Survive the Night. Vicki Hinze

okay?” His face shone green in the light from the dash.

      “You said he wasn’t sick, he just likes to kill. But this man is truly one sick puppy.”

      “What page are you on?”

      “Three.”

      He grimaced. “You haven’t gotten to the really bad stuff yet.”

      Della felt the blood drain from her face. How much worse could it get?

      She didn’t want to know. She really didn’t. But if he could be her stalker...

      Clasping Paul’s hand, she turned to page four.

      * * *

      While the street was still full of festival celebrators, the reception area of Lost, Inc., had been cleared of people. The door chime echoed through the empty downstairs. Moments later, Jimmy, the most junior investigator and chief gofer, called down from the top of the stairs to the second floor. “We’re upstairs in the conference room, Della.”

      She looked back at Paul. “I wish I felt better about this. Are we making a mistake? If it is Dawson or Crawford, we could be making targets of these people, too.”

      Paul paused on the steps. “You’ve seen Dawson’s work. I’ve seen Crawford’s. If we could do it alone, we would. We can’t.”

      He was right. She didn’t have to like it, but she would have to be crazy not to admit it. They walked down the narrow hall and into the conference room.

      Madison was seated at the head of the long wooden table near the window. Her assistant, Mrs. Renault, sat to her right, and Doc, the agency’s doctor-turned-investigator, next to Mrs. Renault. Jimmy couldn’t take his regular seat to Madison’s left—a man Della had not met sat in it. She stilled, shooting a worried look at Paul and whispered, “Who is he?” With his shaggy golden-brown hair and full jaw colored by five o’clock shadow, he couldn’t be active-duty military.

      “Captain Grant Deaver, an OSI officer from the base.”

      The hair on Della’s neck stood on end. Had Major Beech reported what had happened at her cottage? “What’s he doing here?”

      Paul didn’t look any happier about Deaver being present than Della. “I have no idea.” He sent Madison a questioning look.

      “Come and sit down.” Madison smoothed her long blond hair back from her face. “Grant recently left the military and, knowing his qualifications, I snapped him up. He’s on staff here now with the rest of us.”

      An odd feeling pitted Della’s stomach. Madison said the right things, but the look in her eye was at odds with her words. Something was off. Why had she really hired Grant Deaver? Unsure, Della took her seat, and Paul sat down beside her.

      Mrs. Renault, svelte and sophisticated in all things at all times, opened her notebook and poised her pen, prepared to go. She had the best electronic equipment money could buy—Madison would accept nothing less—and Mrs. Renault used it. But she also still took notes by hand for her backup copy. That determination to cover all bases made her an excellent assistant for Madison as well as a fountain of information for the rest of the staff. The woman seemed to know everything about everything and everyone.

      “Della, you said you were in trouble and needed our help.” Madison leaned back in her high-back chair. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

      For the next fifteen minutes, Della briefed them on Leo Dawson and the events from her past, all the way up to receiving the package tonight. It was more information than she had ever given anyone except Paul, and given a choice, she’d have elected to have a root canal without anesthetic over baring her soul to her coworkers now. But Dawson had been in her house. Or Crawford. Or someone else. And that changed everything.

      “Is that it, then?” Madison asked, her expression guarded and closed.

      Della had no idea how she or any of the others felt about all that they’d heard. If nothing else, this group knew how to mask their reactions. “I think that’s everything.”

      Madison looked down the long table between Della and Paul. “So you two knew about this—that you were being stalked for six weeks, Della—and you didn’t tell me?”

      “I was seeking evidence.”

      Mrs. Renault lifted her chin. “Which is why you’ve reviewed all your past cases.”

      “Not all of them.”

      “All you’ve worked on in the last six months,” Mrs. Renault guessed. “Gauging by the misshapen stacks of files in your office.”

      Jimmy grunted. “That’s what the wreck in there is all about.”

      “Back to the matter of nondisclosure.” Madison’s tone made it evident she wasn’t happy. “Not only have you put yourself in more jeopardy than is necessary, but you made the rest of us vulnerable. That’s what secrets like this one do. I can almost understand, but I don’t like it, and I don’t expect it to happen again. Understood?” When Della nodded, Madison continued. “Paul, you being a party to this stuns me—especially if you think Gary Crawford is the stalker.”

      He made no move to defend himself.

      “Wait.” Della held up her hand. “Paul didn’t know.” Kind of him to be willing to take being chewed out for her, but it was wrong. “I just told him tonight.”

      From his expression, Grant Deaver found that interesting. Mrs. Renault hiked her left brow, a sign she wasn’t at all surprised, and Madison uttered her infamous “I see,” which meant, unfortunately, she really did.

      “Understood.” Madison addressed Della. “We’ve got a grip on the problem. Let’s focus on a plan. You will work with a partner until the case is resolved. That’s not a recommendation, it’s a requirement.”

      “That’ll be me.” Paul spoke up. “I know most about Crawford and she knows most about Dawson.”

      And he wanted her close, to protect her. Della withheld a groan. Caring, touching and predictable, but he would be protective and that would slow her down.

      “He’s been in her cottage, Madison,” Mrs. Renault reminded her.

      Madison rocked in her seat. “You’ll stay with me.”

      “No.” Della refused. “You’re on the water. It’s easier to attack and harder to defend.”

      Deaver rubbed his jaw. “She’s right.”

      “The ranch is safest,” Paul said.

      “Totally inappropriate.” Mrs. Renault frowned.

      “Not if I move into the barn apartment with Warny.” Everyone knew his uncle, so there was no need to explain he helped Paul at the ranch.

      Madison glanced between the two, then landed on Mrs. Renault. “With the security upgrades Paul did after Utah, his ranch is the safest place in the state.”

      Did everyone know about Paul and Maggie’s incident last year except Della? Apparently, since no one asked any questions—including Grant Deaver. He shared a very personal look with Madison that drew sparks. What was going on there? “Do you think this is necessary?”

      Madison looked at Della. Her bright blue eyes were laced with regret. “Yes. You move into Paul’s, he moves in with Warny and you two work together at all times.”

      “I want to run down the shipper on that package,” Della said.

      “Fine.” Madison nodded, Mrs. Renault wrote and Jimmy frowned. “Jimmy, you canvass the neighborhood and see if anyone’s seen anything. Mrs. Renault, run Della’s ex, Jeff, and let’s rule him in or out. Grant, dig up whatever you can find on Leo Dawson and, Paul, you check with Maggie and see what her sources consider the latest on Gary Crawford. Let’s see if we can’t locate both men or at least see