crime of passsion

By: maggie ferguson

Synopsis:

"How to Drive a Man Wild."

Her face flamed with embarrassment, and she was sure her discomfort showed
on her face.

"You don't learn this from reading, you learn it from doing."  His
voice lowered an octave, "If you need a practice partner..."

"I was looking at the other book.  I thought it might be a good
resource since I don't have a background in criminal law," Taylor
said.

His grin broadened as he read the other title.  Killers Without a
Conscience.

He shook his head.

"Not likely."

"You never know, I may even learn enough to teach you a thing or two,"
she said, taking refuge in haughtiness.

"I'm sure you could," Steele said.  At the husky note in his voice~
Taylor looked up at him and wished she hadn't.  The way he was looking
at her made her feel as if she'd just stepped in front of a raging
fire.


Chapter One

"She was dead before she hit the ground."  " Taylor Quinlan shuddered
at Deputy Coroner Dr.  James Kingsley's cold recitation of the facts of
the murder.  From the grim expressions on the faces of Matt and Heather
McCall and her cousin Craig, who were seated with her on the courtroom
pew, she knew they were similarly affected by the deputy coroner's
words.

It was still hard to believe that Allison Barrett was dead.  It was
even harder to believe that Craig was the prime suspect in her brutal
murder.  H~ sat next to her now, staring straight ahead, ramrod
stiff.

His mahogany-brown-skinned face had a grayish cast, and his brown-black
eyes were over bright with unshed tears.  Even with everything that had
happened between Alii-son and him, he'd loved her--perhaps obsessively
so.

Giving herself a mental shake, Taylor leaned over and squeezed Craig's
hand.

It was icy cold.

She exchanged a brief look with the stocky, bearded man who sat on the
other side of Craig.  Matt McCall was Craig's best friend.  Best
friend.  She turned the phrase over in her mind.  It was such an
inadequate description of the relationship the men shared.  They
couldn't have been closer if they'd been related by blood.  Normally
Matt's tobacco-brown-skinned face was animated and his black eyes
twinkled with merriment, but like Craig, the

strain he'd been under since Allison's murder almost a week ago was
beginning to show.  Now he looked tired and haggard and every one of
his thirty-seven years.  Taylor hoped he could keep himself emotionally
intact through all this; she was counting on him to take her place on
Craig's legal defense team--to get her out of this nightmare.

As if he'd read her troubled thoughts, Matt gave her an almost
imperceptible thumbs-up sign She forced a wan smile.  She was glad one
of them was confident, That was just like him, she thought, seeing the
silver lining in a bad situation.  But then, he had an advantage.

Unlike her, he thought they would be able to get Craig out of this
mess.

She was hard-pressed to feel any semblance of confidence as she glanced
around the crowded courtroom.  It was packed, standing room only,
filled with gaping onlookers, as well as a horde of reporters
representing all the media.

After all, this was the coroner's inquest into the death of Allison
Jane Barrett, estranged wife of popular daytime television talk-show
host Craig Barrett.  It was a media event.

Unlike other legal proceedings, the coroner's inquest was presided o~er
by the county coroner and was usually conducted in the coroner's
office.  Due to overwhelming public interest in Allison's death, this
inquest was being held in Judge Witherspoon's courtroom.  Even though
the purpose of the inquest was not to determine guilt or in-nocenee,
but rather the cause of the decedent's death and whether foul play was
involved, it was still the last place Taylor wanted to be.  She was in
way over her head.  She had no business representing Craig.  She had no
idea what she'd do if he was called to testify.  Her stomach knotted at
just the thought.  She should have put her foot down when Craig had
told her of his plans to attend.

All of this flashed through her mind as Dr.  Kingsley paused in his
~estimony and scanned his notes.

"Oh, yes, here it is," he mumbled before peering nearsightedly at Cook
County Coroner Barbara Oliver.

"I arrived at the crime scene at approximately i :15 a.m. The body was
still warm.  The victim's skin had a waxy blue-gray appearMaggte
l~erguson anee.

The lips and nails were pale, and rigor mortis had not set in.

Based on the police reports and the temperature of the body when I
arrived, I believe death occurred sometime between 10:30 and 11:30 p.
m. on the night of Tuesday, July 3. " The deputy coroner's voice droned
on as he responded to a series of technical questions:' the position of
the body when he arrived, whether the body had been moved, the
direction of the blows and whether there was evidence of sexual assault
or the presence of drugs or alcohol in Allison's system.  He concluded
with a brief statement on the general condition of her health.

Next to testify was a young Hispanic police officer, who took his place
in the witness seat.  The knot in Taylor's stomach got even tighter as
she waited for his testimony to begin.

"What time did you discover the body?"  the coroner asked.

Officer Gonzales cleared his throat.

"The 911 call came in at about eleven-thirty.  We were dispatched to
the Barrett residence about five minutes later.  My partner and I were
cruising east on Ontario at about the three-hundred block.  I was
driving.  I cut south on Michigan to Lake Shore Drive.  It only took us
about three minutes to get over there, but it took us another five
minutes to get inside."

"Is that because the house was locked?"

"Yes, ma'am.  We ran around back.  The curtain.q at the French doors
off the patio were slightly parted, allowing us to see inside.  We
could see Mrs.  Barrett lying on her back in a pool of blood.  We
smashed a windowpane in one of the French doors and unlocked the door.
She was dead, but the body was still warm.  I would guess that she had
been dead no more than thirty minutes."

"Did you search the premises?"  Coroner Oliver asked.  "Yes, ma'am.

First we disarmed the security system, which had gone off when we broke
the window.  Then we conducted a thorough check of the place but did
fit find

anyone, but we did note that the tape from the sun ted lance camera
outside the condo was missing.  It must have been about 12:15 a. m.
when we notified homicide and the coroner's office.  " "Thank you,
Officer Gonzales.  You may step down."  The coroner turned to gesture
at another officer.

"Detective Donaldson, please take the stand."

Taylor watched as a reed-thin redheaded man was sworn in and then took
the seat adjacent to the coroner's bench.  Coroner Oliver began by
asking several preliminary questions: the detective's full name, number
of years on the force, nature of his job.  From there the questions
moved to more substantive matters.

"What time did you arrive at the Barrett residence?"

"It was about twelve-thirty."

"Tell us what you found."

"Officers Gonzales and Meeker let us in.  They told us that the house
had been locked and the security system armed when they arrived.  That
told me right away that whoever killed Mrs.  Barrett knew her well
enough to be familiar with her security system.  However, the
perpetrator obviously left in a big hurry."

"What do you mean?"

"The place was a wreck," Detective Donaldson said, leaning forward
slightly.

"BoOks thrown on the floor.  Plants strewn about.  The contents of Mrs.
Barrett's purse dumped on the floor.  The scene looked staged to me,
though.

I think the killer was trying to make it look like she'd walked in on a
break-in, but something spooked him before he could finish setting
things up."

"So you don't think Mrs.  Barrett was killed during the commission of a
burglary?"

Detective Donaldson shook his head.

"Definitely not.  There was no signs of a break-in.  Besides, a burglar
wouldn't pass up a fourteen-caratgoldand-diamond bracelet and other
expensive jewelry like Mrs.  Barrett was wearing in favor of a few
dollars from her purse."

"What about physical evidence?  Did you find any at the crime scene?"

Detective Donaldson shifted in his seat as if he wasn't entirely
comfortable with the question, but Taylor sensed he was playing to the
reporters in back--drawing things out, heightening the tension.

It was certainly working with her, she thought.  Anxiety gnawed in her
gut as she waited for his answer.

"Mrs.  Barrett was beaten to death with a blunt object," Donaldson said
finally.

"A fireplace poker was missing, and I think~ at could have been the
murder weapon."  He shrugged his stooped shoulders.

"Then again, it could have been alarge paperweight or candlestick or
something of that nature.  Whatever the murder weapon was, we didn't
find it at the scene.  The killer must have taken it with him."

Donaldson's face darkened.  "There was a lot of blood at the scene, but
at this point we don't know if any of it was the killer's.

Forensics is still doing .  DNA testing.  Thee only prints in the room
were those of Mrs.  Barrett and her husband.  " "Did you question the
neighbor who called 9117" the coroner asked.

Detective Donaldson nodded.

"Yeah, we questioned him."  He consulted his notes.

"Mr.  Lee Trebeck.  He said he heard what appeared to be a violent
argument coming from the Barrett condo about an hour before he called
911.  He wanted to go over, but his wife refused to allow it.  By the
time he convinced her to let him go over, things had quieted down. When
the argument started again, he called the police and watched the
Barrett house.  He said he saw no one leave, but that isn't too
surprising since the front door of the Barrett house is hidden from the
Trebecks' byalarge hedge."  Donaldson paused to glance at Craig, then
added, "Mr.  Trebeck reported seeing a man cross the street halfway
down the block, just before the patrol car arrived."

Taylor closed her eyes.  Donaldson's revelation couldn't have been more
explosive if he'd said the neighbor had ID'ed Craig.  The courtroom
buzzed.

' "Barrett, it had to be Barrett!  Who else would have access to the
security code?"


"Did you get the neighbor's name?"

"Phone,..  I got to get to a phone!"

"Order in the court!"  the coroner called out sternly, pounding her
gavel.

"Order in the court!"  The ruckus died down instantly.  Coroner Oliver
turned back to the witness and nodded.

"Please continue, Detective Donaldson."

"As I said, Mr.  Trebeck saw this man.  Unfortunately it was dark out,
and the man was too far away for Mr.  Trebeck to get a good look at
him.  All he could say was that the man was tall, about six feet, With
a lean, muscular build."

What was left unsaid, Taylor thought bleakly, was that the neighbor's
description roughly matched Craig.  Before she could dwell on the
significance of that, the coroner's next question commanded her full
attention.

"Did you question relatives and friends of the deceased to determine if
they were aware of any problems Mrs.  Barrett might have been havi~. g,
or if anyone had a vendetta against her?"

Detective Donaldson nodded.

"We questioned a number of Mrs.  Barrett's friends.  A couple of people
reported that a while back she'd had some problems with Ted Larson, a
former boyfriend.  Nothing serious.  The only problem Mrs.  Barrett was
currently having was with her estranged husband."  Dpnaldson shifted in
his chair.

"Mr.  Barrett admitted that things had b~en turbulent between them
during the marriage and for a period after they separated, but he said
that in recent months they'd 'talked of a reconciliation."  Taylor
could hear the but coming as Donaldson speared Craig with a hard look,
then added, "Friends of the deceased verified that what he said was
true, but they also said that in recent weeks things had cooled between
the couple."

"Did they offer a reason for that?"

The detective nodded.

"Mrs.  Barrett had begun seeing another man, and that had led to
several violent arguments between Barrett and his wife.  The day before
she was murdered, several people reported hearing Mr.  Barrett say
something to the effect, "If I can't have you, then no one will."
Taylor's spirits plummeted.

Donaldson might as well have said Craig had killed his wife.

The courtroom erupted.

"I knew it!"

"What a story!"

Several reporters raced out of the courtroom to call in this latest
development immediately.

"Order in the court!  Order in the court!"  Coroner Oliver shouted,
pounding her gavel as' pandemonium reigned.  When calm was once again
restored, she looked angrily about the courtroom before her gaze came
to rest on the reporters in back.

"If there are any more outbursts, I'll have the clerk clear the
courtroom."

Turning back to Donaldson, she asked, "You said Mr.  Barrett threatened
his wife?"

"That's correct."

"Did you check into his whereabouts on the night of the murder?"

Yeah, we checked him out.  " Donaldsofts voice was laced with open
skepticism.

"A female friend of Mr.  Barrett, a Pamela Olsen, said he came by her
place around ten-thirty and they were together all evening in her
apa~ialent."

~what about Mr.  Larson?  " Donaldson shook his head.

"We checked him out, but he also had an alibi."

"So where are you in the investigation?"

Donaldson shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"At this point we're not ruling anybody in or out.  We haven't charged
anyone for the murder.

We have our suspicions, but nothing concrete that we can act on at this
time.

Our investigation is still ongoing.  " Coroner Oliver excused Detective
Donaldson.  Taylor's heart jumped in her throat when the coroner looked
briefly at Craig, but thankfully he was not called to testify. A stream
of witnesses followed: the neighbor, Lee

Trebeck, several friends, police officers and police ex When all the
testimony had been heard, the coroner briefly addressed the six-person
jury before they convened to begin deliberations.  To the surprise of
no one, they were back in fifteen minules to present their finding.

"We have heard the testimony of witnesses, police officers and police
experts," the jury foreman began.

"It is our finding that Allison Jane Barrett met her death at the hands
of person or persons unknown.

We therefore recommend that this case be referred to the State's
Attorney for further investigation as a homicide.  " The coroner
thanked the jury and discharged them, and people began streaming out of
the courtroom.  As Taylor had expected, a fairly large contingent of
reporters milled around the exit doors in back.

No doubt even more were posted in the hallway outside waiting to
attack.  To avoid the impending onslaught, the clerk ushered Matt,
Taylor, Heather and Craig out of the courtroom through a side door and
into the elevator used to transport prisoners.

"I told you it would be all right," Matt said as the elevator came to a
quiet whoosh on the ground floor.  Then he sighed.

"But man, I'm glad it's over,"

"So am I," Taylor agreed.  She looked quickly over her shoulder to make
sure none of the reporters had followed them.

"Looks like we lost that bunch of gossip mongers but let's not hang
around here to find out."

"I'mwith you," Craig said.

"I won't be able to relax until we're out of here."

Taylor quickly led the group ~lown a narrow corridor and opened the
door leading outside.  Instantly several dozen reporters descended upon
them like a swarm of angry locusts.  Cameras flashed, mini cams rolled
and microphones pounced.

"Craig, is it true the station is planning to pull your show off the
air until the police clear you of any involvement in your wife's
murder?"

"it is being reported in a number of papers that in addition to Ms.
Quinlan, you've retained Michael Steele to represent you.  Is that
because you believe the state will be bringing charges against you in
connection with your wife's death?"

"What do you think of Howard Dunlap's allegation ~that Allison was
going after half your assets in the divorce action?"

The questions came fast and furious.  Taylor and Matt moved quickly,
placing themselves between Craig and the media.

"No comment," Taylor shouted.

"No comment," Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matt hustling Craig
through the mob as Heather scurried behind.  When Taylor turned to
follow, a.

woman stepped in front of her, blocking her path.  She was in her
thirties, very slender, with-short blond hair, a toothpaste smile and
blue eyes that gleamed with a faintly predatory light.  Vanessa Norris,
the reigning queen of tabloid television.  Taylor issued a silent
groan; that was all they needed.

Before she could step aside, a microphone was shoved under her nose.

"Ms.  Quinlan, why didn't your cousin testify at the inquest?  Don't
you think the public might construe his failure to speak out against
the charges being leveled against him as a sign of guilt?"

"No comment," Taylor said, elbowing Norris out of the way.  Ahead of
her, Matt quickly maneuvered Craig through the hordes of reporters into
a waiting limousine.  Taylor followed, slamming the car door after her.
She plopped into the seat beside Craig while Heather and Matt took the
seat opposite them.

In seconds the car engine roared to life.  A horn honked, warning all
to get out of the way, then they were moving.  Like the parting of the
Red Sea, reporters dove to the right and left of the car.  It picked up
speed, moving fast, faster--leaving mini cams and reporters behind.

"I've never been so scared in my life," Heather said, Straightening her
perfectly coiffed auburn hair that had been slightly mussed during the
melee.


~"They were like a mob!  For a moment there, I thought we might not
make it.  Do I look all right?"

Only Heather McCall would ask such a question at a time like this,
Taylor thought.  It wasn't that the brown-eyed, honey-colored beauty
was shallow, exactly.  Self-absorbed was a more apt description.

Actually Taylor had been amazed that Heather wanted to accompany them
to the inquest.  It wasn't as if she and Allison were close.  Butthat
was just like her; one minute you thought you had her all figured out,
and then she'd turn around and do something totally unexpected.

Regardless of the kind of woman she was, it was clear that Matt loved
her dearly.  A sad sntile touched Taylor's lips as she watched Matt put
a protective arm around his wife of ten months and whisl~r something to
her.

How she wished she could have that kind of close, loving relationship
with someone.  A husband, children.  the whole nine yards.

It was not to be for her, though, and she'd accepted that long ago.

Mental illness.  Two little words.  Words that she had attached little
meaning to until the year she turned sixteen.  Losing her parents at
the age of ten, moving to another state to live with her Uncle Bob and
Aunt Ida, their subsequent divorce and later Uncle Bob's suicide had
made her a quiet, withdrawn child.  It had taken time, but with Aunt
Ida's loving guidance she'd finally come out of her shell.

The school year had started off wonderfully: she and her best friend,
Sally, were in the same homeroom; she'd-made the cheerleader squad; and
topping things off, Ken Parker, the most popular boy in high school,
had asked her out.  She'd been on cloud nine and couldn't wait to tell
her aunt the good news, but instead of being happy for her, a strange
expression had crossed Aunt Ida's face, followed by an even stranger
statement that she should not take him too seriously.

Naturally Taylor had questioned her about the cryptic comment.  That
was when she'd broken down and told Taylor the secret she'd borne alone
for so many years.  A secret that she had not even been able to share
with her own son, Craig.  A secret that would change Taylor's life
forever.  Aunt Ida had tearfully explained that the Barretts had a bad
gene, a gene that left them predisposed to mental illness.  The
evidence was irrefutable.  Grandpa Barrett, her uncle and her mother
had all been its victims.

The picture she presented of Taylor's mother and Uncle Bob was of two
peopl[ given to bouts of depression, irrational, sometimes even violent
behavior that had ended in suicide and murder.  She'd explained in
detail the lengths she and Taylor's father had gone to hide the true
state of their spouses' mental condition from her and Craig and the
outside world.  But sadly they had been unable to halt the progression
of the disease, and it had first robbed them of their faculties and
ultimately taken their lives.

If Taylor lived to be a hundred, she'd always remember the horror she'd
felt at hearing how her parents had really died, as well as what the
future held for her.  It had been like a death sentence.  It didn't
matter that the doctors couldn't say whether she and Craig would in
fact suffer the same fate as their parents.  In her young mind, life as
she knew it was over.

Frightened and confused, she'd refused to heed her aunt's warnings
about not saying anything to anyone, and confided in her best friend,
Sally.  The moment the words were out, she'd wished she could take them
back.  She'd seen resignation and then fear in Sally's eyes, and that
was the end of their friendship.  After that she'd needed no further
prompting about not saying anything to anyone.

As she'd gotten older and came to understand what life had been like
for her father and aunt with their respective spouses, she'd known that
marriage and children were out of the question.  She wouldn't bring
anyone else into her nightmare.  That was why she had steered clear of
personal entanglements, focusing instead on her legal c~reer.


And that was also why she was now racked with uncertainty about
Craig's innocence.  God, she didn't want to believe he could hurt
anyone, least of all Allison, but with their family history, she had to
face the fact that it was possible.  Under the circumstances, was it
really fair or even ethical for her to represent him?  Yet she couldn't
tell anyone how she was feeling.

She was backed into a corner.

"Taylor?;' ~ Craig's voice slowly penetrated her troubled thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Craig," she said, pulling herself together.  "What did you
say?"

"I want to thank you for coming with us today."  He cleared-his
throat.

"I know we haven't been close in recent years, and we've had our
differences, but..."  His voice trailed off.

Taylor nodded vaguely.

"Forget it.  I Want to help."  She knew the words sounded inadequate.
She wished she could say something more encouraging, but the words
caught in her throat.

"What happens next?"  Heather asked, looking from Matt to Taylor.

"Do you think the State's Attorney will pursue the matter?"

She groaned inwardly.  That was the last thing she wanted to discuss in
front of Craig.  From the look Matt threw her, she knew that he felt
the same way.

"We'll have to wait and see," she said.  Then, in an effort to steer
the conversation in a different direction, she asked, "Did you see
Vanessa Norris out there?"

"Yeah~ no doubt trying to see what other dirt she could stir up,"

Matt said, following her lead.  He looked at Craig.

"Man, I couldn't believe it when I flipped on the set this morning and
there was Howard Dunlap being interviewed by Norris.  He should be
strung up by his thumbs.  For Pete's sake, the guy's your personal
assistant."

"Ex-assistant," Craig corrected with a sigh; "Whatever," Matt said with
a dismissive wave of his hand.

"But Dunlap is supposed to be your friend.  He knows better than to
talk to that barracuda.  The woman is the queen of slime."

Taylor nodded.

"I know that and you know that, but a lot of the viewing public
don't.

Because of her stint as an investigative reporter with the Washington
Times, people think she's a fair and objective reporter."

"That's the problem," Matt said, warming to the subject.

"A lot of people believe her.  After this morning's show, alarge
segment of the public probably be.-liev~ that Craig killed Allison
because she was bleeding him dry."

"Don't forget yesterday's show," Craig added, his voice laced with
pain.

"According to police sources, I killed Allison in a jealous rage."

"No one who knows you could possibly believe that," Heather soothed.

"Oh, God, I keep thinking this is just a nightmare and I'm going to
wake up,"

Craig muttered.  He turned his head to the side and stared bleakly out
the car window.  The early afternoon sun beamed into the ear, casting
light and dark shadow on the high cheekbones of his face.  With his
shaved head and long, slender neck, he looked desolate and utterly
vulnerable.

Taylor swallowed hard and bit back tears.  If only she'd been able to
convince Aunt Ida to tell him about his possible medical condition,
maybe they wouldn't be facing this problem today.

A strained silence settled over the car's occupants and was finally
broken by Matt as he leaned over and gave his friend's arm a reassuring
squeeze.

"Sorry, buddy, but you're news and news spells ratings.  I'm afraid
things are going to get a whole lot rougher before they get better." He
gave Craig a faint smile.

"But you know, Heather and I are here for you.  And Taylor is meeting
with Michael Steele later this afternoon.  We're going to get you out
of this."

"Why are we being so pessimistic?"  Heather asked.  "Maybe it will all
blow over.  Isn't that why you're paying Michael Steele a small fortune
to make sure it does?"


"We're be'me realistic," Taylor said cautiously.

"We're hoping for the best, but we have to be prepared for the worst.
That's why I thought we should bring in a criminal defense attorney
now.  We have to be prepared for anything that happens."

"You sure you don't want me to sit in at the meeting with Steele?"

Craig asked.

Taylor shook her head.

"This first meeting should be with just the lawyers."  She tried to
sound confident and upbeat.

"We need to talk procedural stuff."

"Translated, she's going to try to convince Steele to let me take her
place,"

Matt said.

"I--I think it would be for the best," Taylor added quickly.

Craig gave Matt a wan smile.

"I'm sorry Steele wasn't amenable to both of you bel ping with the
case.  At first he insisted on working alone.  When he finally agreed
to let Taylor act as co-counsel, I let it go.  I didn, t press too hard
because I didn't want him to refuse to take the Matt issued a weary
sigh.

"We really shouldn't have been surprised.

He does have a reputation for being a lone wolf.  " Craig's eyes moved
from Taylor to Matt.

"Then I guess we scored something of a victory that Steele even agreed
to let Taylor assist."

Lucky me, Taylor thought miserably.

Heather's pretty, heart-shaped face puckered into a frown.

"I still don't understand why he selected you.  Matt has practiced more
than a dozen years and he's handled several criminal cases, while..."
She gave Taylor a tight little smile.

"Well, you're just twenty-eight.

You've only been out of law school four years and you've never even
handled a criminal case.  No offense, but Matt is infinitely better
qualified than you.

" Taylor shrugged.

"I couldn't agree with you more.  Frankly I don't understand it,
either..

Steele didn't give Craig any reason, but he did make it clear that he
would only need my help for a few weeks at the most."

"I hope that means he thinks no charges will be brought against Craig,"
Matt said.

"God, I hope that's the case," Craig said, his voice heavy with
emotion.

Me, too, thought Taylor.  Me, too.

A few minutes later the car pulled up to the curb in front of a tall
downtown office building.

"Do you really have to go into the office?"  Heather asked her husband,
pouting prettily.

Matt gave her an indulgent smile.  "" Fraid so, but I'll be home
early.

Taylor is meeting with Steele in"-- he glanced at his watch " --fifteen
minutes.  I want to hang around just in case Steele goes along with the
substitution or will at least let me help with procedural matters.  "
He paused, then looked at Craig.

"I want you to go home with Heather.  When our meeting is over, I'll
run by your place and pick up a few things for you.  We'll bring Steele
by later this evening."

Craig frowned.

"I can't impose on you" -- "Nonsense.  You're not imposing.  You're my
best friend, and I want to help.  Besides, the number of reporters
camped outside your house has probably doubled now that Allison's death
has been officially ruled a homicide."

Craig ran a hand over his shaved head-in frustration.  "Once they
figure out I'm at your place, they'll just camp out there.  I can't do
that to you."

"You're going to stay with Heather and me, and that's final."  Matt's
voice brooked no argument.

Heather offered Craig a warm smile.

"We're family," she said, taking his hand in hers.

"Families stick together, especially at a time like this."

Craig's mouth curved into a slight smile.

"Thanks."

"Now that that's settled, Taylor and I had better get going," Matt
said.  He gave Heather a quick kiss.

"See you in a few hours," Taylor said, alighting from the limousine.


Matt fell into step beside her as they entered the thirty-story office
building and crossed to the bank of elevators.  "It looks bad," he
murmured.

Taylor nodded.

"I know.  I didn't want to say anything in front of Craig, but
Donaldson all but said he thought Craig was the killer."

The elevator doors opened and they got on with several other
businessmen, effectively cutting off further conversation until they
were in Matt's office.  There he began to pace back and forth like a
caged tiger.  Taylor took the chair across from his desk.

"What really galls me is Donaldson's talk about looking at the evidence
and other people.  That's just so much bunk."  Matt emphasized his
statement with a flick of his hand.

"We all know that the only pet son the cops are looking at is Craig.
Oh, I know the boyfriend or spouse of a murdered victim is the first
person the police look at, but I thought they would move beyond that,
that they would at least follow up on other leads."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"I read the statement Craig gave the police.  There's nothing really
incriminating in it."

Matt slumped wearily into a leather chair next to his oak desk.

"I

didn't see anything, either.  I hope we haven't overlooked something. "
For a moment Matt remained silent, stating down at his hands.  When he
looked up, his expression was bleak.

"I just wish he hadn't said anything at all.  I should have fled him
down.

Knocked him out.  Done something ... anything to stop him from going to
the police."

Taylor sighed.

"Don't blame yourself.  You did what you could.  You know how
bullheaded Craig can be.  He wouldn't listen to you or me."

"But I'm his lawyer" -- "You're his manager and entertainment lawyer,"
Taylor corrected.

"Neither you nor I have a background in criminal law.  That's why we
agreed that we needed to bring in someone who does."  She chewed her
lower lip.

"I wish he'd gone with Leonard Friedman instead of Michael Steele."

He gave her a sharp look.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

She shook her head.

"Not about the ncecl for a criminal lawyer.  Just about Steele."

"Steele's the best there is.  We were darn lucky to get him."

"I know," Taylor hedged.  How could she explain ~at ever since she'd
heard that Steele was taking the case, she'd had an uneasy feeling
about him.  They had never met, but she sensed that Steele would not be
as malleable as Friedman would have been.  And damn, that was what she
needed.  someone who wouldn't probe too deeply her reason for not
wanting to represent Craig.  She felt as if she was drowning in
quicksand; the harder she fought, the deeper she sank.

"Taylor?  Is everything all right?"  Matt asked.  His face searched
hers, concerned.

She offered him a faint smile.  "" It's just nerves.  " She glanced at
her watch.

"By the way, it's one-thirty.  Where is our esteemed attorney?"

AT THAT: VERY MOMENT, Michael Steele was sprinting along LaSalle
Street.

"Damn," he muttered as his hazel eyes quickly scanned the building
addresses.

Where the hell was that building?  He checked his watch again.
Onethe.

He realized now that he should have taken a cab from the hotS.  After
spending the past four days cooped up in his office until all hours of
the night trying to clear his.  calendar before leaving for Chicago, he
had felt the need to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.  Last
night had been especially grueling.  He'd worked late into the night to
finish several projects, including an appellate brief for a client
currently serving a twenty-year prison term.  When he'd finally gotten
home in the wee hours of the morning, he'd fallen into bed and promptly
overslept, missing his

early-morning flight out of Washington Dulles He'd had to scramble to
get a seat on a later flight.

He'd looked forward to relaxing once he reached his hotel, but that was
not to be.  Instead, a bombshell had been dropped on him: Gavin Walker,
one of his senior attorneys, would not be able to assist him on the
Barrett case after all.  If Steele hadn't already committed himself, he
would've dropped it right then and there.  The case was problematic as
it was, and this would only make the situation worse.

He already had two major criminal cases going; now he was trying to
juggle a third.

He issued a weary sigh.  He was definitely getting too old for this
kind of juggling act.  That thought made him sigh again.  If the truth
be known, he was tired of that and a whole lot of things--like coming
home every night to an empty house.

Lately Steele had caught him.  he If wondering what it would be like to
have a private life, to have more than a fleeting liaison with a member
of the opposite sex, to have a real home--a wife, children.

Unfortunately he never seemed to get much further than wondering.

After his disastrous relationship with Daphne Brooks, he'd found it
hard to trust anyone.  It was easier to submerge himself in work.

That wasn't much of a hardship; law was in his blood.

Which was the reason why, at one forty-five that afternoon, Steele
found him.

self charging up the steps of a prestigious LaSalle Street office
building on his way to a meeting with Craig Banett's attorney.

He needed another criminal case like he needed a hole in the head.

Yet the moment he'd read Oavin's preliminary write-up of the case, he'd
known he was going to take it.

It was the kind of case that had gotten Steele involved in law in the
first place--a case in which all the signs pointed to a man headed to
prison for a crime he hadn't committed.  Most of Steele's clients were
poorI and he handled many of those Cases for free.  That was one reason
why he was willin~ to take the occasional high-profile,
large-fee-generating case like Barrett's--to support those cases that
generated no fee at all.  He smiled wryly.  Hell, he'd take any case
where he thought a miscarriage of justice was about to take place.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped into the elevator.  Something wasn't
right about the Barrett case.  He couldn't put his finger on it, but
something pulled at the back of his mind.  He had a bad feeling about
Taylor Quinlan, and now he found himself being saddled with her--not
for just a few weeks as he'd originally thought, but for the duration
of the case.  If he had his dmthers, he wouldn't let her within a mile
of it.

Unfortunately he didn't have a choice.  He was already stretched to the
limit, and the only way he could take this case on would be with the
assistance of other counsel.  In the past, when he'd found him roll in
this kind of bind, Gavin Walker had been there to pick up the slack.
Not this time.  Gavin couldn't do it, and he couldn't bring in anyone
else.  The press had already gotten wind of Quinlan's involvement in
the case.  If he dropped her now, they would put the worst possible
interpretation on it.  He was stuck with her.  But he was going to make
damn sure he got some answers before they went any further.

Steele shook off these thoughts as he stepped off the elevator on the
twenty-seventh floor and looked around the luxurious reception area of
the law firm of Hara-man, Oiusto, McCall and Williams.  The wall.  ~
were adorned with original art, the carpeting was thick and plush and
the furnishings had cost more than most people earned in a year.  H~
was sure it was meant to drive home to prospective 'clients a single,
unassailable fact: they were getting the best legal minds that money
could buy.

As he approached, he saw that the large oak reception desk ,in the
center of the room was empty.  Several office doors off the lobby were
also closed.

He was about to take one of the plush seats in the waiting area when he
noticed an open door a few yards away.  He crossed the lobby and
stepped inside.  For a moment it appeared that the office was vacant.


Then he spotted the woman standing next to a brown leather chair off
to the side.  Her back was to him, and she was deep in thought as she
scribbled on a yellow legal pad.

Steele found himself staring at her, his imagination thoroughly
captured by what he could see of the woman.  She was raven-haired and
petite--no more than five-two, he estimated.  Even though she was in
high heels, the top of her head would barely reach his chin.

His gaze slowly traveled over her slim figure, noting the gentle curve
of her hips and tiny waist.  Her appearance was classy and sleek.  The
cut and fabric of her navy summer knit suit was very chic, but at the'
same time professional.  She wore it with a careless ease that
suggested she'd selected it for comfort, not effect.  He liked that.

Steele leaned against.  the doorframe, appreciating the soft way her
blue-black hair swayed about her shoulder blades as she bent to
retrieve a paper that had fallen to the floor.  When she stood, she
flipped her hair back over one shoulder.  The action made one nicely
rounded hip rotate in what he considered a very seductive way.  A slow
smile curved his lips as his eyes slowly traveled over her figure,
noting again the gentle curve of her hips and small waist and shapely
legs.  One small, navy-leather-shod foot was tapping impatiently.

It was the incongruity of that res fleas movement that sidetracked
Steele's concentration enough for him to register what the faceless
beauty had just uttered.

"Damn."  The soffiy spoken epithet contrasted with the elegant
setting.

"Tsk.  Tsk.  Tsk.  Didn't your mother ever tell you about swearing?"

The woman turned around, and Steele found himself looking into the most
arresting face he'd ever seen.  She had big, brown, almond-shaped eyes,
an oval face and carmel-colored skin that was as flawless and smooth as
a fine figurine.  Her raven black hair framed a face that could only he
described as breathtaking.

Lord, but she was pretty.  Who was she?  Mayhe Chi-eago was not going
to be so bad after all.

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling warmly.

"I didn't mean to startle you.

I was just surprised to hear one of the unmentionable words pass the
lips of such a lovely woman.  " Taylor blinked in surprise.  For a
moment she thought she'd conjured up the' handsome stranger who stood
before her.  God, but he was good-looking.  His features were chiseled
perfection; his hair, curly and jet black; his skin, a smooth golden
bronze.  His mouth was finely molded with full, sensuous lips above a
cleft chin.  And his eyes.  They were an incredible shade of hazel and
contrasted sharply with his coloring.  He was tall, over six feet, and
broad shouldered with a lean but sculptured body that radiated
male-animal virility.  Despite the July heat, he was wearing a smoke
gray Italian tailored suit that fit his tall, lean frame to utter
perfection.

She sensed that he wasn't just a gretty face, though.  There was
strength in his bearing.  Power seemed to emanate from him.  She could
also see the self-assured way he moved, and she was sure that besides
heing handsome and charming, he was tough and daring.

And dangerous, said something inside her.  " When he flashed her a
brilliant smile, displaying even, white teeth, Taylor felt a tug of
attraction that went right down to her toes.

Good grief, she had to get hold of her-seN!  Michael Steele would he
here at any moment.  The last thing she wanted was for him to find her
behaving like a blubbering idiot over some man.

She tried to sound casual as she said, "You didn't startle me.  And
yes, that was one of those words my mother told me not to use.  She
also told me not to talk to strangers."

"Ah, a very wise woman," he said easily.

"In general her advice was sound, but I'm not a stranger."

God, his voice.  It.  was low and husky and impossibly sexy.

"Have we met before?"  she asked, finding herself responding to his
light flirtation.


Hazel eyes held brown ones.

"Trust me," he said in that low, husky voice of his, "you'd
remember."

Taylor couldn't stop the involuntary shiver that slithered along her
spine in response to the sexy drawl.  She tried to tell herself that it
was due to nervousness about her upcoming meeting with Michael Steele,
and not the man who stood before her.

"So we are strangers?"  "Strangers are simply people who haven't
met."

She tried to suppress the smile that played at the corners of her
lips.

"That's an interesting way to look at things."

"I think so."  He smiled and walked toward her, moving with a casual
masculine grace.  Her heart flitted as he paused in front of her,
standing so close she could feel the heat that radiated from his body
and smell the spicy scent of his after-shave.  Only sheer willpower
kept her from taking a step back~ "Allow me to introduce myself," he
said, extending his hand.

"I'm Michael Steele."

Taylor felt as if she'd been doused with a bucket of cold water.

Michael Steele!  That was who she had been drooling over?  Instantly
her guard was up.  He was much younger than she'd imagined--maybe
thirty-five, thirty-six--and far more dangerous.  Good manners dictated
that she take his hand.

"It's nice meeting you, Mr.  Steele," she said coolly.

"I'm Taylor Quinlan."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but that was the only sign that he'd
noticed her change in demeanor.

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said, taking her hand.

She tried to ignore the warmth his hand generated and the fact that he
held hers a fraction too long.  She pulled her hand back.  and
swallowed hard, fighting the awkwardness that swept over her.  The man
had her at a distinct disadvantage.

"Mr.  McCall just stepped out,"

she said, fighting a case of nerves.

"As soon as he.  returns we'll head down to my office."

"No rush," he said, continuing to study her.

"It'll give us time to get acquainted."

That was the last thing she wanted.  She had absolutely no interest in
getting to know him on any level.  If things worked out as she hoped,
this would be their one and only meeting.  A polite, dismi~I've smile
etched her mouth as she tried to put some distance between them.

"I must say I'm a little surprised.

I'd have thought that someone of your caliber, an attorney with a
near-perfect defense record, reputed to be something of a
sorcerer--that you knew everything there is to know about everything
and everybody.  " He chuckled--a rich, throaty sound that made her
pulse quicken despite her resolve.

"I've met some prosecutors who thought that.

Based on the directions I was given to your office, you must have
thought something along those same lines.  Didn't anyone ever tell you
that men.  " Her eyes narrowed.  He was just like a lot of her male
colleagues.  She finished the sentence for him: " Don't like outspoken
women?  But they respect aggressive men.  " Without missing a beat, he
said, "I was going to say, " Didn't they ever tell you that men don't
ask directions?  " You should have drawn a map.  Your office is damn
hard to find."

Taylor flushed, but she was saved from having to r~spond because at
that moment Matt chose to step into the room.

"Were you able to decipher my notes" -- Matt's voice trailed off when
he noticed the man standing next to Taylor.

"Matthew McCall, this is Michael Steele," Taylor said by way of
introduction.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr.  Steele," Matt said, moving into the
room, his hand outstretched.

Steele stepped forward and shook Matt's hand.  Taylor took a deep
breath, then plunged right in.

"I wish you'd reconsider about letting Mr.  McCall act as your
co-counsel instead of me.  He's been Craig's attorney for more than
twelve years, and he has some criminal defense background.  Of the two
of us, he's really the better qualified."


Steele gave hera contemplative look.

"I'm sure Mr.  McCall is a fine attorney, but let's leave things the
way they are," he said smoothly.

"Now, if you don't mind, is there someplace we can talk in private?"

His words were spoken easily, but there was a finality behind them that
made it clear this was a closed subject.

After a brief, strained silence, Matt coughed.

"Oh, sure, I understand."

"I don't," Taylor said, not willing to give up.

"I don't see why" -- Matt held up a hand, halting her words.

"It's all right."

No, it wasn't all right, and she wanted to scream in frustration.  She
looked at Matt sharply.  He seemed relieved more than disappointed.

That he was already trying to make the best of a bad situation only
intensified her anger.

"If you'll excuse Mr.  Steele and me," she said through 'clenched
teeth.

"Nice meeting you," Steele said, cupping her elbow.  Electricity
coursed through her body.  She sucked in her breath, then released it
slowly, trying to hide the jolt he had given her.  Beside her, Steele
chuckled.  The fact that he was aware of her reaction introduced a
vaguely alarming element into the atmosphere.  Damn!  Why couldn't he
be short, fat and bald?  That would have certainly made it a lot easier
to work with him.  It was going to be hard enough dealing with him.
without this added complication of unwanted sexual attraction.

"This way, please," she said, amazed at how calm she sounded as she
turned and walked out of the office, across the carpeted lobby and down
a narrow corridor.  She quickened her steps, forcing him to relinquish
her elbow.

Then she realized that having him walk slightly behind her was just as
bad.

She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, stripping away her
secrets.

She quickened her steps.  She didn't understand her attraction to him.
She'd worked with powerful men before.  Even a few handsome ones.  But
none had ever affected her in this manner.  The sooner they got this
meeting over with, the sooner she could go back to her safe cocoon.

Her secretary, Brenda, a young, pretty blonde, looked up from her
computer screen as they approached.  Brenda's face broke into a smile
at the sight of the extremely handsome man walking next to her boss.
Taylor was tempted to tell her to stop gaping, but instead deposited
the legal document in Brenda's In box for typing.  Brenda's smile
slipped slightly at the look on her boss's face.

She dropped her eyes to her keyboard and resumed typing the document
she'd been working on.

S~ele walked ahead of her into a wide, spacious office and took the
chair she indicated in front of the big oak desk.  She closed the door,
then sat down in the leather swivel chair behind the desk.  . / For a
moment neither spoke.  His hazel eyes, keen and direct, inspected-her
face as if he were an ~xaminer and she a candidate--which, she supposed
she was.  The direct and glittering stare, in contrast to his sensuous
mouth, was disconcerting.

Seconds ticked by, and still he said nothing.  She was on the verge of
asking him what was the point of this meeting when he finally broke the
silence.

But his question was the last thing she'd expected him to say.

"Why don't we begin by your telling me why.  you believe your cousin is
guilty?"


Chapter Two Taylor felt as if she'd just taken a punch in the solar
plexus.

She had no idea how to answer the question.  She shuffled through some
papers on her desk.  She knew that Steele would perceive her move as
buying time, which was exactly what she was doing.  She needed time to
think--to decide how much to tell him.  His straightforward question
revealed that he was an extremely perceptive man.  The kind of song and
dance she could have given Friedman--or Matt, for that matter, if the
question had arisen--wouldn't work with Steele.  Nothing but the truth,
albeit an abbreviated version, would do.

She'd tell him about Craig's temper and his father's suicide--that was
common knowledge anyway--but nothing else.

Having decided her course of action, she looked up.  Her eyes briefly
touched Steele's, then flicked away.

"It's not that I believe Craig killed Allison," she said, feeling as if
she was navigating a mine field.

"It's just that I think he's capable of having done so."

If there was any doubt in Taylor's mind that her response sounded lame,
that doubt vanished the instant Steele fixed her with his gaze.

For a few dramatic moments he said nothing, merely stared at her with
eyes that left her feeling that he could see right through to her very
soul.

Taylor suspected she'd just discovered one of the secrets to his legal
success.

"Given the right provocation, I think we're all capable of committing
murder," Steele said with more than a hint of cynicism.

"But you haven't answered my question.  Why do you think Barrett could
have killed his wife?  Was there violence in the marriage?"

She shook her head.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Was she afraid of him?"

An image of Allison's flashing black eyes and saucy brown-skinned face
sprang to mind.  She couldn't imagine Alli.  ~on afraid of anyone.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"I don't think so."

"Have you ever observed any violence on the part of Mr.  Barrett toward
anyone?"  Then he added dryly,

"Disregarding his TV antics, of course."

She was now treading on dangerous ground.

"That's not the reason,"

she said, trying to sidestep the question.  "You don't understand."

She ran a hand over her face in frustration.  How could she explain her
reservations about Craig's innocence without eaposing too much family
history?

"Then why don't you enlighten me?"  He leaned back in the chair, folded
his arms across his chest and looked her straight in the eyes.

It was clear from his body language ~at he wasn't budging until he got
some answers.

She approached it in a different way.

"Craig is like his father.

Uh--uh, high-stnmg.  " "If you're trying to say his father committed
sui6ide, I know.  But that has no bearing on the ease."

Taylor cleared her throat.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that Craig is something of a...
loose cannon.  He always has been."  She stood and paced in front of
her desk.

"Outside of a few close family members, I doubt if anyone knows that
side of him 'even exists.

People see his Montel Williams good looks and charismatic ways, and
don't look any deeper2' She paused and looked at her clasped hands for
a moment.

When she lifted her head, the unhappiness in her eyes stirred
Steele's

prot~I've instincts, and he had a crazy impulse to wrap his arms
around her.

He cleared his throat.

"Just take your time," he coaxed.

Taylor drew a ragged breath.

"My parents died when I was ten, and I went to live with the Barretts.
Our families were very close, so I was around Craig a lot even though
he's eight years older than me.  He was the fair-haired child. Everyone
loved him ... wanted to please him.

Consequently he always got what he wanted.  Maybe that's why he doesn't
deal with rejection very well.  He gets.  well, irrational when he
doesn't get his way.  " Steele sat up, immediately alert.

"What do you mean by irrational?"

She gave a tiny shrug.

"Temper tantrums leading to out-of-control behavior.  Throwing things
around, smashing objects."

Steele's lips pulled down in a frown.

"Can you be more specific?"

That was exactly what she'd been trying not to be, but apparently
nothing less would do.  She walked around the desk and sat back down as
she tried to think of an incident that illustrated what she meant but
didn't disclose too much.

"One particular event stands out," she said at last.

"I had just turned twelve.  Craig was home for the summer from college.
He'd had his eye on this little red convertible, but before he could
get the money, Mark Rodgers bought it.  Craig offered to buy the car
from him, butt Rodgers refused to sell it.

Craig was furious.  He vowed that he'd make Rodgers sorry.  " "Did
he?"

She nodded.

"He and some of his friends held the guy by his feet upside down off a
bridge and threatened to drop him unless he agreed to sell the car to
Craig.  Mark learned the hard way not to cross Craig, that it was
simply easier to give him what he wanted."

Steele thought about that, then shrugged.

"It sounds like a dumb college prank.  You were only twelve.  Isn't it
possible you misconstrued the situation and made it more sinister than
it really Was?"  ~ She shook her head sadly.

"I've seen too many rash and reckless acts on his part to have
misconstrued the situation.  I'm not saying Craig is a cold-blooded
killer.  He's impulsive and acts out when he doesn't get his way."  She
issued aweary sigh.

"My point is that Allison is the only thing Craig ever wanted that he
didn't get.  And believe me, he wasn't handling it well.  It's true
what they said.

He did threaten her.  I heard him, At the time I didn't think he meant
it.

None of us did, but now..."  Her voice trailed off.  She stared at him
bleakly.

"Now do you understand why I can't work with you on this case?"

Unfortunately Sl~rJe did, and a whole lot' more "What I now understand
is why you've let Barrett run roughshod over you."

The statement shocked her.  "I've done no such thing!"

"What do you call let ling Barrett talk to the police, the media and
anyone else he damn well pleases?  And let's not forget the matter of
today's coroner's inquest."  Her eyes widened.  He knew about that?

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding as if he' dread her mind.  "I know that
Craig attended the inquest.  and that you and McCall accompanied him.

What the hell were you thinking?  I'm surprised you didn't let him
testify.  " Taylor tilted her chin upward at an angle that was
decidedly defiant.

"I'm not stupid," she said angrily.

"" No, you're not.  But you've never handled a criminal case.  " His
voice was deliberately harsh.

"It's obvious you know nothing about criminal procedure.  No competent
attorney would have set foot in that courtroom, let alone allowed his
client to do so."

"How dare you!"  she snapped.

"You need to hear some hard truths and stop looking at things like some
victimized heroine in a romance novel," he went on.  -"It seems to me
that you've done nothing but wallow in self-pity.  This case isn't
about you.  If you thought you couldn't be objective, you shouldn't
have agreed to represent Banett in the first place.  But you did, and
now he's entitled to your sound legal judgment."


Taylor had to hang on to her temper.

"That's what I've given him,"

she shot back.

"In a pig's eye!"  he snarled.

"I read that report you and McCall sent me.  If you ever decide to give
up law, you've got the making for a first-class career as a fiction
writer.

Because that's what that report was."  Steele paused at the stricken
look on her face.  A part of him felt like a louse for attacking her in
this way, but if they were going to work together they needed to clear
the air.  "Make no mistake about it," he went on, "your cousin is going
to be charged with murder.  It's just a matter of time.  While you've
been immobilized and holding Barrett's hand, the police have been busy
building a case against him.  From what my investigator has been able
to determine, the evidence they have against him is strong and getting
stronger."

A ripple of apprehension coursed through her.

"What do you mean, it's getting stronger?"

"Your cousin's alibi has more holes than a sieve."  He gave her a hard
look.

"Barrett was not with Pamela Olsen at the time his wife was murdered,
'as he elaifi~."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"But Pain gave a sworn statement to the police.  Craig was with her."

His eyes didn't waver from hers.

"How could Barrett have been with Ms.  Olsen when she wasn't even in
town at the time the murder oceurrexl?"

Taylor felt as if a rug had been pulled out from under her.

Figuratively speaking, it had.

"Craig wasn't with Pain?"  she asked, gripping the arms of her chair.

Bone-chilling cold invaded her body as her mind registered the horrible
truth.

Steele shook his head.

"Maybe for a part of the evening, but not for all, of it and certainly
not during the time the murder was committed."

"Are you sure?"  She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips.

"Maybe your investigator is mistaken."

He shook his head again.

"Hawk Longtree is one of the best PIs in the business.  He cheeked out
Olsen's claim.  Oh, it required some digging, but he found a gas
station attendant in Springfield who is willing to swear that at
eight-fifteen on the night of the murder, he was changing Pamela
Olsen's tire.  I also have a copy of the credit-card receipt she used
to pay for the work.  Even if she'd driven eighty miles an hour from
Springfield to Chicago, she couldn't have made it back to her Hyde Park
apartment by ten-thirty, the time she and Craig are supposed to have
been together."

She closed her eyes.  Craig killed Allison.

"This is a nightmare."

"Tell me about it," Steele agreed dryly.  At her bleak expression, he
realized what she was thinking and quickly sought to reassure her.

"Hey, that doesn't mean he's guilty."

"Why else would he lie?"  Taylor asked in'a low, tormented voice.

His heart turned over at her bleak look.  Again he had to fight the
urge to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all right.  He
cleared his throat.

"Seared people do it all the time."  He gave her a wry smile.

"They see the possibility of doing time.  They feel backed into a
corner and feel as if they have to amount for every minute of their
time.  In a sense, they're right.  That's when the lies start.

Unfortunately those lies have a way of coming back to haunt the
accused.  as they will for Barrett.  " He Pthaused, then added, "His
credibility with the cops and e public has no doubt been shot to
hell."

Taylor gave herself a mental shake as she struggled to take it all
in.

"I keep thinking there has to he some mistake.  The police would have
uncovered his lie if that was the case."

"Not necessarily," Steele said, leaning back in his chair.

"It means the police have done a lousy job of investigating this case
so far, but don't count on it remaining that way.  Your cousin is news.
He's a television personality whose wife has been brutally murdered.
Every newspaper and TV station in the country is cowering this story.
You can bet your bottom dollar they'll be combing through every shred
of information that

comes out.  If the police don't uncover Barrett's lie, some hotshot
reporter will."  He made this statement with conviction.  "Be that as
it may, it doesn't solve our immediate problem--that of working
together on this case."

"I don't see how" -- He held up a hand, halting her words.

"When I originally agreed to let you act as co-counsel, I did so
because of your background in constitutional law and civil fights.  I
thought you would be able to pick up the slack u~til my senior attorney
could take over in about a month.  However, his condition is more
complicated than his doctor initially thought, and he's now on
indefinite medical leave.  If I had known how you felt, I never would
have agreed to let you assist me, but if you leave now it would
generate too much media speculation."

He looked at her, puzzled.

"What I don't understand is why you agreed to represent Barrett in the
first place, knowing how you felt."

Taylor wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him bleakly.

"Craig's mother, my Aunt Ida, asked me to represent him ... or to at
least work with his defense team.  Like many African-Americans, she
doesn't fully trust the legal system."  Taylor swallowed hard.

"At first I refused, citing the fact that we were related.  Then she
went to work on Craig.  He thought it was a great idea that Matt and I
represent him.

He approached Rich Hara-man, the senior partner, with the idea.  Craig
has brought a lot of money into this firm, and I have no doubt that
Haraman could see a hefty legal bill coming' out of our participation
in the case.

Naturally he was agreeable."

Steele shook his head.

"You still should have said something."

She turned tortured eyes on him.  "what was I going to say?  I couldn't
tell anyone that I thought Craig might have killed Allison.  I feel
like a heel as it is.  And what if it got back to my aunt?  She would
have been devastated.

I couldn't take the chance.  I owe her so much.

She practically raised me.  Besides, I was able to convince Craig to
hire a criminal defense attorney as lead counsel, and you said you'd
only need me for a few weeks.  I thought I would be able to get off the
case before things went too far.  " Steele nodded slowly.

"Yeah, but that's not the way things have worked out."  He looked at
her curiously.

"I take it neither Barrett nor McCall know how you feel."

Taylor shook her head.  "why don't we save ourselves a lot of grief.

Let Matt take my place.  That's what should have happened in the first
place.

He's more qualified and better suited to assist you.  This whole thing
has been as hard on him as it has been on Craig.  I think it would help
if he knew he was doing something concrete to help Craig.  Besides, he
truly believes in Craig's innocence.  " Steele frowned.

"McCall is too emotionally involved.  It's impossible for him to be
objective."  He shook his head.

"I can't let him work on the case.  He'll continue treating Barrett
with kid gloves, and Barrett will continue taking advantage of the
situation.  I know I came down hard on you about letting Barrett attend
the inquest, but my hunch is that was McCall's doing."

She flushed and looked away.  The man was entirely too astute.

He issued a weary sigh.

"I can't handle this case alone, so if you really don't think you can
be objective, then I'm going to have to drop it."

Taylor's eyes flew to his face.

"You can't do that!  You can't refuse to represent Craig because we
can't work together!"

Unfortunately his greater fear was that he would very much like to work
with her.  Aloud he said, "This has nothing to do with my wanting or
not wanting to work with you, and frankly you've got to stop looking at
this case so subjectively.  You're not the first lawyer to have
reservations about a client's innocence.  It's how you handle it that
is important.  You can't let it cloud your judgment.  You think Barrett
may be guilty.  But thinking he's guilty and knowing it are two
different things."  He hesitated, then said, "In the early days of my
career, I was involved in a case in which my

co-counsel and I had this same kind of disagreement, although I didn't
know it at the time."

Taylor studied him, trying to gauge his sincerity.  He didn't strike
her as a man who shared his confidences lightly.  He met her scrutiny
without flinching.

"In that case, my co-counsel was a close friend," he added.

Taylor's eyes narrowed.  The way he'd looked when he said "close
friend" left her with little doubt that the friend had been female and
that they'd been a lot more than friends.

He cleared his throat.

"I'd just graduated from law school and was working at a law firm in
New York City.  My friend had practiced for a few years, so I was
really flattered when she.  asked me to work on thi.~ criminal ease
Surprised at his openness, Taylor settled back, feeling some tension
fade in the wake of genuine interest in what he was saying.

"Our client was a young naval officer and father of three who was
accused of killing a furrier in the commission of a robbery of the
man's bus' mess Grimes looked guilty as hell, but he maintained that he
was innocent.  He said he'd been on a camping trip with his wife in
another state at the time of the robbery, but he had nobody but his
wife to vouch for his whereabouts.

That's the same as having nobody at all.  On the other hand, the store
owner's wife and two customers who were present during the robbery all
separately picked G-rimes out of a police lineup as the man who robbed
the store and killed Mr.  Carter.

"We put on what I thought was a good defense, but Grimes was found
guilty and sentenced to twenty-five ~ears to life in prison.

Naturally Iappealed.  While I was working on the appeal brief, I
discovered that my friend hadn't checked out some leads we had found
earlier.  When I confronted her, she said she'd thought Grimes was
guilty from the very beginning and hadn't seen any point in running
down what v~as no doubt worthless in-fomarion.  " Taylor shifted
uncomfortably.  She knew Where he was headed, but she asked the
question anyway.

"And was it worthless?"

He shook his head.

"Not by a long shot.  It was a critical link that led to other
evidence.  If that evidence had been brought out at trial, it would
have totally exonerated Grimes."

Her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"What happened to him?"

"It took me three years to get a rehearing on, the case."  Steele's
voice was suddenly bitter.

"Unfortunately Grimes was unable to deal with the degradation of prison
life.

He committed suicide before a new trial date could A strained silence
followed.  It was Steele who finally broke it.

"That experience taught me that in criminal matters things are not
always what they seem, and that preconceived notions of guilt are just
as powerful as actual evidence against your client.  You have to put
aside personal bias."

Taylor had to wonder if that experience had also taught him not to
trust anyone, especially women.  But she simply said, "Do you think
that's realistic?"

He shrugged.

"Sure.  You do it all the time in civil cases.  It's no different in
criminal matters.  When you decide to represent someone, you put aside
your personal bias and give your client the best defense posgible." Now
he was looking at her closely.

"Can you do that?"

There was a brief silence as she considered his words.  How could she
say no?

Hadn't he said he'd drop the case if she refused to assist him?  She
couldn't let that happen.  One thing their conversation had shown her
was that regardless of Craig's guilt or innocence, Steele was the best
person to represent him.  And if there was any possibility that Craig
was innocent and

she'd done nothing to help him, she'd never forgive herself.  She drew
a deep breath and nodded.  I'll try," she said softly: For a moment she
thought Steele hadn't heard as he continued to study her.  She watched
as a spark of some undefinable emotion appeared in his hazel eyes,
signifying he, too, had reached some decision.

"Good."  He nodded.

"I think that under the circumstances your role should he that of a
researcher-writer.  I'll develop the legal strategy and be the sole
litigator, if it comes to that."

She gave him a sideways look.

"Isn't that what you'd have done anyway?"

He grinned.

"Pretty much.  I guess I'm used to doing things my way, but in this
instance it should keep any conflict over the case to a manageable
level."

She nodded, but she had no illusion that working with Steele was going
to be easy.  They were both strong willed.  and stubborn, and not
likely to compromise.  where do we go from here?  " He issued a weary
sigh and got to his feet.

"Let's go see that con sing of yours."

AT FIRST CRAIG REFUSED to admit that he'd lied to the police.  When he
realized Steele wasn't buying it, he issued a frustrated sigh and began
pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

"Believe me," he said, "I know I shouldn't have lied, but I didn't know
what else to do."  He went to the wet bar in the corner of the study
and poured himself a drink.  For a moment he just stared into the cool
liquid as if it might hold the answers to his problems.

"When the cops heard about my argument with Allison, they started
looking at me as if they knew they'd found their killer.  I Taylor
stood and walked to the French doors.  The sun was just setting; its
reflection off lake Michigan brought out blues, greens and golds from
the wide, artistically landscaped backyard.  The McCaIls' home could
best be deschq,!  as a mini-mansion.  It was an elegant two-story
structure nestled on two acres of prime real estate in Winnetka, a
suburb about twenty miles outside of Chicago.  From this angle Taylor
could see manicured lawns, a tennis court and the three-car garage.

The walls of the study, like the living room, sported several original
paintings and expensive antiques.

All in all, it was a very impressive home.  Normally, no matter how
troubled or upset she was, her burden was lifted in this tranquil
setting.  Not today, though.  She took a deep breath and turned her
attention back to the discussion.

"Didn't you think the police would find out?"  Steele was saying.

"I

did, and they certainly will, too.  It was a serious mistake not
telling them the truth.  a mistake that's going to have to be
rectified.  " Craig froze in mid step and whirled around, shaking his
head vehemently.

"If you're suggesting that I go to the police and tell all, you can
forget it.  I won't do it!"  He punctuated the statement with a swig of
Scotch.

Steele threw him a hard look.

"What makes you think you have a choice?  You can either come clean
with the police or start looking for another lawyer.  There's no way
I'm going to represent a liar.  And what about Ms.  Olsen.9" Craig
frowned.

"What about her?"

"Your lie opens her up to an accessory-to-a-murder charge.  Are you
willing to drag her name through the mud, maybe even see her do jail
time because of your lie?"

That prospect sobered Craig as nothing else had done.

"All right," he said, dropping heavily into the nearest sofa chair.

"You win."

That earned a disgusted look from Steele.

"This isn't a contest."

"I really made a mess of things," Craig said, shaking his head.

"Not just for myself, but for Pain, as well.  I thought the worst that
could happen was that my relationship with Pam might come to light and
give the

prosecution a reason to call her to testify.  I never figured they
would drag her into this."

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed this.  Taylor broke it.

"What's done is done.  What we need to do now is clarify your statement
and move on."

Steele's eyes softened as he looked at the woman who sat on the sofa
across from him.

"Yeah, I guess we'd better do it as soon as possible."  He glanced at
his watch.  "After we leave here, we'll stop by the station2 We can
also get a copy of the police.  report while we're there."

"Okay," Taylor said, placing a small tape recorder on the cocktail
table next to Craig.

"I think we should record our interviews so we'll know for sure that
we're getting everything.  I'll have Brenda transcribe the tapes."

Steele glanced at her and nodded approvingly.

"Good idea."

"Ah,~ Fefore you turn that thing on," Craig said, his eyes sliding from
the tape recorder across to Steele, "there's something else you ought
to know."

Steele gave him a let's-hear-it look.

Craig drew a ragged breath.

"I was at Allison's house the night she was murdered."

Steele swore.  Frustrated, he ran a hand over his curly hair.

"Lie to me one more time about anything--what you had for breakfast,
what day of the week it is--I mean anything, and I'm history."  He
pinned Craig with a hard look before add' rag "And so are you.  Got
that?"  "Yeah;" Craig nodded.

"What were you doing at Allison's that night?"  Steele's voice was as
hard as nails.

"We'd had words the dayhefore.  I--I had to talk to " And did you?  "
"Yeah, but not for long.  Our discussion quickly deteriorated, and she
asked me to leave.  She was upset."

"About what?"  Steele fired the questions at him in rapid succession.

Craig licked h'[s lips, then stared bleakly into his drink.  "About
something I did," he mumbled.

"Which was?"  Before Craig could answer, realization dawned.

"Please tell me you didn't choose that night, of all nights, to strike
her."

"Damn it, Steele, I didn't meaO to hit her?  Craig blurted.

"It just happened!"  ~ "This is great!"  Steele muttered.

"Just great!"  He passed a weary hand over his face.  fAll right, start
at the beginning and tell us what happ~Oed-" He looked at Taylor and
some of his anger faded.

"Start the tape."

Taylor's breath caught in her throat at the look he gave her.

Flustered, she was all thumbs as she flipped on the tape recorder.

, Steele cleared his throat, then t~.  ned back to Craig.  "You said
you went over to see Allison to clear the air because of an argument
the two of you had the day before?"

"That's correct."

"What time did you get there?"

"I'm guessing, but I'd say son~ewhere a little after ten."

"I need more than a guess, but we'll go on for now.  What happened
then?"

Craig took a long swallow of his drink, as though fortifying himself.

"I tried to apologia' but she didn't want to hear it.  She said I
needed to accept the fact that we were finished, that if things worged
out the way she wanted she was going to walk away with .a hefty amount
of my money, as well as become the next Mrs.  Gordon Ridgeway."

"Ridgeway?  The publishing mog?,17" Steele whistled.  "Interesting.

What happened next?  " Craig issued a bitter laugh.

"At that point I lost it.  I started yelling at her.  Before I knew it,
the a.rgu .m, .e~t had.  escalated.

She started screaming and throwmg things at me.  She was' hysterical so
I grabbed her and shook her.  Wh~ that didn't stop her hysterics,
I,--,I slapped hey.  It wash t very hard, but I needed to waKe, the ,r
stop,.  you

~m,g.  I was afraid someone would hear aoa can me ponce.  a in not
proud of my behavior, but I didn't know what else to do.  " "Did she
calm down?"

"Somewhat.  She told me to get out, that I was no better than that
creep Ted Larson."

"Larson?"  Taylor's head shot up.

"I thought he'd left town.  Was he still harassing Alli.~on?"

Craig nodded.

"Apparently he'd returned.  He had been calling and following her."

At Steele's blank stare, Taylor explained.

"I.arson is a personal trainer that Allison got involved with right
after she and Craig separated.  When she dumped him, he persisted in
calling and following her around."  All that was supposed to stop When
she got a restraining order against him .  " "Naturally," Steele said
dryly, "you didn't tell the police about Larson because you didn't want
them to know you'd been at A1R~on's."

He released a heavy sigh.  "We'll check him out.  What did you do
next?"

"I drove around for a while, thinking.  I realized that I really was a
fool, that I'd jeopardized a perfectly good relationship with a good
woman because of my obsession with .Alli.~on."

Too bad he hadn't come to that realization earlier, Taylor thought.

It could have saved them all a lot of grief.

Craig swallowed the last of his drink.

"I drove over to Pam's.  She wasn't home, but I let myself in with the
key she'd given me."

"What time did you get there?"  Steele asked.

Craig paused to think.

"Around eleven, may he el, even" What time did Ms.  Olsen arrive?  "
"Around midnight."

"How did she react when you asked her to tell the police you'd been
with her the night Allison was murdered?"

He smiled bleakly.

"She just wanted to help me."

Steele nodded as if the answer didn't surprise him.  "One more
question, then we'll call it quits for now.

Even though Taylor and McCall advised against it, you went to the
police' and gave them a statement that we now know was less than
candid.  You knew that you couldn't tell the truth, so why did you feel
a need to give them a statement?  " Craig threw Taylor an uneasy
look.

"I'm a television personality, and that means I need public support.  I
was trying to do damage control."

"In other words," Taylor said, "you were trying to save your skin?"

She made no attempt to hide her anger.

"What's wrong with that?"  'he ~ked defensively.  "I've worked hard to
get where I am.  I am not about to let it all slip away.  I'know that
sounds bad, but..."

"All right," Taylor said, feeling suddenly tired.  She looked at her
watch.

"Mr.  Steele and I have to head down to police headquarters and get a
copy of your statement Her eyes moved to Steele.

"I'm assuming you want to review his statement and the police report
tonight."

"Yeah, I do," Steele said, standing.

"By the way, I caught Vanessa Norris's show this morning.  I don't want
any more off-the-cuff comments about your relationship with Allison to
anyone.

Not just reporters, but friends, relatives, neighbors... I mean
anyone."

"My staff, crew and audience members are bound to have questions,"

Craig spluttered.

"My reputation as a talk-show host is build on my being open and
hones{.  I can't go around saying 'no comment."  How long do you think
I'll have a talk show if I alienate the viewers?  " Steele gave Craig a
hard look.

"You won't have to worry about putting on a show if you're in a jail
cell.  I have no problem with your talking to your staff and an-dience
participants.

All I ask is that you keep your mouth shut about matters relating to
this case.  I don't want a rap eat of what happened this morning.
Anyone who wants a statement about this case talks to me or Taylor.  Is
that clear?"

"Yeah."  Craig issued a weary sigh.


"What if" He was interrupted by a soft knock at the door, then Heather
McCall stepped into the room.  Her face was slightly flushed, and her
brown eyes seemed over bright with excitement.

"Pardon me, but Detective Donaldson is here.  He wants to talk to
Craig."

All eyes turned to Steele, who was frowning.

Detective Donaldson?  Could it be Frank Donaldson?

Steele turned the name over in his mind.  No .  it couldn't be.
Donaldson was a fairly common name.  But Steele had a sinking feeling
in the pit of his stomach.

He nodded at Heather, then waited as she went to collect their visitor.
A moment later she escorted the detective into the room.  At first
Steele didn't recognize the slender red-haired man standing in the
doorway.  The years had not been kind to Detective Donaldson.  Although
he looked to be in his early fifties, Steele knew he was actually just
a few years older than his own thirty-six.

He was a LITTLE underweight by police standards, and his skin and eyes
had a pouehy, jaundiced look that made Steele wonder whether he'd
developed a drinking problem.

But the long, thin face was basically the same, and so was the dark,
loose-fitting cop suit.

"Barrett, I'm glad I found you," Donaldson said, moving into the
room.

"I'd" -- Then he did a double take when he saw Steele.

"What the hell" -- "Donaldson," Steele said by way of greeting.

The police officer continued to stare at him for a moment before coming
to some decision within himself.

"I

heard that Barrett had retained a high-priced, out-of state attorney,
but I didn't know it was you.  " His voice was icy cold, his stance
aggressive.

"Won't you have a seat?"  Taylor said, trying to defuse what she sensed
was a potentially dangerous situation.

"Can I get you anything?  Coffee?"

Donaldson grunted what she thought was a no and dropped into a chair
across from Craig.

Taylor's eyes narrowed as she poured herself a cup of coffee.  In her
two run-ins with Donaldson, she'd found him cold and inflexible.  Today
he was doubly so.  Michael Steele was clearly not one of his favorite
people.

"Is there something we can do for you, Detective Donaldson?"  Steele
asked smoothly.

"I just came by to let Mr.  Barrett know that I would like to take him
up on his offer to take a lie-detector test."

Taylor gulped, almost spilling her coffee at this latest revelation.

Craig seemed to be having quite a lapse in memory, she thought,
shooting him an angry look.  Her cousin was deeply involved in studying
the pattern in the carpet.

Steele didn't blink an eye.

"I'm sorry, Detective Don-aid son but I can't agree to let my client do
that."

It'was perhaps a very good thing that the McCall residence was a modern
structure with strong sealed windows.  As things went, Taylor was sure
that the: drapes swayed and the windows rattled in response to
Detective Donaldson's howling.

"What the hell do you mean you can't agree!"  He pointed an accusing
finger at Craig.  "Barrett already said he'd take it!  Damn it, he
can't change his mind.

Everything is all set up!"  Steele gave Donaldson a moment to calm
'himself.

Then he said, "When my client made that offer, he was upset and
distraught over his wife's.

death.  He didn't know what he was saying.  I'm sure you wouldn'tWant
to hold Mr.  Barrett to any statements he might have made when he
wasn'thimself and wasn't represented by coun- " Come on, Steele, what
are you trying to pull?  " Don-aid son growled.

"You're not some young pup still wet behind the ears.  You know how we
do things.  Barrett agreed to come down to the precinct and be
questioned.  We had every right to take his statement..  Everything was
completely aboveboard."

"If that's so, why did my client feel he didn't have a choice in the
matter?"


Donaldson shrugged.

"Hell, I can't read minds.  But if he's innocent, he should want to
cooperate with the poSteele gave him a humorless smile.

"Ah, but that's just it.  He got the impression that you guys don't
believe him."

"Should we?"

"He didn't kill his wife."

Donaldson shrugged.

"You say so, but I'm not so SUre."  Steele's hand tightened on the arm
of the sofa.  Now they were getting to the part he wanted to know
about.  "Why not?"

Donaldson hesitated, but when he spoke there was a hard edge to his
voice.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I don't answer that question,
Counsel."

Steele considered that briefly.  Without expression he said, "The
state's attorney race is coming up in a few months."

Donaldson's voice hardened' even further.

"I don't like what you're suggesting."

"Neither do L I'd hate to see you make a major-league mistake."

"I'll worry about that," Donaldson snapped.

"You worry about your client.  Maybe he didn't kill his wife, and maybe
he did.  Until that gets settled, make sure he doesn'.t disappear."

"I got your message," Steele said coldly.

"Now you get mine.  Your office has been leaking information about my'
client to the press.  I want it stopped, and I want it stopped now. I'm
holding you personally responsible."

Donaldson's face darkened with anger.  Without answering, he pushed
himself out of his chair and stomped from the room.  A moment later the
front door slammed.

Taylor turned and stared at Steele, puzzled.

"Call me crazy, but why do I have the feeling that you know
Donaldson?"

He' looked at her for a moment, then sighed.

"I'm afraid we do know each other.  I defended the man who killed his
wife and children."


Chapter Three What 'had started out as abad day had gotten decidedly
worse.

Taylor and Steele talked to Craig for a few minutes more, then headed
down to the police station, where they met' with Captain Evans.  Steele
clarified Craig's statement regarding his alibi and registered an
official complaint about the leaks coming out of the department.

Captain Evans was cordial and polite, but he was as unresponsive as
Donaldson had been.  He claimed that he had no idea where Norris was
getting her information, but insisted it wasn't from the department.

He was equally unresponsive to their questions relating to other
suspects, and he refused to comment at all on Ted Larson.

The air crackled with tension as Steele continued to press.  Captain
Evans's patience came to an end when Steele asked for a copy of the
police report.

The captain stalked to the door and bellowed for Donaldson to bring him
a copy.  A few minutes later Donaldson stepped into the room, tossed a
folder onto the desk in front of Steele and stalked out.  If Taylor had
thought Donaldson was difficult to deal with before, the man was now
like Attila the Hun.  His dislike of Steele was almost a palpable
force.

For his part, Steele was cool.  He pressed hard for more information,
but it was clear to Taylor that they could expect no cooperation from
the police department.

ON Tt-m WAY ~CX to Taylor's, office, they stopped at Mama Rose's, one
of Chicago s best' soul-food restaurants, where they bought take-out
barbeeue ribs, potato salad and coleslaw.  Taylor told herself that she
and Steele needed to talk about the case; that was the only reason they
were having dinner together.

After they had eaten, they reviewed the police report and Craig's
statement.

Then Taylor settled down intO the sofa and stared at him over the rim
of her wineglass.  Steele was sitting at her desk.  He'd removed his
jacket and loosened his fie and looked utterly devastating.  She
wondered fleetingly what it would be Ydce to be loved by him.  Would he
be patient and gentle or wild and adventuresome?  She gave herself a
m~ntal shake.  Her imagination was running away from her.  Yet
understanding that didn't change anything.

She swallowed hastily and fought to repress the thoughts running
through her vain.  d,.

"I think I've exercised a great deal of restraint.  Don t you think
it's time to tell me what's going on between you and Donaldson...
especially since it appears to be affecting this case?"

Steele ran a hand along the back of his neck.  When he finally spoke,
his voice was weary.

"It was a couple of years ago ... Donaldson was a D.C. cop then.  I
guess he pulled up stakes and moved here to Chicago after the trial."

Taylor pulled her legs under her and leaned back against the sofa
cushion, waiting for him to continue.

"My client was an executive for a Fortune 500 company," Steele said.

"He had been havinl~ some back problems, and the medication he'd been
taking no longer worked.  He had a few hours of free time so he dropped
by his doctor's office.  His doctor cheeked him over and gave him some
samples of a new product for back pain.  We learned lalex that there
were no side effects in

the vast majority of patients, but in a relatively small number of
people the medication could produce extreme drowsiness.  At the time
neither my client nor his doctor was aware of that.

"Anyway, Jack took one of the pills while he Was still at the doctor's
office.  The doctor's office was in a mall, so he decided to run a few
errands.  By the time he climbed into his car and headed home, it had
been about thirty minutes since he'd taken the medication."

"Let me guess," she said.

"By that time the medication had kicked in."

"Like a ton of bricks.  Jack nodded off--just for a moment--but in that
moment his car drifted across the center line into Mrs.  Donaldson's
car, hitting her head-on.  She and the two kids were killed
instantly."

"How awful," Taylor said.  For a moment she didn't think he'd heard
her.  He looked so sad and alone.  She wanted to reach out and take his
hand, but the demons from the past were there holding her back.

Steele slowly nodded.

"Yeah, it was a tragedy all around.  Donaldson took it real hard.  He
made a lot of noise and got the media involved.

The next thing Jack knew he was on trial, charged with second-degree
murder.

" "But it was an accident," Taylor insist~i.

Steele nodded glumly.

"I know, and that's,what the jury ruled, but Donaldson didn't view it
that way.  He made all kinds of wild allegations from Jack having
bought off the judge to collusion between myself and the prosecutor."

Taylor gave him a thoughtful took.

"From his reaction to you today, I'd say he hasn't been able to.  put
the past behind him.  No doubt your involvement in the case only
reinforces his belief that another rich man is trying to buy his way
out of a murder charge."

Steele nodded.

"I'd say that's a sure bet."

Her eyes narrowed as a more disturbing thought occurred to her.

"You hear stories all the time about cops setting people up.  Do you
think Donaldson would do something like that?"

Steele shook his head.

"Donaldson is meaner than a junkyard dog, but he's a good cop.  I don't
think he'd resort to tampering with evidence.  I just think he lacks
objectivity, and it'll be hard to get him to see our side of things."

"So I guess counting on the police for any help is out of the
question."

Suddenly Steele's.  face changed ashe smiled.  It was a daT~ling smile
that took her breath away.

"Hey, no pain, no gain."  When he smiled, those incredible hazel eyes
of his sparkled,

"Yeah,-but it's a complication I could live without," Taylor said, ting
to ignore the way her heart had begun to pound.  His masculinity drew
her, pulled at her, like a moth to a flame.  She coughed nervously.

"Now that you've read the police report, you see what we're up
against."

Steele didn't mince words.

"It's pretty 'damaging."  He propped his feet on the corner of her desk
and leaned back in the chair, his lazy attitude suggesting ~at what he
was about to say didn't amount to much.  Taylor knew better.

"The neighbor, Lee Trebeck, claims he heard Allison arguing with
someone, presumably Craig, the night she was murdered.  He also claims
that he saw a man roughly matching Craig's description running from the
direction of the condo just before the police arrived.  Then there's
the unalterable fact that Craig threatened to kill Allison, presumably
because he was jealous and al-teruatively because she was demanding a
hefty share of his assets in the divorce settlement.  Furthermore,
Craig has no alibi for his whereabouts during the time the murder
occurred."

"There is a lot of evidence," Taylor countered, "but it's all
circumstantial."

"Sure it is," Steele agreed.

"Anything less than an eyewitness who saw Craig,bludgeon Allison to
death is circumstantial, but the prisons are full of people who have
been convicted on less circumstantial evidence than the police have
against Craig."


' Taylor thought for a moment.

"Okay, let's say Craig is indicted.

The prosecution still has a long way to go to get a conviction.

They've got no murder weapon, no one who actually places him at the
crime scene and no real motive.  All this talk about jealousy or is
pure conjecture.  " He smiled that killer smile at her.

"That's true."  Steele rose and walked to a sideboard, where he poured
himself a cup of coffee.

He looked at Taylor, asking with a gesture of his hand if she would
like a cup.  She shook her head.

"We've got a little time on our side," he said, returning to the chair,
"I suggest we make the most of it."

She nodded in agreement.

"The case was referred to the State's AttornL~y's Office for
investigation, but it's a sure bet they are going to charge Craig with
Allison's murder."  ' Steele took a sip of coffee.

"Normally I would say it could go either way, but this is an election
year.

The State's Attorney is running for re-election.  I don't think he
wants the opposition to accuse him of being soft on crime or giving
preferential treatment to Craig because he's a celebrity.  They have a
good circumstantial case, and I think they'll run with it.  But their
case isn't airtight by any means."

Taylor nodded.

"There's bound to be holes in it like in any, case.

Finding those holes and persuading a jury of their relevance is another
matter.  " He took another sip of coffee, then set the cup on the desk
and picked up a legal pad and pen.

"Then we'd better start looking for them.  We'll take it from the top
and identify the holes as we go along."  He lowered himself into the
cushions of the sofa next to her

"Tell me about Barrett and his wife."

She gave him a sideways glance.

"Aren't we going over previously covered territory?"

A faint smile flickered briefly at the edge of his sensual mouth.

"Humor me."

"Very well," she said, trying to ignore the fact that he was sitting So
close to her.  She could feel the heat radiating from his body and
could smell the faint, spicy scent of his after-shave.  Damn, he even
smelled good.  She cleared her throat, then began, "Craig and Allison
met about a year ago.  After a brief courtship, they were mar-tied.  No
one with the possible exception of Craig gave the marriage much of a
chance, so it came as no surprise when they separated six months ago. I
didn't see much of Craig while they were married."  She gave a wry
little smile.

"Craig and I aren't close, and Allison and I never really hit it
off."

He looked surprised at that.

"Did she have any close friends--female or otherwise?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Not to my knowledge.  She and Heather were friendly, but I wouldn't
characterize even that relationship as close.  Their husbands were
close, so they were thrown together.  As for friends from the past, she
never mentioned any and we didn't meet any."  Steele was having a hard
time concentrating on what Taylor was s~ying.  She had the softest lips
he'd ever seen.  He wondered fleetingly how that luscious mouth would
feel pressed against his.

To feel her tongue.  "It's funny," she continued, "but I never thought
about that before.

Don't you think it's odd that we never met any of her friends?  "
"Uh-huh," he said vaguely.

"We'll check her out."  Taylor shifted slightly, looking
uncomfortable.

"The separation wasn't unpleasant, at least from Allison's
perspective.

Craig was paying her fifteen thousand dollars a month, and as you know,
she was demanding a hefty share of his assets in the divorce
settlement.  Not bad for a girl who didn't have two nickels to rub
together when she married him, do you think?"

Steele,s thoughts were totally focused on Taylor.  He loved the way she
pursed her lips when' she was thinking.  At the precise moment that
thought was going through his head, she ran the tip of her tongue over
her lower lip.

It was purely a the ~ous gesture on her part, but to him it was totally
sensual and erotic.


Steele gave himself a mental shake and tried to concentrate on what
she was saying.

"It only took Craig a few months to get Allison out of his system.  He
started seeing Pain Olsen about three months ago.  Things were getting
pretty serious between them when Allison stepped back into the picture,
claiming that she'd made a mistake and wanted him back.  Fool that he
was, he was not only willing to take her back but rescinded their
prenuptial agreement.  She had a powerful effect on men."

She wasn't the only woman with a powerful effect, Steele thought.

"He was in a fool's paradise until Heather McCall in-adve~tently let
slip that Allison was seeing Gordon Ridgeway.  Craig confronted her and
they argued.  She not only admitted that she was seeing him, but also
said that she planned to marry him as soon as the divorce was final."

Steele's eyes narrowed.

"So Barrett thought she'd been stringing him along to get as much as
she could from him before moving on to a bigger fish."

"Exactly," Taylor agreed.

"They had several arguments, culminating with the infamous one where
Craig threatened to kill her."

"How did the cops hear about it?"

Taylor shrugged.

"It was common knowledge among our friends that they had a tumultuous
relationship.  An anonymous caller tipped off the police about the
threat."

Steele pursed his lips.

"We need to see if we can listen to a recording of that call."

"Why?"  Taylor asked.  It probably wouldn't he admissible in court, and
there are any number of people that can testify to what the caller
said.  " "I know," he said thoughtfully.

"It's just that anonymous callers bother me.  Es especially when
they're trying to feed a motive for the crime to the police."  Steele
sighed.

"Donaldson will no doubt blow up the anger and jealousy aspects of
their relationship.  He'll probably try to get copies of Barrett's
shows in which an altercation occurred to show his propensity for
violence.  I'm glad that incident you told me about was almost two
decades ago, so too far in the past to be relevant--otherwise I'd be a
little concerned."

Taylor shifted uncomfortably.

"So what if he's a little hot tempered," she argued.

"This is a murder trial.  He's not vying for Mr.  Congeniality in the
Mr.  America pageant?"

Steele gave her a hard look.

"Yeah, but testimony like that in a murder trial can get a person
convicted real fast.  It's too easy for a jury to make the leap from a
man with a history of violent behavior to a man who could commit
murder."  He pulled on his lower lip in a gesture that Taylor found
decidedly seductive.

"But the prosecution has to be able to link them up," she said, pulling
her thoughts back to the matter at hand.  "It's our job to point out to
the jury that the connection doesn't exist."

Steele picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

"You're right, and we're going to'be able to do that because we have
two definite advantages."

Taylor gave him a speculative look.

"And they are?"  Steele used his fingers to count off his points.
'~First and foremost Barrett is innocent.  That means all the
cir-mmstantial evidence gathered against Barrett has been given the
wrong interpretation.  What we have to do is analyze that same evidence
and give it the correct interpretation.

"Second we've got a little time on our side.  The State's Attorney will
have to assign this case to one of the attorneys in his office.

Myguess is it'll.  go to one of the senior attorneys.  That's good,
because that person probably already has a substantial casdoad and is
going to have to spend a couple of weeks clearing his calendar before
he can really jump into this one.  While time is with us, we're going
to conduct our own investigation.  I want to focus primarily on
Allison.  Maybe we'll find something in her background that will tell
us who hated her enough to.  want to kill her.  "

Taylor nodded.

"We should also check out the men in her life--Ridgeway and Larson. Now
is probably the best time to interview them, while their guards are
down."  She smiled.

"Though I doubt that either man will say anything that will implicate
himself."

He returned her smile.

"They wouldn't intentionally.  But this would be the most likely time
for them io slip up, while the police investigation is focusing on
Craig."

Taylor yawned.

"Okay; I'll track down their addresses and pick you up at your hotel
around ten in the morning."  She stood, and he followed suit.

"We have a lot of questions, but I'm not sure how many answers we're
going to get."

Steele shrugged.

"Actually we only need the answer to one--if Craig didn't kill Allison,
who did?"

Ix was an intriguing question, but it was not the one that haunted
Steele and kept him wide-awake late into the night staring at his
bedroom ceding.  No, that was a question of a more personal nature.  An
image of soft 'brown eyes and raven black hair flashed before him.  He
still couldn't get over his reaction to Taylor Quinlan.  After his
disastrous expen'ence with Daphne, he'd sworn he'd never work with a
co-counsel, never with someone whom he wasn't in perfect accord with
over the manner in which the case should be litigated and never with
someone he was attracted to.  Yet today he'd broken all three rules.

He sighed heavily.  He needed his head examined, he thought wryly.

Once Taylor had confirmed what he'd suspected--that she questioned
Barrett's innocence--he should have sent her packing.  No ifs, ands or
buts about itmthat's what he should have done.  It was the only logical
thing to do.

The case was complicated enough without the added distraction of a
co-counsel who questioned his every decision or vice versa.  It was a
recipe.  for disaster.

He knew that, but instead of doing what logic dictated, he'd found
himself trying to determine if she could put aside her reservations
about Craig's innocence and help develop the best defense possible.
She'd said she could.

And although he only had his instinct and her word to go on, he'd
believed her.

Actually he'd been surprised that she even had such concerns.  She
didn't strike him as a rash or impulsive person who made snap
decisions.  It didn't make sense, but neither did his be-hay; or For
years he'd gone out of his way in order to work alone and now he was
almost relishing the idea of working with Taylor.

He rolled over onto his side.  Why was he jumping through so many hoops
to keep her on the case?  It would have been a hell of a lot easier to
let her off the case the way she'd requested and try to find a
replacement.  The press be damned!  It wouldn't have been easy, but it
might have been the safer course of action.

His lips curved into as light smile as he thought of ~the way she
tilted her chin.  She was a stubborn little thing.  It certainly wasn't
goiBg to he easy working with her.  The woman clearly had a mind of her
own and was likely to voice it.  Loudly.  But instead of being put off
by that fact, adrenaline coursed through him at the prospect of going
head-to-head with her over the case and other things .  He plopped on
his back, frowning at the ceding.  He needed to get out more if he was
salivating over a woman he'd just met.  He didn't understand his
attraction to her.  She wasn't the first beautiful woman he'd worked
with; Images of a half-dozen women came to mind, but Taylor was
certainly the most intriguing, the most compelling woman.  He'd felt it
the moment he laid eyes on her.  It wasn't just her physical beauty.
There was something about her that left a lasting impression.  She was
captivating, intelligent, vibrant, alive, sexy.  And yet there was a
sadness deep in the back of those big brown eyes of hers.  A sadness
that he sensed went far beyond any concerns about her cousin's
innocence or the case itself.  He doubted if most people noticed, but
he had and he'd wanted to wrap his arms around her and make the pain go
away.  He couldn't remember a time he'd felt

so strongly attracted to a woman or so protective, And he had a hunch
she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

His body hardened just thinking of her.  Lord, he wanted her.  But that
was not in the cards, and he might as well accept it.  He was not going
to get involved with Taylor.  He'd let desire cloud his judgment once
before, and the results had been disastrous.  No, he was goring to put
Taylor Quinlan out of his mind and focus strictly on clearing Barrett's
name.  He sighed heavily.  Unfortunately, he had a feeling both were
easier said than done.

TAYLOR HADN't BEE~ ABLE to get Steele out of her mind.  She'd
alternated most of the night between wondering if she was doing the
right thing in not telling Steele the whole story and fantasizing about
him.  She'd close her eyes, and his image would appear and along with
i~, thoughts and feelings she'd thought long s'nice buried.

"How much farther?"  Steele asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Just a few blocks," she said.  She could feel his hazel eyes on her
but she kept hers trained dead ahead, not daring to look at the man who
sat in the passenger seat next to her.  She didn't want to he aware of
him as a man because that awareness forced her to acknowledge her
attraction to him.  In the close confines of her Toyota, she couldn't
avoid acknowledging ~that she found him fascinating.  Something about
him pulled her, drew her toward him.

But it scared her senseless.  Chronologically.  she might be
twenty-eight, but she was ill equipped to deal with a man like Steele.
Not that she even wanted to, she told herself sternly.  She wasn't
interested in an affair, and that's all she could ever have with him.

"How did you talk Donaldson into letting us into Allison's condo?"

she asked, pulling her thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"As Allison's next of kin, it's Craig's property now and we're his
legal representatives, but I'd-thought Donaldson would try to keep us
out as long as possible."

Steele shrugged.

"He really didn't have much choice.  The evidence team finished up With
the condo last night, so technically it isn't a crime scene anymore,
which is why I want to take a look at it this morning.  I want to see
the place the way the police saw it."

"Do you know if they found anything?"  she asked.  "If they did,
Donaldson isn't talking.  But from his sour mood, I don't think so.

Let's hope we have better luck.  " She turned off Michigan Avenue, then
hooked south onto Lake Shore Drive, entering one of, the city's most
exclusive areas.  At the intersection she.

turned onto a street lined with two-story condominiums.  About midway
down she pulled up to the curb in front of an elegant two-story
structure, surrounded by a neatly manicured lawn and huge oak trees. As
they climbed out of the car, they were met by the security guard Craig
had hired to patrol the premises and keep nosy ~orters and curiosity
seekers out.  They followed him up the walkway.

Taylor watched as he fished a key from his pocket, opened the front
door and stepped aside so they could enter.

"Thanks," Steele said.  "" We'll lock up when we're done here.  " The
guard nodded, then hurried away.  They stepped into a wide entryway. To
the left of the entry was the living room, and to: the right was the
dining room.  Taylor followed Steele into the living room and glanced
around.

"What are we looking forT' she asked, watching Steele as he prowled the
room.

He paused, pushed his navy suit jacket back, his hands on his hips,
surveying the spacious living room.

"Something the police might have overlooked."  He shrugged.  "I don't
know.

Anything that doesn't fit."

She threw him a sideways glance.

"Donaldson and his~ men have probably been through this place with a
fine-tooth comb.  Don't you think if there was anything to find, they'd
have found it?"


"Maybe.  But you'd be surprised how often cops over look evidence,
especially when they're convinced they already know who did it."

"That's a frightening thought."

"I know," Steele agreed, "but it's human nature.  If that's what
happened here, then the police only looked for evidence that would
corroborate theft belief that Craig was the killer, which means they
could have over looked something or misinterpreted a due."

Taylor grinned.

"And we're going to find this due and give it the correct
interpretation?  I think you're dreaming."

He returned her grin.

"I've had a number of dreams since taking on this case.  Some of them
quite X rated."

The words were out before he could stop himself.

Suddenly what had started as lighthearted banter had turned to
something else.  Something dangerous to her well-being.  She cleared
her throat, trying to break the sexual tension that swirled around
them.

"Ah, I'll take this side of the room.  Why don't you check out that
side,"

she said, pointing to the far side of the room.  She needed to put some
distance between them.  The farther away he was, the better she'd like
it.

He smiled, signifying he'd recognized her.  ploy, but thankfully he
didn't say anything.  Gradually her errant heart began to resume a
steady beat as she got into the search.

Taylor lifted a nearby lamp, peeked inside ~he shade then checked
underneath.

She moved on to the sofa table near the entryway, checking the contents
on top and inside.  Other than some mail that was neatly stacked on the
tabletop, she found nothing.  of remote interest.  She turned and
looked at Steele.  He was kneeling on the floor, peering underneath
alarge floor sculpture.

She sighed and picked up the bundle of mail.  According to the
postmark, all of the letters had been posted after Allison's death.
Nothing of any interest, she.

thought, leafing through the bun die Circulars, a woman s ~nagazine, a
couple of bills, a letter She paused Maggie Ferguson 65 when she saw
the name on the envelope: Illinois State Senator Barry Denning.  Taylor
recognized the name immediately.  He was a power broker in Illinois
politics.  Denning, an arch-conservative whose views on family values
and welfare reform had made him a household name, was also the
front-runner in the gubernatorial race.

She turnexl the letter over.  The stationery was expensive looking--too
nice for its content to be the standard computer-generated political
fare.

Curious, she tore the envelope open.  Inside was a personal note
thanking Allison for a recent contribution to the senator's
gubernatorial campaign.

She frowned.  That didn't sound like .

Allison.

"Steele," she said over her shoulder, "take a look at this."

"Did you find something?"  he asked, coming to stand next to her.

"I'm not sure."  She handed the letter to him for inspection.  "I just
can't see Allison interested in politics, let alone making a
contribution to anyone's campaign,"

He quickly skimmlxl the letter, then shrugged.

"It's probably just a tax write-off, but we'll check it out."  They
spent several more minutes checking out the living room, but didn't
find anything out of the ordinary.  They moved on to the family room,
where the body had been found.  Taylor tried not to look at the
bloodstains on the carpet or the plants and books that littered the
floor.  While Steele inspected the French door and the area directly
outside, Taylor prowled around the room.  Even in its present disarray,
it was still a lovely room, she thought.  The predominant colors were
black and white with splashes of red.  Very dramatic, as its owner had
been.

Along one wall was an armoire mat was closed~ but she knew it housed a
TV, VCR and stereo.  The opposite wall held a couple of paintings and a
complete wall of books, hundreds of them, covering every imaginable
subject.  A book lover herself, she thought of her own apartment, where
books were everywhere.


But with Allison it had been a different story.  She remembered the
first time she had seen Allison's collection, she'd complimented her on
her selections.

Allison had laughingly explained that they were her decorator's idea.

As far as Allison was concerned, the books were simply a fashion.

statement--a way of impressing her friends.

Taylor crossed to the shelves of books and ran a finger along the
spines of the books, reading the titles as she went.  Out of the corner
of her eye, she ought a flash of something yellow protruding out of a
book on the third row from the ceiling.  Upon closer inspection she saw
that it was a bookmark.

Probably inserted, she thought cynically, to give the impression that
the book was being read.

But to an avid reader such as herself, the bookmark was like a magnet,
and before she knew it, she was standing on rip toe and pulling out the
book and inspecting the title.  It was Herman Melville's Moby Dick. She
smiled--'not a book likely to be read by Allison, she thought, sliding
the book back on the shelf.  Farther down on the shelf a popular
bestseller had been placed on its side, as though someone had been
reading it and set it down for the moment.

She chuckled and moved down to the next row, con-tint ting to run
her.

finger along the book spines.  About midway down was another book
containing a bookmark.  She liftexl it out and read the rifle: K///ers
without a Conscience.  The inside-cover page proclaimed it to be a
psychological study of twenty of the country's most cold-blooded
killers.  She shuddered.  A LITTLE too' morbid for her taste.

She was about to slide the book back on the shelf when the tire How to
Drive a Man I4rtld caught her eye.  She smiled.  Now that seemed more
Allison's 'speed.  And if she was honest, since meeting Steele, hers,
too.  Curiosity made her itch to take a peek inside.  She glanced over
her shoulder' to make sure Steele was nowhere near.  She pulled the
book from the shelf, opened it and read.  Her eyes widened as she came
across one particularly interesting section.  Did people really do
things like that?  she wondered.

"Did you find something?"

She whirled around, almost bumping into Steele.  Where had he come
from?  And why was he standing so close?  She was acutely aware of his
clean masculine scent and his presence.  Only sheer willpower kept her
from taking a step back.

"No, I didn't find anything."  She wished she didn't sound so
breathless.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at the books she was holding.

"What have you got there?"

Damn!  Why hadn't she left the book on the shelf.  Reluctantly she
handed him the books.

"I noticed a couple of them contained bookmarks and thought I should
check them out.  Allison could have planted something in one of them."
Her answer sounded lame even to her own ears.  She could tell by his
grin that he didn't believe a word of what she said.

"How to Drive a Man I~dd," he read aloud, then looked down at her and
chuckled.  Her face flamed with embarrassment, and she was sure her
discomfort showed on her face.

"You don't learn this from reading, you learn it from doing."  His
voice lowered an octave.

"If you need a practice partner..."  : "I was looking at that one," she
said, pointing to the other book he held.

"Since I don't have a background in criminal law, I thought it might be
a good resource.  Give me an understanding of the kind of criminal mind
we're dealing with."  Anything but the truth.

His grin broadened as he read the title on the other book.  He shook
his head.

"Not likely."

"You never know, I may even learn enough to.  teach you a thing or
two,"

she said, taking refuge in haughtiness.

"I'm sure you could," he said.  At the husky no~e in his voice, she
looked up at him and wished she hadn't.  The way he was looking at her
made her feel as if she just stepped in front of a raging fire.  She
swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.


"You think Donaldson would mind if I took it home?"  she said, trying
to pretend she was unaffected by his words.

"I doubt it," he said, h~.  ding her the true-crime book.  She had no
choice but to take it, but she refused to look at him as she placed it
in her tote.

"Don't you want this one, too?"  he teased, dangling the book in front
of her.  His.  hazel eyes sparkled with pure devilment.

Her face flamed as she snatched the book from him, but in doing so,
their fingers touched.  A jolt of electricity shot through her, curling
her toes.

She swallowed and took a step back.

"I've checked this side of the room," she Said, trying to lessen the
sexual tension that swirled around them, "but I didn't find anything.
What about you ?  Her comment pulled him back to the matter at hand.  "
No," he sighed.

"But I think this is one instance where it's not what we're finding
that's important.  It's we're not finding."

She frowned.

"Whatdo you mean?"

"The police's theory is Allison knew the killer.  In fact, let him in,
as evidenced by the lack of any sign of a struggle or break-'m.  That
would also explain how he knew the security code.  But that's the very
part of the equation that makes the least sense to me.  If he wanted to
make it look like a burglary, why rearm the sysica~ and why not take
something?"

' ~ Taylor nodded.

"Yeah, but those axe the takes that Donaldson thinks that someone like
would have made."

He shook his head again.

"All the same, it doesn't make sense to trash the place unless the
killer was really looking for somcthingY " But, Steele, this is the
only room that and nothing was taken.  Not that there's really much in
here worth taking," she said, glancing " unless you're a book lover.  "
Steele sighed.

"I know.  Let's check out the rest of the house."  They checked out the
remaining downstairs rooms, then moved upstairs, where a check of the
guest bedrooms also turned up nothing.  The guest bathrooms were an
equal washout.

Nothing was secreted in the back of the commode-or hidden among the
color-coordinated towels or concealed in the toilet paper.  Nor did
they find anything in Allison's exercise room.  They moved on to the
master bedroom.

Steele went to work on the canopy bed, looking underneath the mattress
and box spring while Taylor checked the dressing amble.  The top was
lite red with the standard Cosmetics and toilet des She moved On to the
bureau, sliding open the top drawer.  There was nothing out of the
ordinary inside, Just some flimsy lingerie, a silk lounging creation
and three packs of cigarettes~ Along with the cigarettes were two
matchbooks.  The first had an expensive' gold-embossed cover and bore
the name Bayberry.  She recognized the name immediately.  It was a
popular night spot among young' black professionals in the Chicago Loop
known for blues and its classy clientele.

The other matchbook, a plain white cover, bore the name Martin's Bar
and Grill.  She wasn't familiar with the place but surmised from the
address it was in a seedy part of the city.

Taylor frowned.  Definitely not Allison's turf pounds iShe placed the
matchbook on top of the bureau to show to Steele.

She moved on to the second drawer.  Inside were a number of cashmere
sweaters and designer silk scarfs, but nothing to explain why.

someone would want to kill Allison.

Behind her she heard Steele whistle.

"Take a look at this."

He was standing in the doorway of a huge walk-in closet that housed
more clothes than most department stores.  Rows of designer gowns and
dresses, racks of shoes, purees, sweaters and several leather coats and
furs.


"She must have spent a small fortune on clothes," Steele said.

Taylor nodded.

"Allison always looked nice, but I had no idea she had so many
clothes."

Taylor fingered several beaded gowns.  " " And so many incredibly
expensive ones at that," she added, reading the labels of a few: "
Valentine, Chanel, DKNY, Mackie.  " Steele shook his head, frowning.

"It doesn't add up," he said absently.

She looked at him, curious.

"What doesn't?"

He waved his hand in a manner that was meant to encompass the entire
house and all its contents.

"The clothes, the house.  Not to mention the Porsche and Jeep in the
garage."

His frown deepened.

"This is no fifteen-thousanddollarsa-month life-style, which is what
she was getting from Craig.  She had to have some other source of
income to maintain all of this."

Taylor shook her head.

"She couldn't have.  She didn't bring any money to the marriage and she
certainly'diodn?  acquire any while she was married to Craig.  She
shrugged.

"Ridgeway is a very rich man.  Maybe he was bankrolling her."

Steele nodded absently.

"You're probably right, but all the same, I'd like to see her financial
records.  See actly how she was financing this life-sty .

I'll talk to Craig.  They were still legally when she died, so he
should have access to her accounts.  I'll also get a copy of the
separation agreement from him, which should tell us what, if any,
additional income or assets she had.  " "Sounds good," Steele said
approvingly.

"Oh, let ~e show you what I found."  She spent a few minutes telling
him about the matchbook she'd found in Allison's bureau.  When she
finished,.

Steele-said, "I'll have Hawk check it out."

"Hawk?"

Steele .  ,s~?  ed.

"Hawk Longtree.  My private investigator.  He s flying ~,m today from
Washington to help with the investigation.  He glanced at his watch.
This ~ taking longer than I'd planned.  Why don't I finish up in here
and the master bathroom while you check out the office?"

"Okay, I'll also look for Allison's checkbook and any other financial
records that may exist.  We haven't come across anything like that in
our search, so I guess they're in her office."

Taylor turned on her heel and headed Out of the room.  She walked down
the hall and into the office.  Like the other rooms, the.  office was
tastefully decorated.  As she surveyed the room, she thought she
detected a faint wisp of the expensive cologne that Craig always wore.
But that couldn't be.

Craig hadn't been in the condo s'nice the night of the murder.  She was
just about to cross the room ~and inspect the papers that littered the
desk when a figure d~ in a black nylon jacket and wearing a black ski
mask streaked from behind the door, knocking her to the floor.  FOr a
moment she was too stunned to react, then she was on her feet.

"Hey, you!  Stop!  Steele!"  she shouted as she tore out after the
intruder.

She dodged a hallway lamp that the intruder pulled to the floor as he
sprinte~ down the corridor.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw
Steele tear out of the master bedroom after her.  She turned back in
time to dodge an overturned chair, only to round the corner and run
smack into an overturned table.  She went down with a heavy thud.

"Ouch!"  she moaned, rubbing the leg she'd bumped 'against the corner
of the table.

Steele was kneeling next to her immediately.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, waving him on: Steele gave her shoulder a squeeze
and took up the chase.  Taylor scrambled to her feet and hurried after
him.  when she reached the front door and stepped outside, Steele was
looking up and down the street.  The intruder was nowhere in sight.

"Let's check around back," Steele said over his shoulder.  She raced
after

him, but when they reached the backyard, it was also empty.  It was as
if the intruder had disappeared into thin air.

She surveyed the empty yard.

"Where could he have" -- The sound of a car engine had them racing into
the alley behind the condo.  They got there in time to see a late model
dark-colored sedan speed away.

"I didn't get the license number," Taylor said, panting.  Her breath
was coming in short, harsh gasps.

"What about you?"

Steele shook his head "Me, neither.  Did you get a look at him?"

Taylor immediately thought of the cologne she smelled when she'dentered
the room.  Any number of men he-sides Craig probably used that patti .
particular brand.  ~ of that she decided to keep her susp~cnon to
t~ersett.  shook her head.

"It all happened so fast.  My sense is the intruder was a man, but all
~ saw was a black streak."  She hesitated, then asked, "You think it
was the killer?"

"Dressed all in black with a ski mask over his face.  Who else could it
have been?"

At that moment the security guard questioned him, but he said he hadn't
seen anyone enter or leave the house.  But his face turned beet-red as
he mired he'd been next door the whole time and only came' out when
,l~,~d seen them in the backyard.

"Damn!"  Steele ran a hand over his hair He took her arm and they
walked slowly around front the house.

"If it was the killer, he took an coming back here," he said.

"I' he was looking for."

Taylor paused and looked at Steele.

"I think the better question is, did he find it?"

Chapter Four There was one thing to he said in Lee Treheck's favor,
Steele thought as he and Taylor sat across from him in the brightly lit
sitting room--he had good taste in women.  Well, he amended, as least
as far as Taylor was concerned.

After they'd finished up at the condo, they had walked across the
street to question him about his 911 call to the police the night of
the murder.  At first the thin, nervous-looking man had been reluctant
to speak with them, then Taylor had smiled at him and Treheck had
melted.  Steele couldn't blame him.  She had that same effect on him.

Like now--sitting this close to her on the love seat, it was damn hard
to concentrate on what Trebeck was saying.  Her sweet floral scent was
driving him crazy.  It had been the same in the car and at Allison's
condo.  He'd lost~ count of the number of times he'd just wanted to
take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.  He was so lost in
thought, it took him a moment to realize they'd stopped talking and
were staring at him.

"Uh, sorry," Steelesaid.  He began by asking Treheck to tell them what
he had seen and heard the night of the murder.  At first Trebeck spoke
in short, clipped senten{es, but at Taylor's smiles and nods of
encouragement he began

to open up, Steele studied him as he talked.  Trebeck looked to be in
his late thirties.  He had a way of leaning forward with his head that
gave his long, gaunt face a wide-eyed, frightened look.  He reminded
Steele of Barney life, the deputy chief on the old "Andy Griffith
Show."

"I gather you think the man you rett?"  Steele asked when Trebeck had
completed narrative.

"Who else could it have been?"  Trebeck replied.  Steele pinned him
with a hard look.

"I don't know and frankly I don't see how you could know, either. Itwas
dark out and the man was almost half a block away."

A shadow of annoyance crossed Trebeck's face.

"I know what I saw."

"But you didn't get a good look at him," Steele persisted "Are you
willing to put a man's life at risk be, cause of what you think you
saw?"

Trebeck recoiled as if he'd been struck.  ~ eyesight is just fine.  And
I have to say, I won't shed rett is arrested," he said bluntly.

"He deserves every-- thing he gets."

Steele's eyes narrowed at the venom in his voice.  beck clearly
disliked Craig.  Steele couldn't wonder to what extent his dislike of
Craig perception of the events of the~ight of the murder.

"So you believe Barrett killed his wife?"  Steele calmly.

"Of course I do," he snorted.

"Every time he over there, it would end in a big fight."

finger at Steele.

"I always had a bad feeling " Did you ever witness any of these Trebeck
hesitated.

"Well, no, but I " You heard loud voices," Steele corrected.

say categorically the voices you heard were Craig's or Allison's and
some other man's.  Ms.  did have other male visitors, didn't she?  "
"Well, yes," Trebeck admitted grudgingly, then "but he was the only one
she argued with all Then with more force he said, "Barrett didn't such
a fine woman.  I told Allison so myself, but she just laughed.

She saw his handsome face and that million-dollar smile, and like
everyone else she thought he was some kind of god.  It's a damn shame
that it took this tragedy for the world to see him for the monster he
is.  " Before he could challenge Trebeck's assertion, he felt Taylor's
hand on his arm, telling him she'd ask this one.  "Perhaps I
misunderstood," she said in that sweet voice of hers, "but according to
your testimony at the coroner's inquest, I was under the impression you
didn't know either Mr.  or Mrs..

Barrett especially well.  Am I mistaken?"

Trebeck gave his head a vigorous shake, then glanced down at his hands
like a nervous rabbit.

"No, we weren't friends or anything."  He looked up, him Adam's apple
working.

"It was an observation.  I'd see Allison... ah, Mrs.  Barrett out
jogging and we'd speak.  Sometimes when she had a problem with an
appliance, I'd run over and fix it for her.  She was a very lovely
lady."  His voice softened and his eyes took on a sad, wistful look
before he caught himself.

Steele's eyes widened as realization dawned.  Trebeck had had a crush
on Allison!  He looked at Taylor and knew she'd picked up on it, too.

But it had been like that all morning.  It was as if they could read
each other's mind.  He'd never been so aware, so in tune to anyone in
his life, and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

"When did you last see Allison Barrett?"  Sl~ele asked, breaking the
connection.

"The afternoon of the murder.  I was out walking my dog, and she was
out jogging."

"Did you speak to her that day?"

Trebeck nodded.

"How did she seem?  Was she nervous, upset or angry about anything?"

Trebeck shook his head.

"Oh, no.  She was in a real good mood.  She was all smiles.  She said
she'd finally hooked a big one."


"She'd hooked a big one?"  Taylor repeated.

"Did you ask her what she meant?"

"No, but I wish I had."  He looked sadly at Taylor.  "That was the last
time I saw her alive."

"You' said you first heard the argument around ten-thirty" Steele said,
breaking the strained silence that had sprang up.

"How can you he so sure of the time?"

Trebeck's thin lips curved into a small lopsided grin.  "That' s easy,"
he said.

"My wife and I watch.  cable ... tel?  vision every night.  We start
with ~the "Dick van dyke-Show," which cbmes on at nine, and go straight
through to "I Love Lucy' at eleven o'clock.

Then at eleven-thirty we watch "The Tonight Show."  The fight start eel
wlule we were watching "Mary Tyler Moore' which comes on at Trebeck's
testimony was going to be hard to refute, Steele thought grimly.

He chan~ed tack.

"If you were so concerned Mrs.  Barrett, why didn't you go over when
you heard the argument?"

"Ah, my wife didn't think... ah, want me to."  Trebeck seemed to find
something on the floor quite interesting.

A jealous wife?  Steele wondered.  Mayhe they ought to speak to Mrs.
Treheek.

He wondered if her slant on the situation was the same as her
husband's.

"Is Mrs.  Trebeck here?"  he asked.

"We'd Fake to talk with her."

Trebeck's head shot up, and his blue eyes grew asia' round as a
saucer.

"What for?  I told you everything!  know.  My vale can t tell you anytl
'.u~...g more..  , " /:.

Mayhe Mrs.  Trebeek saw something you nussco, the pressed.

"It'll only take a minute."

"My wife isn't feeling well.  I'd rather her.  All this has been very
trying for her."

"We could come back at Taylor suggested.

"I'll think about it."  Treheck was noncommittal.  Steele decided to
let the matter drop.  He'd follow up.  However, before he could ask
another question, Trebeck rose.

"If you don't mind, I have to get back to work."

Steele stood and Taylor followed suit.

"Thanks for your help," he said.

"If you think of anything else, please call either Ms.  Quinlan or me."
He pulled out his wallet and took one of the bus' mess cards that
Taylor had given him the night before and handed it to Trebeck.

But from the vague way Trebeck nodded, Steele wasn't going to hold his
breath waiting for him to call.

AFrER THEY LEFr the Trehecks', Taylor and Steele canvassed the
neighborhood.

They rang door hells asked questions, interviewed reluctant neighbors
up and down the street, hoping someone would remember.  seeing a
suspicious individual or ear the night of the murder.  No one did, or
would admit it if they had.  But Taylor wasn't entirely surprised. Most
people were reluctant to get involved with the police, especially when
it came to a tour, der investigation.

Their last stop was at the condo directly to the left of Allison's.

Steele rang the doorbell, and a moment later Taylor heard a rustling
sound on the other side of the door.  A tall, slightly overweight
brunette opened the door.  TaYlor guessed her to he in her late
forties, though her dyed shoulder-length black hair made her look
older.  She wore baggy blue jeans and a blue denim work shirt.

"I'm Taylor Quinlan," she said.

"And this is my associate, Michael Steele.  We represent.  Craig
Barrett.

We'd like to ask you a few questions about Allison Barrett."

"Sure, e0me on in," the woman said.

Steele placed his hand at the base of her back, and she stepped across
the threshold: It was just a courteous gesture, but his palm seemed to
burn right through her suit jacket and camisole, straight through to
her bare skin.  She drew a sigh of.  relief when he relinquished his
hold on her to take the wing-back chair flanking the living room sofa.
She'took a seat next to their hostess on the sofa.


Sitting on a bar stool on the other side of the room was a gray-haired
man nursing a beer.  Like the woman, he wore faded blue jeans and a
denim work shirt.

Taylor looked at Steele and signaled that he should take the lead.

"We just have a few questions, Mrs..."

"It's Marti Kramer, hon," she Said, batting her lashes prettily at
Steele, "but you can call me Marti.  That's ~ed," she added, jerking
her head in the direction of the man sitting at the bar stool.

"Say hello, Ned."

Ned refilled his beer glass and ignored them.

"Shame about that Barrett woman, isn't it?  The papers are hinting the
husband did it," Marti said.

"That's why we wanted to talk to you," " Steele replied.  " We were
hoping you could shed some light on the circumstances surrounding her
death.  " Marti frowned.

"I wish I could, but like I told the police, I really didn't know her.
She kept pretty much to herself.  She was kind of stuck-up ... real
hoity-toity.

You know the type."  She stuck her nose in the air and bent her right
hand downward to emphasize the point.

"What can you tell us about her" She shrugged offhandedly.

"Not much.  She was here when we got here.

Ned and I moved here about three months ago from Los Angeles.  I'd see
her out jogging; ~ was always telling Ned that someone as s,k, inn.  y
as.  she W~ had no business out running like that.  like smugg~ again

"Like my mother always told me, no one wants ca bone but a dog."

:.

Taylor's mouth twitched.  Marti certainly had an~5?

teresting way of phrasing things.  Outof the corner of ~ eye, she could
tell from the twinkle in Steele's he'd had the same thought.

"To your knowledge, did she have many visitors?"

asked.

Marti laughed.

"Hey, I have better things-to my time than spy on.my neighbors.  You
should Mr.  Treheek.  He's in the condo across from Barrett's.  He was
always trying to talk to her."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean tot offend you," Steele said smoothly.

"I just thought 'since you were next-door neighbors you might have
occasionally observed people coming or going."  He punctuated his words
with a dazzling smile.

Taylor threw him a sideways look as if to say: She's not going to fall
for it.  But with Marti's next words, Taylor knew she had.

"I'm not one to gossip, but I might have noticed some of her guests...
occasionally."

"Can you tell us what you saw?"  Sl~ele pressed.

"Did she have a lot of visitors?"

"I guess she had a normal amount, although most of them were men."

Marti frowned, thinking.

"I only saw her in the afternoon.  I think she slept until lale in the
day, hon.  Ned and me here--early to bed, early to rise--that's our
motto.  We never saw or heard Mrs.  Barrett until late afternoon.  One
of those night people, I s'pose.  Five, six o'clock she'd be out
intoning.  Sometimes I'd see her in the evening, dressed to kill when
she was going out--which she did quite a bit.

Right, Ned?  " Ned still hadn't acknowledged that anyone else was in
the room, let alone responded to any of Marti's prompts.  Taylor
doubted if the woman even noticed; she talked enough for both of them.
Steele nodded encouragement and Marti went on.

"Course now if her husband didn't kill her and it was some lowlife, I
bet he got in here when the security cameras were off."

Steele looked up, surprised.

"They're not always on?"  "They are now,"

she stressed, "but it took Mrs, Barrett to get herself killed to get
the condo association to provide the security we've been paying for.

You see, Ned, I told you we're wasting our money living here.  What's
the point in having high-tech security if it's not working half the
time.  " Ned took a swig of beer and kept looking out the window.


"Think you can do something about that, hon?  Tell the judge about our
lax security or something?  We're supposed to be safe in here at night,
though Lord knows if someone wants to get you nowadays they'd do it in
broad daylight if they had mind to, wouldn't they, Ned?"

Marti was beginning to ramble.  Taylor gave Steele a look, signaling
they ought to wrap things up.

"Well, if you think of anything, please give us a call."

Steele handed her his business card.

She gave Steele a coquettish smile as she slipped.  ~e card inside the
breast pocket of her shirt.

"I certainly will.  You know no place is safe nowadays.  People kill
you just as soon as look at you."

"Coulda been that slender redheaded fellow she was arguing with," Ned
said in a slightly slurred voice that startled the other occupants in
the room.

Taylor and Steele exchanged quick looks.  This be that clue that the
police overlooked.  She tried to her mounting excitement.

Marti looked at Ned and frowned.

"What are you talking about?  Arguing?  Mrs.  Barrett?"

"Was it the night of the murder?"  Steele asked, ignoring Marti's
words.

"I didn't hear any arguing, Ned," Marti said.

looked at Steele.

"He doesn't know what he's about.  That was the night of my g'trlfriend
Genoa's~ party.  We were over there--until he got as skunk anyway." She
threw Ned a pointed look, turned back to Steele.

"He got sick and Genoa's band helped me bring him back and put him to
bed."

" " What time was that?  " Marti frowned.

"It was a little before eleven, couldn't have heard or seen anything.
He was " Ned," Steele said, " did you hear an argument night?  " Ned
ran his fingers through his sparse white came down to the kitchen to
get a drink of glanced out the window, and they were out deck

"His voice trailed off.

"I don't know.

Maggie Ferguson' mighta dreamed it.  " He stared into his glass for a
moment, downed the remaining contents and refilled it.  " When do you
think you might have heard or dreamed it?  " Steele pressed.

Ned shook his head.

"I don't know."  His belch signaled the end of the conversation.

"Don't listen to him," Marti iusisted.

"He didn't hear any argument."

Taylor looked at Steele.  He gave her an imperceptible nod that seemed
to say he agreed they weren't going to get anything further out of the
couple and should wrap things up.

Thanking the couple, Taylor and Steele rose and walked to the door.

Outside the condo, standing next to the car, Taylor said, "The man Ned
saw doesn't sound at all like the person Trebeck claims to have ~seen."
Steele nodded.

"It would also mean the murder may have occurred closer to
eleven-thirty, which would make it more difficult for the-prosecution
to argue that Craig had the opportunity to kill Alli.~on."  He sighed
and climbed in next to her.

"But Ned would make a lousy witness."

"You're right about that," Taylor agreed.  She put the key in the
ignition and pulled away from the curb.

"Where to next?  Ridgeway or Larson?"

He glanced at his watch.

"It's getting late.  I need to check in with my Washington office.  I
also want to talk to Hawk.  Why don't we head back to the office and
interview Ridgeway and Larson tomorrow?"

"Okay, that will give me time to check on phone messages and schedule
an appointment with Denning."

"Sounds good," Steele said.

They spent the remainder of the trip discussing the discrepancies
between "Ned Kramer's and Trebeck's rec-ollectious of the night Allison
was murdered, as well as speculating on what the intruder had been
looking for.  Before he knew it, they were steppingSoff the elevator on
the twenty-seventh floor of the law firm.  He paused outside Taylor's
office.  For a moment neither he

nor Taylor said anything.  Then he coughed, clearing his throat.

"If you don't have any plans for the evening, maybe we could get
together."

Damn!  He was acting like some schoolboy asking a girl out on a. first
date.

Taylor looked at him,.  surprised.  He couldn't blame her.  After the
admonishment he'd given himself about maintaining a professional
distance, he'd surprised himself.

He'd decided to ask her out on the spur of the moment, provoked by
instinct and urges he didn't understand.  Every reason he'd laid out
the night before for keeping her at arm's length still -teaiained,
except that he suddenly wanted to prolong his time, with her.

Before she could pr~ test he said, We need to talk about the case.  I d
like to get your impression on today's events.  We don't have a lot of
time and we need to stay on top of things.  Besides, getting to know
each other will help if this case goes to trial.  " .

Taylor was torn.  One part 'of her wanted to accept his invitation
because she was so strongly attracted to him.

But the cautious part of her questioned the wisdom of 'spending time
with him in anything other than a professional capacity.  In a social
setting it was too easy to let~ down her guard, let something slip.
God, there was too much at stake to.  take that kind of risk.

Then she gave herself a mental shake.  For heaven's sake, she was a
mature woman!  So she was attracted him.  What was the big deal about
that?  He asking her to have dinner with him.  Why not accept?  ~.

"I don't have any plans," she heard' herself.  say

"Dinner would be fine.

There's a great Italian restart2 t rant, Saavedra, not far from your
hotel'.  I 11 mee you.

there," she added.  Somehow that made it seem less like a date.

"Say around seven?"

"Good," he smiled.  I'll see you then.  " As she watched him walk away,
she wondered, have I gotten myself into ?

TAYLOR WAS still wondering as she rummaged the bedroom closet, looking
for the black planned to wear on her date that evening.  No, she told
herself f'mnly, it was a dinner meeting.  She frowned; that still
sounded too much like a date.  Business meeting?  She didn't know what
to call it, but it certainly wasn,t a date~ She might have even
believed it if she hadn't left work early to run by one of the
exclusive shops that lined that part of Michigan Avenue known as the
Magnificent Mile and purchased a "snazzy little black number."  It had
cost a small fortune but it was worth it.  It had a halter top and fit
her slender frame to perfection.  Not that she was trying to impress
Steele, she told herself.  She simply Wanted to look nice for her
business meeting.

With~plenty of time yet to dress, she walked into the living room,
curled up on the sofa, and picked up the book, How to Drive a Man W'dd.
She'd only read a few pages when she put it down.  Who was she kidding?
 There was no way she could have a relationship with Steele.

Even if they didn't have this issue of Craig's mental con' difion
between them, there was still the issue of her own medical history.

And she'd better remember that and stop fantasizing about Steele and
things that were never go-ingrobe.

As if to reinforce her resolve not to think about Him, she leaned over
and picked up the true-crime book and opened it to the book marked
page.  She settled back into the cushions as she became engrossed in
reading a fascinating account of a young, charismatic black male, who
could only be described as a "hdy-killer" --in mare ways than one.  His
unsuspee~g vi ~ct/m, Margaret WIlls, only discovered his true
personality when, she refused to continue supporting him.  By the time
the police connected him to her murder, he was long gone.  With only a
composite sketch to go on, the killer had been able to evade the
authorities for the past four years.  Not very.

good police work, Taylor thought, turning the page to the next story.

It was the tale of a three-decade-old crime.  As far as friends and
neighbors knew, Robert Vance was exactly what he seemed, a quiet,
unassuming,

twenty-seven-year-old farm-equipment salesman.  There was no air of
intrigue or criminality about Vance, no hint of violence in his manner
or life-style.

In short, nothing to explain the gruesome murder of Vance's wife or his
sudden disappearance.  To this day, the police couldn't say what
happened to him.  Taylor shook her head.

"Probably dead by' now," she muttered, then glanced briefly at the
clock.

She'd read a LITTLE longer, then get dressed.

The next account was that of a young girl who had been charged with
killing her foster parents by setting the house on fire while they
slept.  What was unusual about the crime was the age of the
killer--thirteen--and the fact that the girl had shown absolutely no
remorse for the-crime.  She'd been charged with two counts of
first-degree~ murder, but because of her young age, had been tried as a
juvenile and sentenced to a mental-health facility for the criminally
insane.  She'd been released from the facility at the age of twenty-one
and promptly disappeared.  But.  one day, the writer speculated, she
would resurface and so would tales of other crimes.

Taylor shuddered and dropped the book on the sofa~ What could have
happened she wondered, to turn a-child into a monster?  Had she been
the unfortunate offsp~ of a mentally ill parent?  The story hit
entirely too cl~ to home.

She shuddered again and wrapped her ~ around herself.  She wouldn't
think about it.  She glan~ at the clock.

It was still too early to dress.  Restlessly.  ~ clicked on the
television.

The early edition of the ~ evening news was just starting.

Predictably Allison's murder was the top story.

"Sources close to the investigation tell KBN news that police have
narrowed their investigation 'and are now focusing their attention on
popular daytime television talk-show host Craig Barrett?"

A picture of Craig was flashed in corner of the screen.

"As you know," the anchor continued, maintained a squeaky-clean
imagine, but close friends his estranged wife say it was a facade--that
there is a very dark side to the man we have all come to love.  " Then
came an interview with several of Craig's former groupies, who
recounted instances where Craig had supposedly stalked and terrorized
Allison.

"Whatever the case," the anchor continued, "Barrett is reputed to have
been angry and bitter over Allison's claim to half his assets, as well
as losing her to publishing mogul Gordon Ridgeway.

Barrett is reported to have threatened Ms.  Barrett's life only days
before she was found brutally murdered in her Lake Shore Drive
condo."

Taylor clicked off the TV and stared at the blank screen.  The anchor
had played up Craig's celebrity status, as well as the troubled aspects
of his ill-fated marriage.  The reporter's characterization of Craig
and Allison's marriage made it sound much more volatile than it had in
fact been.  It was clearly' an attempt to show Craig in the worst
possible light,.  but more than that, the words east him in a light
that could only.  be damaging in the court of public opinion.

The innuendos and mudslinging had started.  How long before some sharp
reporter started digging into Craig's background?  Dredging up his
father's suicide.

"Would they stop there or keep digging until... She closed her eyes,
halting the direction her mind was taking her.

She drew a deep breath} struggling to compose herself.  She didn't want
to look like a basket case when she met Steele.  Shakily she pushed
herself off the sofa and headed into the bathroom to dress.

Forty-five minutes later she entered the foyer of the restaurant.

Steele was prowling around near the entrance to the dining area, tall
and lean in an impeccably tailored double-breasted light brown suit.

As she walked toward him, she couldn't help noticing the number of
people, mostly women, who glanced his way.

Steele, on the other hand, looked only at her.  Suddenly she felt
incredibly shy and awkward.  She straightened her shoulders and dug up
a smile all the while her insides were doing jumping jacks.

"Hi," she said.


For a moment he didn't say anything.  He just stood there staring at
her.

"You look beautiful," he said finally.

His voice was low and husky.

Her heart did a flip-flop at the way he was looking at her.

"Thank you," she managed to say.

"Ah; why don't wego on in?"

She felt a warm glow when He took her elbow and escorlext her down the
short corridor into the dining area.

"Have you been here before?"  Steele murmured as he lowered himself
into the chair opposite Taylor.

Taylor nodded.

"Once or twice.  The food'sgreat."

"The last time I was in Chicago, I came here for dinner,"

Steele said, glancing about the rooml "It's a nice place."

"Nice" was an understatement, since the kitchen regularly drew five
stars in every restaurant.  guide in the city.

Clearly Steele wasn't the type to be swayed by others' opinions or he
was just hard to impress.  She smiled as she admitted to herself that
she had been trying to impress him.

"What's so funny?"  Steele asked.  He had caught the small smile
flitting across her lovely face, a real one this time, and was curious.
 as to its cause.

"Nothing," Taylor said hastily.

"No, come on, tell me."

Lamely she said, "Just that it's nice to be here, that's all." Quickly,
lest he think.  she meant 'with him, she added, "I really ~ this place
and I've hardly ever gotten here for dinner, that's all."

He sat backing his chair and looked at her.

"Okay.

Now, what were you really thinking?  " "Just like a lawyer.  You don't
believe anything anyone says."

He grinned.

"I do when they're telling the truth.  Just now your eyes slipped out
It's the first time I've seen that happen.  I guess first time you told
me something that wasn't true."

Taylor stared down at the silverware.  She felt like a heel.  If only
she could tell him the entire stout.

"All right," she said, looking up at him.

"I was really thinking that you, have a reputation for being hard to
impress and that I am glad I am here with you in a purely professional
capacity, that I am not interested in you as a man.  Satisfied?"

Steele clutched his hand to his heart.

"Well, that will teach me to ask."  He grinned.

"Next time, : lie.  I'm not sure my ego can deal with your
straightforward honHe thought she would laugh at his little joke.
Instead, she quickly turned her head to the side, but not before he'
glimpsed her sad expression.

"Is something wrong?"  he asked, concerned that he' might have offended
her in some way.

She plastered a smile on her face.

"I guess I'm just a little tired."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't' press.

"Maybe we should order," he suggested.  "By the time their orders were
taken, her mood had lifted and she was giving him a rundown on her
afternoon activities.

"I

called Senator Denning's office and made an appoint meat for us for'
tomorrow at two," she concluded.

"What about you?  Did you get in touch with Mr.  Longtree?"

Steele smiled.

"Yeah.  His plane got in a few hours ago.

He'll check out the bar identified on the matchbook we found at
Allison's, as well as interview Mrs.  Trebeck.  See if she has a
different slant on things.

Steele paused and took a sip of wine.

"I also arranged for security to be tightened at the condo."

"Frankly," Taylor sighed, "we didn't uncover any thing today that
points to anyone other than Craig as having killed Allison.  Treheck
firmly believes he did it."

"I-know," he said.

"He's going to make a great witness for the prosecution.  They're going
to use him to establish the time of the murder, as well as to place
Craig at the crime scene."  He sighed.

"If Ned was a more credible witness, we could use him to counter
Trebeck's claim."


Taylor nodded in agreement.

"And Donaldson would be forced to consider that someone other than
Craig could have killed Allison.  If only we'd gotten to the condo
earlier, maybe we'd have found what the intruder was looking for."

"And maybe not," Steele argued.

"Our intruder had a distinct advantage over us.  He knew what he was
looking for."  He issued a frustrated sigh.

"Look, why don't we talk about something else for a while?"

"Like what?"

"You, for instance," he said, giving her a dazzling smile.

"I meant what I said about wanting to get to know you better.  So why
don't you tell me about yourself?."

"There's really very LITTLE to tell," Taylor hedged.  It was hard
enough pretending she was unaffected by her handsome co-counsel, while
trying to focus on the conversation with Steele looking at her like
that.  There was no way she could also effectively sidestep questions
about her family.  He was entirely too astute and would pick up on a
song and dance.  It would be best to steer dear' of the topic
entirely.

"I'm sure the life you lead is far more ex-cut rag than mine, she said
lightly.  You strike me as sort of an Indiana Jones."

"I wouldn't go that far," he laughed.

"The life of a criminal defense attorney is not at all glamorous like
television and the movies would have you believe.  The hours are long,
and many of your clients aren't exactly choir boys So you get to visit
them in a lot of seedy places like federal prison."

"When you put it like that," she teased, "maybe 'exciting' isn't really
the 'right word."

"That's an understatement," he Said, returning her smile.

"Now come on, tell me about yourself."

The man had a one-track mind.

"I graduated from the University of Chicago Law School four years ago
and went directly to work for Haraman and Giusto."  She smiled.

"Not that there was any question of my going anywhere else.  Matt would
have had my head."

"You and Matt , back a long way, don't you?"

She nodded.

"He and Craig have been best friends since high school.

Sometimes I forget he isn't really part of the family.  " "Is that why
you weren't able to tell him you had reservations about Craig's
innocence?"

"That's part of the reason," she hedged.  Again she felt on shaky
ground, but decided to stick as close to the truth as possible.

"It was hard enough thinking Craig might be involved in Allison's
murder, but to g~ve voice to that thought was untenable.  I didn't know
what else to do but ask to be removed from the case."

Steele took a sip of his drink.  "Your leaving would have led to too
much media speculation," he said.

"In a situation like this, you have to be conscious of public opinion.
The last thing we' need is to have the press claiming you left the case
because you believe Craig is guilty.  And that's exactly the slant they
would have placed on it.

From what I've seen of the reporting so far, it's going to be a
first-class media circus.  " She thought back to the news broadcast she
had seen earlier in the evening.

"You're right," she said grimly.  "I've already had a dose of that."

"What do you mean?"

"I caught the early edition of the news.  The lead story was Allison's
murder."  Her mouth tightened.

"They're already laying the groundwork to portray Craig as a modern-day
Dr.  Jekyll and Mr.  Hyde."

Steele sighed.

"Before this is over, you're going to hear a lot worse than that.  I
hope Craig and your family isn't harboring any deep, dark secrets.  A
lot of dirty laundry is going to be aired before this is over."

Taylor shuddered, causing her wineglass to tip over.  She quickly began
to mop up the mess.

Steele covered her hand with his, halting her action.  "I'm sorry.  I
didn't mean to upset you."  ~ The warmth from his hand penetrated the
cold that had seeped into her, and for a moment- she let his hand cover
hers.

"You didn't upset me," she replied hurriedly, then reinforced her words
with a faint smile.


His eyes softened at her attempt to put on a brave front.

"How is Craig's mother holding up?"  he asked gently.

Taylor picked up her fork and drew imaginary circles on the table.

"Naturally she's worded, but she's a.very strong woman."

"You love her very much, don't you?"  he said quietly.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Curious, Steele looked at her.

"I guess that's why I'm surprised you and Craig aren't closer.  You
were only ten when your parents died.

The perfect age for a girl to want an older brother.  " She hesitated,
not sure how to answer his unspoken question.  She couldn't tell him
the real reason: that Craig's mother had been a source of conflict
between them.  Craig saw her as smothering and obsessive, but because
she knew what fueled Aunt Ida's concerns, she saw her as loving and
prolective.

But she couldn't ~ him that.

"Craig was in his last semester of high school when I went to live with
the Barretts," she said finally.

"Then he was off to college.  I guess the eight-year age difference and
him being away at school made our becoming close impossible.  Most of
the time it was just me and Aunt Ida."

Her answer must have satisfied Steele because he ded, then asked how
she liked living in Chicago.

This was definitely safer ground.

"It's kind of a love-hate thing.

Summers are great but the winters are grueling.  " She grimaced.

"I

don't think I'll ever get used to this blistering cold.  " She looked
at him and smiled.  " How about a little equal time here?  I'd like to
know more about Michael Steele.  How did you get to be such a hotshot
criminal lawyer, for instance?  " He grinned.

"Is that what I'm supposed to be?"

She nodded.

"The terror of the courtroom.  Prosecutors tremble at the mere sight of
you.

You're the avenging angel of the innocent, the man judges respect and
juries adore.  And you've never lost a case sin~ going out on your own.
That's pretty impressive stuff."

He shrugged, diminishing the significance.

"I'm good at my job for the same reason you're good at yours.  I work
hard and I pick my battles carefully."

Her eyes widened in mock surprise.

"Is this the same man that represented the college freshman accused of
killing his drug dealer in cold-blooded murder?  The case that everyone
said was a sure loser?"

His teeth flashed white against his brown skin as he laughed loud
enough to make people at several tables turn theft heads to look.

Unabashed, Steele said, "Okay, you got me.  I like a good fight.

Representing the underdog makes me feel like I'm doing Something
worthwhile.

When I was a kid, the one thing I wanted to he was a cowboy.  I was
always the guy in black--the hired gun--getting off the train in some
dusty Western town--ready to take on the bad guys.  " She laughed.

"Some would say you got your wish by becoming a trial lawyer."  She
sipped her drink and studied him.  He really had gotten his wish.  He
spent~ his life defending individuals against the system.  Many of his
clients were rich and powerful and paid huge sums for his services. But
others were poor and downtrodden and needed a champion.

"You must be offered more cases than you could possibly handle," she
said.

"How do you decide which ones you'll take?"

"Instinct and interest.  And I have to believe that the person, if he
in fact committed the crime, isn't going to be a menace to society if I
get him off."

"How can you represent someone you know committed a crime?"  she asked.
As a case in point, she told him about the criminal cases she read
about earlier.

Steele nodded.

"I'm not familiar with the first two, but I remember that last one.  It
was out of Philly.  It got a lot of local attention at the time."  He
shook his head.

"I wouldn't have taken that kid's case.  I don't represent psychos or
anyone

I flat out believe did whatever they-'re Crime of' Passion being
accused of or at the very least didn't have a good reason for doing
what they did."

"That's reassuring to hear," Taylor said softly.

"Is that why you took Craig's ease?  You're that sure of his He
nodded.

"Yes, but like I said, it's just a feeling.  It's the same feeling that
told me to keep you on the case."  He .  smiled.

"I have to admit I did have some reservations, but from all accounts,
it was the right decision.  You handled yourself like a real pro today.
You located the Senator Denning letter, the matchbook and found our
friendly intruder.

Besides, I admire your honesty.  You didn't have to tell me how you
felt.

You could have just as easily kept your reservations to yourself, but
you didn't.  That took guts."

Taylor's quickly lowered her lashes, but not before he'd ~en the flash
of pain in her eyes.

Steele looked at her sharply.  What had caused that bleak look?  he
wondered.

It was the second time tonight he'd seen it.  He had also noticed it
earlier in the day.  ,Tl~,e~ would be talking, and suddenly she would
look'as'if she d lost her best friend.  What demons chased her?  he
wondered.  He was just about to question her when she launched into a
discussion of the case.

He hesitated.  There was still so much he wanted know about her, about
those glimpses of sadness that he'd observed but she was as skittish as
a colt.

"If he pushed too hard, she'd bolt.  Reluctantly he let her him back to
the case.

"Okay," he said, want you to do .  " Chapter Five Taylor stepped off
the elevator and headed in the direction of her office.  It had been a
grueling morning, It had started with an eight-thirty trip to the
McCails to talk to Craig and get his signature on a power of attorney.
Armed with that authorization, she'd proceeded to the First National
Bank, where she'd been granted access to Allison's financial records
and safe-deposit box.  From there she'd gone on to Phoenix Development
Corporation, ending with a trip to the Secretary of State's Office. Her
neck ached and her eyes burned, but she was pleased with what she'd
found.  She hoped Steele would be, too.

Just thinking of her handsome co-counsel caused a smile to spring to
her lips.  While there had been a few tense moments during dinner last
night, she'd really enjoyed herself.  Afterward she'd been too keyed up
to sleep, and when she finally drifted off, her dreams had been full of
Steele.  Heat rushed to her face when she thought of the X-rated con~t
of at least one of those dreams.  The man was certainly wreaking havoc
with her senses.

When she reached the office, she decided to check in with Brenda before
going to see Steele.

"Any messages?"  she asked, plopping in the chair next to the
secretary's desk.  "Tons."  Brenda grinned, handing her a stack of
phone messages and

the correspondence that had come in that morning.

"Judge Greens paWs clerk called.  She said to tell you the status in
the Burns case will be in two weeks.  I noted it on your calendar."

"Thanks," Taylor said, absently going through her messages.  Nothing
too pressing.  Several clients had called.  Vanessa Norris.  Her
aunt.

Most could wait.  She instructed Brenda to call her aunt and tell her
she'd get back to her.  The one from Vanessa Norris she dumped in the
trash can and headed to Steele's office.

As she drew nearer her heart began to pound in anticipation.  Stop it
she told herself sternly.  She had absolutely no interest in Michael
Steele.  He was a colleague, nothing more.  At the door she paused.  "
drew a deep breath, knocked, then entered.

Steele was sitting behind his desk, poring over alarge computer
printout.

Her eyes roamed over him.  God, no man had a right to look that good,
she thought.  He'd removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
His white linen shirt was stretched taut over his lean, muscular chest.
She caught a glimpse of dark hair on his arms and wondered if there was
a thick pelt of dark hair on his chest and stomach, as well.

It was as if she'd voiced her thoughts aloud, because he looked up and
she saw the fire burning in the depths of his hazel eyes.

"I got the information you wanted," she said, trying to pretend she was
unaffected by his heated gaze.

"Want to hear it?"

"Sure," " he said.  He put the printout aside, then leaned back in his
chair, regarding her'stead'fly.

She moved serf-consciously into the room and took the chair across from
his desk.  She cicared her throat and began.

"You were right to be suspicious about Allison's finances.  Her
condominium is owned by Phoenix Development Corporation.  Supposedly
she was just renting.

However, I couldn't find any rent receipts.  So I dropped by the
company and got the royal runaround, which really piqued my curiosity.
" "So what did you find?"  he asked, smiling.

"According to the Secretary of State's Office, Phoenix Development
Corporation is owned by Senator Barry Denning."

Steele sat up, immediately alert.

"Denning and Allison were involved?

That's incredible.  " "I know;" she said, "but I can't imagine any
other reason for her living rent free in one of his
ten-thousanddollara-month condos."

He gave her a thoughtful look.

"I can't wait to hear Denning's explanation."

"You and me both," she agreed.

"I also talked to Craig.  He confirmed that Allison was virtually
penniless when they got married.  As far as-he knows, the fifteen
thousand a month he was giving her was her only source of income."

Steele nodded absently.

"That's what I thought."

"I also ran a credit check on her," she said.

"There was no indication that she had any stocks, bonds, mutual funds
or other investments, and I didn't find anything of that nature in her
safe-deposit box."

"Was there anything inside?"

Taylor consulted her notes.

"A life-insurance policy, a few pieces of jewelry and her will.  Her
parents are dead.  She left everything to a younger brother, Edward
Garrison."

Steele nodded again.  '. "I'll have Hawk see if he can locate him.  But
back to the question of assets, just he-cause you didn't find any
doesn't-mean none exist.  It could just be that she didn't have any in
her name?"

"I know," Taylor agreed.

"But I haven't been able to locate any secret accounts, past or
otherwise."

Something in her voice made Steele look at her sharply.  "Are you
telling me you think she has additional assets?"

Taylor's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I'm sure of it.  Look."  She handed him a copy of Craig and Allison's
separation agreement.

"That document was drawn up five months ago.  If you turn to page four,
you'll note the only assets attributed to Allison are a Potsthe, some

jewelry and the personal effects that are now inside her
condominium.

But look at the footnote at the bottom of the page.  " She waited until
he'd read the paragraph and looked up again.

"At first blush," she continued, "that footnote could be read to mean
that Craig has assets that weren't considered in this agreement, but
Matt is sure all of Craig's assets are accounted for on pages two and
three.  So that footnote has to refer to assets that Allison acquired
between separating from Craig and the drafting of that document?"

She pulled on his lower lip as he studied the footnote.  "Why didn't
the drafter just come right out and say what they were?"  He looked at
Taylor and frowned.  "And why haven Mt we found any record of these
sup" In answer to your first question, I think the footnote was written
in that manner because he also had some questions about them.  " Steele
contemplated her words for a moment before saying, "Then I guess the
only way we're going to get any answers is by-looking at the actual
documents used to prepare this agreement.  But there weren't any
documents listed in the police report of items removed from the condo,
and we certainly didn't find anything like that in our search and they
weren't in her safe-deposit box."  Suddenly his hazel eyes widened, and
Taylor knew the same thought had occurred to him that had occurred to
her.

"Do you think that's what our intruder was looking for?"  he asked.

Taylor leaned forward.

"I'd stake my life on it.  He didn't find them and we didn't~ either,
because they we~a't there.  Craig re-members Allison grumbling about
not being able to locate the insurance policy for her diamond
bracelet."  He thought it was because she'd left the policy, as well as
her other documents, with her-lawyer.  How~nx, I cheeked with him this
morning, and he didn't have thexn, which means they'd have to be with
Jasper and Kline, the accounting firm that drew up the separation
agreement.  " Steele gave her a thoughtful look.

"Let's hope she didn't get around to collecting them.  I'd like to know
what assets she had."  He glanced his watch.

"I hope they can see us today."

Taylor smiled.

"I already called and made an appointment.  They're expecting us right
after lunch.  I thought we could stop by and talk to Mr.  Jasper before
our meeting with the senator."

"Very good," Steele said approvingly.

"I just hope this isn't a wild-goose chase."

"I don't think it will be," Taylor answered in a rush of words.

"In fact, I think it will Support our theory that someone other than
Craig could have killed Allison."  She leaned forward slightly.

"I

checked out Allison's bank accounts.  There wasn't much in checking,
just a few thousand dollars, but she had over three hundred thousand in
savings.  " Steele gave a low whistle.

"You're telling me."  Taylor nodded.

"Even if we assume Allison saved every dime Craig gave her since they
separated, she'd still only have ninety thousand dollars."

"The money could be from Ridgeway," he said, then added, "but that's a
hell of a lot of money coming from some sugar daddy."

I'll say," Taylor agreed.

"But I don't think that's where the money's from.  And Craig swears he
didn't give it to her."

Steele looked at her sharply.

"You've got something?"

"I looked at her deposits into her saving'S account s'nice she
separated from Craig," Taylor said, barely able to contain her
excitement.

"The three hundred thousand was the result of two deposits--both made
in the last five months and both from bearer bonds that were liquidated
into cash."

"What are you saying?"


Hazel eyes met brown ones.

"I think Allison had gone into business--the blackmail business.  The
question is, after five months-of being bled dry by Allison, did her
victim decide to cut his losses and just kill her?"

IT WAS an intriguing question and one that Taylor hoped they'd find the
answer to in the documents Allison had left with the accounting firm.
If the docmnents identified additional assets as they hoped, those
assets could quite possibly lead them to Allison's blackmail victim.
That was probably why the intruder had been willing to take such a big'
risk coming to the condo.  He'd probably been looking for the
documents--the one thing that could connect him to Allison's murder. It
might not be enough to prove the victim was her killer or that Craig
was innocent, but it would be enough to establish tea.

son able doubt in the minds of the jury if Craig was ever charged with
Allison's murder.  And that was all the defense needed to do to prevent
a conviction.

Taylor tried to stem her mounting excitement as she followed Steele
into the office of David Jasper, president of the prestigious
accounting firm of Jasper, Kline & Iocca.

"Mr.  Steele, what a pleasure it is to meet you."  David Jasper's
wrinkled face beamed as he pumped Steele's hand.

"I've read so much about you.  And I must say, I've followed your work
closely.

"I'm something of a criminology buff."

"You're very kind," Steele said smoothly.

"This is my associate, Taylor Quinlan."

"Ah, yes," Mr.  Jasper said smiling at Taylor.

"We spoke on the phone.

Won't you be seated?  " He pointed to two comfortable-looking chairs
flanking his desk.

"I hope you don't mind our barging in on you on such short notice,"

Steele said after they were seated.

"Not at all," the accountant said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I assume you would not be calling upon me unless it was a matter of
utmost importance."

Steele nodded.

"That's correct.  Ms.  Qu'mlan and I are hoping you can shed some light
on a situation for us."

"I'll do what I can.  What is it you seek clarified?"

Steele looked at Taylor, signaling that she should take the lead.

Taylor handed the accountant a copy of the separation agreement.

"I

believe your firm drafted the property, assessment portion of this
document for our client and his wife.  " Mr.  Jasper peered
nearsightedly at the document.  "Ah, yes."  He nodded.

"The Barrett separation agreement.  We prepared that section."

He placed the document on his desk and looked from Steele to Taylor.

"Is there a problem?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Not at all.  Everything appears to be in order."

Mr.  Jasper gave her a smug little smile.

"We at Jasper and Kline pride ourselves on our work.  Your client's
document was prepared by Harold Lainden, one of the finest accountants
this firm has ever had."

"Following up on that same line of thought," Taylor said, "are your
clients always required to document their financial worth?"

The accountant blinked, clearly surprised by her question.

"Oh, heavens, yes," he said.

"Human nature being what it is, we require documentation of financial
worth, as well as a signed consent for telcase of information so that
in the event we need to verify the accuracy of any information provided
or dig a little deeper into a cllcnt's finances, we may do so."

Taylor leaned forward and handed him a legalsdocument.  "Mr.  Barrett
has authorized Mr.  Steele and me to review any documents Mrs.  Barrett
may have left with your firm."

At Mr.  Jasper's look of confusion, she tactfully added,

"Apparently there was some kind of mix-up resulting in neither Mrs.
Barrett nor her attorney getting back the documents she provided to Mr.
Lamden."


Mr.  Jasper looked at her, surprised.

"We still have them?"

Taylor nodded.

"That's my understanding."

:"I see," he said slowly.  His wrinkled face puckered into a frown.

"Perhaps if you could tell me what it is you're looking for, I could
clarify it for you."

Taylor shook her head.

"We have reason to believe that Mrs.  Barrett's documents identify
assets that are not accounted for in this agreement.  The footnote on
page four seems to suggest that.  Under the circumstances, a review of
the actual documents would be called for."

~"Ah, yes.  I quite agree," the accountant said after a brief study of
the agreement.

"I must say I'm a little surprised.  Mr.  Lamden was usually most clear
in his writing."  He removed his bifocals and began polishing the lens
with a white linen handkerchief.

"Er, well, I'm afraid you've caught me in a..."  He coughed
delicately.

"This is very embarrassing."

Taylor looked at Steele.  This was not the reaction she was
expecting.

"What do you mean?"  she asked cautiously.

Mr.  Jasper shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"We're very selective about who we employ professionally, as well as m
regard to our support staff, but sometimes a bad apple slips through.
Betsy Boyd was.-our bad apple-or should I say Mr.  en s. He gave them a
Lamd '" pained look.

"I'm sure if Harold had been himself, he would have rectified the
situation, but the poor man was quite distraught over his mother's
untimely death."

Mr.  Jasper issued a tiny sigh, then continued speaking as if to
lfunself.

"Harold was devoted to his mother.  Absolutely devoted, and when she
died suddenly of a heart attack... well, it knocked him for a loop.  He
was devastated and for a time had to be hospitalized.  When he came
back to work, I gave him the Barrett file.  I knew he'd jump right into
it.  Do a good job.

I..."  He gave a nervous little laugh.

"Forgive me.  I'm rambling.  Well, what I hadn't counted on was Ms.
Boyd's gross incompetence and Harold's inability to deal with it.  We
tolerated the situation as long as we could.  But after Ms.  Go)
misplaced all those files, we" -- Steele, who'd been content to let
Taylor do the questioning, now spoke up.

"Whoa, back up.  What do y mean , she misplaced what files?"

The accountant cleared his throat and shifted in h chair.

"This is a very delicate situation, and we've bee handling our little
problem discreetly."

"Are you saying you don't have the Barrett file?  Steele asked
incredulously.

"We have it," the accountant said quickly.  "We ju don't know where it
is.

We think that file and sever; dozen others were sent to one of our two
warehouses in the city.  However, Ms.  Boyd didn't retain a copy of the
tracking sheet.  So we' don know how they were labek or which warehouse
they were sent to.  Nothing like this has ever happened before at
Jasper and Kline.  " "How did it happen this time?"  Taylor asked.

"Incompetence.  Sheer incompetence.  Naturally ~ terminated Ms.  Boyd's
employment."

"Naturally," Steele said dryly.

"Did you question t~ secretary before you fired her?"

Mr.  Jasper flushed under Steele's scrutiny.

"We did!  realize the extent of the problem until she'd left.  By thl
it was too late.  The woman had disappeared."

"Disappeared?"  An image of a woman on the n flashed in Taylor's
mind.

"Did you notify the police?"

Oh, heavens, no," Mr.  Jasper said, realizing the rect ion her mind was
going.

"There was nothing nefarious or suspicious about her disappearance.
After leav~ the firm, she got married and moved downstate.  We" tried
to locate her but haven't had much luck.  I'm afraid we didn't get her
married name or the city she moved before she left.  " Taylor looked at
Steele.  It was a setback, but it was not insurmountable.

"Perhaps if Mr.  Lainden looked at t~ agreement," she suggested,
"something might jog I memory."


Mr.  Jasper shook his head.

"I afraid that's not possible."

"I know you're concerned about his mental state, but we'll be
discreet,"

Taylor said, seeking to reassure him.

"But you don't understand.  Mr.  Lamden is no longer with us."

"Do you have his address?"

"Oh, dear," Mr.  Jasper said, clearly flustered.

"I'm not explaining myself very well."  He drew a deep breath.  "Like I
said, Mr.  Lainden was very distraught over his mother's death and sank
into a deep depression.  We should have seen it coming but we didn't.
He seemed to be doing so well."

Taylor was instantly on guard, preparing herself psychologically like a
prizefighter about to take a body blow.  As if from a distance, she
heard Mr.  Jasper say, "Mr.  Lainden is dead.  He committed suicide."

I-IA~o~.  x~ LAMD~ WAS DraAD!  It was the last thing Taylor had
expected.

Any question of foul play had been ruled out.  Lainden had simply gone
home one evening, washed down a sleeping pill with a glass of red wine,
gone out to the garage; climbed into his car and turned on the
ignition.  He'd died of carbon-monoxide poisoning.

Mr.  Jasper was all apologies.  He assured them he'd do whatever he
could to help locate Betsy Boyd.  He even offered to let them conduct
their own search of the warehouses to look for Lamden's files, but it
did little to rectify the situation.

The trail that had seethed so hot only hours before had suddenly turned
stone cold.  No matter how she looked at it, without those documents,
Taylor saw little hope of identifying Allison's blackmail victim.

Taylor's spirits were at an all-time low by the time they entered
Senator Barry Denning's campaign office.

"Cheer up," Steele whispered as they waited for the young blond
receptionist to announce their arrival.

"Our luck is bound to change."

She gave him a wry smile.

"It can't get any worse Things" -- They looked up as the door of the
inner sancttr opened, and a man walked out.  It wasn't the senate
Steele and Taylor stood up.

"Mr.  Steele.  Ms.  Quinlan.  I'm Kane O'Rourke, Sel ator Denning's
administrative assistant."  O'Rourke w~ just shy of six feet tall.  He
wore a practiced smile aloi with oval wire-rimmed glasses, a dark navy
suit, a pri line white shirt and power red tie.

"The senator's tied up on a call to D.C."  but if you come with me,
I'll see what I can do for you until he free.  " Steele and Taylor
followed the administrative assistant down a carpeted hall into a plush
office.  It was larg and the entire back wall was of glass and offered
a m~ nfficent view of Lake Michigan.

The other walls we covered with photographs showing the rich and
powerful preening with the senator.  Movie stars, two pre dents, a
general and a couple of astronauts.  On alar mahogany desk was a
picture of the senator and I family.

Sleele and Taylor took the seats O'Rourke offered waited for him to
speak: After pushing some papers the side, O'Rourke sat down on the
edge of the desk a~ crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, what can I do t you folks?"

"Mr.  Steele and I represent Craig Barrett," Taylor began.

"We'd Y&e to talk to the senator about Allison Berrett."

"Oh, yeah" -- O'Rourke nodded "--the woman that was murdered.

"I'm sure the senator will help in any.,~ he can, but I'm not sure just
what it is you want."

"It's my understanding Allison Barrett was a cont tutor to the
senator's gubernatorial campaign," Ste said, picking up the
conversation.

O'Rourke shrugged offhandedly.

"She may have be~ but I can't say for sure.  We have a lot of
contribute

You'd be amazed at the number of people in this st that agree with the
senator on family values and mandatory senteric'rag for violent
felons."

"Forget the campaign rhetoric," Steele said.

"Just answer the question.  Was she a contributor to the senator's
eampaignT" "Youcan't expect me--or the senator, for that matter--to
remember all of his supporters.  Senator Denning is very well respected
in this state, and a lot of affluent thl~Ople support him."  His words
were spoken calmly, but e slightly amused look in his face' had been
replaced by a thoughtful expression, and a small worry line puckered
his forehead.

Steele leaned back, placed his right foot on top of his left knee and
regarded O'Rourke steadily.

"Frankly I'm surprised you don't remember.  It can't be that often that
the senator would take time out of his busy schedule to write a
personal thank-you note to a contributor.  And it certainly isn't every
day that someone purchases a ten-thousand-dollar ticket to a private
fund-raiser."  He cocked his head to the side and looked at O'Rourke
curiously.  "Yet when we checked, we couldn't find any record of such a
check having ever been written.  I'm sure you know that cash donations
of that amount must be reported to the Internal Revenue Service.  You
wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression, would you?"

The color drained from O'Rourke's face.  All the cocky, practiced 61an
seemed to drain out of him like water out of a bathtub.  If he was
acting, he was good, Taylor thought.  O'Rourke stood up.

"I think you'd better talk to the senator."

"That's why we're here," Steele said smoothly.

"You think that phone call to D.C. is about over?"

O'Rourke blinked at him twice, then nodded.

The moment he was out of the room, Taylor turned to Steele.

"The letter we found at the condo didn't mention any dollar amount, and
I forgot to look for a check.  How did you know it was a cash
donation?"

"Shh," he whispered, giving her a mischievous grin.  "I thought that
was a nice touch, didn't you?"

Taylor grinned back.

"You're terrible" -- The door opened.  O'Rourke stepped aside for a d
tinguished-looking man in his early fifties.  The first Steele noticed
was that his pictures didn't do him justk Denning looked like the
American ideal of Who Want Running Things.

Tall and ramrod straight, the man looked like Har son Ford.  His tawny
brown hair was even graying at temples, but instead of making him look
old, it gave him an air of aristocratic bearing.

"Mr.  Steele.  Ms.  Quinlan."  Senator Denning wal~ toward them,
confident, self-assured, his hand o stretched.

"I understand you have some questions ab~ Allison Barrett.  Lovely
woman."

He shook his head, a his voice had just the right degree of concern
when said, "It was a tragedy."

Steele nodded.

"Why don't you begin by telling us h, you met Ms.  Barrett?"

"I met her through my wife about eight months ago a political
fund-raiser,"

he said easily.

"She seemed like a charming woman, but I really didn't know her all
that well."

Steele'gave him a hard look.

"Senator, let's not h around the bush: We both know you were more than
sual acquaintances."  He let the implication hang in air.

Denning turned to his administrative assistant, w was standing off to
the side with his arms crossed over chest like a sentinel.

"Ka~e, that will be all."  The d~ had just barely closed behind him
before Denn whirled around, "I resent what you're implying.  If is some
attempt to smear" -- "Not only was Allison one of your supposed eont~
utors" Steele continued as if he'd not spoken, "she in one of your
ten-thousand-dollar-a-month Lake Sh condos rent free."

The only indication that Senator Denning had 1~ affected by his words
was a slight tremor of his hA He'd make a hell of a poker player,
Steele thought.


"That's correct," the senator said, "but it's not what you're
thinking."  ~' Steele's gaze never left Denning's face.

"Senator, I'm not your ,j.

judge or jury.  My client is being accused of murder.  I am Simply
trying to get to the truth.  Why don't we begin by your telling Ms.
Quinlan and me exactly what was the nature of your relationship with
Allison.  " " There was no relationship.  " "Senator, there's no point"
-- "I'm telling you the truth!"  he said angrily.

He drew a deep breath, then said in a calmer voice, "There was nothing
between Allison and me.  However, before I say anything more, I must
have your word this conversation won't go any further."  Senator
Denning's head swiveled from Steele to Taylor.

"The press and my opponent would have a field day if any of this got
out.

I--I'd be Steele gave him a hard look.

"Senator, a woman has been murdered.  All things considered, that could
be the least of your problems."

"Do I have your word?"

Steele shook his head.

"We can't make any promises.  Why don't you tell us about you and
Allison?"

For a long moment Denning didn't say anything, then he nodded as if
he'd reached a decision~ He plopped down on the sofa across from them
and stretched out his long legs.

"It's not what you're thinking," he s~d finally.  "There was nothing
between Allison and me.  She and my wife, Myra, were friends."

Taylor slanted Steele a sideways glance that seemed to say that she
found Denning's assertion hard to believe.

"Myra is very active with women's issues," the senator explained.

"You know--child care, health care and domestic violence.  So when
Allison confided in her that she was married to this brute and wished
to leave but couldn't because she lacked the financial means, Myra
prevailed upon me to help, which I did."  He cleared his throat.

"I

was concerned about people misconstruing a 'loan, so I agreed to let
her stay at the Lake Shore condo.

She needed to get away from her husband.  The condo was vacant.  It was
all aboveboard.  " "You 'let her live there tent free for almost six
months?"  Taylor couldn't keep the skepticism out of her voice.  ~' The
senator shrugged.

"Well, I guess we should have been more diligent, not let her take
advantage of our good nature, but being a poor businessman is not a
crime."  If that was all there was to it, Taylor thought.

"Why didn't you come forward and give this information to the
police?"

Steele asked.

The senator stood.

"Surely you can appreciate my position."  His voice pleaded for
understanding.

"I'm in the middle of a very tight gubernatorial race.  I can't get
involved in a murder investigation.

The press and my opponent would have a field day.  " "Don't you think
your constituents are smart enough to see through any media hype?"
Steele asked.

Senator Denning shook his head.

"It's not a question of being smart but rather being constantly
bombarded with negative information.

After a while people believe it.  And that's why I didn't come forward.
Put yourself in my place.  Why should I jeopardize everything I've
worked for for the past twenty-five years for a woman I barely knew?  "
Taylor's eyes narrowed.  And this coming from the man who thought the
way to solve the state's rising crime problem was through people
getting involved!

"Besides," the senator continued, "I really don't know anything that
would aid-the police or you in your investigation.  The only thing I
know is what Allison told me."  He looked at them shrewdly.

"Anything I'd have to say would only further implicate Barrett in his
wife's murder."

Steele chose to ignore the senator's ve'ded threat.

"Did you ever visit Mrs.  Barrett at her condo?"

"Of course not!"


The senator's show of righteous indignation didn't faze Steele one
bit.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Denning frowned as he thought back.

"It was months ago."  "Alone?"  Steele pressed.

The senator gestured toward the door.

"Good day, Mr.  Steele, Ms.  Quinlan," he said coldly.

"Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?"

Denning nodded.

"My wife, Myra.  If you'd like to speak to her, she'll confirm my
story."

"Thank you," Steele said, standing.  Taylor followed suit.

"I think we'll do that."

Senator Denning nodded.

"I'll have Kane call her and let her know you're on your way over."

At the door Steele turned and asked, "By the way, where were you the
night Ms.  Barrett was killed?"

The senator' threw him a stormy look.

"I was right here, working on a speech.  I'm sure W'filie, the night
watchman, can vouch for me.  Now if you don't mind..."

M~ ~G WAS wArrinG for them when they arrived.  She confirmed her
husband's story, but that was to be expected, Steele thought.  It had
taken them at least thirty minutes to reach the senator's Evanston
home, which was certainly enough time for the couple to have rehearsed
their story.  And Myra Denning was the consummate politic an wife:
polished, sophisticated and adept in sidestepping difficult questions.
She also struck Steele as a woman who wasn't about to let her husband's
indiscretion destroy his political career or the years she'd invested
in him.  No doubt, she wanted to be First Lady as much as her husband
wanted to be governor.

"Well, what do you think?"  Taylor asked when they were once again
seated in the car.

Steele shrugged.

"Their story is certainly plausible, and they'll stick to it come hell
or high water.  Maybe I'm too cynical, but I don't believe a word of
it."

Maggie Ferg~on THEIR'~ STOP WAS to see Gordon Ridgeway.  Ridge-way
lived in Highland Park, an affluent north-shore suburb about thirty
miles outside of Chicago.  As Steele rapped the brass knocker on an
elaborately carved door, Taylor looked out on the lush green lawn.
Ridgeway had certainly done well for himself, she thought.  He'd been
born dirt poor, in the Mississippi Delta, one of ten children of
sharecroppers.

Working sixteen hours a day, seven days aweek, he'd turned a fledgling
newsletter into one of the country's leading monthly magazines for
black women, as well as amassed a vast fortune by the time he was
forty.

Her musing was interrupted as the door swung open.  A man somewhere in
his early fifties, dressed like a penguin, stared coolly at them.

"May I help you?"

"I'm Michael Steele.  This is Taylor Quinlan.  We're attorneys
representing Craig Barrett.  We'd like to see Mr.  Ridgeway."  Steele
took a business card out of his wallet and handed it to him.  Taylor
did likewise.

The buffer took the cards, looked at them briefly, then said, "Please
come with me."

Steele and Taylor walked into a foyer that was larger than Taylor's
entire living room.  The: floor.  was black-and-white marble, and the
three-story white staircase was covered in black plush carpeting.  A
spectacular crystal chandelier hung in the center of the foyer.  Then
she noticed a well-dressed, short, dark-brown-skinned man standing on
the second floor of the balcony watching them.

"MS.  Qu'mlan?"  the butler said, pulling her attention back.

"This way, please."

She followed the butler and Steele into a sufi lit lounge off the
foyer.

"Please wait here.  I'll see if Mr.  Ridgeway can see you."  The butler
gave them a hint of a bow, turned on his heel and left the room.

Taylor walked over to a desk and picked up a silver-framed photo.

"Look at this."  The picture was of Alii-son and a much older man whom
she

recognized from Allison's funeral as Gordon Ridgeway.  Taylor
couldn't' help but wonder what had attracted a man like Ridge-way to
Allison.

She knew-exactly what had attracted Allison to him--his vast fortune.

"Looks like a match made in hell," Taylor observed.

"Yeah," Steele agreed.

"There's no fool like an old fool."

There was a whisper of noise behind them, and they whirled around.

The man she'd ~en on the staircase stood in the doorway watching them,
tense and alert.  Close up he looked to be in his early forties.

He might have been attractive if his face hadn't been scrunched into a
scowl.

"I heard you tell Phillips that you represent Craig Barrett."

Taylor looked quickly at Steele and signaled that he should begin the
questioning.

"That's correct," Steele said cautiously.

"You have us at a disadvantage.  You know who we are, but we don't know
who you are."

"I'm Daniel Ridgeway," he said, moving into the room.

"Why do you want to see my father?"

"We'd like to talk to him about Allison Barrett," Steele said
smoothly.

Ridgeway frowned.

"I don't see how he can help you.  He was in the hospital the night
Allisoh was murdered.  Besides, from what I read in the papers, it
sounds to me as if the police have a pretty good idea of who killed
her."

Steele chose to ignore Ridgeway's dig.

"Your father and Mrs.  Barrett were engaged.  Perhaps he might remember
something she said that will aid our investigation.  I'm sure he's just
as anxious as Mr.  Barrett to apprehend Allison's killer."

Ridgeway snorted.

"My father and Allison talked about marriage but..."

His voice trailed off.

Steele frowned.

"You make it sound as if things were up in the air, but I was under the
impression the marriage was to take place as soon as her divorce was
final."

Ridgeway shrugged offhandedly.

"Oh, I know Dad was quite taken with her.  She was pretty in a cheap
kind of way, and I know she flattered his ego, but he would *' have
come to his senses before he walked down any aisle."

Steelo's eyes narrowed.

"You didn't like Ms.  Barrett, did you?"

"I couldn't stand the.  sight of her," Ridgeway growled.  "And I'm not
going to pretend otherwise.  My father was forty-two years older than
Allison.

He'd only known her four months.  Dad thought he'd gotten himself some
kind of queen, but what he had was a snake--a no-good, conniving
snake!"

"I take it you know the type?~" Taylor asked, picking up the
questioning.

"Of course I do.  She's not the first gold digger I've dealt with."

Taylor's eyebrows rose a fraction.  "Dealt with?  That an interesting
choice of words.  Just how did you deal with her?  " For a moment
Daniel Ridgeway looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly.

"I didn't kill her," he said.

"I did something better.  I convinced Dad that for the good of the
company, she should sign a prenuptial agreement.  Andthen I told her
what I'd done.  I wanted her to know that she was not going to get her
hands on Dad's money."

"Perhaps she really did care for your father," Taylor Ridgeway rolled
his eyes.

"Oh, please!  She had no more interest in Dad than the man on the moon.
It was his money, plain and simple, that she was after."

"That's enough!"  a voice boomed from the doorway.  Three pair of eyes
swiveled in the direction of the sound.

The man who stood in the doorway was short, no more than five-eight,
with close-cropped white hair, sharp brown eyes and leathery black
skin.  He was dressed simply in a navy blue single-breasted suit and
crisp white shirt and tie.

Daniel Ridgeway stood wringing his hands.

"Dad, let me explain" -- "I think you've said enough," be said,
spearing his son~ with a cold look.

"Get out!  I'll deal with you later!"


"Dad, I didn't mean" -- "I said get out!"  There was steel in the old
man's voice.  Taylor watched as Daniel Ridgeway slunk out of the
room.

"I must apologize for my son's behavior," he said, taking a nearby
chair.

"He meant well, but he had no right to say those things about
Allison."

He probably had thought far worse, Taylor mused, but aloud she said,

"I

gathered he wasn't too pleased about your eomiug marriage to
Allison."

Ridgeway nodded.

"He's my only child.  Naturally he's very protective" -- "Of you or his
inheritance?"  she challenged.  Ridgeway's mouth curved into a slight
smile.

"Prob, ably both.  As far as the company is concerned, he's been
running it the last few years.  Naturally he would be concerned about
my coming marriage's impact on the company and our shareholders.  But
my son loves me and he's only interested in my happiness.  He'd have
come around."

Taylor doubted it, but schooled her features so not to betray her
thoughts.

"So you were planning to marry Allison?"  she asked.

Ridgeway lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair.

"Allison was a beautiful, sexy and exciting woman.  What man wouldn't
have loved to have been married to a woman like that?"

"Would you?"  she asked.

"Of course," Ridgeway answered smoothly.

Taylor couldn't help but wonder if he was 'being entirely candid.

"It didn't bother you that Allison was in-volred with her personal
trainer, Ted Larson, at the same time she was engaged to you?"

He shook his head.

"Ms.  Quinlan, I'm afraid you've been listening to gossip.  That
relationship was over."

"So it didn't bother you that she probably didn't love you?"  Taylor
did nothing to hide her skepticism.

Ridgeway leaned back and took a drag on his cigar.  "I'm seventy-two
years old," he said finally, "and even when I was younger, I wasn't a
particularly attracth man.  I didn't care what people thought about my
peru ing marriage to Allison before her death and I certa hi don't care
now.  She may not have loved me, but she ga~ me something more.  She
made me feel young, aliw happy.

You can't put a price tag on those things.  " Taylor looked at Steele
sharply, Could she have bee wrong about Allison blackmailing someone?
Maybe the money in her account had come from Ridgeway, That was no
delicate way to ask, so she just came right o~ 'with it.

"Were you supporting her?"

He smiled~ "I gave her a few expensive trinkets, but some things I'm
very old-fashioned.  I think a man ought to be married to a woman
before he begins supporting her."

"Then how do you explain her lavish l'if~-style?"  sl~ asked.

Ridgeway shrugged.

"I never really gave it muc thought.  I assumed Barrett was still
supporting her."

"Do you know anyone who had any reason for waning to harm her?"

"You're suggesting, I presume, that somebody oth~ than Barrett killed
Allison and fixed it so it looked as: he did it?  Perhaps Ted
Larson?"

"You think that unlikely?"

"I'm afraid I do," Ridgeway said slowly.

"Allisc wasn't afraid of Larson, but I can't say the same for yol
client.

She told me her life with him had been pm hell .... " Taylor frowned as
Ridgeway continued speaking.  She couldn't put her finger on it, but
something wasn't right He said all the right things but.  Then it hit
her.  He ha been at Allison's funeral, but hadn't shed a tear.  Not z
the funeral home or at the cemetery.  It seemed strange for a man whose
fiancee had just been brutally murdered t exhibit so little emotion. He
was either supremely goo at concealing his grief, or Allison's death
just hadn't al fected him that much.

She wondered which it was.


AS STEELE WATCHED Ted Larson put the moves on an older female patron
at the Lake Shore Country Club, he wondered if Larson's good looks
weren't responsible for much of his success as a personal trainer.
Larson's skin was a golden brown, and he appeared to be somewhere in
his late twenties.  While he lacked the money and sophistication of
Denning and Ridgeway, he more than made up for it in good looks.  He
was just under six feet, with large, deep-set dark brown eyes and
close-cropped reddish brown hair.  Steele looked at his hair again:
reddish brown.  Could it have been Larson that Ned Kramer had seen the
night of the murder?

Looking at him flirt outrageously with the blonde; Larson didn't look
like a cold-blooded killer, but Steele had been involved in the
criminal-justice system long enough to know that looks can be
deceiving.

Steele watched "Larson lean over and whisper something in the blonde's
ear.  She giggled and turned beet-red.  Larson chuckled, then sauntered
over to where he and Taylor stood.  He gave Steele a cursory glance
before turning his attention to Taylor.

Steele disliked him on sight.

"Well hell-lo, pretty lady," Larson said, flashing Taylor a brilliant
smile.

"If I had known Barrett had such a lovely cousin, I'd have been out
here sooner."

He was all but panting, Steele thought.

"Let's go into the lounge," Larson suggested.  He moved close, like a
bloodhound scenting his prey, but Steele moved faster and took Taylor's
arm, fastening her to his side.  He felt her turn and look at him, but
he refused to look at her as they followed Larson into the club's
waiting room.  Steele made sure he took the seat next to Taylor on the
lumpy couch.

Larson picked up a towel and plopped into the love seat across from
them.

"You're barking up the wrong tree if you think I'd lift a finger to
help Barrett," he said, mopping his brow.

"Why do you think Craig killed Allison?"  Steele asked, not liking the
way Larson's eyes continued to roam over Taylor.

"Because he said he would.  He was obsessed with her.  Her engagement
to Ridgeway was the last straw."

Steele gave him a cool look.

"I'd say you had a stronger reason for killing Allison than my client.
She dumped you, and you didn't l'the it, not one little bit."

"That's no doubt Barrett's slant on things," Larson said dryly.

"Then why don't you tell us yours?"  suggested Steele.

"Allison and I were friends, although I'm sure Barrett never believed
that."

Steele didn't, either.

"I would imagine you've got a lot offdends,"

he said sarcastically.

Larson grinned and shrugged offhandedly.

"What can I say?  I know how to treat a woman, that's all."  His eyes
slid flirtatiously toward Taylor.

"And if my friends want to help me out with little tokens of their
appreciation, what's wrong with that?"  He lowered his voice an
octave.

"When you're good to your friends, then your friends are good to
you."

A muscle ticked in Steele's jaw.

"Then why did you follow Allison around, hassling her after she dumped
you?"

he asked tersely.  He felt Taylor's hand on his arm signaling him to
take it easy.

Larson rolled his eyes.

"I don't run after women.  But I also know a woman sometimes says no
when she really mean yes.  We got our signals crossed, that's all, but
everything was cool.  A woman doesn't have to drop a building on my
head."

His "God's gift to women" attitude grated on Steele's nerves.

"No, she just had to get a restraining order against you," he said.

"Too bad she didn't get one against your client, isn't it?"  Larson
replied.

"Maybe she'd be alive today."

"So you deny that you were.  stalking her?"  Steele answered, trying to
hang on to his temper.


"I never stalked her!"  Larson said, annoyed at Steele's
persistence.

"I may have bumped into her a time or two.  It was unavoidable.  We ran
in the same social circles.  But I wasn't bothering her."

"That's funny, the night she was murdered Allison told Craig you were
still stalking her."

"Barrett's lying!"  Larson snarled.

"If I was such a threat to her, don't you think she'd have said
something to someone other than Barrett?"  He gave Steele a hard
look'.

"Give me a break.  He was the last person she'd tell anything to."

Score one for him, Steele thought.  The fact that they had no one to
corroborate Craig's allegation was the reason Donaldson hadn't followed
up on it.

"Where were you the night Allison was murdered?"  Steele asked.

Larson rolled his eyes.

"I've already gone through all this with the cops.  Why don't you just
read the police report?"

"Just answer the question," Steele said coldly.  Larson gave an
exaggerated sigh.

"I was at the opening of that new club on Canal Street."  He looked at
Taylor and smiled.  No doubt that was supposed to be his famous
lady-killer smile, Steele thought.

"You have heard of the Green Onion, haven't you?"

"what time did you get there?"  Steele asked, ignoring the fact the
question had been posed to Taylor.

"I met a friend there around nine-thirty, and we hung out until about
midnight.  I even got my picture taken a time or two.  You know the
kind where the date and time.  is listed at the bottom of the
photograph.  I'll make sure you get copies."

"And you didn't see Allison that evening?"  Steele asked.

"How could I?  I was at the club."  Larson ran his left hand lazily up
and down his chest.

"Look, man, I liked Alliron.  We were close.  I wouldn't have harmed a
hair on her head."

Steele's eyes narrowed.  It was an interesting choice of words when you
considered Allison's head had been bashed in, but aloud he asked,

"Did she ever say anything to you about a problem she was having with
anyone?"

"Besides Barrett?"  At Steele's stormy look, Larson~ sighed.

"A lot of chicks didn't like her--Pam Olsen, Heather McCall, to name a
few--but I don't know anyone who would have wanted to see her dead."

"what about Daniel Ridgeway?"

"He didn't have the balls."  Larson stretched his long legs out in
front of him.

"Actually I didn't think Barrett had it in him, either.

I always thought of him as being a little worm.  But I guess you never
know about people.  " His voice trailed off as something apparently
occurred to him.

"what?"  Steele prompted.

"Did you remem~er something?"

Larson nodded.  ',~Yeah, it was something that happened at Allison's.

I'd put it out of my mind.  I guess it's because Allison didn't take
what he said seriously.  " He shook his head.

"Nah~ It's too bizarre."

"why don't you let.  us be the judge of that," Steele suggested.

"You know the guy that's running for governor?"  Steele tried to stem ~
mounting excitement.  He could feel the same energy coming from
Taylor.

"Senator Denning?"

"Yeah, that's him.  Well, anyway, Allison said he threatened her.

Well, not him exactly," Larson corrected, " some blond-haired guy that
works for him.  " Kane O'Rourke, Steele thought.

"When was this?"

"About a week before she died.  He came by the condo making a lot of
noise' about' how she'd better keep her mouth shut.  It's a good thing
I just happened to stop by.  I threw him out."

"Did she say why Denning had sent him?"

' "No."  He chuckled.

"But I can think of only one thing that would get a man like that all
riled up."


Steele gave him a thoughtful l~ok.

"And what's that?"  Larson shrugged.

"An affair.  Denning must have thought she was going to blow the
whistle on him."  He cocked his head to the side and gave them both a
quizzical look.

"What else could it have been?"

Chapter Six

"You think Larson's telling the truth about Iaearing Kane O'Rourke
threatening Allison?"  Taylor asked.  She and Steele were sitting on
the sofa in his office, sipping coffee and digesting what they had
learned from their interviews.

Steele ran a weary hand over his face.

"Frankly I don't know if I believe any of them--the Ridgeways, Larson
or Denning.  They all have a reason to lie."  .

-"Yeah," Taylor agreed, "but if Allison was blackmailing anyone, it was
most likely one of these men.  And that man could be the killer."

Even as she spoke the words, she knew a part of.  her still had doubts
about Craig's innocence.  She coughed and looked at Steele.  "Why don't
we put our heads together and review what we know about each man?"

Steele nodded approvingly.

"That sounds like a good idea."  He watched the gentle sway of her hips
as she walked to his desk on the other side of the room.  When she
leaned over and the soft fabric of her dress faintly outlined her
gentle curves, he found himself lost in an erotic fantasy of naked
bodies on cool, crisp sheets.

"Let's start with our strongest~ suspect she said, coming back and
taking a seat next to him On the sofa.

It took Steele a moment to dislodge the fantasy that had gripped him.

"Okay," he said, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves.  He
pulled.  a

small black notebook Crime of' Passion out of the breast pocket of his
shirt and flipped it open.  "I think Senator Denning tops the list.  He
claims his relationship with Allison was strictly aboveboard, but all
signs point to an affair.

Politically he couldn't have withstood a sex scandal.  All the polls
show him to be the front-runner in the gubernatorial race.  He's on the
verge of becoming the next governor of Illinois.  There are even some
political analysts who suggest he's planning a presidential run in
eight years.  " Taylor nodded, picking up the story.

"Then along comes Allison, a woman he had an affair with several years
back--threatening to derail his train.  He tries to buy her off--she
gets greedy.  He sends O'Rourke to scare her, but it doesn't work."

"Or maybe," Steele interrupted, "he just realized that as long as she
was alive, she was a threat."  He shook his head.

"He wasn't about to let it ~ill slip away--that's a strong motive for
murder."

Taylor leaned back and gave him a thoughtful lo~ok.

"I agree disclosure of an affair would have damaged his political
career,"

she said slowly, "but I don't think that it would have destroyed it.  A
sharp politician like Denning may have been able to turn a negative
situation like that into a positive by breaking the story himself and
asking the voters' forgiveness."

"Too risky," Steele said.

"Besides, Denning is a very proud and arrogant man.  He doesn't strike
me as the type who could have gone public with that kind of story."  He
shook his head.

"He was facing political ruin no matter how you look at it."

"How does O'Rourke fit in the picture?"  she asked.  "He's just an
errand boy.  But he may be a way to Denning.  Maybe if he thinks he's
been implicated in her murder, he'll turn on the senator."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"Okay, we'll place Denning at the top of the list and eliminate
O'Rourke."

She took amoment to write, then looked up at him.

"Let's move on to Gordon Ridgeway," she said.

"He was working awfully hard to portray himself as a man who was
looking forward to his coming marriage, but frankly I thought he was
relieved that he didn't have to go through with it."

"You think he was' being pressured into marrying her?"

She shrugged.

"It's possible, but I don't think he killed her."

Steele took a sip of coffee.

"Neither do I. He doesn't fit either Ned's or Trebeck's description of
the man they saw the night of the murder.  Now, Daniel Ridgeway is
another matter."

Taylor pulled her legs under her and leaned back against the sofa.

"He definitely had reason for wanting Allison out of the way.  The poor
guy worked hard helping to build a publishing empire, and was about to
get the boot."

Steele gave her a sideways glance.

"Aren't you forgetting the prenuptial agreement?"

"I don't think he was all that sure that his father would have insisted
that she sign it."  She shook her head.

"He had a lot to lose if he didn't--not just the company, maybe even
his inheritance.

That's a pretty good motive for killing someone.  " Steele stretched
his arm across the back of the sofa.  "So what's wrong with this
picture?"

She sighed.

"It doesn't square with our blackmail theory.  I can't imagine what
Allison could have had on him."

"Neither can I," Steele said.

"He seemed pretty straitlaced.  But let's not eliminate him as a
suspect just yet or, for that matter, foreclose other reasons besides
blackmail for Allison's murder.  Which now brings us to Ted Larson." He
rubbed the back of his neck.

"As much as I dislike the guy, I can't see him caring enough about
Allison to have killed her, nor any basis for her to blackmail him."

"You're right," Taylor said slowly, "but this whole thing with Allison
and Larson is screwy.  He's suppose to be a gigolo, a boy-toy,
right?"


Steele nodded.

"Which means he romances women, not out of any kind of love, but
strictly for money.  The women he's involved with know that.  So when
Allison dumped him, why was he still hanging around?"

Steel.  e gave her a thoughtful look.

"What do you think was going on between them?"

Taylor drew a deep sigh.

"I don't know.  It's just that Allison and Larson's supposed
relationship doesn't make sense.  Allison wouldn't have given a poor
man the time of day, as a lover or friend.  While Larson isn't ix)or,
he's definitely not in the same league that she was used to playing in.
Then there's Larson himself.

He wouldn't continue hanging around a woman who wasn't paying for his
charm."

"You're looking at this too logically," he said.

"What we're tall dug is the illogical--unbridled passion, lust.  Things
that defy logic."

Hazel eyes gazed deeply into brown ones.

"Chemistry is a strange thing."

She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Uh, that's true," she said, "but I don't know...."  Her voice traded
off.

His eyes continued to hold hers as he said, "Sometimes we're attracted
to people who are all wrong for us.  Our minds tell us not to get
involved, but our emotions take over and we can't help ourselves.  We
act totally out of character."

She sensed he was no longer talking about Allison and Larson.

"That sounds like Heather and Matt McCall," she said, searching for
some way to defuse the situation.  "They're certainly an odd couple."

"What about you?"  he asked.  His voice was low and incredibly sexy.

"Haven't you ever felt that way?"

Of course she had.  She felt that way right now, but she wasn't going
to tell him that.  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue,
and his eyes instantly dropped to her mouth.  All of the searing heat
and the undercurrents they'd been trying to avoid seemed to swirl
around them, to life.

"What do they say?"  Steele continued in that same low, husky voice,
his gaze still locked with hers.

"Truth is stranger than fiction."

The intensity of his gaze made her pulse leap, and she knew that he
wanted to kiss her.  She was never so sure of anything in her life.

And God help her, she wanted him to kiss her, too.

Kiss me, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat.

However, she thought, if she leaned forward slightly.  As if her body
had a mind of its own, she felt it move toward his.  His mouth was just
a whisper away.  His head began to lower.  His mouth drew nearer.  Her
eyelids closed-- "I'm glad you're still" -- Taylor felt as if she'd
been doused with a bucket.

of cold water as their heads simultaneously swiveled in the direction
of ~the sound.

Through passion-filled eyes, an image of a tall black man dressed in
blue jeans and a navy blazer registered in her mind.

Steele's voice was husky as she heard him say, "It's Hawk."  She looked
into hazel eyes that were as dazed as her own.

"Come on in," Steele said, waving him in.

"I want you to meet Taylor Quinlan.  Taylor, this is Hawk Long-tree."

"Ms.  Quinlan," he said in a deep baritone voice.  Taylor's face flamed
with embarrassment as she took his outstretched hand.  That's Hawk?

she thought, staring up at the incredibly handsome man who stood before
her.

Hawk was in his late thirties.  He was at least six-one, with piercing
black eyes, wavy black hair and chiseled, high cheekbones that
reflected Native American ancestry somewhere in his African-American
heritage.  Jeans and a burgundy turtleneck accentuated his lean,
athletic build.  He looked more like a model than a private
investigator.

"You're busy," Hawk said.

"I'll come back later."  He turned to leave.


"Why don't you stick around."

" Steele insisted.  " We've been going through our list of suspects
trying to make sense of what we've learned thus far.  " Hawk took a
seat in the chair across from the sofa.  Steele then spent a few
minutes outlining what they'd found.  When he was done, Hawk nodded.

"I agree the killer is most likely one of these men.  From what I've
been able to determine, other than Craig, they were the only ones
Alli.~on was involved with in the last year or so.  But you can
eliminate Gordon Ridgeway.

His alibi cheeks out.  He was in the hospital, being treated for a
light ease of food poisoning, the night she was murdered."

Steele ran a weary han dover his face.

"Did you find anything else?"

Hawk consulted his notes.

"I cheeked out that bar on the matchbook you found at
Alli~n's--Martin's Bar and Grill.  It's a dive in a real seedy part of
the city.  Not the kind of place you'd think Allison Barrett would
frequent.  But, according to the bartender, she was something of a
regular."

Taylor nodded.

"Sounds like the kind of place you go to when you don't want to be
seen."

Hawk looked at her approvingly.

"My sentiments exactly.  I suppose it was because she didn't want
anyone to know she was see' rag Larson.

According to the bartender, they've been meeting there about once a
month for the last year or so.  " Taylor sucked in her breath.

"That's before she married Craig.

They've been involved that long?  " "Apparently."  Hawk put his notes
away.

"But it's not all that strange.

The woman was married, as well as engaged.  Having a lover on the side
might not be something she'd want to broadcast.  " Steele nodded.

"As much as I'd like the killer to be Larson, he's probably our weakest
suspect.  Denning and Daniel Ridgeway both had stronger motives for
wanting Allison dead."

"And in Denning's case," Hawk said, "I don't know how he met Allison,
but it certainly wasn't at any fundraiser like he claimed.  I talked to
Craig.  He confirmed what Taylor suspected--that Allison had absolutely
no interest in politics~ He also said that while they were married
neither of them attended a fund-raiser for the senator, and that's when
the meeting supposedly ocSteele's dark eyebrows slanted in a frown.

"The good senator is bucking for the number-one spot on our suspect
list.

Hawk, why don't you lean on his assistant?  He's the weak link in the
chain.

What about Lamden's files?"

Hawk shook his head.

"I cheeked out both warehouses, but there's no way in hell you can walk
in either of them and find Lamden's files or any file, for that
matter--unless you know the exact row and bin number.  Even though
they're filed in alphabetical order, there are thousands of document
for every letter in the alphabet."

Steele gave him a hard look.

"Then you'd better find Betsy Boyd."

"There's not much to go on," Hawk replied, "but I'll do what I can."

Steele nodded.

"See if you can locate Allison's brother.  Talk to Craig.  Maybe he can
give you some background information."

"Hawk, would you also cheek out Larson?"  Taylor asked.

"Unlike Steele, I'm not ready to discount him as a suspect."

Hawk grinned at the sour look his friend threw his lovely co-counsel.

"Will do."

Taylor sighed.

"If only we knew what it was that Allison had on her victim."

Steele gave her a pointed look.

"Whatever it is, it may be worth killing for."

"HAm) M~ the other printout."  Hawk dropped the computer printout on
the floor, then leaned back in his chair and looked at the man seated
across from

him.  It was close to midnight.  Steele had taken Taylor home, then
came by Hawk's hotel, where they'd spent the past few hours poring over
Allison's phone records.

"Steele?"  Getting no response, Hawk leaned forward and waved his hand
in front of his friend's face.

"Earth to Steele!"

Steele slowly raised his head and stared at him.

"Did you say something?"

Hawk smiled at Steele's blank expression.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."  His face was closed, as if guarding a secret.

Hawk ignored the curt response.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"No," he repeated.

Undaunted, Hawk continued, "You haven't been yourself since you took
this ease on.  Or should I say, since you met Taylor Quinlan."  A
knowing smile crept across his bronzed, high-cheek boned face before he
added, "She really knocked you for a loop, didn't she?"

Steele remained tin moving for a long moment, then his posture relaxed
and he nodded reluctantly.

"She's not like any woman I've ever known.

She's beautiful, intelligent, sexy.  And we're so in tune with each
other, it's almost scary.  " "Call me crazy, but isn't that good?"
asked Hawk.  "Yes and no."

Steele spoke slowly, as if each word was being pulled from deep within
him.

"I guess I'm afraid I like her a little too much."

Hawk looked confused.

"So what's wrong with that?  You said you'd resolved your concern about
working with her.  She said she could be objective."

Steele didn't say anything.

"Don't you believe her?"  Hawk pressed.

That was the big' question Steele rubbed his hand along the back of his
neck.

"I believe her," he said slowly, "but something is troubling her.  I
can see it in her " And you're afraid it might have something to do
with this case,"

Hawk said.  He leaned back in his chair and !  27 regarded his friend
for a moment.

"Steele, 'we all have secrets.  And Taylor may have one that bothers
her, but that doesn't mean it has anything to do with Barrett o~ yOU."
"You're probably right," he said vaguely.

"Frankly I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill.  You're
looking for reasons not to get involved, but what are you always
telling me?  You've got to trust someone."

"I know, but.:."  he replied bleakly.  He was torn.  One part of him
wanted to' accept Taylor at face value because he was so strongly
attracted to her.  But that other part, the cautious part, waro, ed
that lowering his guard would only lead to disappointment and
beartaehe.

Remember, an inner voice whispered, you've been fooled before.  If that
betrayal had taught him anything, it was that you couldn't trust your
feelings.  Especially those feelings called love, trust or desire for
commitment.

He raked a hand over his hair, then let out a deep sigh.  "I know I'm
not making a lot of sense, but Taylor's driving me nuts.  I don't know
what to make of her.  All I know is that I don't want her under my
skin... or constantly in my thoughts."

Hawk looked closely at his employer and friend?  In the five years he'd
known Steele, no woman had ever come close to penetrating the shell he
had wrapped around his emotions.  until now.

"I hate to tell you this, but she's already under your skin."  He
smiled, cocking his head to the side to study Steele.

"You're falling for her."

"That's crazy!"  Steele denied vehemently.

"You know my views about getting involved with someone I'm working
with."

"Then what was that cozy little scene I walked in on?"  Hawk
grinned-.

"Looks to me like you've changed your mind."

Steele shook his head.

"I don't know what you think you saw, but I haven't changed my mind,"
he

said, his tone defensive.

"I still think it's unwise to get romantically involved with people you
work with.  All kinds of problems can result."

"C'mon, Steele.  Trust your inst' mets Give yourself a chance.  You
can't go through fe judging every woman by what Daphne did."

Steele gave him a wry smile.

"Isn't this the pot calling the kettle black?  Maybe you ought to take
a little of your own advice."

"Maybe," Hawk said, his earlier amusement gone.  "But were not talking
about me.  From everything you've told me about Taylor and from what
I've observed, she's perfect for you."  He threw Steele a hard look.

"I think if you let her slip through your fingers, you'll regret it."

He sighed.  Maybe Hawk was right.  Maybe it was time to put the past
behind him.  Take a chance.  What did he have to lose?

Chapter Seven Steele slammed the evening edition of the newspaper on
the cocktail table wit ha loud thud that sent pages fluttering and
inserts sliding out.

"What the hell were you thinking?"  he demanded, glaring across the
cocktail table at Craig.

Craig's reply was to look off to the side.  Matt McCall kicked out a
chair, inviting him to sit.  The Chicago Ban-news front page proclaimed
in bold headlines--Barrett Assaults Newspaper Reporter.

The story was short, only a few paragraphs.  It basically recounted
Allison's brutal murder, then proceeded to describe Craig and Alli.
~on's tumultuous marriage and subsequent separation.  While the story
was not very flattering, it was the picture of Craig that was the most
damaging.  It had been snapped just as he'd made a grab for the camera.
The image captured was that of a wild-eyed, disheveled Craig, totally
out of control, lunging at the reporter.

Taylor's face was grim as she stared at the newspaper headline.  The
media was having a field day with Alii-son's murder.  Every rumor,
every innuendo ever reported about Craig, no matter how outlandish,
suddenly was being given credence and reported as the gospel truth.

And if that wasn't bad enough, every news program and talk show was
giving the story daily play.


Taylor might have been able' to slough off the media hype if they'd
made some progress in their investigation.  But they were no closer to
exonerating Craig now than they'd been three weeks ago.  Hawk had
canvassed Allison's Lake Shore neighborhood, even talked to Mrs.
Trebeck, but had come up with nothing.  Nor had he had any luck in
locating Betsy Boyd or Allison's missing brother.  Worse yet, he'd
found nothing to support their blackmail theory, and they'd not come up
with any others.  No matter how she looked at it, all signs still
pointed to Craig as being Allison's killer.

"Before you string him up, Steele, you ought to know what happened
right before that incident," Matt said, coming to his friend's
defense.

"The network had just informed him that his show was being canceled.
After working his butt off to make it one of the top-rated talk shows
in the country for three years straight, this is how they reward
him."

This had to be devastating news, Taylor thought.  She sat on the sofa
n~t to her cousin and put her hand on his arm.

"Oh, Craig, I'm so sorry."

Steele raked his hand over his hair in frustration.

"So am I, but you can't lose control like that.  If this ease goes to
trial, I don't want images like that plastered all over the papers and
network television prejudicing the jury pool."

"C'mon, Steele," Matt growled.

"Cut the man a little slack.  He was upset."

"I understand that, but he's doing a damn good job of digging himself
into a hole so deep he'll never be able to crawl out."  Steele's voice
was deliberately harsh, but he needed to impress upon Craig and Matt
the seriousness of the situation.

For a moment no one said anything.  The silence was finally broken by
Heather's cheery voice as she breezed into the room.

"Michael," she scolded.

"Stop badgering Craig.  I invited you and Taylor here for dinner, not
to talk shop.  I don't want to hear another word about the murder
investigation."

Taylor looked at Heather's open face.  She viewed the world in such
simplistic terms, and because of that, her faith in Craig's innocence
or their ability to clear him never wave~ed.

She gave Heather a wan smile.

"You're right.  We won't, say another word about the investigation."
She drew a deep breath.  It would be good to not have to think about
the issue of Craig's innocence and family secrets for a few hours.

"Good."  Heather beamed.

"Now, Craig, I think you should call Ida right away.  Before that story
hits the stands.  It's bound to upset her."  She turned to her husband.
Why don't you go down to the cellar and select a nice bottle of red
wine while I check on dinner?  " Matt nodded and followed her and Craig
out of the roonl.

Taylor stared at Heather's retreating back.  When Mrs.  Kent, Matt's
long-time housekeeper, had died suddenly of a heart attack shortly
after the couple had married, Taylor hadn't believed Heather would be
able to manage the McCall household or the four-person staff.  She'd
always seemed like such a scatterbrain.  At least, that's how she'd
been during the brief period she'd worked at the law firm.  But from
all accounts, the household was running smoothly.  Taylor ~turned,
prepared to make some comment along those lines to Steele.  But the
words stuck in her throat.

Steele was watching her.  Their eyes met, and for a moment the way he
looked at her made her head spin and she was glad she'd dressed with
special care for the evening.  Not just because Heather expected her
guests to dress for dinner but because she had wanted to feel beautiful
and desirable and, yes, an inner voice whispered, to impress Steele.
Meeting Steele had awakened feelings in her that she'd never felt
before and didn't understand.  She just knew he made her heart skip a
beat.  What she was going to do about it she had no idea.  Both had
tried to put that LITTLE scene a few weeks before out

of their minds but it was as if a veil had been lifted.  The air
seemed to crackle with tension when they were together, and it was
getting increasingly hard to tell herself that she shouldn't get
involved with him.

She looked away, feigning interest in a recent painting that Heather
had acquired, "This painting really makes the room," she said.

Steele quickly turned, forcing his attention toward the painting.  He
put his hands in his pockets in a gesture that reminded her of a little
boy told not to touch anything.  "This house is really beautiful," he
said, his voice slightly strained.

She followed his gaze to the vaulted ceilings, the tapestries, the baby
grand piano and the room's expensive furnishings.

"Yes, it is," she said, following his lead.

Steele looked at her curiously.

"It has to be worth at least two million," he said.

"Being an entertainment lawyer must be a lot more lucrative than I
would have imagined."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"It is when you also manage someone as successful as Craig and you're
getting fifteen percent of his earnings.  Of course, Craig isn't Matt's
only client.

Just his most successful."

Just then the McCails stepped back into the room.  "Dinner will be
ready shortly," Heather announced.  "Matt, daring, why don't you get
everyone something to drink?"

While Matt played bartender, it gave Taylor a moment to study her
cousin's best friend.  She hadn't noticed before, but he looked as if
he'd lost weight.  He was worrying himself sick, and it was beginning
to affect his work.  Just the other day, he'd had to give her his
computer password so she could finish a brief that he'd forgotten was
due that day.  And this morning she'd gotten a call from George Avery
of Avery & Associates, the brokerage house that handled the bulk of
Craig's investments.

"Matt, could you give, George Avery a call?"  At his look of confusion,
she added, "He called me.  I guess because I have Craig's power of
attorney.  Brenda said he has some questions about a financial
transaction."

"I'll take care of it," Matt mumbled, He ran a weary hand over his
face.

"I'm sorry you were bothered."

"How are things going for you?"  Taylor asked gently.

Matt gave a humorless laugh.

"We can't breathe for falling over a reporter, but Heather and I can
deal with it.  It's Craig that I'm worried about.  The press has been
do' rag a real hatchet job on him People we thought were friends have
either dropped him or are selling their stories to the tabloids.  I'm
not sure how much more of this he can take.  " Taylor felt a tug of
sympathy.  Not many friends would subject themselves to the kind of
nightmare Matt was enduring for the sake of his best friend.

"Craig is lucky to have a friend like you."

Matt dropped his head and stared into his drink, embarrassed by her
words.

"Uh, Craig tells me you're trying to locate Allison's brother,"

Heather said, breaking the silence that had settled on the room.

Taylor threw her a grateful look.  She'd been searching for something
to say that would ease Matt's embarrassment.  "Hawk hasn't had much
luck in locating him.  We've been able to trace his whereabouts up
until about four years ago, and then the trail abruptly ends."

"I'm surprised he hasn't come forward," Heather said.

"If not out of brotherly love, at least to claim his inheritance."

"We haven't made the contents of her will public," Steele explained.

"So he doesn't know he's her heneftciary.  From what we've been able to
determine, they may not have been that close.  They had the same father
but different mothers.  Allison was the out-of-wedlock child and carded
her mother's maiden name."

Heather nodded.

"Maybe that's why she spent so much time trying to pretend she was
something

she wasn't.  Like having all those books around.  We knew she didn't
read them."

Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor saw Steele smile and threw him a
warning look.

"What?"  Heather said, obviously noticing the exchange.

"When Taylor and I were at the condo, she borrowed two of the books.

Ask her to tell you the titles," he teased.

She threw him another warning look, but Steele just laughed.  Then he
proceeded to tell Matt and Heather in great detail the names and
content of each book.  She wanted to strangle him.

Matt covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.  Heather, however, didn't
see what the men found so amusing and said so.

Steele's eyes danced with merriment and, for a moment, Taylor thought
he was going to say something embarrassing but, thankfully, he simply
said, "Taylor thinks the true-crime book will aid in the
investigation."

At the mention of the investigation, Matt sobered.  He shook his
head.

"The killer couldn't have just disappeared into thin air," he said,
forgetting Heather's admonishment not to talk about the murder.

"Someone must have seen something."

Taylor sipped her drink.

"If they did, they're not talking."

"Can you really blame them?"  Craig asked; He had come up behind
them.

"I feel as if I'm in a nightmare that I can't wake up from.  I've lost
my show, my girlfriend and my good name.  They're even hounding my
mother."

At the mention of her aunt, Taylor felt a twinge of guilt.  She'd
generally spent Sundays with her, but since Allison's murder and the
subsequent investigation, she'd not been able to make the forty-five
minute drive to her south side apartment.

"How is Aunt Ida?"

He looked at her, his expression bleak.

"You know what a worrywart she is, but She's hanging in there.  But
it's not easy.  She's being hounded by Norris and several other
reporters.  They've even resorted to rummaging through her trash.  But
what really has her upset are the interviews they're now conducting
with the neighbors about things that happened over the years.  More
thinks they're going to dredge up Dad's suicide.  I told her not to
worry, but you know Morn."

Taylor's heart jumped in her throat; the last thing they needed was
some reporter snooping into Uncle Bob's suicide.  What if they kept
digging?

There was no telling what they might find.  She shivered.

Steele touched her arm.

"You okay?"  She could hear the concern in his voice.  She plastered a
smile on her face and nodded.  She could tell from the way he kept
staring at her he was not convinced.

"I hope you told her that Taylor and Steele are going to get to the
bottom of this," Heather said.  Her voice rang with conviction.

"I know you're doing all you can," Craig said, "but it's hard to be
optimistic when everyone is treating you like a criminal."  He paused
and looked at them with tortured eyes.

"I don't see why the police are just focusing on Craig," Matt said
heatedly.

"Why a~en't they checking out Gordon Ridgeway and Larson?"

Steele nodded.

"I'm sure they have, but at this point there's nothing to connect
either man to Allison's murder, whereas there are any number of people
who heard Craig threaten Allison."

Craig's head shot up.

"I was angry!  I didn't mean it!"

"We all know that," Matt said, clapping his friend on the back.  He
speared Steele with a hard look "Don't you find it odd that Gordon
Ridgeway has never issued a statement to the press expressing his
condolences over Allison's death?"

Steele shrugged.

"It's a little strange, but I don't think you can draw any inference
other than it wasn't a love match."


"All the same," Matt pressed, "his lack of emotion isn't normal.  Even
if he wasn't in love with Allison, you would expect some sorrow or
expression of sympathy on his part."

"Not if he'sthe killer," Craig snarled.

Steele shook his head.

"What reason did he have for killing her?  He wanted a trophy wife and
he didn't make any bones about it~ Make no mistake, he held the upper
hand in that relationship.  If anyone was walking the straight and
narrow, it was AHison, not Gordon Ridge-way."  Craig stared gloomily
into his drink.

"The only thing I know is that I didn't kill her, but someone sure as
hell did."  He looked at them, his expression bleak.

"And whoever that person is knew her well enough to be able to slip in
and out of the condo without being detected.  As far as I know, only
two men fit the bill--Gordon Ridge-way and Ted Larson.  If Ridgeway
didn't kill her, then it had to be Larson."

"My money is on Larson," Matt agreed.

"Heather thinks he was stalling Allison.  He was always lurking
somewhere in the' shadows "What did Allison say?"  Steele asked.

"She shrugged it off," Heather said.

"She wasn't afraid of him~ She only got the restraining order because
she was mad at him about something."

Craig frowned.

"I'thought it was because he was bothering her."

Heather shook her head.

"That's not what she told me.  She said it was to teach him a
lesson."

This was the first time she'd heard that.  Taylor pounced on her words
immediately.

"What kind of lesson?"

Heather shrugged.

"I asked, but she didn't say."  She threw Craig an apologetic look:'
'i'm sorry, but as far as men go, I think she might actually have cared
about Taylor's eyes narrowed.  Maybe there really was something to
their relationship.  If that was the case, would she have confided in
him?

IT WAS SEVERAL HOD-aS later before Taylor was able to pose the question
to Steele.  Under the guise of showing him the grounds, they'd finally
been able to slip away from the others.  They were standing in the
garden talking.

"I think we should question Larson again," she said.  "If he was
following Allison around, he may have seen something.  Or for that
matter, if they were close like Heather thinks, maybe she confided in
him, told him something that will help to clear Crai" Steele threw her
a pointed look.

"If you recall, Larson thinks Craig is her killer."

"Nevertheless, I think we should question him.  If he and Allison were
really friends, I think he'd want to help catch her killer,"

Steele looked at the woman who stood next to him.  Talking about the
case was the last thing he wanted to do.  Moonlight glistened through
her hair; a light breeze picked up a few dark strands to play with.

She was, without a doubt, lovely and alluring.

Steele deliberately looked away.  He tried not to think about how
attracted to her he was.  He tried not to think about the fact that she
was his colleague, but it was no use.  She was the most compelling
woman he'd ever met, and he really wanted to get to know her better.

"I don't know," he said finally.

"He certainly hasn't shown himself to be willing to help so far.
Frankly I think questioning him would be a waste of time.  I think we'd
be better served keeping the heat on Denning.  He had a lot to lose if
the press got wind of an affair."

Taylor dropped her eyelashes to hide her disappointment.

But not quick enough.  Steele's heart flip-flopped at her crestfallen
look.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a go at him again."


Taylor beamed up at him.

"Great," she said.

"Let's do it tomorrow.

Maybe we'll get some fresh leads.  " She sighed.

"This case is so frustrating, I just want to He gave her a wry smile.

"Criminal cases are tough.  The defense always has an uphill battle.
People don't come forward with information because they don't want to
get involved.

And then there are those people like Trebeek who remember things that
may have never happened.  It's frustrating, but it always seems to work
outin the end."  '~ She sighed.

"I'm glad you can be so optimistic."

"There's really little point be' rag otherwise."  He looked toward the
house and smiled.

"Speaking of optimism, Heather seems to abound in it."

She laughed.

"She was a secretary at the firm before she married Matt.  In fact,
that's where they met.  We used to call her Mary Sunshine."  ~ Steele
chuckled.

"They're certainly an interesting couple.  She isn't the type of woman
I'd have thought he'd have married."

"Is that a tactful way of saying she's not too bright?"  she teased.

Steele shook his head.

"She's brighter than you think.  Matt is just such a serious guy."  He
shrugged.

"I'd have thought he'd marry someone he had more in common with, but
they seem to have a very solid marriage."

" " That's true," Taylor said slowly.

"But I have to admit that when' Matt announced they were getting
married, Craig and I were a little concerned.  He'd only known her a
short time and, like you said, she didn't seem his type.  Apparently,
love conquers all."

The way Steele was looking at her made her shiver, and she rubbed her
arms.

"Why don't we go inside?"

She'd just taken a step forward when her heel caught on a piece of
broken tile.  She would have taken quite a fall if Steele hadn't caught
her.

"You're all right" Steele whispered, his arms wrapped tightly about
her.

Taylor could only nod as she tried to ignore the feel of his hand on
her back, the well-honed, muscular body beneath his jacket, his manly
scent, his heat.  But it was no use.  Energy pulsated from him with
such force that goose bumps rippled over every surface of her skin, and
a warm glow began to grow and unfurl deep inside her.  It took all her
willpower to resist the urge to close her eyes and rest her head on his
shoulder and give in to a complexity of emotions too difficult to
confine.

This was sheer madness, an inner voice warned.  She had to fight her
attraction.  With supreme effort, she pulled out of his arms.

"I'm sorry to be so clumsy," she said, avoiding his probing gaze.  No
way would she let Steele know how he affected her or how she hungered
to be in his arms, "I guess I'm tired.  I think I'd like to call it an
evening."

"Sure," he said, his voice slightly strained.

Inside, Steele wished the others a pleasant evening, then escorted her
out of the house to the waiting car.  Within minutes the Corvette was
purring smoothly along the city streets.  She sank back against the
opulent leather seat, letting her head rest comfortably as she idly
scanned the passing shops and deserted sidewalks and tried not to think
about her attraction to the man who sat next to her.

"You sure you want to go straight home?"  he asked, breaking into her
thoughts.

No, she wasn't, but it was definitely the safer course of action.  She
looked at him questioningly.

"I'm sure.  Why?"

"I thought we could drive around for a while.  You could show me a
little of the city, then later we could stop in at one of the blues
clubs that Chicago is famous for."

She was tempted, but she was confused enough about her feelings for
Steele.

"Some other time, okay?"

"Taylor, you know I'm attracted to you, and I think you're just as
attracted to me," he said, his voice low and incredibly sexy.


She shivered.

"I can't deny that I'm attracted to you," she said, "but I don't think
it would be wise for us to follow through on that attraction."

"Why not?"  He gave her a quick glance before turning back to the
road.

"Well, we work together," she said in what she hoped was a convincing
voice.

"Things could get a little awkward."

"I think they already are."

"Steele, don't."  She swallowed and turned her head toward the
passenger window.

For a moment she thought he was going to argue.  Out of the corner of
her left eye she saw him shift in the seat and stare dead ahead.  As
the minutes ticked by and he didn't say anything, the s'tlence became
tense,.  strained.

The leisurely pace they'd been traveling at also seemed to pick up.

She stared blindly out the window, not daring to look at him.

The' Corvette roared along, passing one car then the next.  Horns
blared and tires squealed as space opened as he zipped in and out of
traffic.  Several irate drivers who Steele had-~ailgated threw them
angry looks as he passed.

Steele ignored them.  He ignored everything.  His focus was on one
thing and one thing only, Taylor thought: getting the evening over with
as quickly as possible now that she had rebuffed him.  And that hurt
terribly.

As~ the speedometer ,ed,g, oe~, close to sixty, Taylor began to get a
little concerned.  Steele, could you slow down a little?  " "I don't
think that would be such a good idea," he said, continuing to look
straight ahead.

His voice was calm, but it had an underlying quality to it that
demanded a glance in his direction.  He was looking in the rearview
mirror at something.

A twinge of alarm registered at the back of her neck.  "What is it?"

"We're being followed," Steele said, his eyes glued to the rearview
mirror.

"Are you sure?"  she asked, twisting in her seat, looking out the back
window.

"Yeah, I'm sure.  There's a dark-colored sedan about two cars back.

The headlights are out.  It's been following us since we left the
McCails'.

It also looks suspiciously like the car that joker we encountered at
Allison's was driving.  " Taylor's eyes widened in alarm.

"If that's Allison's blackmail victim back there, why is he following
us?"

Steele shrugged.

"We must have rattled his cage, made him nervous.

Hell, I just wish we knew whatever it is he thinks we know.  " "Yeah,
so do I," she agreed grimly.

Steele threw her a grin, then said, "Hang on, I'm going to see if we
can catch this guy."

She felt herself thrown back against the seat as Steele suddenly gunned
the engine, made a sharp left turn and joined the freeway traffic
pouring past the lakefront area, but his pace was fast.  She glanced
out the back window.

The dark-colored sedan was right behind them.

"He's still there," she yelled.  Steele's only reply was to press on
the accelerator.  The car leapt forward, hungrily devouring the
roadway.  They passed one car, then the next.

She.  checked the back window again.  The sedan was still there.

A wild screech ~of hot, disintegrating rubber bellowed in her ears as
Steele yanked the wheel into a ninety-degree turn at what felt like a
hundred miles per hour and took the off ramp.  Her shoulder slammed
into the passenger.

door as the ear exited the highway at a high rate of speed.  Steele
rolled through the stop sign at the end of the off ramp and roared down
the street.

Cars swerved and st.  qpped, giving them a wide berth.  They sailed
through an intersection to the sound of beeping horns and squealing
tires, and flew around a corner and down a quiet residential street.
Luckily there were few pedestriaus out this time of night, but those
who were jumped back on the curb at the sight of the speeding car.


They raced down one street then another, and at the end of a fairly
deserted street, Steele yanked the wheel and executed a U-turn.

"I'm going to try and get closer!"  Steele yelled.

"See if you can get a look at the driver or his license plates."

Taylor's head was reeling as the Corvette headed in the direction of
the dark-colored sedan.  The car that had been following them came to a
screeching halt and began to back up fast.  Then, like Steele, its
driver executed a U, turn and drove at breakneck speed in the opposite
direction.  The Corvette was hot on its tail.  The hunter had now
become the hunted.

"Steele, we didn't see any license plates because there are none on the
car."

"Yeah, I see," Steele said, not taking his eyes from the road.  She was
thrown against the passenger door as they swerved, narrowly missing a
tractor trailer that had jackknifed in front of the an The sedan was
still ahead, but they were quickly gaining on it.

She leaned forward, straining to see the driver.  She could almost make
out the faint outline of a person, when the sedan suddenly swerved to
the left, cutting across two lanes of traffic.  It took them a moment
to change lanes.

The sedan sailed.  through a busy intersection.  They did the same.
They dodged head-on collisions right and left at top speed.  Ahead,
Taylor could see the flashing red lights of a railroad crossing, and
the gates slowly begivning to desceod.  But inslind of slowing down and
stopping, the sedan sailed through the gates, narrowly missing being
hit by the reight train.

She was thrown violently forward-as Steele slammed on the brakes,
bringing the car to a screeching halt just inches from the crossing.

Through the boxcar opening they saw the sedan barreling away.

"Damn!"  Steele punctuated his words by pounding on the steering
wheel.

"We lost him!"

"Yeah," she replied, her teeth still rattling.

"But I don't think I could have survived catching him."  , Agnm m
high-speed chase, the remainder of the ride to Taylor's apartment was
uneventful.

Before she knew it, Steele was bringing the car to a halt in front of
her building.  He insisted on seeing her inside.  He did it with such
charm that Taylor couldn't resist.  Truth be told, she didn't want to.
All those strange, unexpected feelings were catching up with her.

They got off the elevator and walked down the carpeted hall to her
apartment.  She fished in her evening bag for the key.  Steele took it
from her and turned the lock.  He handed it back to her gravely.

"Where did you learn to drive like that?"  she asked, stalling.  She
didn't warn the evening to end.

Steele chuckled.

"A client taught me.  He was reputed to have at one time been a driver
for the mob."

"Well, I guess you never know when defensive driving will come in
handy."

She smiled.

"That's for sure," he said, returning h~ smile.

"Get a good night's sleep."  His voice was low and husky, and he looked
as though what he was saying had nothing whatsoever to do with what he
was thinking.

"Steele..."  she murmured.  Her eyes were wide and filled with
questions as he slid his arms around her and pulled her against him.

He bent his head, blocking out the light from the crystal fixtures
along the wall.  Shadows fell across them both.  Taylor stiffened
slightly but made no effort to pull away.  The door was open behind
her.  She had a clear line of retreat.  She just didn't choose to use
it.  She swayed and raised her hands instinctively.  They landed
against-the hard wall of his chest.

The contact sent tremors through them both.  He murmured something, her
name?

She couldn't really be sure because speech was beyond them both.  He
lowered his head to hers, and she closed her.  eyes as his lips brushed
hers~ lightly, sweetly, so tempting that she could not help but
respond.


He deepened the kiss.  His mouth moved slowly, sensually over hers,
more deeply and hungrily by the see and until the erotic pleasure of it
brought her arms up around his neck.  In response, his mouth became
more demanding, intoxicating.  She felt her breasts swell, and their
sensitive peaks tightened as she burned with desire.  She could feel
the hard muscles of his thighs through the thin material of her dress
as he backed her against the wall, pressing her into it.

Steele pulled her closer.  She was lost, engulfed in a world of
pleasurable sensations.  Minutes passed, but nothing eros ted but his
kiss.

Scrape.  .

Suddenly Steele went still.  He still held her, but he was no longer
kissing her.  Something had invaded his subconscious, thrusting him
back to reality.

A sound.  What had it been?  The elevator door opening?  An apartment
dweller's television set?  He listened.  Waiting.

~trajning to.  hear.  Then he heard it again.  And this time he
recognized it.  Footsteps on car~ ting Someone was slowly creeping down
the hallway in their direction!

Chapter Eight Taylor sensed the change in Steele immediately, One
minute he was kissing her senseless, then in the next he whispered, ""
Someone's coming.  " Before she could digest his words, he whipped her
behind him and drew a revolver from the back waistband of his
trousers.

Her eyes 'widened at the sight of the gun.  From the way he held it in
both hands and his aggressive stance, she had no doubt that he knew how
to use it.

"You there!"  Steele snarled.

"Put your hands up and step out where we can see you."

"Don't shoot!"  a voice cried.  The words were followed' by the sound
of footsteps moving slowly down the apartment corridor toward them.

Taylor could feel the tension in Steele.  It was the same tension she
was feeling.  She held her breath as a long, dark shadow appeared on
the floor and slid up the wall.  From the shadows Taylor could see he
was tall and wore what looked like trousers and a close-fitting top.

Her heart beat faster as the figure moved slowly into the light.

Taylor's hand flew to her mouth as fear gave way to surprise.  Vanessa
Norris!

"What the hell are you doing here?"  Steele growled.  He lowered the
gun and tucked it back into the waistband of his trousers; his stance
was still aggressive.


The reporter lowered her arms and let out a long, shaky breath.

"I

was waiting for you and Ms.  Quinlan," she said.

"I've been calling your office for weeks, but neither of you saw fit to
return my calls."

Norris's words followed so closely on the heels of their high-speed car
chase was too much for Taylor.

"You're the last person to lecture anyone on courtesy," she said,
moving out to stand alongside Steele.

Fear and anger made her voice harsher than she'd intended.

"You sneak into my apartment building, scare us half to death and now
you stand here like you're the injured party!  I've got a mind to
register a complaint' with your station manager."

Norris looked at Taylor, clearly bewildered.

"I don't know why you're so upset."

"What do you call" -- Taylor felt Steele grab her right arm, signaling
her not to say anything further.  The look he gave her spoke louder
than words.

He thought Norris might have been the person in the car that they'd
chased.

"How long have you been here?"  Taylor heard him ask.

"About an hour or so," the reporter replied.

"You were out when I got here, so I parked my car across from the
apartment building and waited.  When I saw you drive up and go inside a
few minutes ago, I slipped in through a side door and took the stairs
up."

Well, that answered the question, Taylor thought.  "Look, we need to
talk,"

Norris said, taking a step forward, her earlier fear now past.

"It'll only takea few minutes, but I think you'll find that what I have
to say is to both our advantages."

"You semteh my back, I'll scratch yours?"  Steele said sarcastically.

"Exactly," Norris said smugly.

"Not interested," Steele said flatly.  He took Taylor's arm and turned
toward the apartment.

"Are you convinced of Mr.  Barrett's innocence?"  Norris yelled at his
retreating back.

Steele stopped.  He looked straight at the reporter.  "Absolutely.  Mr.
Barrett was not in any way involved in his wife's death.  Any attempt
to claim otherwise is a gross miscarriage of justice.  You can quote me
on that.

Now, if you'll excuse us..."

"Is it true he's just a hair's breadth from being in-dieted?"  Norris
pressed, dodging in front of them, blocking the doorway of the
apartment.

"No comment," Steele said, pushing Norris aside.  But the reporter was
not to be deterred.

"Wait?  Norris cried.

"What would you say if I told you that I'd come into possession of
information that could help exonerate Mr.  Barrett?"

Steele paused, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Start talking."

Norris's mouth curved into a smile, a supremely confident smile.

"I'd rather not talk in the hallway Why don't we all go inside and have
ourselves a nice little chat?"

"I don't think you have anything to say that the whole world couldn't
hear,"

Steele said coldly.

"That's where you're wrong," Norris said, but her confident smile
seemed to have slipped slightly.

"Then let's hear it."  There was steel in his voice.  "I'll tell you
this much," Norris hedged.

"I have information that indicates Ms.  Barrett was blackmailing
someone."

Taylor's heart began to pound as excitement coursed through her.  So
they were right!

"Do you know the identity of the person she was blackmailing?"  Taylor
asked, keeping her voice neutral.

"I've got an idea," Norris said smugly.

"Okay," Steele said, "you've got our attention.  What do you want?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."  Norris smiled.

"Don't be so cynical.  I'm a business person just like you.  I think it
only fair that I get something for-the fruits of my labor."  Clearly
Norris was really enjoying this cat-and-mouse game.

"what do you want?"  Steele repeated.


"An exclusive interview with Barrett."

"After he' s exonerated," Steele offered.

Norris shook her head.

"Not good enough.  I want it now."

"Forget it," Steele said, stepping inside the apartment and closing the
door.

Norris was right up against the door, one foot thrust in the doorway to
keep it open.

"You're making a big raiatake.  I can" -- "Unless you want to lose
it,"

Steele said quietly, 'move it.  " Norris hesitated for a moment before
deciding he was serious.  With a muttered expletive she stepped back.
Her eyes took on a faintly predatory gleam.

"If I can't go with that story, how about this one--Barrett's attorneys
are engaged in a hot, heavy affair."

Steele opened the door and looked at the reporter.  "There will be hell
to pay if I see or hear anything of that nature on your talk show or in
the papers," Steele said.  Taylor had never heard such coldness in his
voice before.

But Norris was not so easily deterred.

"Are you threatening me?"

'~the reporter shot back.

"It's no threat.  It's a promise," Steele replied, then slammed the
door.  He looked at Taylor, then let out a long breath.

"That woman's a real pain in the butt~" he muttered~ Heplopped down on
the sofa and laid his head back.

She shivered, thinking again of the fear she'd felt at the sight of his
gun.

"Do most criminal attorneys carry a gun?"

"I don't know.  I do because of the kind of cases I handle.  Over the
years I've had a few people threaten my life.  You have to take things
like that seriously."

His words were chilling, not just in content but because of the
matter-of-fact manner in which he said them, and it brought her back to
their immediate problem.

"Steele," she said, dropping down next to him on the sofa, "I didn't
want to say anything in front of Norris, but why not take her up on her
offer?  We can't be any worse off than we are now?"

He looked at her surprised.

"You can't be" -- She held up a hand, halting his words.

"Wait!  Hear me out.  We believe Allison was blackmailing someone.
Perhaps Denning or Daniel Ridgeway.

Maybe even Ted Larson.  But after three weeks of running down leads, we
have absolutely nothing to corroborate that belief.  There's no
guarantee that we'll ever find Betsy Boyd or Lamden's files.  You know
as well as I do that we don't have.  an unlimited amount of time to
establish the fact that someone other than Craig may have killed
Allison.  If an exclusive in~rview is the only way we can get that
information, then I say we go for it.  It would bee small price to pay.
" Steele shook his head.

"It could also place a noose around Craig's neck."  He gave her a hard
look.

"What if the information doesn't vindicate him?  I don't want Craig
pleading his ease to anyone but a jury."

"Yeah, and at the rate we're going, that's exactly where he's going to
be pleading it," she said angrily.  Hazel eyes darkened.

"It's too risky."

"I don't agree.  Craig is an experien~ talk-show host.  He can handle
Norris.

And I think we can coach him enough to minimize any potential risk of
entrapment."  " No.  " The way he said it, she knew he considered the
matter closed, and that angered her even more.

"Am I or am I not a part of this defense team?  " "she challenged.

"If I am," she continued without Waiting for his answer, "then I should
have some say in how this investigation should proceed."

"You do have some say," he replied.  He raked ah and over his hair in
frustration.  I've not only listened to you but taken most of your
suggestions.  But this is just one instance.  where we don't agree.  "
At her stormy face, he added, "Craig is in no condition to handle the
kind of badgering Norris would subject him to.  Besides, I don't think
Norris knows anything."


Taylor shook her head.

"Yes, she does!  You, Hawk and I are the only people that had an idea
that she might be blackmailing someone and we haven't said anything to
anyone.

But Norris knows about it."

"Okay," Steele admitted reluctantly.

"I grant you, she may know something, but whatever it is, it's sketchy
or she wouldn't be trying to cut a deal with us.  She'd be blab bering
it all over network television.  She's only interested in ratings, not
justice."

"I know that!"  she snapped.  The man could try a saint.

"But because she's interested in ratings, she wants to milk this story
for all it's worth.  Working with us would give her greater mileage
with any story."

"We don't need Norris.  We're perfectly capable of figuring out the
identity of Allison's blackmail victim all by ourselves."

"I wish I had your faith."

"Faith has nothing to do' with it.  It's the only logical thing to
do.

We have no way of knowing where Norris got her information.  Her
producers are known for paying for information and they don't care how
it's obtained, either.  We are, not only Craig's attorneys but officers
of the court.  We can't compound a felony or put Craig at risk by using
stolen information.  " Everything he said was true.  But .  if Norris
really did know something, it meant that someone other than Craig was
probably the killer; that knowledge alone would certainly give her some
peace of mind.  It also meant that she wouldn't have to worry about the
police or some reporter getting wind of the family's medical history.

But she couldn't go against Steele's wishes.  Then it hit her.  She
could stake out the reporter's house and the television station--follow
her around.

l~{aybe Norris would lead her to her source.  Steele didn't have to
know.

And if she was right, then she could get the information without having
to deal directly with Norris.  If she was wrong, then she wouldn't have
compromised the ease in any way.

15 I

Steele must have construed her silence as acceptance.  He looked at her
and smiled.

"Let's not talk about Norris anymore," he said.

He was right, she thought.  There was no point in discussing the matter
further.  She knew what she was going to do, but now that was behind
them, she didn't know what to talk about.  She felt a little
self-conscious sitting so close to him on the sofa.

"I thing I'll make some coffee," she said.

But before she could move, Steele took her by the shoulders and turned
her to face him.

"Coffee is not what I want," he said smoothly, trapping her eyes with
his so she was unable to look away.

Her heart began to beat erratically as she tried to think of something
to say to ease the sexual tension--but her mind was totally blank.  The
way he was looking at her .  those hazel eyes of his.  that soft,
seductive voice.

Taylor felt heat rippling through her, which, paradoxically, made her
shiver.

"I've a better idea," he said.  His voice was low and husky.

"Why don't we continue where we left off before we were interrupted?"
He looked into her eyes and smiled.

"I think I had my arms around your waist like Taylor felt all her body
hairs stand erect as his arms slid around her waist; drawing her
close.

"And you had your arms around my neck."  As if her body had a mind of
its own, she placed her arms around his neck.

"Good."  He smiled.

"And I was kissing you... like this."  His lips lowered onto hers, and
she felt Iris tongue lightly probing.  HIS left hand tangled in the
hair that cascaded down her back and anchored her lips to his in a
ravenous kiss that left her breathless,.  wanting more.

She could only draw in a quick, unsteady breath, then give herself up
to the pleasure that coursed through her.  Twinors shook her body as
his lips left hers and moved down the length of her slim neck and into
the hollow of her throat.


"You taste so good," he whispered raggedly into her throat.

"Sweet.

Just like honey.  " "Oh, Steele," she moaned.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not?"  he whispered, dropping a series of slow, shivery kisses
along her neck.

"Don't you like the way I make you feel?"

"Yes ... but maybe..."  She straggled to make the words come out, but
none came.  She was lost in a world of pleasurable sensations.

"No maybe."  His breath was hot and sweet on her neck as he blazed a
path of kisses 'toward her ear.  Then he began to nibble on her
earlobe, and shivers of delight swept through her.  Gently he eased her
down onto the sofa, then removed his jacket and dropped it to the
floor.  He pulled her back into his arms and took her mouth again.

"Steele," she moaned.  She was breathing heavily, panting and gripping
him tightly, her fingers running up and down his back, caressing the
nape of his neck and stroking the thick black hair.

"Please don't stop."

The hard thrust of his tongue between her teeth cut off her pleas.

His tongue thrust deeply into her mouth, finding and caressing hers.

HIS mouth was hot and in-toxicafingly sweet.  She returned his l~iss
fiercely, and the kiss went on and on.

Finally he lifted his head and pulled her arms from around his neck to
slide them down his chest.

"Touch me," he said, looking into her eyes.  Her hands sliding up and
down his chest made his erect flesh strain even more tightly against
the confinement of his slacks.  He ignored the harsh m~gency of his
sex, knowing that things were moving too quickly.  But he was powerless
to call a halt to their lovemaking.

"Oh, God, I want you," he said, his voice deep and husky.  As he spoke,
he drew her closer to him, molding her soft body to his.  She could
feel his arousal against her lower body and pulled back.

But he misinterpreted her action.

"Yes, baby, I know," he said in a voice husky with desire, shifting his
position and sitting up.

"Let's go' into the bedroom."  He clasped her hand in his, interlocking
their fingers in a possessive lover's gesture.

"Steele, no."  Taylor pulled her hand away, a mixture of anxiety and
anticipation bubbling within her.  He wanted her and she wanted him.

But it wasn't that simple.  She wasn't free to give in to her feelings,
fall in love like other people.  God, she would dearly love to pretend
she was a normal woman and lose herself in the pleasure of his arms.
But no matter how she might wish it, she thought sadly, it could never
be and she might as well accept it.

"No," she repeated with conviction.  She squared her shoulders and sat
up straighter, forcing herself to meet his passion-filled eyes.  What
happened was a miataIce," she said, struggling to keep her voice
steady.

"I like you, Steele, but I want you as a friend, not as a lover.  I'm
not interested in anything more."

Steele raked a hand over his hair.

"I want to be friends with you, too, Taylor.  But I see no reason to
place artificial barriers around our feelings.  We're strongly
at-traeted to each other.  Why deny those feelings?  If we have the
makings for something more than friendship, then I say we go for it."

"But I don't want more, Steele.  All I 'want is to be friends, okay?"

No, it wasn't okay, Steele thought.  He'd been with enough women to
know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.  But for some reason she
was putting up walls to prevent any meaningful relationship from
breaking through.  He had news for her, though--he wasn't about to
settle for just friendship.

But he didn't want to scare her away, either, so he decided to back
off--for now.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to come on so strong."


He stood and walked over to the bar in the corner, poured himself a
drink and downed it in one swallow.  He turned to Taylor.

"Want one?"

"Yeah.  I think that would be a good idea."  She came over and took the
offered glass.  Then she crossed the carpeted living room and continued
out onto the balcony, looking out on the city.  The night was warm and
balmy.

A slight sound alerted her, and she turned to see Steele cross the
balcony to stand behind her.  He slipped his arm around her waist and
pulled her back against him.  For a long time neither of them said
anything.  Surprisingly, though, it was a comfortable s'fience.

Finally he turned her to face him.  He looked into her eyes and
smiled.

"We'll play it your way for now, but I'm not giving up.  I guess if you
aren't going to let me make love to you, then we might as well get some
work done.  C'mon, let's talk about what we need to do tomorrow."

ST~La GLA~C~ at his watch again.  Where the hell was Taylor?  It wasn't
like her to be late.  He frowned.  Maybe she was upset about last
night.  But as quickly as the idea crossed his mind, he was discarding
it.  He'd come on strong, but she had assured him she wasn't angry with
him and they'd ended the evening on a pleasant note.  No, that wasn't
it.  She'd probably gotten fled up in court.

He thought back to the night before.  They probably should take it
slow.  He was just learning to trust his instincts and he sensed she
was, too.  But God, he wanted her.  He wanted to scream in
frustration.

Every time he thought about her, looked at her, touched her, his body
gave him hell.

He sighed and picked up Hawk's investigative report, which detailed the
work to date.  He quickly skimmed the portion relating to Harold
Lamden's suidde, then turned to the section on the senator.  Denning
was reputed to be in the pocket of several corporate supporters.

Whether this rumour was just partisan politics or actual fact only some
heavy-duty investigating would determine.  Hawk indicated he'd asked a
friend to check it out.  On the issue of an affair, he'd gotten
O'Rourke and another fora e{[ staffer to.  ~admit that a couple of
years back Denning had an affair with Allison.  He'd also found a motel
clerk in.  a lit, t!  e, town outside Chicago~who was willing to swear
mat ned seen Denning with a woman matching Allison's description.  But
that was the only good news.  Hawk had found nothing to connect the
money in Allison's account to Denning or, for that matter, to Daniel
Ridgeway.

From all accounts, Ridgeway was a quiet churchgoing man, well-liked and
respected by people in the community.  At the time of the murder, he
claimed he was driving back to Chicago from a business meeting in
Detroit.  Hawk was in the process of verifying Ridgeway's, as well as
Denning's alibis.

The next section of the report was devoted to Ted Larson.  Hawk had
been able to trace him back about three years, when he'd changed his
name from Gary Lewis to Ted Larson.  He'd also changed his birth date
and social-security number.  However, Hawk had been able to find his
former birth date and social-security number, but those numbers. proved
to be false, as well.  No doubt Gary Lewis was also an alias. What the
hell was Larson hiding?  Steele wondered.

But Hawk was one of the best PIs in the business.  If there was
anything there, he'd find it.  For now all Steele could do was focus on
building Craig's legal defense, which from all accounts was not going
to be easy.  The prosecution had a mountain of circumstantial evidence
against him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the jingling of the phone, and he
reached for it with reluctance.

"Yes," he said wearily.

"It's Senator Denning," his secretary said.

"He'd like to talk to you."

" Denning?  He didn't believe in coincidence; maybe Hawk was on to
something.

"Putshim through."  He waited until he heard a click, then said with as
much

heartiness as he could muster, "Senator.  What can I do for you?"

Steele rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him till he
found a legal pad with some empty pages.

"I was wondering if you could meet with me this morning.  Say elevenish
at the Maryland Care?  I have some information about Craig Barrett that
may have some bearing on his wife's murder."

First Norris, now Denning.  Suddenly everyone had information about the
case, he thought, but aloud he said, "The Maryland Cafe is fine.
Elevenish."

"Good.  I'll see you there, Mr.  Steele."

He stared at the phone.  Now what kind of information could Denning
have about Craig?  If he thought it was important, it couldn't be good
news.

He picked up the phone and called Taylor's office again, only to be
told she still wasn't back, He lowered the receiver back in the cradle
and frowned.

Where the hell was she?

"TAYLOR, MR.  STEELE has been trying to reach you all morning," Brenda
said, following her into the office.  "Should I tell him you're
back?"

Taylor stared at the p'des of work on her desk.  Damn!  She'd hoped to
have time to at least go through that morning's correspondence before
meeting with Steele.  She'd spent the morning shadowing Norris, but
hadn't learned anything.

"Tell him I'll be down shortly," she said absently.  She'd already
started going through her correspondence, deciding what she needed to
act on and what could wait.

"George Avery called again," her secretary said.

"He said he really would like to talk to you."

She sighed.  She didn't have time for this.

"Tell Matt to call him.

Then I want you to pull the Patterson file"-- A knock on the opened
door had both women staring at the man in the doorway.

"I hope I haven't come at a bad time," Detective Donaldson said as he
sauntered into the room.

Taylor looked again at the mountain of~ work of her desk and issued a
silent groan.

"I can spare you a few minutes."  She pointed to the chair in front of
her desk, then sat down herself.

"I'm here because I want to lay my cards on the table," Donaldson
began.

Taylor leaned back in her chair and studied the detective.  "What is
this?  A variation of 'you show me yours.  I'll show you mine'?"

He threw her a sour look.

"Cute.  Look, Ms.  Quinlan, you strike me as a reasonable person."

"Thanks," I think.  " "Why don't we save ourselves, not to mention the
taxpayers, a lot of hassle.

If Barrett would just admit he killed his wife, I think I can get the
prosecutor to accept a murder-two plea.  I'll even recommend that he be
sent to one of our less violent state prisons.  Hell, with good
behavior, he'll be eligible for parole before I collect my pension."

She laughed.

"That's in about ten, fifteen years?"  He nodded.

"That doesn't sound like much of a deal to me, especially when you
consider Craig is innocent."

Donaldson shook his head.

"Come on, Ms.  Quinlan, there's just you and me here now.  Barrett is
guilty as sin, and you know it."

Taylor's heart nearly jumped in her throat.  He knew!  No!  No!  He
couldn't know.  Don't lose it, she admonished herself.  She schooled
her features to look calm as he continued to speak and when he did, she
knew she'd overreacted.

"Maybe if you hadn't been around that Michael Steele so long, you'd see
reason.  I'm willing" -- "Did I hear my name?"  Steele asked, stepping
into the room.

"Detective Donaldson, you're looking well.  How nice of you to drop by
to see us."

"Cut the crap!"  Donaldson snarled.


Steele's eyes widened in mock surprise.

"This isn't a social visit?"

"He came to offer us a deal," Taylor explained calmly.  She took a
moment to outline his proposal.

"Murder two for a guilty plea."

"Better take it now," the detective said coldly.

"I'm not going to be such a nice guy after I nail Barrett's butt."

"You don't have anything," Steele challenged, leaning againnt the
corner of Taylor's desk.

Donaldson stood.

"Maybe not enough now, but soon.  And when I arrest Barrett, no amount
of money is going to get him out of this.  You can count on it."

As soon as he was out of the room, Taylor turned to Steele.

"What was that about?"

Steele shrugged' offhandedly "He's fishing, trying to determine what
chink.~ exist in our case and intimidate us.  But if he's playing that
kind of game, his case against Craig can't be that strong."

"That may be," Taylor sighed.

"But I bet it's stronger than ours."

D~U~UN~ WAS LATE.  Steele and Taylor sat in a booth in the back of the
Maryland Cafe sipping coffee.

"You think he got cold feet?"  Taylor asked, glancing about the
diner.

"I don't know, but we'll give him five minutes more, then we're out of
here."

The two women sitting across from them looked as if they'd just gotten
in from the night before--working girls, he thought.

Farther down from them was an older man who was talking to him Steele
swore under his breath.

"It's not that bad."  Taylor laughed.

"I can think of a lot worse places he could have asked us to meet
him."

"Okay."  He smiled, looking at Taylor sitting across from him.  All his
displeasure at Denning's tardiness faded' at the sight of her smiling
face.

God, she was lovely.

"I guess I'm just a little on edge."  He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I reviewed Hawk's latest investigative report.  We have a number of
suspects and a theory, but nothing that exonerates Craig."  He looked
at her and smiled.

"The only bright spot in the day thus far is the fact that I've got you
to help me handle this meeting.  Though for a while there, I thought I
might have to come alone.  Where were you?"

"Oh, I had a few things to do," she said vaguely.  "What do you think
Denning wants to talk about?"

Steele shrugged.

"He claims he has some information about Craig.

Somehow I don't see him as the magnanimous type, so it can't be good. "
"We're about to find out," she said, looking at something behind him.

He turned and saw Denning coming toward them.

Steele's eyes narrowed as he took in the senator's attire.  He was
wearing a jogging suit and sweatband and carrying a backpack.  No
doubt, his idea of a disguise.  Denning gave them both toothpaste
smiles as he squeezed in the booth next to Taylor.  Steele looked him
over.  He looked smug.  He was up to something.

"I'm glad you could see me."  He propped his arms on the table.

"We'll have to make this quick, I have a League of Women Voters
luncheon in a little over an hour."  Steele gave him a sour look.

"You said you had information regarding Allison's murder," Taylor
prompted.

Denning nodded once, then leaned forward and spoke in a quiet tone.

"Before I say anything, I want your word ~'that you'll call off your
private investigator."

"You have nothing to be afraid of if you're clean."

"That's beside the point," Denning hissed.

"I have political enemies who will say anything to stop my bid for
governor.

I'm afraid your PI.  won't be able to separate the truth from the lies.
He's also making some of my supporters nervous, I want you to call him
off--stop this witch-hunt."


Several people looked at their table.  Denning glanced nervously about
the room, then lowered his voice.

"You know what I mean."

Steele speared him with a hard look.

"Senator, you know what you have to do to stop it."

"Okay," Denning said, then issued a frustrated sigh.  "Allison and I
had an affair.  Is that what you want to hear?  I admit it, but it's
been over for more than two years."

"Is that why you let her stay in your condo?  Because she was
blackmailing you?"

"Of course not!"  he sputtered.

"I was just trying to help an old friend."

That Steele found hard to believe.

Denning set his backpack on the table.

"I've got the videotape from the surveillance camera outside Allison's
condo from the night of the murder~ It shows a tall black man entering
then leaving the condo about the time the murder is supposed to have
occurred."  Denning ~'pped opened the backpack, pulled out alarge
manila folder and handed it to Steele.

Steele opened the folder and took out a videotape and several
photographs.

He skimmed the pictures, but as far as he could see, they didn't
identify anyone or tell them anything they didn't already know.  He
handed them to Taylor, then looked at Denning and shrugged.

"I assume there's a point to this."

Denning looked at him as if he were the village idiot.  "These pictures
were taken the night of the murder," he said.  Then he moved his finger
along the bottom of the photos.

"The time the pictures were taken is listed on each frame."  He tapped
one particular photo.

"This is the man that killed Allison."

Steele read the time listed at the bottom of the picture.  According
to.

this, it had been taken at eleven twenty'I thought we could make a
deal," ~ Denning whispered.  "You don't say anything about uh, me and
Aliison, and I, ll give you the tape and the pictures.  You can do
whatever you like with them."

"Why would I want them?"  Steele asked coolly.

Denning looked as if he was go'ms to have a stroke.

"Because that's your client in those photographs!"

"You think that's Craig?"  he asked lazily.

Denning's blue eyes narrowed.

"I don't need to say it, Mr.-Steele.

~The pictures speak for themselves.  " "Yes, they do," Steele said
calmly.  He leaned back against the booth.

"You know, the police have been looking for this tape.  I would ad~
vise you to turn it in as soon as posm~le, and you'd better have a good
reason for having it in your possession."

"Now, look!"  Denning glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice
to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not
bluffing."

Steele stared him down.

"Neither am I," he said coldly.

"I would also advise you to tell them about the affair, If we uncovered
it, so will the police' and the press."

The senator stood.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."  He scooped up the.  tape and pictures
and stomped away.

The moment Denning was out of hearing range, Taylor looked at him,
frowning.

"Why didn't you take them?  We could have made copies, then taken them
to the police."

"It could have been a setup.  Also it seems to me that if he admitted
that readily to an affair, if Allison was blackmailing hit the basis
for the blackmail may have been something entirely different."

Surprised, Taylor looked at him.

"Like what?"  Steele shrugged.

"I

don't know, but Hawk must he on to something.  Denning's scared
stiff.

I thought for a moment there he was going to have a stroke.  " Taylor
nodded.

"Speaking of strokes," she said.


"If I don't get some food soon, I just might have one my self."  She'd
wanted to get an early start on tailing Norris and hadn't had time for
breakfast.

Steele grinned.

"So where do you want to go?"

"What's wrong with here?"  she asked, glancing about the diner.

"The food looks pretty good."  Steele gave her a skeptical look but
didn't say anything.

They had finished lunch and were chatting over coffee when Taylor
noticed a very determined woman headed their way.

"Oh, no," Taylor groaned, "Vanessa Norris.  How did she know we were
here?"

He shrugged.

"She must have been in the office when you called to tell Brenda where
we were.  I wouldn't" -- He broke off as the woman in question came
within earshot.

"Mr.  Steele.  Ms.  Quinla~..  I was hoping to run into the two of
you."

Steele crossed his arms over his chest.

"I thought I made it clear last night, we're not interesting in
anything you have to say."

Norris ignored the remark.

"Just give me five minutes, that's all I ask," she said, sliding in the
booth next to him.

"Save your breath," Steele said coolly.

"I don't think you've got anything, and if you did, I would question
the veracity of the information."

"I'll have you know I'm a first-i/ate investigative reporter," Norris
said heatedly.

"I was ferreting out information long before I became a talk-show
host."  She lowered her voice and leaned forward.

"So what if we occasionally pay for information?  As long as the
information is good, what's the harm?  I'm not saying that's how I came
across the information about Allison Barrett.  Let's just say I got
lucky."  She glanced over her shoulder then back to them.

"Let's talk turkey.

Allison Barrett had over three hundred thousand dollars in her savings
account.  " She scanned their faces.

"Don't bother to deny it.  I know it's true.

I also know she didn't get that money based on her sparkling
personality.  " She gave them an expectant look.

When they didn't say anything, she said, "Look, if we pool our efforts,
I think we can all benefit."

Steele gave her a cool look.

"Okay, you've had your say.  Now we'd like to get back to our lunch."

Norris 1ookeA into his set face and must have de~ided it was useless to
argue with him.  She shrugged her shoulders, but instead of leaving,
she leaned over and whispered,

"Look, to show you that I really do want to help, I'll give you a
clue."

She made a show of looking over her shoulder before whispering, "Look
for the sheepin wolf's clothing, and you'll find your killer."


Chapter Nine Norris's cryptic comment haunted Taylor.  Steele had
shrugged it off as simply a ploy to make them think she really knew
something.  He'd even pointed out that Norris hadn't correctly stated
the old adage, which was, A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing.

Taylor didn't agree but knew it would he fruitless to argue.  His mind
was made up and so was hers.  She'd quickly made up an excuse about a
meeting with a client that she'd forgotten about and scurried out of
the diner.  She was going to stick with Norris and find out if the
reporter really was on to anything.

But as the hours ticked by with no movement from Norris since she'd
gone inside the television station, her resolve began to waver.  What
am I doing here?  she wondered.  Mayhe Steele was right.  Mayhe Norris
didn't know anything.  She hadn't offered one shred of evidence to
support her claim.

Was she simply grasping at straws.  9 Perhaps she was willing to accept
someone lacking in credibility like Norris because it meant she didn't
have to confront her real fears--that Craig was guilty or that she
would have to tell Steele about her family's medical history.  She
hadn't thought so, but the mind could play tricks on you.  She thought
back to the night before.

Hadn't she almost convinced herself that she could have a relationship
with Steele?

She sigbed and thought about Steele.  No doubt he was on his way to see
Larson right now.  God, she ought to he with him, not wasting time on
some wild-goose chase.  She glanced at her watch.  If she hurried, she
could still participate in the interview.  She turned on the ignition,
but instead of pulling away.  she sat still.  What if Norris did know
something?  an tuner voice whispered.  She-leaned back against the seat
rest, torn.  Should she go or should she stay?

As if her troubled thoughts had conjured up the woman in question,
Norris walked out of the station.  Tayloris heart began to pump as she
watched the reporter climb into her Mazda, pull out of the parking lot
and head south.

From years of watching cop shows on television, she knew the trick was
to stay close to the quarry, but not too close.  She timed her progress
to ensure that she wouldn't get stuck at a red light while the Mazda
cruised on down the street; Once or twice she let another vehicle slip
in between her Toyota and Norris's Mazda.

She was certain she had not revealed herself.  Norris made no attempt
to shake her pursuit, no sudden stops or un signaled turns.

The Mazda hooked south onto Cermack and turned onto the Clan Ryan
Expressway.

She drove for about thirty minutes.  The Southtown Shopping Mall was
just ahead.

Norris guided her car into the mall parking lot and pulled in next to a
maroon sedan.  Taylor drove passed slowly, risking a sidelong glance
just as Norris was opening the car door.

Could this be Norris'$ informant?  she wondered as she found a parking
space in the opposite lane.

She watched Norris in the rearview mirror as she got into the maroon
car.

The driver was a man, but his back was to her so she couldn't see his
face.

Even though the car windows were down, they were too far away for her
to hear what was being said, but she could tell from the man's body
language that he

was upset.  They talked for about five minutes, then Norris abruptly
climbed out and got back into her car.

Taylor watched as Norris pulled ~)ut of the lot; the maroon sedan
followed.

She was about to join the procession when she saw Hawk Longtree's Jeep
cruising the lane.  She ducked down.  God, she hoped he hadn't seen
her; When she looked up again, he was gone, but so were Norris and the
maroon car.

Where could they have gone?  she wondered.  Wherever it was, it
wouldn't be a place where they would be readily observed.  They'd want
privacy.  Meeting in a parking lot was a good indication of that.  She
chewed her lower lip as a million places sprang to mind, bat driving
aimlessly around was pointless.

She sighed.  She might as well head' back to the television station.
She'd wait there an hour: If Norris didn't return, she'd call it
quits.

STEELE LEANED against the doorframe of the weight-training room of the
Lake Shore Country Club watching Larson put a cute little blonde
through a weight lifting program.  She was lying on a~bench with a
small barbell in each hand.

Larson stood behind her, ready to help if she got into trouble.
However, it seemed to Steele that he 'went out of his way to' touch or
brush up against the blonde.  It was probably just as well Taylor
hadn't come with him, he thought.  Larson would flirt outrageously with
her, and he wasn't sure he would be able to contain himself this
time.

He frowned, thinking again of Taylor's behavior.  He couldn't believe
she'd passed up the opportunity to question Larson, not when she'd been
so adamant about questioning him again.  It didn't make sense.

Her behavior was totally out of character, or at least what he knew of
her.

Again he wondered if his behavior the night before had upset her and
again he found himself dismissing it.

Just then Larson spotted him and came over.

"I'd hoped I'd seen the last of you," he said, his voice surly.

"Now, that pretty co-counsel of yours can bother me anytime."

Steele held his temper when all he wanted to do was smash his fist into
the younger man's face.

"Is there some place we can talk?"

Larson's eyebrows drew downward in a frown.  "why are you hounding
me?

I've told you everything I know.  " Without waiting for an answer, he
walked over to a Soft-drink machine in the corner, inserted some coins,
then made his selection.

"I guess I was mistaken," Steele said coolly.

"I thought you really cared about Allison."

Larson's head whipped around.

"Don't try to lay a guilt trip on me."

"I wouldn't dare.  But I must admit, you had me going there for a
while.  You almost had me convinced that you and is," igon were
friends, but I guess she was just another client to you after all.  "
For a moment Larson seemed to waver, and Steele took advantage of that
moment of indecision.

"You know," he said, "what's sad about all this is Allison herself.
She's the victim.  But she has no one to make sure she isn't forgotten.
The police are focusing all their time and money on Craig.  It may take
a little while, but I'm going to clear him.  By theo the trail is going
to be so cold, the police will never find Allison's murderer." He gave
Larson a hard look.

"I don't know how you can sleep at night knowing that you didn't lift a
finger to' help apprehend her killer."  Steele turned and was about to
walk away.

"Wait," Larson said.

"We can talk in the lounge."  when they were seated, Steele got right
to it.

"I believe you and Allison were close," he began.

"You seem to have known her longer and better than anyone else.  During
all that time, she must have confided in you, told you about the
blackmail."

Larson gulped his drink and looked everywhere but at Steele.


"You don't have to answer.  I can tell from your reaction you knew."

Larson's gaze shifted guiltily away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled.

"You were always around," Steele continued.

"Everyone thought it was because the two of you were having an affair,
but I think there was more to it than that."  It was just a hunch, but
from Larson's reaction, he knew he'd hit the mark.

"I don't know what yot~ mean," Larson said, but Steele noticed the tiny
bead of sweat on his upper lip.

"Then let me see if I can clarify it for you.  Isn't it true that the
two of you were always together because you were plotting your
blackmail scheme?"

"Of course not!"  Larson spluttered.

"I wasn't blackmailing anyone!"

"Maybe not."  Steele shrugged.

"But you're implicated up to your neck in Allison's blackmail scheme.
By the time our investigating is concluded we'll have enough evidence
to present to the police for you to be charged as an accessory in
Allison's crime.  If you want to deal now is the 'time."

For a long time Larson didn't say anything.

"Okay."  He sighed finally.

"I knew about the blackmail but I didn't have anything to do with it. I
tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen."

He slumped back in his seat.

"She didn't need to go that route.  We already had a good thing going."
At Steele's look of inquiry, he said,

"She was an attractive woman.  There are a lot of men who will pay for
a pretty woman's time."

Steele nodded.

"What was your role in all this?"

"I'd find the mark, find out as much as I could about him, then pass
the information on to Allison.  She'd use it to approach and hook him.
We'd split the money, fifty-fifty."  He threw Steele a quick look.

"The guy's ego was flattered, and we were a little richer.  No one was
hurt, and there was certainly nothing illegal about what we did."

Perhaps not technically, Steele thought, but it was certainly
immoral.

"It started about three years ago," Larson continued.  "There were
several men before Denning, but he was our first big score.  After him
there were a couple of other businessmen, and then we targeted Barrett.
With him, though, she changed the rules."

Steele nodded.

"She married him."

"I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen.  She said that
as Mrs.  Craig Ba,~t.t, she could get her hands on more money than we d
ever seen."  His voice broke.

"It was only supposed to lasta few months."

"And then she was to move on to Gordon Ridge-way?"  Steele prompted.

Larson nodded, then looked at Steele, his expression bleak.

"Allison was beautiful.  She didn't have to resort to blackmail to get
what she wanted from a man."

"But," Steele interrupted, "she got greedy and began to blackmail the
men she'd been involved with."

I. arson nodded again.

"She went after Denning.  I told her he was trouble, but she wouldn't
listen."

"What did she have on him?"

He ran a hand over his face.

"During some pillow talk, he made an off, the-cuff comment about one of
his camg aign contributors, a poultr~ company.  It wasn't much, ut it
stuck in the back of her mind.  About six months g o, I did some
digging and found a couple of trans aeons between the senator and the
owner of Caravan Foods that could be considered kickbacks and political
bribes."

Steele whistled.  No wonder' the senator was willing to admit to an
affair; that was the least of his problems.  Even if there was no proof
of wrongdoing, the mere hint of it could be enough to destroy his
career.  And if it was true, then the senator was not just facing
political ruin but some serious jail time.  He certainly had reason for
wanting Allison dead.

"BLACKMAIL!"


Senator Denning gave a loud guffaw but without any amusement.

"That's not a very nice word."

"But it's a great motive for murder," Steele said calmly.

"Ted Larson says Allison was blackmailing you, that she had information
that suggested you were taking kickbacks from Caravan Foods in exchange
for your power and influence on legislation regulating the poultry
industry."

"The man's a liar!"  Denning said with suddefi heat, his face deepening
in color.

"Why would Larson lie?"  Steele asked.

"How should I know why he's lying?  He just is."  Anger and fear were
seeping out of every pore of the senator's face.

"Even if it is a lie, we both know the press and your opponent would
have a field day with it," Steele said calmly.

"You couldn't afford Allison and now Larson to go public with that kind
of allegation."

"He's going public?"  Senator Denning stood abruptly.  He strode up and
down, agitated.  '~"You've got to stop him!  He can't say anything." He
paused in his pacing and gave Steele a pleading look.

"None of what she claimed is true."

"Convince me, Senator.  You have my word, if your alibi holds up, I'll
do everything in my power to keep your name out of this."

Denning slumped wearily into a nearby chair.

"I guess I have to trust you are a man of your word."  All the anger
had gone out of him.

"Allison was rotten to the core," he said.

"Whenever I think of her, I think of a black widow spider.  BeaUtiful
and charming on the outside, but inside she was actually a cold,
calculating woman, a scheming bitch who didn't care who she hurt to get
what she wanted."

"And what did she want?"

"Money," he said bluntly.

"Lots of it."

"Go on," Steele said.

"Allison had the most horrible pair of ears in the world.  She heard
everything and she forgot nothing.  She would encourage you to talk,
get you to tell her about your thoughts, your feelings, your
background: I thought she was the most attentive, sympathetic listener
in the world, but what she was really doing was colleering information
she could use against me later.

"She'd pick up every piece of gossip, every little thing from lots of
different people and then she'd start correlating them, putting them
all~ together fitting them into a pattern until gradually she knew more
about you than you could possibly realize."  He paused, then ran his
hand over his face.

"She accused me of political wrongdoing.  I'd done nothing wrong, but
she didn't care.  She threatened to go to the press.  I had no choice
but to pay her off."

"How much did she want for her silence?"

"A half million.  But I couldn't get my hands on that kind of money, so
I gave her the condo.  We agreed that I'd sign it over to her after her
divorce was final.  For a while she left.  me alone, then a few weeks
before the murder, her demands for money started all over again.  She
said this would be the last time.  I had to believe her."

He sighed.  "I began to quietly liquidate certain assets.  When I got
the money together, I sent her that note you found at her condo.  I
didn't want her calling me, so we agreed the note would be the signal
that" -- "Wait a minute," Steele interrupted.

"That note didn't arrive until after she was murdered.  Are you telling
me you didn't make the payoff?"

Denning nodded.

"That's right.  She was murdered the day before I was to deliver the
money to-her."

Steele's eyes widened.  If the money in Allison's account hadn't come
from Denning, then who had given it to her?

DARKNESS HAD DESCENDED by the time Taylor pulled up in front of the
television station.  Her heart leapt when she saw the red Mazda and the
maroon sedan parked out front.  She smiled wryly; while she'd been
racking her brain, trying to figure out where they had gone, Norris and
her visitor had gone back to the station.


Now what?  she wondered.  She couldn't sit out here indefinitely.
First because the area wasn't all that safe.  Second, and more
important, she needed to see what Norris and the mysterious man were up
to.

Maybe even get a look at ~him.  But she couldn't just march into the
station.

No doubt there was a. security guard in the lobby.

As she sat there trying to decide what to do, a van bearing the
station's name pulled up and parked in front of her.  She watched as
two men and a woman walked around to the back, opened the rear hatch
and began unloading camera equipment.  That's it!  she thought.  When
the reporter and camera crew walked into the station, she'd walk in
with them.  With any luck, the guard would assume she was with them.

She gave them a moment's head start, then she was out of her car,
hurrying after them.  She drew a deep breath and entered the building
on the heels of the trio.  She wasn't sure what she'd have said to the
security guard if he had stopped her, but luckily he didn't.  When she
was a few feet from the guard station, she separated from the group.
Glancing over her shoulder, she walked quickly over to the building
directory, located Norris's office number, then stepped into an
elevator.

The elevator came to a stop and opened with a quiet swoosh on the fifth
floor.  Taylor stepped off and moved cautiously through a set of double
doors leading into a suite of offices.  She listened for the sound of
voices but heard nothing.  The place looked deserted, but that couldn't
be.  There were people still working in some of these offices, so she
had to be careful not to let anyone see her.

She moved cautiously down the corridor, looking for Norris's office.

About midway down, she came to a smoked~ glass door.  Next to the door
was a small wooden nameplate, proclaiming this to be Vanessa Norris's
office.  She pressed her ear as close to the door as possible,
listening for sounds inside.  Either they were whispering or there was
no one inside.  Taylor knocked once on the glass door.  When she
received no answer, she turned the knob and stuck her head inside.

"Ms.  Norris?"

She was greeted with silence.  She slipped into the room, pulling the
door closed behind her.  Her eyes quickly swept the room, noticing a
number of file cabinets, a desk, a chair and a narrow band of light
coming from an open doorway in~ one corner of the room.  From where she
stood; the room looked vacant.  She ran over to the file cabinets and
began rummaging through, looking for anything that remotely resembled
information on Allison's murder.

There was nothing.  She crossed the room to Norris's desk.  It was
littered with papers as if she'd been working on a story and had been
called away.

Taylor took a few minutes to go through them before moving on to the
desk drawers, all the while keeping one eye trained on the door.  Again
there was nothing.  She was just about to leave when she noticed
Norris's computer was on.

The screen was blank, but the cursor was blinking.  She wondered if
Norris had been called away after deleting the document she'd been
working on.  If she'd been in a rush, then maybe she'd used the Delete
key, which meant if she hadn't touched the computer after she'd deleted
the document, it could be retrieved.  She closed her eyes and said a
silent prayer as she pressed the Redo button.  When she opened them,
the screen was filled with text.  In.

the second line, the name Harold Lainden jumped out at her!

There was no time to read.  She looked quickly toward the door.  Norris
might return any moment.  She sent the document to print, then deleted
it from the computer's memory.

She ran over to the printer.  Her heart pounded fiercely as first one
page then the next came out of the printer, her eyes all the while
darting from the door to the printer.  As soon as the last page
printed, she stuffed the pages in her shoulder bag.

She was just about to leave when she heard someone moving about in the
corridor outside and saw the outline of a person on the other side of
the door.  Norris!


Panic clawed at her.  She quickly shut off the printer and tried to
think of a plausible explanation for being in the reporter's office.

Her heart raced as she waited for the door to open, but nothing
happened.

Norris just stood there, saying nothing, as if she was stating in.  But
Taylor knew you couldn't see through the smoked-glass door.

"Ms.  Nords?"  she called.  She took a step toward the door, then
something made her stop.

"Ms.  Nords?  Is that you?"  She frowned.  Why was Nords acting so
strangely?

Then she realized the figure was too tall and bulky to be the
reporter's.  To someone with an overactive imagination, it seemed huge
and black and menacing.

Taylor began to back away.  Suddenly two long arms went up, and the
hands splayed out against the glass.  Taylor's heart thudded in her
chest.  Stop it she chided herself.  It's just your imagination. You're
scaring yourself to death.  She shook her head, clearing the
frightening images from her mind.

"Ms.  Norris?"  she called again.

There was the faintest creak in answer.  Taylor looked down just in
time to see the doorknob turn.  The door was slowly moving inward!

A layer of cold sweat beaded on her skin as panic assailed her.

Hide!  an inner voice screamed.  Taylor backed up fast, bumping into a
chair, stumbling as her eyes darted around the room.  She turned and
ran toward the room with the light, slamming the door behind her.  It
was a bathroom, and there was no lock on the door.  She bit back a sob
as her eyes swept the tiny room.  There was just the sink, a stall and
a tiny window.  But the window was too high for someone of her small
stature to reach.  There was only one place to hide in the room.  a
stupid, useless place, a dead end.  She went to it anyway, pushing at
the stall door.  She pushed harder, but it wouldn't budge.

The heavy footsteps came closer.

Using the strength adrenaline was pumping into her veins, Taylor pulled
the door toward her instead of backward.  She knew she was saying
Steele's name over and over again, like a mantra, a prayer.

Suddenly the stall door jerked open.  But instead of running forward,
Taylor froze in terror.

Vanessa Norris was sitting, upright on the toilet, her knees together,
her hands folded primly on her lap, like a little girl dressed in her
Sunday best whose mother had told her to sit quietly.

She was wearing a short navy skirt, matching jacket and a white ruffled
blouse.  The faint scent of her expensive, spicy perfume mingled with
the stronger, mordant smell of blood.  Her throat had been cut from ear
to ear.

"Taylor," a male voice said from behind her.

She whirled around, fighting the scream that rose in her throat.


Chapter Ten Taylor opened her mouth to scream again before a familiar
voice penetrated her subconscious.

Strong hands grabbed both her arms.

"Taylor, it's me!  Steele!"

"Oh; God," she cried, falling into his arms.  She had never been so
glad to see anyone in her life.

"It's Norris.  She's dead."

Steele released her to inspect the body.  She kept her back turned, not
wanting to see, but over her shoulder she could see he was careful not
to touch anything.  When he was done, he took her into his arms.

She pressed her head.  against his shoulder, but she couldn't get the
ghastly sight of Norris out of her mind.  She felt lightheaded.  Oh,
Lord, Taylor thought as black spots flashed before her eyes and she
felt both hot and cold chills rack her body.  As if from a great
distance, she heard him say, "Let's get out of here and call the
poEverything after that was a blur: Steele's quick search of the room,
the call to the police and their subsequent arrival.  After a while the
fog that had engulfed her mind began to lift.

"Better?"  Steele asked, rubbing her back.  He'd taken her into
Norris's office and held her close, all the while whispering words of
comfort.

Taylor nodded from within the safety of his embrace, and looked about
the office.  Every light in the place was on, and several uniformed
officers were already swarming about in a methodical search for clues.
She watched as Detective Donaldson walked toward them.  He pulled up a
chair next to the sofa.

"Ms.  Quinlan, you feel like making a statement?"  he asked.  Even
though his request was formed in the nature of a question, she knew she
didn't have much choice.

She closed her eyes and drew adccp, 'ragged breath.

"I think so."

She felt Steele's arm tighten around her.

"Donaldson, Ms.  Quinlan has been subjected to quite a shock," he
said.

"Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't wait," Donaldson growled.

The two men squared off like prizefighters.

She placed her hand on Steele's arm.  He looked at her, his expression
one of concern.  She gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's okay."  She drew another deep breath.  "Frankly I'd like to get
this over with."

Donaldson pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Why don't we begin with your telling me what you were doing here?"

Taylor shifted slightly under his steady gaze and decided it was best
to stick as close to the truth as possible.  She'd tell him everything
except about following Norris and finding the document.  She dared not
look at Steele as she briefly explained that she'd stopped by in
response to a call from the reporter.  She could tell by the tension in
his body that later she was going to have a lot of questions to
answer.

"Did she give you any indication of what she ~wanted to talk about?"

"She said she had information about Allison's murder that would
exonerate Craig."

Donaldson gave her a sour look.

"Did you see anyone when you arrived?"

Taylor shook her head.

"No, but someone was here.  While I was waiting in here for Norris, I
heard

someone moving about in the corridor.  At first I thought it was Ms.
Norris, but the person's behavior was so bizarre, I got frightened and
was looking for a place to hide when I stumbled onto the body."

"But you didn't see who it was?"

She shook her head again.

"I'm sorry, but at the time I was too busy trying not to let him see
me."

She shuddered, remembering the terror she'd felt.  Steele's arm

"When I drove up," he said, "I saw a man run from the building and get
into a maroon sedan and drive away."  He glanced at Taylor, then back
at Donaldson.  "It looked like Daniel Ridgeway."

Taylor sucked in her breath.  Had it been Ridgeway that Norris had met
in the mall parking lot?

"Interesting."  The detective leaned back in his 'chair and regarded
Steele steadily.

"Now, why don't you tell me what you were doing here?"

"A friend of mine spotted Ms.  Quinlan's car parked out front and
called me.

He didn't think it wise for her to be in this part of town alone this
time of night."

For a moment Donaldson didn't say anything.  She was sure he was trying
to decide if he believed them or not.  Then the detective sighed, and
glanced at a uniformed officer who was waiting to talk with him.

Steele stood, pulling Taylor up with him.

"Donaldson, if you don't have any furthe~ questions, we'd like to go."
" At Donaldson's grunt, Steele wrapped his arm around her shoulders,
tucking her securely against his side.  Her pulse rate began to beat
double time.

She didn't know which was more unsettling--his nearness or the
overwhelming horror she'd felt within these walls.

Steele led her outside to his car.

"I'll.have Hawk drive your car to your place."  Instead of starting the
engine, he draped his arm over the back of the seat and turned toward
her.

"You've had a shock, so I'm not going to yell at you for that stunt you
pulled, but it's a good thing Hawk spotted you at the Southtown Mall
parking lot and called me."

"What was Hawk doing there?"

"He was tailing Daniel Ridgeway."  , He paused, and gave her a pointed
look.

"I had a good idea what you were up to and knew you would eventually
end up here.

I sent Hawk to talk-to Mr.  Jasper and came over here.  " " You think
Ridgeway killed.  Norris?  " she asked, " I don't know but I would like
to know why he was meeting with her.  " Steele sighed.

"There have been some developments since this afternoon that you should
know about."  He gave her a brief rundown of his meetings with Larson
and Denning.

"Allison may have been blackmailing Denning," he said, "but it doesn't
look as if he killed her."

"We only have his word that he didn't make the payoff," Taylor
contended.  .

Steele nodded.

"I know, but that's not the only reason I'm excluding him.  Hawk was
finally able to talk to the night watchman.  He confirms the senator's
story that he was in his office the night of the murder?"  He sighed
again.

"We're running out of suspects."

A cold shiver shook her.  No, she thought, they were not out of
suspects.

They were back to Craig.

Steele must have misread her reaction.  He threw her a concerned
look.

"I'd better get you home."

He was about to put the key in the ignition when she remembered the
documents.

"Wait," she said.  She pulled the papers out of her bag and laid them
on the seat be-tweefi them.

"This was in Norris's computer."

Steele looked from the pages to her.

"Do you know what this is?"  he asked.

"It's a copy of the police report on Harold Lamden's suicide."

TAYLOR LEANED BACK against the sofa and looked at Steele.

"I've read that report a half-dozen times, as well as studied the
police photographs, but I still don't see what it is that Norris saw,"
she said.


They wire in her living room, drinking coffee and discussing the
events of the evening.

Steele looked up from the notes he'd taken.

"It's a pretty standard police report," he said.

"There's the usual write-up of the case and investigative photographs,a
picture of Harold Lamden's body slumped over the steering wheel of his
car, photos of the interior rooms of his house.  Yet there must be
something in this document or the photographs that led Norris to
conclude Craig couldn't have killed Allison."

"Do you think she located his files?"

Steele shook his head.

"I don't think so.  She wouldn't have approached us if she had.  I
think she had a hunch."

Taylor sighed.

"I followed her around all day, and other than the meeting with
Ridgeway, I didn't observe her doing anything else connected with
Allison's murder.  And I did a fairly thorough search of her office,
and that report is the only thing I founds" Steele gave hera thoughtful
look.

"She may not have written down what she'd gleaned from these documents
or what she knew about Allison't murder.  But she apparently tipped her
hand to the killer.  It's the only plausible explanation for her
murder."

"I think you're right."

"I'll have Hawk try and retrace her steps for the last week or so,"

he said.

"Maybe if we can find out where she went, who she saw, we can identify
our killer.  In the meantime, let's go through the report again.  This
time let's compare Hawk's report on Lamden with Norris's."

They spent several hours studying the two reports until it was late.

Taylor was about ready to call it quits when Steele grabbed her arm.

"You know," he said slowly, "we may have been looking at this all
wrong.

We've assumed that because of Norris's murder, she must have been on to
something.  But Norris was an ambitious reporter, looking for a
sensational story.  But a story that related to Allison's murder. There
have been all kinds of allegations appearing in the media that are
nothing more than pure conjecture.  I don't think it would have been
too great a stretch for Norris to make the leap that Lainden hadn't
committed suicide but was murdered."

"There's no evidence to support~ that claim," she said, looking into
his handsome face.

"A suicide can be mistaken for murder and vice versa, especially when
the victim dies in this manner."  Steele laid the photographs on the
cocktail table.

"According to the police report, Lamden dropped a sleeping pill in a
glass of wine before he climbed into his car."

Taylor nodded.

"That's right."

"But there is no mention of a wine bottle being found in the car or
inside the house.  And there's no bottles in any of the photos.  Also
there's a bruise on Lamden's right ankle that couldn't be explained, as
well as a small grease spot on the back of his shirt, just above the
waistband of his slacks."  He pursed his lips.

"I think Norris was working on the theory that Lamden was the first
murder victim."

Taylor's eyes widened as his words sank in.

"What if she was right?"

"Then we'd better find those documents.  Our killer may have already
killed three people."

She shook her head.

"But Ridgeway couldn't have killed Lamden.  From all accounts, Allison
didn't meet his father until after she separated from Craig."

Steele issued a frustrated sigh.

"I feel as if I'm running around in circles.  Nothing in this ease is
what it appears.  We'll question Ridgeway in the morning.  By then the
police should have f'mlshed their questioning.  Maybe Hawk will also
have some information for us."

She shivered.

"It gives me goose bumps just thinking about being in that office with
him.

I've never been so scared in my life.:' Steele had been staring at her.
Now he put his cup down and said, " Whoever the killer is, he's a very
desperate man.  He kills very easily.  Probably whenever he feels
threatened.  I don't want you going off and doing any more
investigating on your own.  "

She didn't want to argue with him, but there was no way she would let
him talk to her' like a two-year-old kid.  "You don't own me, Steele.

I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.  " "No, you can't," he
snapped.  He ran his hand over' his hair and looked her straight in the
eyes.

"In ease you've forgotten, burglary is a felony, punishable in this
state by up to twenty years in prison."

His words were hard and sharp, like a knife.

"I told you that I didn't want to deal with Norris.  Yet you went
behind my back.  Why His demeanor was that of defense attorney
questioning a hostile witness.

From the expression on his face, she knew he was not going to be
satisfied until he got an answer to his question.

Tell him, an inner voice whispered.  For a moment she considered
telling him, but then decided now was not the right time.  Not after
this most recent incident.  She'd tell him tomorrow.

- "It was wrong to go behind your back, but you left me no other
choice," she said.

"You were positive she didn't know anything."

"Okay, I was wrong."  He ran a hand over his hair in frustration.

"But what you did was stupid and dangerous .... " His words trailed
off, and he reached out to take her arms, then abruptly pulled her
against him, his arms closing tightly around her.

"My God, Taylor, when I think of you alone in there ~.."

She closed her eyes, fighting the images that flashed in her mind's
eye.

"I had to do something.  Tailing Norris was the only thing I could
think of doing.  And after what's'happened, I'm more convinced than
ever that those documents Allison left with lam den will identity our
blackmail victim--and maybe our killer."

Steele shook his head.

"Maybe.  Or maybe someone wants us to think Allison was killed by her
blackmail victim.  I'm not so sure anymore.

If Lamden was murdered, it puts a whole different slant on things. ,"

Taylor looked at him curiously.

"How so?"  ~ Maggie F~erguson He shrugged his shoulders in an offhanded
way.

"Just a hunch."

"I don't believe it.  You have hunches?"

"You're real cute."  He gave her a wry smile.

"All defense attorneys play hunches.  But our hunches are grounded-in
years of experience in defense work, not some harebrained idea."

Harebrained/ Taylor temper flared.

"If you think I'm a harebrain, why are you here?"

The look he gave her could have melted steel "You know the answer to
that," he said in a husky voice.  Taylor didn't know what to say.

"Taylor," he said in that same husky voice, "you have to promise me you
won't take any more chances like you did tonight."

"I don't know .... " Her voice broke.

He came closer and placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her
around to face him despite her reSistance.  He waited until s~ looked
at him.

"Leg Hawk do the investigating, sweetheart.  He does that quite well. I
prorni~ to be more open-minded.  I don't want any Tell him, that inner
voice urged again, but the words stuck in her throat.  She didn't want
to spoil the moment.

She dropped he?  he~ad, and he slid his hand up under her throat,
lifting her chin.  His fingertips were warm on her skin; and Taylor
stiffened, resisting not the warmth, but the way it made her feel.

Everything inside her tensed at the look in his eyes.  Before she could
move, Steele gripped her upper arms and dragged her against his hard
body.

"I don't want to fight anymore, Taylor," he whispered before his mouth
covered hers in a passionate kiss.

She knew she ought to push him away, not make love while this secret
lay between them.  But the slow stroking of his tongue touched a need
deep in her being, and she could no longer deny the realization that
she had feelings for

this man.  Strong feelings.  And she responded with a passion that
shocked her.  Hot and hungry, his mouth captured hers, mingling desire
with something nameless.

Minutes passed, and nothing else existed beyond their mutual desire and
exploration of each other.  Finally Steele dragged his mouth away.

He looked down at her with eyes that were dark with passion.

"There's so much you don't know about me," she began.

Steele smiled and gazed down at her.

"I know everything I need to know about you.  You're warm and kind and
intelligent."

"Steele," she began.  ~"We need to talk" -- He cut off her words with a
finger on her lips.

"No more talking," he said huskily.

"I want to make love to you."

Common sense told her to cal~ a halt to their lovemaking before it was
too late.  But it was already too late.  She wanted to make love with
him--wanted it more than anything she'd ever wanted in her life.

It felt so right: For now she would push her fears aside and pretend
she was a normal woman engaged in a relationship.  She smiled up at him
as she traced his lips with a feather-like finger.

"I think we'd be more comfortable in the bedroom," she said softly.

He gave her a joyous laugh, swung her up into his arms, carried her to
the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

Afterward he was never sure how he'd extracted Taylor from her skirt
and blouse or when he'd stripped off his shirt and.  trousers What he
did remember with aching clarity was the first sight of her naked body
lying be, side him, the slender legs, the narrow waist, the full,
satiny breasts.

"You're more beautiful than I could have imagined," he said, looking
down at her until she was trembling with need, longing to be joined
with him.  He quickly took a small packet out of the back pocket of his
trousers and slipped it on.

"Now we're ready," he said in a passionate whisper.  Then he gently
lowered himself onto her and gather red her close, letting her feel
every plahe and angle of him.  ~ She caught her breath as she felt his
strong thighs nudge hers apart and his hardness poised on the brink of
her feminine core.  He hesitated long enough to make sure she could
accept him~ without discomfort.

That consideration, even in the face of overwhelming need, touched her
deeply.  Then he slowly entered her and paused, deep inside.

After a moment he began to move.  Slowly at first.  Then harder,
faster, deeper as her body instinctively matched his rhythm.  She felt
the impact' of him throughout her body .  hot, demanding, deliciously
overpowering.  He was like a flame burning into her.  She gasped and
couldn't stop to catch her breath, the feel-rags were so intense.

She ached to speak the words of her heart, but sensed he was not ready
to hear them and she wasn't ready to say them.  Instead, she held him
close, stroking his head, his back.

When the electricity-coursed through' her body, warning of the
impending climax, she heard herself cry out his name and heard his
answering cry as if from a distance.  Totally spent, he raised his head
and kissed her, then he laid his head on her-breasts.

"That was heaven," he sighed.

"I never knew it could be so wonderful," she whispered softly, stroking
his back.

"It will always be wonderful between us," he promised, knowing he would
never tire of her.  He rolled off her body and pulled her into his
arms.

Tell him, that inner voice whispered, but a stronger, more powerful
voice whispered, Tell him later.  Why spoil this magic moment?  She
contented herself with curling up into his strong, protective arms.

She sighed as she thought again of the joy they'd shared.  She felt an
overwhelming sense of happiness and completion.


She was just nodding off when she was startled awake by the jangle of
the telephone.  She felt Steele lean over to answer it.  Then she heard
the receiver being lifted and Steele's quiet voice.

She kept her eyes closed, not wanting the magic to fade.

"No apologies necessary," Steele said after a moment.  "I agree this
may put a whole new slant on the investigation."

Taylor's eyes flew open at that last statement, and all vestiges of
sleep left her as her heart began pounding.  She turned 'to look at
Steele, who sat on the other side of the bed with his back to her.

"We'll question him in the morning," Steele said.  He returned 'the
receiver.

to its cradle, then ran a hand over his face and swore under his
breath.

"Steele?"  she said softly.

"What is it?"

He turned to look at her.

"That was Hawk.  We got a problem.  Norris located Betsy Boyd."

"How?"  she asked.

"Through one of the secretaries at Jasper and Kline.  Norris was able
to jog her memory with the offer of a huge sum of money.  That was
about a week ago.

Mr.  Jasper heard about it earlier today and called Hawk."  He gave her
a wry smile.

"That was the bad news--now for the good news.  We now know what
Allison was holding over Daniel Ridgeway's head."

She held her breath as she waited for him to continue.  He paused for a
moment and shook his head, almost as if he had difficulty ~believing it
himself.  Then he sighed and said, "Daniel Ridgeway was having an
affair with Allison."

STEELE AND TAYLOR SAT on the couch in the Ridgeway mansion and watched
an agitated Daniel Ridgeway pace back and forth.

"We're sorry to barge in on yotrlike this," Steele said.  "Especially
since you were probably up late answering questions for the police
about what you were doing at Vanessa Norris's office last night."

Ridgeway lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Not that it's any business of yours, but I went there to discuss an
article she wanted to do on my father."  Ridgeway's hand shook.  The
poor man was almost a basket case, Steele noted.

"That's what you were talking about in the parking lot of the Southtown
Mall, then later at her offiCe last night?"

Fear, stark and vivid,.  glittered in his eyes.

"I--I don't know what you're talking about."

Steele shook his head slowly.

"That's a lie!  You were observed by at least three people--Ms. Quinlan
and my investigator saw you meeting with her in the mall parking lot;
and I saw you running from the television station right before the body
was discovered."

Ridgeway nibbled on his-lower lip, troubled eyes finally resting on
Steele's.

"You're mi.~taken.  I left ear~ier .... " You may think you've fooled
Donaldson, but he's not go' rag to just take your word for why you were
there.  Her's going to check out your claim and when he does, he's
going to find that you lied.  Things w~ go a lot easier for you if you
tell the truth now.  " "Oh, God," he moaned, slumping into a nearby
chair and dropping his head in his hands.

"I didn't kill her," he moaned.

"She was dead when I got there."

For a moment no one said anything.  Then Taylor said slowly, "Tell us
what you were doing there."

He drew a deep, ragged breath.

"Norris ~ me.  She said she wanted to talk to me about Allison.  I
could tell from the way she sounded, sort of smug, that she knew."

"About your affair with Allison?"

Ridgeway's head snapped up; "Yes, but you can't tell my father any of
this."

He stood and began pacing back and forth again.

"It would kill him."  He paused and looked at them with tbeeyes of aman
who'd been to hell and back.


"Donaldson is going to do a thorough investigation and he's bound to
find out," Steele said.

"I think before he does, you should tell your father."

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Ridgeway moaned.

"I knew what she was like, but she was so beautiful and she made me..."
His voice trailed off.  "How long did the affair last?"  Steele
asked.

Ridgeway gave a bitter little laugh.

"I'm not sure you could even call it an affair~ It was more a series of
one-night stands over a two-month period."  He clutched his hands
together.

"I didn't mean for it to happen.  I went to see her to tell her to lay
off Dad and instead I ended up, betraying him."  He looked at them.

"I broke it off."

"But it wasn't that easy, was it?"  Steele asked.  Ridgeway shook his
head.

"No, it wasn't.  She threatened to tell Dad about us if I did anything
to interfere with their coming marriage."

"Like insisting that she sign a prenuptial agreement?"  Taylor
prompted.

He gave her a bleak look and nodded.

"Yes."

"Did she ask for any money?"

"Ridgeway shook his head.

"I wish she had," he said bitterly.

"I

offered it, but she just laughed and said she was going to have plenty
when she married Dad.  " He stared at his hands.

"I'm not proud of it but I did back off at first.  When I saw how she
was using Dad.

Laughing behind his back with her lover.  I couldn't do it.  I went to
her house the day of the murder and"-- " Don't say another word," a
voice barked.

They were so engrossed in Daniel Ridgeway's narrative, no one had heard
Gordon Ridgeway enter the room.  He crossed the room and stood next to
his son.

Daniel Ridgeway cringed.

"How long have you been there?"  he asked his father.

"Long enough.  I heard everything."

Daniel's mouth worked, and at first no words came out as his emotions
welled up within him.  "" Dad, I'm sorry.  " He covered.  his face with
his hands.

Gordon placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Mr.  Steele, my son's no killer.  He didn't kill Allison or that
reporter.

If he's guilty of anything, it's of caring too much about a foolish old
man."

"You knew about the affair, didn't you?"  Steele asked.

Gordon nodded.  He took a seat on the sofa.

"I must admit when I first met Allison, I was smitten, but as time went
by, I began to have second thoughts about marrying her.  I guess she
thought I was a doddering old fool, that I'd turn a blind eye on her
unfaithfulness."

He sighed.

"I knew something had happened between her and my son."

"You sure she didn't want you to know?"

He shook his head.

"I'm-sorry to say, she simply thought I was not smart enough to notice.
But I did and I hired a private investigator.

First to find out what, if anything, was go' rag on between them.  And
second to get something I could use against her when I broke off our
engagement.  I knew she'd kick up a fuss if I tried to break things
off.  I needed some ammunition to protect myself and my son from her
wrath.  " He handed Steele alarge manila folder.

"I think the information in there will show you that Allison had quite
a history of romancing older men for the sole purpose of relieving them
of their money."

Steele glanced briefly at the documents inside.

"Why didn't you take this to the police?"  he asked.

Gordon cleared his throat.

"Allison was dead.  I didn't want to have to answer a lot of
embarrassing questions about how or why I acquired the information."

Steele turned to the son.

"You were saying the day of the murder, you talked to Allison."

"Mr.  Steele, my son didn't kill Allison."  Gordon Ridgeway pointed to
the documents in "Steele's hand.  " My private investigator tracked my
son's every move-merit during the period Allison was murdered.  His
report supports my son's alibi claim.  "

Steele quickly scanned the report and had to agree.  Daniel Ridgeway
couldn't have killed A!  lL~on.  In the last twenty-four hours, they'd
excluded both Denning and Ridgeway.  That only left Ted Larson.  But
Larson had an airtight alibi.  Steele ran his hand over his hair in
frustration, then turned again to the son.

"How did she react when you told her you wouldn't keep quiet
anymore?"

Daniel frowned.

"That's the strange part.  I was prepared for her to be angry, and she
was, but not to the extent she should have been."  He thought for a
moment.  "She seemed preoccupied and rushed me out.  She said something
about hooking a big one."

Steele frowned.  That was the same thing she'd said to Trebeck the day
of the murder.  It had meant something to Allison, but what?

"THINK, HEATHER," Taylor said.

"You and Allison went shopping the day of the murder.  Are you sure she
didn't say anything to you about 'hooking a big one'?"

"I don't think so."  Heather looked totally bewildered, and Taylor
couldn't blame her.  They'd left the Ridgeways and gone straight to the
McCalis.

Heather had been one of the last people to see Allison alive the day of
the murder.  Allison must have said something to her.

She just prayed Heather would remember it and the context in which it
had been said.  Heather remembered with amazing clarity the stores they
had frequented, where they'd lunched, even what they'd purchased, but
when it came to any actual conversation, she.  drew a total blank.

"I don't understand any of this," Heather whined.  Matt put his arms
around her.

"Do you 'think there's some connection between Vanessa Norris'i murder
and Allison?"  Matt asked.  Taylor nodded.

"There appears to be."

Craig sighed.

"Well, the cops can't pin that one on me.  I was right here.  Matt can
vouch for me."

"It's actually to your advantage for them to connect the cases," Matt
noted.

"If they do, surely you'd be excluded.  You" -- Before he could finish
the sentence, Donaldson barged into the room, two uniformed officers on
either side of him.

Matt was on his feet immediately.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Sit down, Counselor," Donaldson growled.  He turned toward Steele, and
his mouth curved into what might have passed for a grin.

"Good, I'm glad you're here.  I wouldn't want you to miss the show."

The hair on the back of Taylor's neck stood up at the tone of his
voice.

"Cut the trap," Steele said.

"What do you want?"

"Mind if I sit down?"  Donaldson said, though Taylor noticed he didn't
bother to wait for an answer before plopping into the chair next to the
sofa.

"I'm here to arrest your client."

Craig's eyes grew as round as saucers.

"But I didn't kill anyone!"

"Don't.  say another word!"  Steele cautioned.  He turned to
Donaldson.

"What are the charges?"

"F'u-st-degree murder in the death of Allison Jane " But he didn't kill
anyone," Matt insisted, coming to his friend's defense.

"Craig wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Oh, we've got plenty of evidence to the contrary," Donaldson
replied.

"Not to mention the security folks at Allison's condo located the tape
from the surveillance camera outside her condo from the night of the
murder.  It showed a man that roughly matches Barrett's description
leaving the condo the night of the murder.  Then there is the
undisputed fact that he doesn't have an alibi."

Steele shook his head.

"Donaldson, I'm surprised at you.  There is no way State Attorney
Marshall is going to bring an indictment against Craig on such flimsy
circumstantial evidence.  He'H be laughed out of court."


Donaldson slapped his forehead in mock surprise.  "Oh, didn't I tell
you?

We found the murder weapon.  It was a fireplace poker, just like we
suspected."

Taylor sucked in her breath and waited for 'the next shoe to drop.

"We got an anonymous call a few hours ago that suggested we search
Barrett's house and Mrs.  Barrett's condo again.  We found the poker at
Barrett's house during our search."  He grinned.

"It had been wiped clean, but forensic was-able to detect traces of~
the deceased's blood and hair on the poker."

"That's impossible!"  Craig yelled, his head swiveling from S~le's to
Donaldson's.

"I didn't kill Allison!"

"It's a plant," Steele insisted.

"Don't you recognize a frame-up when you see it?"

Donaldson shook his head.

"Maybe.  But that wouldn't explains the t~ap~" we also found during the
second search of the condo.  He nodded to one of the uniforms who
pulled out a tape recorder and placed it on the cock taft table and
pressed the Play button.  A female voice punctured the silence.

"If you're listening to this tape," the woman said, "then I'm dead.  I
have lived in fear for my life since I left my husband, Craig
Barrett.

He has sworn to kill me and I know he will.  If I had known of his
violent past, I never would have married him .  " " It's a lie!  "
Craig yelled, jumping to his feet.

"None of that stuff she's saying is true.  You've got to' believe
me!"

Donaldson clicked off the tape recorder.

"Craig Barrett, we're arresting you for the murder of your wife,
Allison Barrett."  Taylor watched, horrified, as Craig was handcuffed
and read his Miranda rights.

"You have the right to re main silent.  If you give up that right,
anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law "
Chapter Eleven "There is no way in hell that's Allison on that tape"
Steele said.

He paced back and forth, agitated.  They'd accompanied Craig to the
police station and begun the procedural steps to get him released on
bail, although the likelihood of that happening was slim to none.

~The prosecutor was opposing bail on the grounds that Craig was likely
to flee the country.  Now they were back at Taylor's apartment, laying
out strategy for the coming preliminary hearing.

"We need to get a copy of that tape so we can perform a voice analysis.
Talk to Craig and Matt, see if you can find an audio of .Allis on
voice."

Taylor looked up at him.  "What about her answering-machine tape?  "
S~eele nodded: approvingly.

"That should do it."  He paused in him pacing.

"I knew Donaldson was itching to arrest Craig, but I never thought he'd
rush to judgment like this and do such a sloppy job of investigating
the murder.

There's as much evidence pointing to his innocence as there is to his
guilt.

And that drivel about an anonymous caller is a crock.  Donaldson has
been on the force long enough to reco~ a setup."

"You don't believe they just overlooked the poker and tape during the
first search?"

Steele gave her a hard look.

"I don't believe in coincidences.  The police get an anonymous phone
call and as a result go back and search Craig's house and the condo.


This time they not only find the murder weapon but that tape, as well.
" He shook his head.

"That evidence was planted.  I'd stake my life on it."

"But proving it isn't going to be easy," Taylor added.  "The grounds at
Craig's house are secure.  It would have been next to impossible for
anyone to have gotten in and out of there undetected.  And we doubled
the security at the condo after the break-in."

He nodded.

"I know, but somehow the killer got in both places.  I refuse to
believe that Craig had anything to do with Allison's murder or the
other murders, for that matter."

Tell him, an inner voice whispered.  She closed her eyes, trying to
think of a way to broach the subject.

"And now we've got that damn tape to worry about," Steele continued.

"It's a powerful piece of evidence in the prosecutor's arsenal.

Symbolically you've got the murder victim reaching out from the grave,
naming her killer.  There's no way a jury hearing that tape will render
anything but a guilty verdict.  " He issued a weary sigh and sat the~t
to her.

"We're dealing with a very omni rig killer, but he slipped up when he
added that garbage about Craig's alleged history of violence.  Fm going
to take that point and drive a truck through this frame-up."

Tell Min.  Things had gone too far.  She couldn't let him continue
believing a lie, couldn't allow him to step into a courtroom with a
distorted picture of tim facts.  No matter what happened, she had to
tell him the whole story.

In a voice filled with equal parts of pain and hope, she said, "Maybe
it isn't a lie."

He sighed and pulled her close to his side.

"It has to be," he said, rubbing her back.

"Craig doesn't have a history of violence.  You said yourself that
other than that instance of juvenile behavior more than a decade ago,
he has no history of violence, right?"

It was time to come clean.  Past time.  She shook her head.

"No, it's not."

She felt the change in him immediately.  One minute he was stroking her
back, then in the next, he'd gone rigid.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she was facing him,
"What did you say?"  The words were spoken softly, but she could hear
the force behind them.

"I said he does have a history of violence."  She drew a deep breath
and looked at Steele.  Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

"As you know, Craig has a reputation for being quick-tempered and
impulsive.

Before Allison's murder, people chalked his behavior up to an artistic
temperament.  " He nodded, his mouth a grim, straight line.

"But what was dismissed as artistic temperament may have been in fact
evidence of an unstable personality."  Taylor swallowed as she began
the more difficult part of what she had 'to tell him.

"You know Craig's father committed suicide," she continued.

"What you don't know is that his father was mentally ill.  As a result
of the disease, there were several violent episodes during his
marriage.

Culminating with him trying to kill his wife before taking his own
life."

Steele sat perfectly still, but his hazel eyes conveyed his mounting
fury.

"There's nothing like that in the official police report."

"Aunt Ida didn't tell anyone what really happened--not the police and
certainly not Craig."

"Then how do you know?"  Steele asked, his tone challenging.

The way he was looking at her made her want to jump up and run out of
the room, but she remained seated.  She licked her lips.

"I guess that kind of secret is too much for anyone to bear.  She had
to tell someone."

Steele shook his head, trying to take it in.

"That doesn't make sense.  She told you but didn't tell her own son.
What does he think happened?"

"As far as Craig knows, his parents separated.  Uncle Bob wanted a
reconciliation and, when Aunt Ida refused to take him back, he took his
life.

You have to understand, Craig adored his father and blamed his mother
for the separation.  Then when his father took his life.."  well, he
was

devastated.  There was no way Aunt Ida was going to tell him what
really happened, that what Uncle Bob had planned was a murder-suicide."
Her voice shook with the.  force of her emotions, and she prayed he
would understand and forgive her for not telling him the whole story
earlier.

"Aunt Ida covered for him for years.  Behavior the family thought of as
eccentric and impulsive was really symptomatic of--of mental illness."
Now came the difficult part.  She swallowed hard.

"Aunt.  Ida never told Craig, but there's a good chance he may have
inherited this mental condition from his dad."

For a moment Steele didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes.

He looked at her as if he'd never seen her before.

"Let me get this straight," he said in a voice taut with anger.

"You're telling me Craig may be mentally ill and as a result violent?
Yet his own mother never told him or sought any medical treatment for
him?"

Taylor shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny.  "She thought
she was doing what was right.  I'm not sure he would have even believed
her if she'd told him.  For a long time after Uncle Bob died, they
weren't close.

It's only been in recent years that they have been able to put the past
behind them and forge any kind of relation--ship.  I'm sure from her
perspective, she didn't see any need to say anything since there
weren't any signs of mental illness."  She paused and looked at him,
her eyes pleading for understanding; "I'm Sorry I didn't tell you the
whole story before, but I couldn't betray my aunt's confidence."

Steele turned a disparaging smile on her.

"What were you going to do?

Let me go on indefinitely believing there was no history of violence in
Craig's background?  " " No!  No.  I was going to tell you"-- " When? "
His voice was hard and cold.

"When we were confronted with the evidence at trial?"

"No, of course not.  I--I tried to tell you a couple of times.

Remember last night?  I told you we needed to talk.  " "But you didn't
try very hard, did you?"

"No," she admitted shamefully, dropping her head.  There was a long
pause before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was colder,
harsher, more distant than she had ever heard before.

"You've had weeks to tell me, but suddenly you were going to come clean
and tell me the truth?  Why should I believe you?"

Her head snapped up.

"Because it's the truth.  I care a great deal about you and I knew we
needed to get this behind us."

He closed his eyes, shutting off the image of the pain he saw in her
eyes.

He wouldn't let her tears touch him.  He hardened his heart.

"You lied before.  Why should I believe you now?"

"I never lied," she protested.

"No," he agreed coldly.

"You just conveniently decided to withhold certain.  information didn't
you?"

On his lips it sounded so calculating, so deceitful.  "Yes," she
whispered.

"You know how important trust is to me, and you still didn't come
clean, did you?"

"I wanted to but I Was afraid."

"Afraid?"  He gave her a skeptical look.

"Of how you might react.  Afraid of what you would think of me .... "
She looked at him then.

"My mother and Craig's father were twins.

And according to Aunt Ida, my.  mother.  " She swallowed the lump in
her throat.

"The car accident that killed my parents was no accident.  My mother
deliberately drove the car off the road."

She heard his quick indrawn breath, and something flickered in the back
of his eyes--sympathy, understanding, concern?  She couldn't be sure.
The only thing she was sure of was that he was fighting an inner
battle.  Hope soared inside her, but when he spoke she knew she'd
lost.

"You thought I would reject you because your mother was mentally ill?
You don't think much of me, do you?"  His eyes were hard and cold.

Incredulously his lips drew back in something that could have been a
smile,

but only if the observer was generous.

"The woman I thought of as honest to a fault.  The woman I would have
bet my life would never lie, is a " Steele.  please.  ~ know you're
hurt and angry.

I can see it in your eyes, but please, please.  don't take your
feelings for me out on Craig.  He didn't know"-- " How dare you even
think I would do such a thing!  ~' he barked.

"I

took this case because I believe Craig is innocent.  And I still
believe it.

I'm not going to abandon him now because you withheld information vital
to his defense.  Do you think I would walk away from him because his
cousin is a consummate liar?  " He raked a hand over his hair and
looked away as though he couldn't stand the sight of her right then.
When his gaze came back to her, he looked even angrier than before.

"I'my going to get Craig off, and you're going to help me.  And after
that, I never want to see you again."  He stormed out of the
apartment.

TAYLOR HAD NO IDEA how long she stood in the middle of her living room,
staring at the door Steele had slammed so hard it rattled the hinges.
She had no idea how long she would have to remain there until the
numbness faded, until she could pick up the pieces of her heart, not to
go on living but merely to go on to the next minute, the next necessary
heartbeat.  But even if she could find all the broken pieces of her
heart, which she doubted was possible, even if she could move to the
next instant, how did she deal with the pain?

She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and bit back tears.
She'd known trust was an issue with him but she really hoped he'd
understand why she hadn't said anything and forgive her.  But he'd
reacted just as she feared.  Her eyes filled with tears.  She hadn't
meant to hurt him.  She really cared about Steele and she thought he
cared about her, too.

God, she'd really made a mess of things.  It was over between them.  A
glazed look of despair began to spread over her face at the thought of
never seeing him again, of never being held by him.  She shuddered
inwardly and told herself she would have to go on with her life, but
she knew she was lying to her.

self.  In the brief time she'd known him, she'd come to depend on him,
to care about him.  She wrapped her arms around herself and stared
blindly around the room.

Haltingly she took a step, but she couldn't have said whether it was
forward or backward.  She didn't want to sit, but she didn't want to
stand.  She didn't want to cry, but neither did she think she could
stand this gut-wrenching pain.  She didn't want to stay in the
apartment; but couldn't bear to leave.  She wanted .  she To run.  To
scream.  To raise her fists at God or fate, whoever or whatever was
controlling her destiny.  She had tried to do the right thing, and it
had blown up in her face.  Steele.  was never going to forgive her.  It
was over between them.  One tear fell, then another and another.  Once
the floodgates were opened, she couldn't stop.  She sank slowly' to the
floor, rocking back and forth as she yielded to the compulsive sobs'
that shook her small frame.  Just twenty-four hours ago, she'd been on
top of the world.  Now that same world had been torn asunder.  How was
she going to live with the pain?

~ STEELE LEFt Taylor's, he'd driven around for a while until he'd
cooled down, then he'd called Hawk on the car phone.  He'd outlined the
situation to him.

He'd been surprised when Hawk had sided with Taylor.  It was easy for
Hawk to take this self-righteous attitude about forgiving and
forgetting.  It wasn't him that she had betrayed.  Betrayed was a good
word for it.  He'd let his guard down, opened up his heart to her, and
she'd trampled all over it.  What other things hadn't she told him?

he thought bitterly.

God, she'd really fooled him.  The man who Swore he would never be
taken in again by a pretty face had been deceived.  He'd thought her
sweet and innocent and honest.  An image of Taylor telling him about
her parents

flashed before him.  He closed his eyes, blocking out the way she'd
looked, her pain.  He didn't want to feel sympathy or, be
understanding, and forced himself to think only of her deception.

~ She could tell herself that she'd withheld the information from him
to protect her aunt and her parents' memory, but the reason really
didn't matter.  The bottom line was she'd withheld information that, if
true, would be the final piece in the prosecutor's case.

He couldn't see how he was going to keep it out of the case.  He could
argue that it was 'irrelevant and inflammatory, but 1he prosecution was
going to fight like mad to get it in.  Hell, he'd do the same thing in
their place.

It was a powerful bit of information.  The prosecution would use it to
show the kind of violent environment Craig had grown up in and how that
environment had influenced his later behavior.  It went to
motive--bolstering the prosecutor's theory that Craig had a propensity
for violence.  He'd point out to the jury that Craig's violence toward
Allison was like the violence his father had inflicted on his mother.
Once he sold them on that point, he'd bring out the murder-suicide
angle.  The jury would be led to infer: like father, like son.

Damn Taylor for withholding such damaging information, and damn him for
mi~ing it.  He ran a hand over his hair in frustration.  How the hell
had he missed it?  Well, what was done was done.  What he needed to do
was lay out a strategy for addressing it as soon as possible.

He was going to have to explain it or discredit it, and there was only
one way that he could effectively do that.  He immediately thought of
Taylor.

What he had in mind, she wasn't going to like.

THE TENSION in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife,
Taylor thought, glancing about the brightly lit parlor.  But the only
outward sign Aunt Ida had given that she was aware of the trouble
between her and Steele was a slight tremor in her hand when she'd
passed the

"More tea?"  Ida Barrett asked.  Her nut brown face and sharp, dark
eyes looked curiously from Taylor to Steele.

Taylor shook 'her head and wondered what her aunt was thinking.  She
would have had to be as thick as a brick not to notice that the two of
them only spoke to ~ach other when absolutely necessary.

It had been like that for the past week.  She'd hoped that once he'd
calmed down, they could talk.  But he'd rebuffed all of her attempts to
talk, and with each passing day, the gulf between them seemed to grow
wider.  She'd made a mistake but she wasn't going to beg.  If he
couldn't forgive her, she was just going to have to accept that it was
over.  Pain ripped through her at the thought and she was almost
overwhelmed by grief.  She swallowed hard and bit back tears as she
tried to focus on the drama that was about to unfold.

When Steele had told her of his plans to question her aunt, she'd been
adamant about sitting in.  It was all right for him to be angry with
her, but she wasn't about to let him badger her aunt and she'd told him
just that.

He'd reluctantly agreed to let her sit in on the interview.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs.  Barrett," Steele said from his seat on
the love seat opposite them.

"I know the past few days have been especially difficult for you, but
there are several items that I need your help in clarifying.~' " I'd do
whatever I can," Mrs.  Barrett replied.

Steele gave her a reassuring smile.

"As you know, the prosecution is making much of that tape they found at
Allison's house."

Mrs.  Barrett nodded quickly.

"It's terrible the things she said about him.  It's not true, but
people are bound to believe it."

"I'd have thought we didn't have to worry on that score, but now I'm
not so Sure."  He glanced over at Taylor and he felt a twinge of
conscience at what he was about to do.  There was no easy way to say
it, so he plunged right in.


"It's come to my attention that Craig's father suffered from mental
illness and as a result tried to kill you before taking his own
life."

Mrs.  Barrett sWod, her back to Steele and Taylor.

"I don't know where you got your information, but someone is pullin
your leg."

Steele sighed.  He'd hoped she wouldn't make things any more difficult
than they were already.

"Mrs.  Barrett," he said gently, does your son suffer from mental
illness?  " She whirled around like an angry tigress protecting her
cub.

"Of course not!  And I won't have you say such terrible things about
him,"

she snapped Taylor rushed over to the visibly shaken woman and put an
arm around her.

"It's okay, Aunt Ida," she said, trying to cslm her.  "Steele knows.  I
had to tell him about Craig.  " She Shook off Taylor's arms and pinned
her with a pained look.

"How could you?"  she cried before turning on Steele.

"There's nothing wrong with Craig.  He's a little temperamental and
headstrong, but-there's nothing wrong with that."

Steele looked at Taylor, then back at her aunt.

"Are you saying it isn't true?"

"Of course it's not true!"

Taylor stared at her, shocked.

"If it isn't true, why did you tell Taylor that it was?"

" Steele asked, frowning.

She ran a hand wearily across her forehead.

"Now isn't a good time to talk about this.  I'm not feeling very
well."

"Mrs.  Barrett, I know this is hard, but you're going to have to answer
my questions.  Either here or in a courtroom.  The police have a tape,
purportedly made by Allison, in which she not only accuses Craig of
having a history of violent behavior but names him as her killer.  The
prosecution is going to use that tape to convict your son.  You're the
only person who knows the truth.  I'll ask you again, did your husband
suffer from mental ill That's none of your business!"  Mrs.  Barrett
snapped.

Steele stared at her for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was
deadly calm.

"None of my business?  Your daughter-in-law has been murdered.  Your
son stands accused.  I have to build a legal defense for your son, and
if that means I ask questions about your personal life that you find
embarrassing, so be it.  Everything related to this case is my
business."  Steele gave Mrs.  Barrett time for his words to sink in,
then he went on.

"You told Taylorthat your husband was mentally ill and had a history of
violence."

Mrs.  ~Barrett closed her eyes and nodded faintly.  "That, s
correct,"

she whispered.

"Did your husband tell you about his mental illness or was ii the
doctor?"

'~The doctor.  " Steele nodded.  Now they were getting somewhere. "What
was his name?"

"It was a long time ago," Mrs.  garrett replied vaguely.  "I don't
remember."

He gave her a skeptical look but didn't press.

"What's the name of the hospital or clinic that he worked out of?"

"I don't remember that, either."

"Was it the same doctor that told you that there was a genetic basis to
the disorder?"

"I don't know.  It could have been.  It was a long time ago."

Steele's ~yes narrowed.

"Give me a specific instance of a violent act that Craig committed that
you witnessed She give him a bewildered look.

"A violent act, uh, I don't remember.;' Steele put his pen down and
glared at her.

"You don't remember a lot about something that has shaped your life and
Taylor's, do you?"  he said.  He did nothing to hide his sarcasm.

"Steele, please," Taylor said.

"Taylor, stay out of this," he warned.


"Now, look," Taylor said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about our
medical history, but I'm not going to let you browbeat my aunt."  Her
eyes flashed with anger, and he thought she'd never looked more
beautiful.

His hazel eyes softened.

"I'm only trying to get to the truth."

Mrs.  Barrett wrapped her arms around her middle and began to rock back
and forth.

"Okay," Steele said.

"Let's start again.  You said your husband tried to kill you.  How did
he do it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he use a gun, a knife?  How did he try to kill you?"

Mrs.  Barrett turned pleading eyes to Taylor.

"Make him stop!"

He could see the pain in Taylor's eyes as she tried to comfort the
older woman.

"Aunt Ida, we're not trying to he mean," she said gently.

"We need to know what we're up against."

"She can't tell us because it never happened.  Your husband did not try
to kill you."

"It is true!"  Mrs.  Barrett's he~/d swiveled from Steele to Taylor.

"Bob tried to kill me."

"Then why is there no record anywhere to support your claim?"  Steele
challenged.

"And before you say anything else, you should know I reviewed his
military records, and there is no indication of mental illness.  I also
talked to Craig.  He was seventeen when your husband died.  Unlike
Taylor, he was old enough to remember what happened.  He says his
father never laid a hand on you, that it was your possessiveness that
drove him away."  Mrs.  Barrett didn't respond.

Taylor's head swiveled from Steele to her aunt.

"Aunt Ida, tell him!"

"Yes, Mrs.  Barrett, tell me," Steele urged.

"Tell us both what happened."

' "I don't care what you think," Mrs.  Barrett cried, jumping to her
feet.

"I know what happened.  I was thereY She looked likea caged animal.

"My husband and my son..."  Her voice broke and she turned her head to
the side.

"Mrs.  Barrett, don't you think there's been enough lies in this
family?

Isn't it time for the truth to come out?"  Mrs.  Barrett didn't say
anything.

"If you care anything about your son, you'll tell me the truth."

"I have, " she moaned.

"How,many times do I have to say it?"

"until i believe it," Sl~le went on.  He waited until she'd regained a
measure of control and then began again.

"Mrs.  Barrett," he said gently, "I know this is hard, but you've got.
to tell me what really happened.  Your s. on's life may depend upon it.
I can't build a defense based on lies and half truths.  I need to know
what happened all those years ago."  He looked at Taylor.

"No matter what."

There was a long pause before Ida Barrett finally spoke.

"Everyone I loved left.  First Bob, then Craig.  After Bob died, I was
lost.

I couldn't talk to Craig.  I had no one and then you came."  She looked
at Taylor and smiled through her tears.

"Your parents were dead.  You needed me.  For the first time in a long
time I had someone who needed me."  She paused for a moment and when
she.  began again, her voice had a pleading, desperate quality.

"I loved you and wanted to keep you safe.  But as you got older, I
could see the same thing~ happening with you that happened with Bob and
Craig."  ~ "What was that?"  Steele asked gently.

She gave Taylor a sad look.

"That you were drifting away.  Soon you wouldn't need me anymore.  I
had to do something."  Her eyes locked with Taylor's, pleading for
understanding.

"At the time it seemed.

the only way.  " Taylor looked at her horrified.

"W-what are you saying?"


Steele slid an arm around her, but nothing could lessen the impact of
Ida Barrett's words when they came.

"I made the whole thing up."

ITHADALL BEENA LIE!  Hours later Tayloraras still reeling from the
shock.

Steele had driven her home but hadn't questioned her about her aunt's
revelation.  He wanted to give her time to absorb the shock.

She'd been sitting on the living room sofa for the past hour, not
saying a word since he'd brought her home.  It was beginning to trouble
him.  She'd just experienced a devastating loss--the trust of one of
the people she loved most in the world.  He knew personally how.
painful that could be and that it was probably best to talk about it.
Yet she was holding everything inside, probably the way she'd always
done.

"Db you want me to make you something to eat?"  he asked.  He sat in
one of the leather armchairs across from her, fighting the urge to pull
her into his arms.

"No," she said, wrapping her arms around her, staring off into space.

He knew she was hurting and he wanted to chase away the pain, tell her
it would be all right--that she should talk about it, not hold the pain
inside to fester and grow.

Yet he didn't have the right to make her open up to him.  Not when he'd
told 11er he didn't want to have anything to do with her once the case
was over.

Not when he still couldn't say the things he knew she wanted to hear.
But as he.  examined her ashen face, she looked as if she'd shatter if
she moved too fast.  She needed to get it all out so she could move
from His eyes followed her as she stood and walked to the window,
staring out.

"Taylor, for God's sake, stop it!"

She didn't respond, just continued to stare blindly out the window.

"You've got to talk to someone about what happened.  It might as well
be me."

When she still didn't reply, he forced himself to continue "You've had
a shock.  You need to talk about it--get it out."  He paused, then
continued.

"You have every right to be hurt and angry.  What your aunt did was
wrong.  I don't know what kind of relationship the two of you will have
in the future.

Maybe none.  Now you're thinking, only of the hurt and pain her lie has
caused you, but' don't forget the good times and that she loves you
very much.  And remember this--her lie was prompted out of her love for
you."

Even as he spoke the words, he could see the irony of the situation.
Here he was trying to get Taylor to understand her aunt's motivtion,
when he had nit extended the same courtesy to her.  He felt deeply
ashamed.

For a long time Taylor didn't say anything.

"How could she have lied like that?"  she said, finally.  Her voice
sounded as hurt and bewildered as a small child's.

"I questioned Craig's innocence because of her."

Steele let out the breath he'd been holding.

"What did you say the other day?  She did the best she knew how.  Mrs.
Barrett loves you very much and she made a mistake."

"But she lied," Taylor said in a low, tortured voice, "not just about~
Craig and Uncle Bob but about my mother.  She made me afraid to love my
own mother."

Levering himself out of the chair, he crossed to where she stood and
folded her into his arms.  For a moment she stiffened.  Then, with a
tiny sound that was half sigh, half sob, she turned 'and slumped
against him: She pressed her head against his chest, and he could feel
the beat of his heart thumping against her cheek.  After a while he
lifted her up in his arms and sat down again with her in his lap,
cradling her protectively.  But he didn't press her to talk.

Long moments later~ she began on her own.

He didn't say anything.  Just let her talk.  She told him about all the
things she'd given up: dating, best girlfriends, the junior and senior
prom,

all the things that a young girl generally did.  The words were
fierce, but he held her tenderly, rocking her in his arms, kissing her
hair and her forehead, giving her all the comfort he could.  When the
words stopped, the tears began.  He blinked back his own tears and held
her close, trying to absorb her pain.

After a few moments she stopped crying, but she kept her face hidden
againgt his chest.  He wished he could say that they could pickup where
they'd left off a week before, but he couldn t. While he could forgive
her, he didn't think he could forget.

Chapter Twelve Steele surveyed the crowded courtroom, ~n leaned over to
engage in a hurried conference with Taylor.

"Ben Marshall, the State's Attorney, is going to take charge of the
preliminary hearing," he whispered.

"That means the state is pulling out its big guns to ensure an
indictment--not that it's going to be all that difficult to get.  At
this hearing, all they have to show is that a crime was committed and
that there is probable cause to believe that Craig committed it.  I
can't see" -- "All rise for the Honorable Edwin Werner," cried the
bailiff's deep male voice.

The door from the judge's chambers opened, and Judge Werner walked into
the courtroom and took his place on the bench.  Werner, in his early
forties, had dark hair flecked with gray, a strong nose, drawn cheeks
and huge bags beneath his eyes.  He was a slight man even encumbered in
the black robe of his office.

"The matter before the court," the judge said, "is a preliminary
hearing in file 1373, entitled State of Illinois versus Craig Thomas
Barrett.  The record should reflect the defendant is represented by
counsel, Michael Steele and Taylor Quinlan.  The state is represented
by State's Attorneys Benjamin Marshall and Richard Deaver.  I am Judge
Edwin Werner.  Is the state ready to proceed?"

State Attorney Marshall exchanged a glance with his co-counsel, who was
seated beside him at the prosecution table: On the defense side, Steele
sat nearest the prosecutors, with Taylor next to him and Craig on the
far side.

Matt sat a row behind, ready to assist.

Benjamin Marshall stood.

"Your Honor, the peopleare,ready."

"Is the defense ready?"  Judge Werner asked.

Steele was on his feet immediately, his manner cool, controlled,
confident.

"The defense is ready to proceed, Your Honor."

Judge Werner nodded, then looked out on the crowded room, focusing on
the reporters and camera crew that jammed the back and one side of the
room~ "Before we begin, I want to state that there has been a lot of
news paper and television coverage of this case, about the facts and
about the people involved."  I want to caution the spectators that this
is not a show, this is not a debate, this is not entertainment.  This
is a court of law.  The spectators will cond~ themselves
accordingly--otherwise, the court will take steps to ensure proper
decorum;" He paused, t~ about the ~urtroom.

"Mr; Marshall, please call your first witness."

'~Thank you, Your Honor.  The State calls Deputy Coroner James Kingsley
to the' stand "Dr.  Kingsley identified himself as the deputy coroner
for.  the city of Chicago.  Marshall then walked him through the night
of Allison's murder.  He explained what he observed at the crime scene,
stated the time and cause of death and outlined the autopsy results.
His testimony was consistent with the testimony he'd given at the
coroner's inquest.  Then it was time for the defense to cross-examine
the witness.

"Dr.  Kingsley," Steele said, taking his place at the podium.  "You
testified at the coroner's inquest~ and here today that Allison Barrett
was killed between ten-thirty and eleven-thirty, Is that when death
actually occurred, or'is that an estimated time of death?"

Taylor knew where Steele was headed.  Establishing the time of death
was critical in any murder case, doubly so in this one.  If they could
get the coroner to admit that the murder could have occurred closer to
eleven-thirty, the prosecution would have a harder time proving that
Craig had the opportunity to kill Allison.  Pam Olsen would testify he
was with her at midnight.

Dr.  Kingsley peered over his bifocals at Steele.

"It's an approximation."  He leaned back in his chair.

"It's impossible to establish the exact time of death of any murder
victim unless that murder is actually witnessed.  Otherwise, only a
reasonable estimation can be made, usually within a range of hours or
days at best."

Steele nodded, then walked toward the witness box.  "Please tell the
court how you arrived at your estimation ."  Dr.  Kingsley leaned
forward slightly.

"The police found the body at eleven forty-five.  A neighbor indicated
that the victim was alive at ten-thirty.  He was Certain of the time
because of a television program he was watching.  So death would have
had to have occurred he-tween ten-thirty and eleven-thirty.  But since
the neighbor heard a struggle around ten-thirty, I believe death
occurred shortly thereafter."

"So in other words," Steele said smoothly, "you arrived at the time of
death based on when a TV program was on?"

There was a slight tittering in the courtroom that Judge Werner pounded
to silence.  Taylor smiled.  Steele was making the county coroner look
incompetent, Dr.  Kingsley coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his
chair.

"Ah, but under the circumstances, I believe" -- "Just answer yes or
no."

"Yes," Dr.  Kingsley admitted grudgingly.

Steele then got the coroner to admit he'd failed to conduct several
tests that would have provided a scientific basis for approximating the
time of death.

"So, Dr.  Kingsley," Steele continued, "the death could have occurred
at eleven?"

"That's correct."

"Or as late as eleven-thirty?"


"Yes," the coroner replied.  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket
and mopped his brow.

"Thank you, Dr.  Kingsley."  Steele smiled.

"No further questions."

Taylor looked at Steele as he resumed his seat.  He'd just gotten the
coroner to admit that death could have occurred at a time more
advantageous for the defense, but they were still a long way from
exonerating Craig.

Next to testify was the patrol officer who had testified at the
coroner's inquest.  Marshall led him through virtually the same
testimony he'd given earlier: how he'd found the body and secured the
Crime scene.

Judge Werner looked toward the defense table.

"Does the defense wish to cross-examine?"

Cross-examination at this time wouldn't be worth the effort required to
ask the questions, Taylor knew, and waited for Steele to waive.

Steele appeared to study a few tidbits he'd jotted down on a legal pad,
but Taylor knew it was all for show.  She had learned enough about him
in the past eight weeks to know he had a nearly photograph it memory
and could recall every word the cop had said as easily as if he'd had a
tape recorder.

Steele's pretended study of his inconsequential notes was designed to
create a brief period of silence, to make the judge, the prosecution
and the spectators wonder what was coming next.

"No questions," Steele said finally.

Marshall threw Steele a sour look before calling Lee Treheck to the
stand.

Taylor wasn't sure who was more nervous, herself or Trebeck.  She would
be doing his cross-examination.  Surprised was an understatement of how
she'd felt when Steele had asked her.  It was so out of character. He'd
never let any co-counsel question witnesses before.

Try as she might, she couldn't help but believe that it was a crack in
the wall he'd erected around his emotions.

Trebeck looked like a nervous rabbit as he took the stand and was sworn
in.

He slowly 'began to relax as he told the court about hearing a loud
argument coming from Allison's condo, becoming concerned, calling the
police, then seeing the man as he looked out the window.

Marshall folded his arms and appeared to be thinking about his next
question.

"What was the man doing?"

"He looked like he was running away from Allison's condo, uh, I mean
Mrs.  Barrett."

Taylor was on her feet immediately.

"Objection.  Speculation."

"Sustained."

Marshall frowned.

"How far away was the man you saw?"

"Not very far.  Just at the end of the street.  About seventy-five
feet."

"Could you see the man clearly?"

Trebeck~s head bobbed up and down.

"He was near the streetlight, so I could see him pretty good."

"Please describe the man you saw for the court."  Trebeck shifted in
his seat and folded his hands across his middle.

"He was tall, about six feet with a lean, muscular build.  I could tell
he was young by the way he moved--real fast."

"This man.  Was he about the same height and build ~as anyone you are
now looking at?"

"Objection," Taylor said.

"Leading and suggestive."  "Objection sustained."

"Well, how would you describe him Marshall asked.

"Objection," Taylor said again.

"Already asked and answered."

"Sustained."

"Had you ever seen the man before?"

"Yes, sir," Trebeck said, his head swiveling in the direction of the
defense table.

"It was the defendant, Craig Barrett."

Taylor threw Steele a grim look.  Treheck's memory had undergone a
drastic improvement.

There was .  a buzz throughout the courtroom, and Judge Werner pounded
it to silence.


"No further questions, Your Honor," Ben Marshall said.  A smile played
around his lips as he walked back to the prosecution table.

"Your witness."

Taylor stood and walked over to the witness box.

"Mr.  Trebeck, you testified at the coroner's inquest that you couldn't
identify the man you saw, but today you claim the man you saw was the
defendant?"

Trebeck looked nervous, but his voice was strong when he spoke.

"I

always thought it was Mr.  Barrett that I saw.  I didn't say so before
because I wanted to be sure.  Now I am.  " "And just what makes you so
sure?"  Taylor said sarcastically.

"Objection," Marshall boomed.

"Counsel is badgering the witness."

"I withdraw the question," Taylor said calmly.

"Now, Mr.  Trebeck, was the man you saw standing directly under the
streetlight or some distance away?"

"He was a few feet away."

"So he was sort of in the shadows?"  " " That's right.  " "You
testified a moment ago the man appeared to be running away.  Is that
correct?"

Treheck's head bobbed up and down.

"Y-yes."

"If the man you saw wasn't standing directly in the light and he was
moving quickly away from you, how do you know that it was the defendant
that you saw?"

"Because hem had on the same kind of jogging clothes that Mr.  Barrett
often wore when he came over."

"In other words, the man you.  saw that night was a man of about the
same height 'and build as the defendant, and wearing the same kind of
garments you'd previously seen Mr.  Barrett wear?"

"That's right."

"But you didn't see the man's face, did you?"

"Yes--no."  Trebeck threw Marshall a look of desperation.

"Which is it?"  Taylor fired back.

"And remember you're under oath."

Trebeck looked at his hands.

"No," he mumbled, his voice little more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry.  What did you say?"

"I guess I didn't see his face."

"No further questions," Taylor said.  Her heart did a flip-flop at the
smile Steele threw her.

Judge Werner broke for lunch, but Taylor was too keyed up to eat.  Not
just about the case, but because Steele's attitude seemed to have
warmed toward her.  Sitting next to him in the cramped space made her
heart flitter.

After lunch the state called Detective Donaldson.  Marshall began by
asking a number of preliminary questions: the detective's full name,
his-years on the force, concluding with his dispatch to Allison
Barrett's residence.

"On your arrival at the condo on the night in question, what did you
find?"

"It was a crime scene.  Officers Gonzales and Meeker had cordoned off
the area.  The lab techs were dusting for prints.  I don't think the
coroner had arrived.  There was a body lying on the floor that was
identified as Allison Barrett.  Her head had been bashed in with a
fireplace poker, which we subsequently recovered."

There was a rattling of papers as Marshall dug into his file.  He stood
holding alarge photo, walked around to the front of the defense table
and handed the picture to Steele.  Marshall stood by and brushed.
imaginary lint from his slcevewhile giving the defense a second to look
over the photo.

Steele held the picture so Taylor and Craig could see.  It was a
picture of Allison as she lay dead on the floor of her condo.  Her face
was turned unnaturally to one side.  Her purple lounge pajama top and
the surrounding carpet were soaked in blood.  Craig covered his face.
Wordlessly Steele returned the photo to Marshall.  Taylor cringed
inwardly as she pictured the impact that photo would have on jurors
when it turned up at the trial.


Marshall then took the photo and strolled up to the witness box, his
gait leisurely and thoughtful, his manner confident.

"I show you," Marshall said, "what has been marked state's exhibit
number ten and ask if you can identify it."

"It's a photograph of the crime scene."  Donaldson's mild brown-eyed
gaze flickered briefly at Steele, then darted quickly away.

Marshall nodded, retrieved the picture from the wit-hess and took a
step forward and handed the photo to Judge Werner.

The judge looked dispassionately at the picture, then at the defense
table.

"Any objection?"

Steele and Taylor looked at each other, It would be pointless to
object.

"No objection," Steele said.

"So admitted."  Judge Werner gave the picture back to the State's
Attorney, then leaned back.

Marshall gave the picture to the court reporter, who fried it away.

Taylor kn~ Marshall was through with the photo for now.  He had it into
evidence that a brutal crime had been committed.  He had revealed
nothing that hadn't already been in the paper, ~:nd hadn't tipped any
of his trump cards.  Ben Marshall, Taylor thought grudgingly, was one
hell of an attorney.

Marshall turned and faced the witness.

"Detective, did you and your men check the condo for signs of a
break-in?"

Donaldson nodded his head.

"We checked, but there were no real signs."

Marshall crossed his arms over his chest.

"Detective, isn't there an alarm systemin that house?"  - "Yes, sir,
there is."

"And on the night 'in question, was the alarm system activated?"

Donaldson nodded again.

"Yes, sir.  The patrol officers had to break a window to get inside."

"So, then," Marshall said, "it would be safe to say that no one.

could have entered the premises undetected without knowing the code to
deactivate the alarm, wouldn't it?  " "I'd say so," Donaldson said.

"Unless someone was hiding in the house when the system was turned on,
but I think that's unlikely.  He'd have to know the code to rearm
it."

Marshall nodded.

"How many people knew the security code?"

"Just Mrs.  Barrett and the defendant."

"Were there things missing from.  the house?  Valuables?"

"The killer tried to make it.  look like a break-in, but burglary was
ruled out," Donaldson said.

"Like I said before, there-was no sign of a break-in.  No money was
taken.

At my request, Mr.  Barrett did a complete invert?

ory of his wife s jewelry, and every piece was present and accounted
for.  " "So whoever killed Alli~n Barrett came into the house with one
purpose and one purpose alone--to kill Allison Barrett?"

Donaldson nodded.

"I believe so."

"At the start of the investigation, Detective, did you have any leads
or suspects whatsoever?"

"No, I'm Not one."

Marshall flipped over a page in his file.

"Did that sit- .

uafion later change?  " "It certainly did."

"And how was that?"

Donaldson recounted how they'd found Craig's prints at the crime scene
his lack of an alibi, the recovery of the surveillance' tape and
Craig's threats to kill Allison.  He then related a conversation with
the bartender at the Lake Shore Country Club, where Craig and Allison
both had memberships.

"And if you would, Detective, please relate Mr.  Clark's story."

Steele was on his feet immediately.

"Objection.  Hearsay."


"Overruled," said Judge Werner.

"The witness may answer."

Donaldson folded his arms and leaned back.

"Mr~ Clark told us the day before the murder he saw Craig Barrett grab
his wife and shake her while yelling that she'd played him for a fool
but he'd kill her before she got another red cent."

"Detective, did you later find out what that cryptic comment meant?"

Donaldson now looked toward Craig.  His intense.  expression was
rehearsed, of course, just as all his answers had been.  The theatrics
were fooling no one, Taylor thought, except maybe Judge Werner, whose
opinion was the only one that mattered.

"Yes, sir," Donaldson said.

"Mr.  Barrett told us."

"And what did he say?"  Marshall asked, his voice an octave lower.

Taylor sensed the witness was about to drop a bombshell.

Donaldson's gaze remained riveted on Craig and never wavered.

"He said that he'd had a prenuptial agreement with Mrs.  Barrett, but
after they reconciled, he'd torn it up.  But when the reconciliation
didn't work out, he thought he'd been used."

"Detective Donaldson," Marshall said, "did you then place Mr.  Barrett
under arrest?"

"No, sir.  We had a lot of circumstantial evidence but we didn't want
to go off halfcocked."

Taylor almost gagged.

"Give me a break," she mumbled.

"It wasn't until we recovered the murder weapon from his home that he
was taken into custody."

"Did you find anything else that implicated Mr, Barrett in his wife's
murder?"

"Yes, sir.  We also found a tape that Mrs.  Barrett had made naming him
as her killer."

"Objection," Steele said.

"Speculation.  Detective Donaldson doesn't know if that tape was in
fact made by Mrs.  Barrett."

Judge Werner nodded.

"Sustained.  Rephrase the question."

"Detective, during a second search of Mrs.  Barrett's condo, did you
find a tape?"

"Yes, sir.  It was~ in an envelope hidden inside the pocket of a mink
coat in the master-bedroom closeL The outside of the envelope read, "
To be opened in the event of my untimely death.  "" Marshall folded his
arms across his chest.

"Did you listen to the tape?"

Detective Donaldson looked at Steele and nodded.  "Yes, I did.  On the
tape a woman identifying herself as Allison Barrett stated that she was
afraid of her husband, Craig Barrett.  Apparently he had qui~e a
history of violent behavior.  She said she was afraid he was going to
kill her,"

"Thank you, Detective Donaldson.  No further questions."  Marshall all
but skipped back to the prosecution table.  And why shouldn't he feel
good?

Taylor thought' bleakly.  They'd made their case against Craig.

They'd established that he had motive, means and opportunity.

She saw no point in cross-examining Donaldson.  He'd been a great
witness and would be an even better one at dodging difficult questions.
But she knew Steele'had to try to punch holes in his' testimony
"Detective Donaldson," Steele said, smiling, "did you question Mrs.
Barrett's neighbors to see if' anyone might have seen or heard anything
unusual the night of the murder?"

"Yes, sir."

"What about a Ned Kramer?  Did you question him?"  "Yes, sir."

Taylor could ~ell from the stiffening of Donaldson, s body that he knew
what was coming and didn't like it one bit ,- ~ "Then you lc~gw that
Mr.  Kramer saw Allison arguing with a man around eleven o'clock on the
night of the murder.  And that man didn't fit Mr.  Barrett's
description, did he?"


"No, sir, he didn't."

"Did you follow up on that lead?"

Donaldson frowned and looked at Marshall.  He cleared his throat.

"There was nothing to follow up on."

"Nothing to follow up on?"  Steele repeated.

"How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

Donaldson threw Marshall a helpless look.

"It would have only been a waste of time.  Mr.  Kramer is not a
credible witness.  He'd had quite a bit to drink the night of the
murder.  Besides, we knew who killed Mrs.  Barrett."

"So once you determined that Mr.  Barrett was the killer, you didn't
follow up on any other leads?"

"There was no reason to," the detective said.  His tone was angry and
defensive.

Steele nodded.

"That's what I thought."  He looked at his notes, then back at the
witness.

"Let's go back to the night of the murder.  You said the crime scene
had been staged to make it look like a burglary but nothing of value
had been taken.

Isn't it possible that what was taken was only of value to Allison and
the killer?"

"Anything is possible," Donaldson hedged.

"Isn't it true, Detective, that Allison Barrett was blackmailing
someone?"

Donaldson threw Steele an angry look.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"We don't have any evidence pointing to that ."

"Then how do you explain the presence of over three hundred thousand
dollars in Allison Barrett's savings account?"  "Objection, Your
Honor.

Irrelevant."

Judge Werner nodded.

"Sustained."

"Detective, have you considered the possibility that there is a
connection between Allison Barrett's murder and those of Harold Lamden
and Vanessa Norris?"

Marshall was on his feet immediately.

"Objection.  Irrelevant.  Your Honor, those deaths have no hearing on
this case.  And for the record, Harold Lamden's was a suicide."

"Sustained."

Steele threw Marshall a disgusted look.

"Okay, let's go back to the murder weapon and tape you found.  Isn't it
true you found those items during a second search of the defendant's
and his wife's respective premises?  A search prompted by an anonymous
call that occurred six weeks after the first search?"

Donaldson shifted.

"Uh, that's correct."

"Plenty of time for someone to have planted the murder weapon and the
tape there?"

Donaldson shook his head.

"No, that's impossible."  Steele gave him a hard look.

"Is it?"  He turned and walked back to the defense table.

"No further questions."

Taylor's lips curved into a smile of admiration.  They'd made a number
of dents in the prosecution's case: they'd pointed out that the time of
death could have been later, that there were other suspects and that it
was possible that Craig was being framed.  Whether it was enough for
the judge to find that the prosecution had not established that there
was probable cause to believe that Craig had killed Allison, she didn't
know.

"WE ALL KNEW it was a long shot," Matt said, "but I really thought..."
His voice broke and he looked away.

Taylor leaned over and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I know.

But the war isn't over yet.  " Heather threw Steele and Taylor a
helpless look, then put an arm around Matt.

"Darling, you're tired.  Let's go home.  We'll see you later."

She watched Heather lead him out of the room.  When the door closed,
she looked over at Steele.  There was a strained silence.  Taylor
coughed, trying to relieve the tension.  They needed to talk about
their relationship, but she was afraid to broach the topic.

So.  instead of speaking what was in her heart, she launched into a
discussion of the case.

"You know, no matter how you look at it, this case doesn't
make-sense.

Whoever heard of a killer who continues planting evidence against the
accused?


He's made anonymous calls to the police, followed us.  Why?  " Steele
shrugged.

"Maybe to feel powerful: He certainly doesn't seem to have much fear of
being caught."  He sighed.

"And maybe he shouldn't, he's gotten away with killing three people
thus far, and we don't have a clue to his identity."

"I still think.  Ted Larson could be our killer," she said.

"Everything always comes back to him.  He knew about the blackmail, so
he would have known about the documents Allison left with Lainden.

He's also probably the only person besides Craig that she would have
given her security code.  He could also have learned enough from her
about Craig's security to be able to get in and out of Craig's house
undetected.  " Steele nodded.

"You may be right, but it's going to be bell proving it."  He issued a
frustrated sigh.

"God~ our luck has got to change."

"It just did," Hawk said from the doorway.

"I found Betsy Boyd."

Chapter Thirteen Another dead end!  Taylor dropped the accordion folder
she'd just perused and glanced about the warehouse.  When Hawk had
burst into' Steele office two weeks ago and announced he'd found Betsy
Boyd, Taylor had not appreciated the monumental task that still lay
ahead of them in locating Allison's missing documents.

The secretary had confirmed that she'd talked to Norris but 'claimed
only to have told her the address of the warehouse and the floor of the
building that she'd sent Lamden's files to.  Boyd maintained that she'd
only remembered that bit of information because that's where she'd sent
all her documents while she had been with Jasper and Kline.

Technically that information should have been enough for Hawk to locate
Allison's documents, which were supposedly filed in.

alphabetical order by client name.  However, a quick search of the B's
turned up nothing.  Since Taylor hadn't come across them when she'd
searched the reporter's office, they'd had to consider the possibility
that the documents were missing because they'd been misfiled, rather
than Norris having taken them.  Though it would have been an easy
enough task for the reporter to slip in and out of the old warehouse
undetected.  Buildings~curity was almost nonexistent.


Operating under both theories, they'd obtained a warrant to search the
reporter's apartment and the television station.  Hawk, along with four
paralegals from the law firm, had been given that task.  Steele and
Taylor had headed for the warehouse.

But the moment they'd stepped through the set of double doors on the
third floor of the old warehouse, Taylor's heart had sunk.  The room
was large and musky and contained rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling
bins filled with papers.  As far as the eye could see, there was
nothing but paper.

Taylor knew instinctively that a random search would be fruitless.

She shared a dismayed look with Steele and, as if by tacit agreement,
they' plopped down on alarge, wooden packing crate and began trying to
formulate a plan of action.  They'd tossed various ideas back and forth
before deciding they'd have to work under the supposition that Norris
had located the files and had hidden them in the safest place
possible--in the warehouse.  That's where Norris's clue might fit in.

The-reporter had said, "Look for the sheep in wolf's clothing and
you'll find your killer."  Norris could have been referring to a
personality type or an actual person.  Maybe Denning, Larson or Daniel
Ridgeway?  None of the men were what they seemed.

If Norris had hidden the files in the warehouse, perhaps she'd placed
them under the first letter of the last name of one of these men.  It
was a shot in the dark, but it was all they had to go on.  The search
of Norris's office and apartment' had turned up nothing.

Even using their methodology, there were still thousands of documents
that had to be examined.  Taylor didn't even want to contemplate the
possibility that the clue had simply been a red herring.

She issued a weary sigh and picked up another file.  They'd been at the
warehouse a week and even with the help of four paralegals, Hawk, Matt
and Heather, they were just started on the L's.  It would probably take
another week to finish up completely.  If they hadn't found Allison's
documents by then, she thought it unlikely they ever would.

She glanced over at Steele and Heather.  This afternoon it was just the
three of them.  The paralegals were needed at the office, and Hawk was
running down a lead he'd gotten on Ted Larson.  Matt had a late
afternoon.  meeting and had left earlier.  Heather had walked him to
the door.  They'd been whispering and smoothing like newlyweds.

Watching them brought a lump to Taylor's throat.  She longed for that
kind of unconditional love.  She glanced at Steele.  On several
occasions he'd looked as if he wanted to say something, but each time
he'd frozen up.  He may have forgiven her, but she wondered if he would
ever trust her enough to ever open his heart to her again.  " Her eyes
filled with tears.

"Is something wrofig?"

She looked up and found Steele studying her.

"Oh, no," she said, blinking the tears away.

"I guess I'm just a little tired."

"We'll finish up this batch, then call it a day," he said, then added,
"I swear, I can't believe the helter skelter manner in which these
documents are filed."

It's a mess, all right," Heather agreed.

"I guess that Betsy Boyd wasn't the only employee guilty of mislabeling
documents.  By the way, how did Hawk locate her?"

"He got Ms.  Boyd's social-security number and birth date from Jasper
and Kline," Steele explained.  "Once he had those two items, he was
able to come up with an address in Rock Island, Illinois.

Unfortunately, after Norris's murder, she made herself scarce for a
while.  " Heather giggled.

"Too bad Hawk wasn't able to come up with some quick and easy way for
us to go through these documents~' " Well, it could be worse," Taylor
said dryly.

"Imagine having to go through all of them.  With our method, we only
have to look at a fraction of the documents."

Heather looked.  at her curiously.

"What are you going to do if we don't find them?"


"We still have a few cards up' our sleeve," Steele answered.  "That's
one of the reasons we didn't put on a defense at the preliminary
hearing.  I had to consider that Craig would be bound over for trial,
and I did nit want to tip the prosecution to the strategy we'll use at
that point."

Steele sounded a lot more confident than Taylor felt.  The prosecution
had an awfully strong case against Craig, and that tape had just been
the final nail in his coffin.  Thinking about the tape made her think
of Aunt Ida.  Maybe in time they could have some kind of relationship,
but not now.  Aunt Ida had caused her so much pain, had caused her to
lose Steele.  She was so lost in this thought that she almost missed
the file.

She did a double take when she saw the names on the outside of a
slightly tattered folder: Allison and Craig Barrett.

"Steele," she said excitedly.  "" I found it!  " He was instantly by
her side.

"Let's see if there are any more?  It took another hour before Steele
was satisfied they had all the folders relating to Allison and Craig's
separation agreement.  There were three in all.  They each took one and
began lea ting through the documents, but it was slow going.  Harold
Lamden had been.a very meticulous man, and there.  was quite a lot of
material to go through.

"Look, Taylor," Steele said after a few minutes of searching, "It's
Lamden's appointment book for this calendar year."  He handed it to
her.

"Why don't you go through it while Heather and I continue looking for
Al-.lison's documents?"

"Sounds good," she said.  She turned to the day of the murder and
quickly skimmed the page.

"Anything?"  Heather asked.

She shook her head.

"Lamden only had two appointments that day.  One with Matt, probably to
go~ over the separation agreement, and the other with another
accountant."

Her disappointment must have shown, because Steele leaned over and gave
her arm an affectionate squeeze.

"Hey, we're just getting started," he said.  The way he looked at her
made her feel all warm inside.

"Looks like we're go' rag to be here a while," Heather said.  She
glanced at her watch.

"I'd better call my cook and tell her to hold dinner.  I don't want to
desert you at this point."

Taylor smiled her thanks.  Heather really had been a lot of help.

She'd been there every day, pitching in.

Heather stood; looking about the large room.

"Did either of you see a phone?"

"There's one on the first floor by the rest rooms," Steele said
absently~ After Heather left, a quiet descended on the two that neither
knew how to break.  She was very much aware of Steele sitting next to
her.

She wanted to reach out, to tear the wall down that he'd built around
his emotions, but she didn't know how.  So once again, instead of
speaking what was in her heart, she began to talk about Ted Larson, and
her certainty of his guilt.

Steele nodded.

"Hawk has found a hole in his alibi, but we need more than that to
connect him to Allison.  Let's hope we find it in Allison's
'documents."

Taylor was no longer listening.  The pain she'd kept at bay the past
few weeks suddenly burst free--rushing over her.  Tears welled up in
her eyes.

She had to get out of this room, away from Steele before she
embarrassed herself.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," she said.  She rose from her
makeshift seat, crossed the expanse of the third floor, stepped through
the double set of doors and walked over to the railing and looked over
the side to the floors below.

Her heart jura ~ped in her throat at the sight that greeted her.  A
thick gray curtain of smoke poured from the lower floor and floated up.
It only took her a moment to see that the second floor was engulfed in
flames.

"Steele!"  she screamed.

"The building is on fire!"

He was at her side immediately.

"We've got to get out of here," he said, his eyes scanning the area.

"Come on!  There's no time to lose."


, Heather!  Her eyes widened in horror.

"No," she said when he tried to pull her back into the warehouse.
"Heather's down there.  We've got to find her."  She headed toward the
door marked Exit.

Steele reached her just as her hand was about on the knob.  He turned
her to face him.

"There's no way we can reach her," he said.

"The fire is on the second floor.  I'm sure Heather saw it and got out,
which is what we're going to do.  Come on!"  he said, turning toward
the room they'd just come from.

"What about this stairwell?"  she asked, pointing to the exit door next
to the elevator.

Steele shook his head.

"It's probably full of smoke, and I don't know how fast that fire is
moving.

There should be another exit on the other side of the ware, house.
We'll take that."  He took her hand and ran back into the room they'd
just exited.

"Trythe windows while I look for a door," Steele shouted as he ran to
the opposite side of the room.

Taylor tore to the windows.  She tried the first one.  She pulled with
all her might, but it wouldn't budge.  She tried the next window.  It
was the same.  She checked the sill to determine what was holding it in
place.  It had been nailed shut!  Probably to keep vandals out, but in
this case it might cost them their lives.  She looked wildly about the
room.  There had to be a way out!

"Taylor, over here!"  Steele shouted.

"I found a door."  She raced to the back wall where Steele was pulling
boxes down, trying to clear a path to the door he'd found.  The stack
of boxes looked like a small'mountain.  Sweat poured down her brow as
the odor of smoke slowly seeped into the room.  The fire was getting
closer.  They worked quickly, uncovering the door.  Steele grabbed the
doorknob and turned.  It wouldn't budge.  He put his shoulder to the
door, but still it didn't budge.

"It's blocked from the other side," he said finally, taking her hand.

"C'mon, we'll take the other stairwell."

Her eyes widened in alarm.

"But you said it was pro!pably full of smoke."

"I know, but it's our only chance," he said, his face grim.

"We'll go up, not'dow~f.  When we enter the stairwell, try not to
breathe.

Here," he said, tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt and covering
her nose and mouth.  Then he followed suit.

He sprinted out into the hallway with Taylor in tow and entered the
stairwell.  It was like stepping into a roaring furnace.  A thick gray
cur thing of smoke greeted them, and below flames flickered, but' the
third-floor stairwell was free of fire.  Smoke filled her lungs.  Her
throat spasming and her eyes burning, she followed Steele up the
stairs.  Trying not ~o breathe, they made their way through the smoky
fog until they reached the next floor, which opened onto the roof.

She stood back as Steele pressed the iron bar to open 'the door.  It
didn't open and he pressed ~. gain.

She glanced over her shoulder.  The smoke was getting thicker, and
breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.  Just when she began to
think they might not make it, the door gave.  A gush of fresh air hit
her in the face as she followed Steele out on the rooftop.

The moment she was outside, Taylor tore the makeshift mask from her
lower face and breathed in great gulps of fresh air.  In the distance
she could hear the sirens of a fire engine.

"Thank God," she panted.

"Heather must have made it out and called the fire department.  They
should be here any moment."

"I don't think we can wait for the fire department," he said, glancing
at the smoke that poured out on the rooftop from the open doorway.

"That fire is moving a.little too fast for me."  He turned and looked
at her and smiled.

"Don't look so worried," he said, kissing her forehead with unexpected
warmth.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Taylor felt a warm glow as she scampered after him, her feet silent and
just a tihy bit slippery on the tarred rooftop.  She frowned.

"What are you looking for?"


"A fire escape.  A ladder or some kind of bridge that connects this
building to one over there."  He pointed to a building to the right of
the warehouse.

After a few moments it was clear there was none.

"It's not that far away," Steele said.

"We'll have to jump."

She looked at him with shock and disbelief, but he just shrugged his
shoulders.

"Don't think about it," he advised.  "Do it before you have time to be
frightened."  He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

The second building was about two feet shorter than the one they stood
on, but that wasn't what.  terrified her.  It was the yawning abyss
between the two buildings.  A vast chasm of perhaps five feet.

Her heart pounded.  She couldn't do it.  If,that same space was flat on
the sidewalk, she would have made it with inches to spare, but this was
different.  Ifsshe tried to jump those sixty inches, four stories above
the street, she would miss and fall to her death.  It was just that
simple.

Steele jumped first, making it look ridiculously easy--a child's
hopscotch game.  He stood on the other building waiting for her.

"Come on, Taylor," he coached.  "You can do it."

"I can'~t," she said.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Do it for me.  C'mon, I'll catch you," he said, then he held out his
arms--waiting.

It was rotten and unfair of him, and it left her no choice whatsoever.
She took a deep breath and, with her eyes trained on Steele, she
leapt.

Of course he caught her.  Not that she'd ever have had any doubt about
it.

They tumbled onto the rough surface, his arms locked so tightly around
her that she couldn't breathe.  She didn't think she wanted to, anyway,
and she hugged him back, closing her eyes and savoring the feel of his
arms.

"You're safe," he cooed in her ear.

"You'.re safe."  There was no way she could answer, first because the
arms crushing her didn't give her enough breath to do so, then because
his mouth came down over hers, stopping any effort at speech.

His kiss was wonderful and told her everything words couldn't say: how
much he needed her, wanted her.  It wiped away all the pain and
loneliness of the past few weeks.  When he released her and smiled, she
knew everything would be all right.  Below she could hear the sound of
fire engines.

"We need to talk," he said, hugging her to him again briefly.

"But not now.  Later."

Taylor refused to get her hopes up too high and simply nodded.

"Heather is probably worried sick."

They'd shouted and waved for about five minutes before a fireman
noticed and sent someone inside the building to unlock the outside roof
door.  By the time they made it to the ground floor.  and outside,
several fire engines and a dozen fire and police personnel swarmed the
area.  Streams of water from hoses pelted the warehouse from various
directions, but the efforts appeared useless against the viciousness of
the flames.

Heather was sitting in the doorway of the ambulance being checked out
by a paramedic.  The moment she saw them, she tore the oxygen mask from
~ face and rushed over to them.

"Thank God you're all right," Heather breathed, wrapping her arms
around Taylor.

"I was so scared.  I didn't know what to do."  Taylor could hear the
note of relief in her voice.

"You did fine," she said, giving Heather a wan smile.  "You got out and
called the fire department."

"But if I had gotten out sooner," Heather wailed, "the fire department
would have gotten here sooner and maybe you'd have been able to save
the files.

They did burn, didn't they?"

Taylor looked from Steele's grim face back to Heather's.  She nodded
slowly.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it."  She tried to sound upbeat,
confident, but she knew the task of trying to clear Craig had just
gotten harder.  At

Heather's skeptical look, she gave-her hand a little squeeze.

"We'll just have to work around it, right, Steele?"

"Oh, yes," he replied vaguely as he watched Taylor hover over the
distraught woman.

Fifteen minutes later the fire chief came over to question them.  By
the time he was done, their terrifying afternoon had taken its' toll on
Heather.  She was almost a basket ease.

"Steele, call Matt and tell him what happened.  I'll take Heather home
and stay with her until he arrives."

Steele nodded but she could tell his mind was elsewhere; that fact was
confirmed by his question to the fire chief.

"How do you think the fire started?"

The fire chief scratched his head.

"I can't say for sure until we've completed our investigation.  But it
looks like it might have been arson.  That fire was moving too quickly
for it to be anything else.

Several people also noticed a suspicious-looking man hanging around the
building a few minutes before the fire started.  " "Were you able to
get a description?"  Steele asked.  "They said he was black, in his
late twenties, tall, slender and was wearing a leather jacket with a
patchwork design forming a lightning bolt on the back."

~ Heather's knees buckled, and if Taylor hadn't been holding her, she'd
have fallen to the ground.  She looked from Taylor to Steele, her eyes
filled with horror.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

"Allison bought a jacket just like that for Ted Larson!  *' " I DON'T
KNOW what you're talking about," Larson snarled.  He was leaning.
against the doorway of his Lincoln Park apartment.  His stance was
calm, but every muscle in his body was tense, alert~ " I was nowhere
near any warehouse.  " "Don't give me that," Steele said, pushing his
way inside the apartment.

Hawk followed and closed the door.

"Hey!  You can't barge in here like that," Larson yelled, but his voice
wobbled slightly, as if he were frightened.

Steele ignored his words as he glanced about the apartment.

"A man fitting your description was spotted running from that warehouse
right before the fire started.  He was said to be wearing a very
distinctive black leather jacket, which Heather McCall thought sounded
like one you owned."

-. Larson smiled.

"Heather McCall is the last person you ought to be listening to.  The
woman's a flake."  HIS grin slipped as Hawk walked over and sniffed the
air around him.

"You a smoker?"  Hawk asked.

Larson ran his arm over his forehead, wiping his brow.

"Of course not."  Hawk nodded.

"Then how come you smell like smoke?"

"I--I" -- Larson spluttered.

"Give it up," Steele said.

"You might as well tell us the truth--we're going to find out.  The
fire department will conduct a thorough investigation.  Trust me, there
are any number of people that can place you at the warehouse."

"All right," he said, his tone defiant.

"I was there but I didn't start that fire.  It was me who called the
fire department Steele's.  eyes narrowed.

"If you had nothing to hide, why did you run away?  Why didn't you wait
for the police and the fire department?"

"I--I didn't want the cops asking me.a lot 'of questions, all right?"
Larson said, his eyes wide as they darted from Hawk's to Steele's.

"Like what you were doing there, for starters?"  Steele asked dryly.

"Yeah," Larson admitted.  He hesitated then said,

"I--I've been folio wing you and Ms.  Quinlan."  He licked his lips.

"I wanted to know if you'd found Lamden's files."  At the look Steele
threw him, he, added,

"From something Allison said, I surmised he still had her documents.  I
also knew the identity of the person she was blackmailing had

to be in those documents because he'd signed over some assets to her.
I'd thought Craig was the killer but after Norris's murder" -- Steele's
head snapped up.  Suddenly.  it all clicked into place.

"You were the one who told her about Allison's blackmail scheme and lam
den files.  You were her source.  But you couldn't find the ~es.

Once she located them, you killed her, didn't you?  What were you going
to do, pick up where Allison left off?  " "Of course not!"  Larson
snarled.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted Larson's brow.

"I told Norris about the blackmail and the documents but I certainly
didn't kill her."  His eyes shifted from Steele's to the floor.

"Look, [was trying to help.  I want to find Allison's killer just as
badly as you do, but I can't get involved in the investigation."

"Tell me another one," Steele barked.

"You didn't say anything about what you knew for the same reason you
didn't tell the police about your relationship with Alii-son or that. t
y~u were at her condo the night she was mur- " I was at a club," Larson
cried.

"Remember?  The cops checked me out.

I sent you to picture.  They verify I was there.  " Steele nodded.

"You were there, all right, but not all evening.  We took a look at
those pictures you put so much faith in to establish your alibi.  In
the photo taken at nine-thirty, you're wearing a clean white shirt; In
the second photo taken at 10:15, you have a small red spot on the lower
right-hand side of that shirt.  It looks like a wine stain.  In the
last photo taken at midnight that spot isn't there anymore."

"I--I don't know what you're trying to pull," Larson spluttered.

Steele continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"You left the club sometime around eleven and went to Allison's.  Her
apartment is only ten minutes from the club.  You could easily have
made that trip to her house, killed her, run by your apartment to
change and gotten back to the club before midnight."

"That's ridiculous!"

"What happened?"  Steele pressed.

"Did you get blood on your shirt so you had to go home and change?"

"No!  I didn't kill Allison.  You said yourself the killer was someone
she was blackmailing."

"Mayhe that's just what you wanted us to think."

"Now, look, I'm getting sick and tired of your accusations.  I tried to
be cooperative but I don't have to take this crap.  I don't even have
to talk to you."

Steele ,s, ~l~i- Larson with a hard look.

"You're right.

You don't have to talk to us but you will.  have to talk to the police.
" He nodded at Hawk.

"Call 'em."

"Wait!"  Larson pleaded.

"Look, I didn't kill her~ She was already" -- He caught himself.

Steele pounced on his words.

"She was already what?"  Larson sagged back into the sofa.

"Oh, hell!"  "She was already what?"  Steele repeated.

Larson looked like a cornered animal.  His eyes were wild as they
darted from one man to the other.

"Nothing.

You just confused me," he stammered.

Neither Steele nor Hawk said anything.

Larson was sweating like a pig.

"Look, I didn't kill Allison!  If Barrett didn't do it, then it must
have been Denning."  When he saw they weren't buying it, he moaned.

"Oh, hell.  Now you're gonna try to pin her murder On me.  Look," he
said, licking his lips, "I loved Allison.  I would never have harmed
her."  As if to emphasize his words, he gave his head a little shake.

"I wouldn't have."

"I find that hard to believe," Steele said coolly.  Larson's eyes fgled
with tears, and he looked at Steele, his expression bleak.

"I

wouldn't have harmed A!  ll.  son.  Never in a million years.  " His
eyes pleaded for understanding as he said, "She was my sister!"

TAYLOR PACED back and forth in the living room of the McCall residence,
alternating between worrying about how things had gone ~with Larson and
what she would say to Steele now that the case was almost over. Heather
had taken a sedative and was.  upstairs sleeping.


What was keeping Steele?  It was after seven o'clock.  He and Hawk had
been gone almost two' hours.  She hadn't thought it would take this
long to get a confession.  They had Larson dead to rights.  By his own
admission, he'd known about the blackmail, and they could place him at
the crime scene the night of the murder, as well as at the warehouse
today.  He'd killed Allison--probably out of greed--Lamden and Norris
because they'd stumbled on to the blackmail scheme.  Mayhe even to his
involvement in it.  She sighed.

A part of her was glad it was all over, but another part was afraid Of
where that left her and Steele.  When they'd been trapped on that
rooftop, he'd let his guard down.  Any doubt that he still had feelings
for her had been removed the moment he kissed her.  His kiss had told
her how much he cared for her, how much he wanted her.  Hope filled her
despite her resolve to not read too much into his words.

The fact that he'd said they should talk had to be a positive sign.

She sighed, again.  She was driving herself crazy.  She wouldn't think
about it anymore.  She'd just have to wait for Steele to arrive, then
they could talk it all out.  She crossed to the window and stared at
the setting sun.

It was getting late.  Matt would be home soon.

"Ms.  Quinlan," the housekeeper said, breaking into her thoughts.

"Your office is calling."

"Thanks," she said, picking up the phone.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Taylor," she heard Brenda say, "but George
Avery has been trying to reach you all day.  He says it's imperative
that you call him immediately."  She jotted down the number.

George Avery?  She frowned, turning the name over in her mind.  Oh,
yes, the brokerage house.  Her frown deepened.  She'd given the message
to Matt and asked him to return the broker's call.  She sighed.  With
everything on his mind, he'd apparently forgotten.

She let out a long breath as she dialed the number and waited.

Maggi~ Ferguson

"I'm sorry to bother you," Mr.  Avery said, "but as the holder of Mr.
Barrett's power of attorney, I thought I should check with you on Matt
McCall's request to transfer another fifty thousand shares of Appleton
stock to Whiteseals Industries."

It sounded like a pretty routine financial transaction.  "Thanks for
telling me," she said.

"Is there anything else?"

"No, I just thought I should give you this information."  He spoke
slowly, as though making a decision about something.  Then he said
quickly, "Well, there is something else.  We also received a request to
liquidate close to two hundred thousand dollars and transfer the funds
to a bank in the Cayman Islands.  I wouldn't have thought much of Mr.
McCall's request, but this is the third such transfer to the Cayman
account in the last six months.

It's most irregular.  I thought as the holder of Mr.  Barrett's power
of attorney, you.  ought to know."

"" Of course.  Thank you.  " Taylor lowered the receiver into the
cradle thoughtfully.

Why would Craig need that kind of money?  Unless--unless he and Matt
had planned to use the money to get out of the country.  But Craig was
in jail and had been for the past three weeks.  She frowned.  Whiteseal
Industries.

She turned the name over in her mind.  As many times as she'd read the
separation agreement, she was pretty familiar with Craig's investments.
But that name didn't sound familiar.

She flipped opened her briefcase and pulled.  out the separation
agreement.

As she'd suspected, there was no Whiteseal Industries listed among
Craig's reported assets.  It could be that it was a recent acquisition
or.  As quickly as the thought occurred to her, she was rejecting it.
Matt was Craig's best friend.  He wouldn't do anything like that.  But
still she couldn't shake the feeling and she knew she would have no
peace until she checked out her suspicion.

Heather was upstairs asleep, and Matt wouldn't be home for another
fifteen,

twenty minutes.  He'd told her his computer password when she'd com
pie ted a brief for him a few weeks back.  If she just could remember
what it was, she could access his office files from the computer in the
study.  She could take a peek at Craig's portfolio.  Set her mind at
rest.  No one would ever know.

She 'headed to Matt's office.  At the door she quickly checked the
corridor to make sure it was x, ac ant then slipped inside.

"Now what was that code?"  she mumbled.  It had been numbers, of that
she was sure.  A birth-date?  But whose?  She typed in Heather's.  That
wasn't it.

Then she tried Matt's, then' Craig's and then her own.  She sighed,
then tried Matt's.  Still no luck.  Maybe it hadn't been a birth date
but a date of equal importance to him.  Of course, his wedding date! It
took her three more tries to get the right date, and then she was in.

A moment later, she was pulling up Craig's file.  "Matt, please forgive
me,"

she whispered, then took a quick breath and began to read.

She swallowed hard, hand shaking slightly as she' regarded the
information on the screen.

"It can't be," she whispered, but the truth was staring her right there
in the face.  It was a complicated financial process, but the bottom
line was Matt had set up several offshore dummy corporations for the
sole purpose of transferring monies from Craig's account into his. Matt
was stealing from Craig!

Had been for about six months.  Her hand flew to her mouth.  It hadn't
been Allison's assets that Lain-den questioned but Craig's!  He must
have discovered that Matt was embezzling from Craig; that's why he'd
wanted to meet with Matt--to confront him, and Matt had killed him.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

"I'm sorry you found that," a man's voice said.  Taylor's eyes flew to
the doorway.

Matt stood in the doorway, a sad expression on his face and a gun in
his hand, pointed straight at her heart.

STEELE WATCHED as Larson slumped back into the sofa.  "We know you're
Edward Garrison, Allison's brother," he said.  At Larson's look of
surprise, Steele added,

"Hawk got the lowdown on you right before we came over here.  We also
know about the contract that the loan shark you scammed four years ago
has out on you.  We know you've changed your name several~ times
because of that.

But why did you and Allison pretend not to be related?"

Larson ran a weary hand over his face.

"We had different fathers.

Allison was sensitive about people knowing her background--that she was
illegitimate and that she grew up dirt poor.  So we agreed not to broad
east our relationship.  " Steele nodded.

"It also gave you the perfect cover for your little extortion scares.
It wouldn't help to let the marks know you were the one collecting the
information on them?"

"No," he said, his voice LITTLE more than a whisper.  He looked at
Steele, his expression bleak.

"I was going to come forward once this was all over."

"I'm sure you were," Steele said dryly.

"Allison left her entire estate to you.  But for now let's focus on the
murder.  Why did you go to Allison's that' night?"

"She called and asked me to come over.  Whoever she was blackmailing
was giving her trouble.  She said she wanted me to hold something for
her, but she didn't say what.  When I got there..."  Larson
swallowed.

"She was dead."

"About what time Was that?"

He shrugged.

"Around eleven-twenty."

Steele's eyes narrowed as realization dawned.  It had been Larson that
Trebeck saw running from the condo.  "She must have given you some clue
to what it was she had on the person or who she was blackmailing," he
said.

"Try to remember.  What did she say about the person she was
blackmailing?"

Larsonshook his head.

"Not much.  Just that she was really enjoying putting the screws to
Red."

His looked at Steele.  '~"Yeah, that's'it.

She called him Red.  " "Red?"  Steele pounced on the name.

"Is that a given or nickname?"


Larson shrugged.

"She just said Red."

"Red."  Steele turned the name over in his mind~ The person Ned Kramer
saw had red hair.  There couldn't b~ that many men in Allison's circle
of friends with red hair.  He frowned.  Something tickled at the back
of his mind.

A conversation?  A memory?  He shook his head.  "Does it sound
familiar?"

Hawk asked.

"Yeah, it rings a bell, but I can't say why."  He turned back to
Larson.

"Tell us everything Allison said about this particular blackmail."

Larson was slowly recounting various conversations he'd had with his
sister, when a name and face suddenly flashed in Steele's mind's eye.

Red!  Of course!  He remembered the name.  Not from the present but
from the past, but the memory had been triggered by a recent
conversation.  His eyes widened in horror.  Oh, my God, Taylor!

"Come on," he yelled, tearing out the door.

"We need to get to the McCaIls' right away."

He drove like a bat out of hell.  Praying he'd get to Taylor in time.
The car came to a ~ halt in front of the McCall residence, and he
jumped out.

Hawk was right behind him.  He didn't bother ringing the doorbell, but
pounded on the door until it was opened by a frightened maid~ One look
at her face told him they were too late.

She said Matt, Heather and Taylor had left ten minutes before.  They
hadn't said where they were going, but from an overheard conversation,
she thought they were headed for the marina.

TAYLOR STARED at Matt in numb horror.

"Why?"  she whispered.

"Why did you do it?"  It was still hard for her to imagine that he
would steal from Craig, let alone kill anyone.

She took a s~ep back as he moved toward her.  He paused and a flash of
pain appeared in his eyes at her action.

"Don't be afraid," he said.

"I won't hurt you."

That comment coming from a man who had already killed three people did
nothing to reassure her.  "Steele..."  she managed to croak.

"Can't help you," Heather said from her seat on the cabin bunk.

"He and Hawk are probably still questioning Larson."  While Matt held
the gun on her, Heather had driven the car to the marina.  Once on
board, she'd lost no time setting sail.

"Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?"  Matt asked.

"You know I couldn't do that," she said.  Shelooked at him.

"Why, Matt?  Why did you do it?"

With ~his free hand, Matt rubbed his forehead.  "Money,"

"he said succinctly.

"Paying for the wedding, the honeymoon, I couldn't make the down
payment on the house."  ,.

"Why didn't you just ask Craig to loan you the money?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars?  I couldn't."  He hesitated, then looked
away.

"I'm not proud of what I did, but I thought I could replace it without
anyone ever being the wiser.  But after..."

He couldn't say it, she thought.  But killing Lainden changed
everything, "This isn't the way I wanted it, but everything is going to
come out.

Craig is going to.  ," His voice broke and his face looked bleak.

"We have to leave."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He gave her a wry smile.

"I'm not going to hurt you.  We're sailing to Michigan.  I'll leave you
tied up on the boat at Benton Harbor.  From there, we'll take a plane
out of the country.  Once we'~ safely in the air, I'll call Steele and
tell him where you are."

"Don't lie to me, Matt.  I know you're going to kill me.  Just like you
killed the others."  She was being deliberately dramatic.  She was
hoping her words would propel Heather into helping' her.

"Oh, no, you got it all wrong," he said.

"I'm not going to hurt you."


"Oh, come off it, Matt.  You're not going to leave me alive so I can
testify against you later."

"Taylor, you're like a sister," Matt said with a puzzled expression.

"I'd never hurt you."

Heather looked at her nails and sighed heavily.

"Taylor is right, you know.  You do have to kill her."

STEELE PRVSSVX) the accelerator--pushing it past ninety.  Red lights,
green lights, they were all the same.  His teeth were clenched and his
mind was racing.  A cold sweat beaded on his forehead.  He had to get
to the marina before the McCaIls set sail.  Once ~they were under way,
it would be doubly hard to find them.  He made it to the' marina in
record time.  They reached the McCails' boat bin in time to see the
faint outline of their boat in the distance.  They were too late!

"No!"  he screamed, failing to his knees.

"NOV'

MATT'S MOUTH DROPPt~ OPEN.

"What did you say?"  -' Heather continued to study her nails.

"I said you have to kill her--but do it outside--then throw the body
overboard."  She looked up, only then seeming to sense Matt's
astonishment.

"What's the matter?"

"I--I'm ... not going to kill Taylor," Matt-stammeredo

"Why not?"  Heather asked him curiously.

"Dear God."  Heather.  you don't kill people.  " Taylor's hand flew to
her mouth as realization dawned.  Matt might have stolen from Craig,
but he was no killer.  She turned toward Heat'her.

"It was you.  You killed Allison."

"No!"  Matt said, looking at her incredulously.

"No'!  You can't seriously think something like that."

"I'm afraid she's very serious," Heather said calmly.  "And that's why
you have to kill her."

Matt's head swiveled from Taylor to Heather.  "B-but... you didn't kill
Allison."

Heather looked at her husband and shrugged.

"Oh, but I did."

Matt flinched as if he'd been struck.

"She didn't leave me any choice," Heather continued.  "I had to do it~
And now you have to kill Taylor.  It's the only way to stop her from
going to the police."

Taylor stood there listening to her, hardly able to believe her ears.

But it all fit.  Heather was familiar with the residence and grounds of
Allison's condo and Craig's house.  It would have been easy for her to
slip out of the condo after killing' Allison, as well as for her to get
back inside laterjto plant evidence against Craig.  No doubt it had
been Heather who she and Steele had encountered at the condo and who
had planted the murder weapon at Craig's.  She'd killed Lamden and
Norris .  and now she was going to kill her.  She had to' stall it~r
time.  By now, Steele had to know she was missing and looking for
her.

"If you let me go, I won't go to the police," Taylor said.

"Besides, what can I tell them?  I only know about the embezzlement,
nothing else."

"Don't underestimate yourself."  Heather's voice was bland and the
smile that touched her lips was not reflected in her eyes.

"You know everything.  You-just haven't put it together, yet."

Taylor looked at her puzzled.

"I knew Allison had found something," Heather said.  "But before I
could really search the place, I heard Ted Larson coming.  Later, when
I went back to the condo, I ran into you and Steele.  But I thought I
wast safe until the night of the dinner party, when Steele started
teasing you.  Matt thought his story was funny, but I was terrified."

It took a moment for Heather's words to sink in.  Steele had teased her
about.  Taylor's heart jumped in her throat as realization dawned.

The true crime studies.  Heather was the young girl who had killed her
foster parents!

Once Heather was certain Taylor had made the connection, she picked up
the narrative.

"I made the mistake of telling Allison that I lived in Philadelphia
with a foster family for a wh'de, and that they called me Red.  I don't
think she'd

thought too much of what I'd said until that nosy Mrs.  Kent started
filling her head with a lot of nonsense about not trusting me, that I
wasn't what I seemed.  Then, when Mrs.  Kent died, she became
suspicious.  Somehow she found out about my past.  She threatened to
tell the police that I'd killed Mrs.  Kent if I didn't give her
three-hundred-thousand dollars."

"Why didn't you tell me?"  Matt's voice was strangled, and his face was
drained of any color.

"Whatever you did was in the past.  But killing Aili.~on?  There had to
be some other way."

"Really, Matt, there was no other way," she snapped.

"If you must know, I did kill Mrs.  Kent."

"Oh, God, now Matt moaned.

"No!"

"Don't you understand," she said angrily.

"I had to kill Allison.

There would have been no end to her blackmail.  " Taylor looked at
Matt.

He appeared to be in shock.  Keep her talking, an inner voice screamed.
At the same time, she prayed that Steele had figured out where she was
and would arrive at any moment.

"I know why you killed Allison," she said.

"But why.  Harold Lamden?"

Heather raised her hand in a gesture of dismissal.  "latmden uncovered
the embezzlement."  At Matt's look of surprise, she added, "Not yours,
though, like Taylor he did think you were the culprit.  But it was
me.

I knew where you'd gotten the money for the down payment.  And I knew
you were eaten up with guilt and distracted, not managing his portfolio
that way you should.  I took the money from Craig's account and paid
off Allison.  " She threw Taylor a cold smile.

"I'm not as dumb as you and Matt's friends thought, am I?  Anyway,
Lainden called the house.  He wanted to give Matt the opportunity to
make restitution.  I told him Matt was out of town and persuaded him to
let me come by his house that evening to resolve the matter.  When he
wasn't looking, I slipped a sleeping pill in his drink.  You know the
rest."

Her words were spoken calmly, matter of factly, with no remorse
whatsoever.

Taylor knew then that Heather was totally without a conscience--a
sociopath--and, as such, could not be reasoned with or.  appealed to
for mercy.

"Is that why you killed Norris?  Because she figured out that Lainden
hadn't committed suicide?"  Taylor tried to hold in her fear.

"Something like that," Heather said, turning to rummage in her shoulder
bag.

"She was asking entirely too many questions.  I couldn't take the
chance of her putting the pieces together."

She pinned Matt with a pained look.

"This is getting very tiresome.

Get on with it.  " "Why can't we just leave her on the boat at Benton
Harbor like we planned?"

Matt asked, lowering the barrel of the gun.

Heather sighed heavily.

"Because I don't want to leave any loose ends."  She produced a gun
from her shoulder bag.

"If you can't do it, I'll do it myself," she said petulantly.  "You
know, Matt, I am very disappointed.  I thought I could count on you."

Matt looked at her, horrified.

"Not for... murder."  "Obviously not,"

Heather said, and sighed again in exasperation.  She gestured with the
gun.

"Okay, Taylor, out on deck."

"No!"  Matt said, blocking the doorway.

"I'm not going to let you do this?"

"That's too bad," Heather said, and fired at pointblank range.  Matt
grabbed his Chest and fell to the floor.

"Matt!"  Taylor screamed.  She stared at Matt's'life-less body.

"Move," Heather said, jamming the barrel of the gun into her side for
emphasis.

Taylor swallowed, trying to hang on to her panic.  She tried to steady
her nerves, but her fear kept getting the best of her.  Steele would
get here in time.  She knew he would.

Out on the deck' she looked around her, at the glearaing mahogany of
the deck where she would soon lie bleeding.  What a stupid place to
die, she thought.


She closed her eyes against the pain of never seeing Steele again, of
never telling him she loved him.  When she opened them, she blinked
twice, not sure if her mind was playing tricks on her.  Over Heather's
right shoulder, off in the distance she' could just make out a boat.

Her heart jumped in her throat.  Steele!

"You'll never get away with this," she said, stalling for time.

"How are you going to explain Matt's and my deaths?"

Heather chuckled.

"I'm going to tell the authorities that you discovered that Matt killed
Allison and the others.  He then shot you and tried to killed me.  It
was self-defense."

Keep.  her talking, her mind screamed.

"From all accounts, Allison was a shrewd cookie--how did you out smart
her?"

"Oh, that was easy," Heather laughed, then launched into a narrative of
how she'd lured Allison into thinking she was going along with the
blackmail.

"Well, Taylor, this is where" -- Suddenly, out of the night, a light
caught Heather and Taylor in its beam.

"This is the United States Coast Guard," a deep male voice boomed.

"Drop your gun and prepare to be boarded."

Heather whirled around, giving Taylor a chance to put some distance
between them.  Out of the~ corner of her eye, she saw Heather swivel
back and take aim.  A bullet whizzed past as she ducked down.

"Drop the gun and put your hands up in the air," the voice boomed
again, Heather ignored the command and charged toward' her.  Taylor
jumped up, but before she could take, more than a step, excruciating
pain shot through her scalp.  She screamed as her head was snapped back
brutally by a vicious yank on her hair.  She turned, clawing at the
other woman's face.

Over Heather's left shoulder she saw that the coast guard cutter had
drawn up alongside the boat and Steele was jumping on deck.  He grabbed
the first thing he saw, a fire extinguisher.

"Heathed."  he shouted.  Startled, Heather spun toward the voice, and
he sprayed her full in the face before she could bring the gun
around.

The icy breath of the CO2 extinguisher spilled over Taylor's face as
she tried to grab the gun from Heather's hand.

"Damn it!  Let go!"

Heather screamed out, choking on the gas that momentarily blinded her
as she turned the gun toward Steele.  But Taylor pushed her arm up just
as she fired, sending the bullet flying through the night air.

Heather twisted, spinning Taylor away.

At that precise moment, the deck tilted and Heather fell against her,
still swearing and struggling.  Taylor felt' the rail hit the back of
her knees, and then she was arcing through the air.  She hit the water
on her back, and the impact knocked the wind from her lungs.

She seemed to go down forever, but she never reached the bottom.  Then
she began to rise, but it also took forever.  Her lungs were in agony,
and the darkness of the air and water were one, so she didn't know she
was near the surface until she broke through it.

The McCall yacht was about a hundred yards from her and moving away.

She could see Heather firing aimlessly at Steele as he searched the
water for her.

How long before Steele could subdue Heather and be able to look for
her?  she wondered, trying to fight her mounting panic.  She was miles
from any land, and she was not a strong swimmer.

"Oh, Steele..."  she whispered, and went on whispering in a litany of
pleading until a wave filled her mouth with water and she choked.

All Taylor's life, her worst fear had been to drown.  Time and again,
through childhood and beyond, she'd jerk awake from dreams in which
she'd seen herself drowning.  Horrified, she suddenly knew that they
had not been nightmares but premonitions, She was going to drown.

As if to confirm her destiny, as a promise of things to come, something
cold and slimy passed by in the blackness beneath her, brushing lightly
against.

her right leg.


Taylor screamed and kept on screaming until the water filled her
mouth.

STEELE'S Heart ad~ STOPPED when he saw Taylor go overboard.  He threw
the fire extinguisher at Heather, then ran around the side of the boat
he'd seen her go over.  He didn't see anything.

"Taylor!  Taylor!"  he shouted, then ducked back down as he dodged
another shot.

Steele's next action was not premeditated.  He only knew he had to
subdue Heather before he could help Taylor.  He picked up the first
thing he saw,.

a life preserver, and flung it at her.

Heather shrieked, whether at seeing an object being hurled at her or at
the actual contact, Steele never knew.  As Heather ducked to avoid the
life preserver, Steele leapt forward.

It was a simple matter to wrench' the gun from Heather's fingers and
grab her right arm and pull it behind her back.  He wrapped his left
arm around her throat.  Heather twisted and turned, but to no avail.

"Are you idl right?"  Hawk asked, stepping aboard the boat.  Three
coast guard officers followed, their guns drawn.

"Here," he said, pushing a defiant Heather toward Hawk.

"Taylor's overboard!"  He frantically-searched the water, calling her
name.

"Get a light in the water and have someone turn this boat around."

It seemed like hours, but in reality it probably took only a few
minutes for them to spot her, and then he was in the water.

He dragged a moaning and limp Taylor from the water and onto the boat.
Hawk dropped a blanket for him and Taylor.

"Taylor?  Can you hear me?  Can you open your eyes?"  Taylor's eyelids
fluttered and slowly opened, then closed on'a moan: Relief swelled in
Steele's chest and filled his heart.  He knelt down and took her in his
arms.

"Taylor," he murmured, hugging her fiercely to his chest.  He'd come so
close to losing her.  If he lived to be a hundred, he knew he'd never
get the image of her falling overboard out of his mind.  If he'd been
just a few minutes later, she would have-He shoved the disturbing
thoughts aside.  She was safe.

She was with him.  And he was never going to let her go~ "Don't worry
about anything," he said.

"I'll take care of everything."

She nesfied into his shoulder.

"I never had any doubt."  The false bravado in her voice struck all-the
right chords in his heart.  She was tough about the right things.  And
soft about the right things,-too.  He kissed her forehead.

"How do you feel?"  he asked.

She sighed and burrowed doser.  ?  "Numb I think.  I would never have
guessed in a million years Healt~ was the kill crY She twisted in his
arms.

"Remember ~ case studies from that true-crime book I found at
Allison's?  The one about the young girl?  That was Heather!"

"I know," he said.  He caressed her cheek and cradled her head,

"Larson said Allison Called the blackmailer Red.  I'd heard that
nickname before in the context of the case and remembered it was a
reference to the girl's hair color.  And the only female connected with
this case with red hair was Heather.  I'd always thought she wasn't
what she seemed.  Plus she lied about calling the fire department and
she was awfully interested in knowing if Allison's documents burned.
She had to be the killer.  She's a real psycho--this time she's going
to be put away for life."

"Oh, Steele..."  She trembled in his arms, and he held her tight, Her
face darkened as another memory came coursing back.

"Matt--Matt's dead.  Heather shot him."  She closed her eyes and
shuddered.


Steele pulled her closer.

"Hawk said he's lost a lot of blood, but he's going to be all right."

Taylor's head rose from his shoulder.

"Thank God," she whispered.

Then in a rush of words, she told him about the confrontation between
Matt and Heather.  "What's going to happen to him?"  she asked.

He covered her hand with his.

"I don't know.  He did embezzle money from Craig, but he had nothing to
do With the murders and he tried to help you.  That should go a long
way if any criminal charges are filed against him, but I'm not sure
what's going to happen between him and Craig."

She shivered again, and Steele brought her back to his side.  He held
her there for several minutes until he could feel her heart slowing and
matching the beats of his own.  He felt so good now that the terror was
finally over.

That she was safe by his side.

"It's all over now," he said, hugging her close.

He felt her grow still, and there was a catch in her voice as she said,
"Well, I guess you'll be heading back to Washington soon."

He traced a heart across her open palm with his index finger.

"Yeah, but I'd like for you to go with me."

She lifted her eyes slowly to look into his, and he saw the tears
swimming in the deep brown of her eyes.  "Steele, are you sure?"

"Taylor, I've never been so sure of anything in my life."  He drew a
deep breath, then released it in a long sigh.  He exhaled a lifetime of
loneliness in his next words and he knew it.

"Taylor, I love you very much and I want to share my life with you."

Her face broke into a brilliant smile.

"Oh, Steele, I love you, too."

She-loved him.  Warmth expanded in his chest, trickled out into his
shoulders and arms, rushed down through his legs.  It made him feel
strong, weak, invincible, vulnerable, full and empty all, at the same
time.  And very happy.

Steele took her into his arms.  His last thought as his mouth covered
hers was of how much he loved her.  She was his life.  He was happier
than he'd ever thought he could be.  His life was complete.