been built in the early 1900s and featured examples of English Gothic architecture that Anne found fascinating. Shed spent countless hours wandering the walking paths that meandered through lush lawns and tall maples and evergreens to stare at the buildings.
There was something somoving about the majestic structures with their cathedral-like shapes made of stone and mortar. Where shed grown up houses were made of wood or tin. When shed moved to the city, shed found only a concrete jungle that both intimidated and awed her.
In this New England setting, she was content with her life. No matter how short her time here would be. She smothered the anger that sprouted. What was done was done, she had to learn to live with it.
A movement at the far end of the long, empty hallway made her push away from the wall. A man stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs. She couldnt make out his features. He didnt look tall enough or broad enough to be the professor. She squinted. Professor McClain?
Yes? a deep voice came from right beside her shoulder.
She jumped with a squeak and whirled around to face the professor. Tall, overbearingand for some reason comforting. What? Her gaze swung back to the shadows. No one was there. Did you see that guy?
Who? His gazed moved past her toward the stairwell.
Foreboding chased down her spine. She hadnt imagined the man in the shadows, she was sure of it. She tightened her hold on her purse, feeling the outline of her cell phone. Her lifeline. No one, I guess.
Behind his glasses, Patricks dark blue eyes regarded her with puzzlement. Are you okay?
She liked his eyes, liked how a darker shade of brown rimmed the irises, like layers of rich chocolate cake. Yes. Yes, Im fine. Do you always sneak up on people?
One side of his mouth twitched. You sound like my sister-in-law, Kate. Shes always accusing me of sneaking up on her. I cant help it if Im light on my feet.
Anne gave his long, lean frame a once-over. Dance classes? she joked.
He shrugged and she thought his cheeks turned pink but in the waning light coming from the high window above the classroom doors she wasnt sure. My mother thought her boys should be graceful.
Cool mom, she commented as she bent to pick up the computer box. Where I come from, boys would rather be hog-tied than sent to dance class.
Here, allow me, Patrick said and bent as well, his hands covering hers on the box. Warm, big and strong.
Where are you from? he asked.
Slowly she withdrew her hands and straightened, aware of a funny little hitch in her breathing. Must still be the adrenaline from the man in the shadows making her forget herself.
AlL.A. Shed almost slipped up. That wouldnt be good.
Youre a long away from home.
He had no idea.
Uh Patrick muttered as he stood with the box in his arms. The door keys are in my pocket.
No way am I going fishing, she stated and backed up a step. Three months ago, she would have expected that sort of line from practically every man she dealt with but not here, not now. Not the professor!
Patrick pinned her with a droll stare that made her think perhaps shed overreacted. He balanced the box on one knee while he dug the keys from his coat pocket and held them out to her. Here.
Taking the keys as embarrassed heat crept into her cheeks, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Following Patrick inside, she looked around the office, not surprised to see a clean, clutter-free desk, faced by two perfectly aligned chairs and a filing cabinet with neatly written labels on each drawer. All button-down and tidy, just like the professor.
Patrick set the box on the corner of the desk. Ive backed up all my files. Twice.
She arched an eyebrow. Really? On what?
He went around the desk and opened a drawer to produce two floppy disks.
Unfortunately your new computer doesnt take floppies.
His complexion paled. It doesnt?
He really was technologically challenged, which she found endearing. CDs and thumb drives. Tomorrow Ill bring in a portable USB floppy drive.
He took his glasses off and began rubbing the lenses with a cloth. That will solve the problem?
Ill have to save the files onto a thumb drive. She plucked a silver letter opener from the pen holder on the desk and went to work opening the box. Until then, we can fire her up and see how she runs.
Youve given my computer a female gender?
We can call your computer a boy if youd rather. She tugged on the white foam protector and slid the black notebook computer out of the box.
The female pronoun is fine, like a ship. Just as potentially deadly and much too unpredictable.
The same way guys view women, she stated and reached in the box for the cables.
Excuse me?
His affronted expression made her hold up her hand and amend her statement. She supposed it wasnt a fair statement, nor was it completely true. Not all, just some.
He set his glasses back on his nose. Youre not old enough to have such a bleak outlook on the male gender.
She blinked. Not old enough?
Youre what, all of twenty?
Her mouth twitched. Ill take that as a compliment. Though Im not sure you meant it as such. And Im actually thirty. She ignored the fact that her current drivers license stated otherwise. What would it matter if he knew the truth?