Set Up For Love (12 page)

He ate the last two bites of waffle and pushed his plate away. “I have new admiration for The Bureau—at least you. This is a dangerous investigation.”

“Do you think you have a corner on this caring thing? I must find Tess at all costs.” He pounded the table. “Don’t you understand, I have to!”

Jill opened her mouth to speak but found his intensity had rendered her speechless.
What made his need so great?

“You’re not in this alone, Jill.”

He touched her hand. Tears sprang to her eyes. Why was she on this emotional rollercoaster? She quickly lowered her lids and blinked the moisture away. All this emotion was so unlike her and she had to snap out of it, Tess’ life depended upon cool, clear thinking and faultless judgment.

Dane squeezed her fingers. “We want the same things—to find Tess and stop that maniac.”

“Perhaps, but our methods are quite different, Dane. I want to keep things quiet and you want to spread everything you learn across the papers.” She was so angry at herself for her vulnerability to this man.

“Wait until I print something that hurts your investigation before you gripe, okay?”

She tossed down her napkin and stood. “By then it’ll be too late and you know it!”

Dane threw some bills on the table. “You didn’t want me involved in your case from the beginning, but I thought we were over that hurdle. What will it take to get you to trust me?”

She wished she had the answer.

Jill headed for the door. She turned just in time to see Dane pause at the counter and clap the night manager on the back. The two men smiled and shook hands.
Now what was going on?

“Positive. The night Charmaine was murdered I found matches from the Jester’s Motel in Tess’ wastebasket. When I got to the motel, Angelo, aka Smith, was the night manager on duty.”

“It’s hard to believe,” Dane said. “He’s friendly and easy to work with. But his lie bothers me.”

“The connections are there, his name on the lease, his job as night manager at the Jester’s Motel. And he had to know Charmaine.”

“You’re right about that. Gordy knew her from the studio and the video class.”

“Then he knows Tess.” Jill’s stomach lurched. “He lied about that too
.” It was starting to look possible that Gordy Angelo was the killer.
“What do you know about him?”

“Not as much as you do. I didn’t know he managed the motel.”

Jill grabbed her cellular and ordered a suspect pick-up. “Gordy Angelo has some explaining to do.”

She’d just hung up when Dane drove into the newspaper parking lot and pulled up near her car. She gripped the door handle and paused. “Is Angelo into pornography?”

Chapter Seventeen

Dane watched Jill turn and walk away. The sway of her hips reminded him of hot bodies undulating on red satin sheets. Heat surged through his veins. His body didn’t seem to accept that an affair between them was impossible.

He couldn’t get romantically involved. Couldn’t love again. But he had to remain involved with this case, had to keep tabs on the Bureau’s progress. That meant he had to be prepared to feed her underground facts she couldn’t get by any other means. And for his own salvation, he had to find Tess. And protect Jill, whether she liked it or not.

With her mouth set in a grim line, Jill waved as she pulled out of the parking space. He felt uncomfortable letting her go off by herself, so he followed her across town to the FBI parking structure.

When Dane returned, his redheaded assistant sat on the edge of his desk, waiting. Sammy’s Roman etched features glowed with excitement. “Hear you tangled with a hit-and-run driver.”

“Yeah. The maniac creamed old Nell.”

“Sorry, Buddy. That FBI babe was with you, wasn’t she?” Sammy chewed hard on his gum. “Heard she had to go to emergency. Was she hurt badly?”

“No. We were both lucky.” Dane wrote
Charmaine
on his pad. “I need you to go some place with me in about an hour.”

Dane could relate to that. He hated them with a passion. But Jill wasn’t like the others. Deep down she had a soft, vulnerable side that melted his heart. “She’s damn good at her job.”

“Good enough to railroad you?” Sammy picked up Dane’s letter opener and slowly ran his finger along the blade.

“That’s not going to happen.”

Sammy snickered. “You hope.” Using the tip of the opener, he pointed to a file lying on Dane’s desk. “What do you need on this crib death story?”

“Talk to neighbors, relatives. Shake things up a bit and see what filters out.” Dane felt a lump forming in his throat. Stories about kids always tore at his gut. “There’s something about the live-in boyfriend’s behavior that bothers me. Let’s examine all the angles before we finalize this one.”

Dane tried to cool down. His assistant was an ass when it came to women. He lusted after them, then put them down if they fell for his line. And strangely enough, some did.

Although Dane didn’t like the way Sammy treated women, the guy was a hell of an assistant. But he couldn’t trust him completely. He suspected one day the ambitious S.O.B. would try to stick a knife in his back.

Sammy weighed the letter opener in his hands, moving it from one to the other. “I tried to reach you last night and again this morning. Your recorder wasn’t on, and you didn’t answer your beeper.”

“Someone broke into Jill’s place. After all she’s been through, I didn’t think she should be alone.” The minute the words left Dane’s lips he was sorry. His whereabouts on his own time was none of Sammy’s business.

Sammy laughed and gave Dane the thumbs up sign. “Nice going, Buddy. Who’d ever believe a reporter would bed down with the FBI?”

It was all Dane could do to keep his fists at his sides. “Knock it off. Why did you want me anyway?”

Sammy raked his fingers through his carrot-red hair. “Just wanted to let you know the cops towed your car to the police wrecking yard. I took some close up snapshots of the damage.”

Dane studied the photos Sammy handed to him. “Good work.”

Sammy grinned. “Thought maybe you’d want me to dig up some info on the truck that hit you. You know, check some of the underground repair shops? Look for traded paint?”

“Yeah, do that. But there’s something more important that I want you to do first.” Dane tossed him the roll of film with pictures of the blood-smeared mirror. “Blow this up and see what we get.”

“For instance?”

Dane grabbed a couple of unexposed rolls of film out of his desk drawer, stuck one in his case and reloaded his camera with the other. “Maybe a message of some sort, anything.”

Sammy returned the letter opener to its place on Dane’s desk and straightened it with the tip of his index finger. “I was late getting to the video class. But I hung around for a while after it was over.”

“Yeah, it was a barrel of laughs.” Dane couldn’t joke about it. The cops had let him go, but he knew he was still a suspect. “Look, I have a hunch. Check the police records on video arrests. Porno, theft...whatever. Also look for break-ins where a blood signature is left behind.”

“We can’t afford to overlook anything or anyone.” Dane felt his shoulder muscles tighten. He had to help Jill uncover the killer before the psycho sliced up another woman. An ache constricted his throat. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to Tess. Or Jill.

****

Jill knew Dane had followed her to her office. Did he honestly think she couldn’t take care of herself? Although she tried to harden her heart against it, his concern brought a special warmth curling through her.

“Every year his stories rate top awards. When he goes after something he’s relentless. Won’t stop until he gets exactly what he wants.”

And he wanted this story. It seemed she was up against the best.

Gary unwrapped a lollipop from the jar Jill kept on her desk and stuck it in his mouth. “Clark does community volunteer work and is a big brother to two ghetto kids.” Gary switched the candy from one side of his mouth to the other. “Probably the good-guy deeds are just a cover for his involvement in the video smut.”

Jill swallowed. They were talking about the man who’d cared for her, protected her, the man who’d spent the night on her couch. Her knees suddenly felt weak and she eased into a chair. She couldn’t let Gary bias her thinking. Everything he’d mentioned was good; it was only his slant against Dane that made it sound bad. Jill rubbed her arms. Dane
had
seemed very chummy with Gordy Angelo. But he’d explained that, hadn’t he? “Any patterns in the murder cases Clark’s covered?”

“Gory stuff’s his specialty. Here’s a file of this year’s clippings. I’m still researching prior years.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing slipshod.
The Chronicle
staff claims he won’t go to print unless he’s checked everything personally.”

“All reporters should be so thorough.” She felt an unexpected surge of pride. “What about Sammy Newcomb?”

“Clark’s wily assistant? He’s only been with the paper a year and a half and has a reputation for moving around from job to job. Goes through women just as fast.” Gary leaned forward. “And he’s one of those video freaks, too.”

Jill gripped the edge of her desk. There were too many people who could be mixed up in all this. If Sammy was involved, why not Dane? Because he was too kind, too caring. Or was that an act?

Ted Neil in the Behavior Science Instruction and Research Unit and her other colleagues in the VICAP program were all a part of the psychological profiling team and the backbone to the groundbreaking concept of criminal investigation of which she was a part. Without them she’d still be in the dark ages.

“Check all the video outlets to see if anyone has tried to peddle any more snuff flicks.” She glanced through her stack of messages. There was nothing urgent. “Did anything jell on the internet lead?”

“Go the extra mile on him. He’s looking like a serious suspect. Angelo, aka Bill Smith, is the night manager at the Jester’s Motel. He has all the connections—the motel, the university. And he knew Charmaine.”