“I guess you haven’t heard—one of the models got murdered just before we left Seattle.”
Heath sobered. “I’ve been working a case. I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“Some wack job strangled her. Claims he’s going to do it again.” For the next few minutes, Ethan brought his friend up to speed on Delilah Larsen’s murder, the notes the ten top models had received, and the second note the killer had left in Delilah’s apartment.
“I need to know if this guy’s in Dallas, Heath. If he’s following the tour. You guys pick up anything that points in that direction, I want to know. Even if it’s a long shot, I want to know.”
“I can do that.”
“Not only do we have a dead model but the press managed to get wind of the notes, take photos, and broadcast them all over the country.” Ethan dragged out his phone and brought up the image of the printed message.
Heath hissed out a breath. “Definitely not good.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“A guy named Matt Carlyle is head of La Belle operations. He’s good at what he does. I’m sure he’s already been in touch with Captain Bridger or someone else in the department, but—”
“But you’re a hands-on kind of guy and you want to be kept in the loop.”
“That’s right.”
“Consider it done,” Heath said. “By the way, how’s that hole in your shoulder?”
Ethan’s mouth edged up. “Healed just fine.”
“I haven’t forgotten what you did that day.” A back alley bar fight that had turned deadly. “If you hadn’t showed up when you did, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“You would have done the same thing.”
“I like to think so.” Heath stuck out a hand, then leaned in to grip Ethan’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, my friend; I appreciate it.”
Ethan left the office, climbed into the rental car he’d had delivered to the theater that morning, and headed back to the hotel. He had a job to do and part of it was finding a murderer, but he had been gone most of the day. He was beginning to get edgy about being away so long.
Dirk was with the women. Ethan told himself not to worry.
Didn’t do a lick of good.
In the opulent Ritz hotel bar, the Rattlesnake, with its contemporary western theme, dark wood, and backlit golden onyx panels, Val sat at a table with Isabel and Meg. Sipping a glass of white wine, she tried to concentrate on the women’s conversation. Across the room at the long polished bar, Dirk lounged on a stool drinking a Coke, watching the room, playing bodyguard.
He was armed, Val knew, a big menacing pistol holstered at his waist beneath the black La Belle T-shirt he wore—though no one actually believed the killer would strike in a place as public as the luxurious Ritz-Carlton.
She tried not to look for Ethan. Their jobs aside, she didn’t have time to get involved with a man. As soon as the tour was over, she was taking the part-time job she’d been offered at the animal clinic, waiting for school to start, then throwing herself into classes.
She’d be studying, preparing, taking on new responsibilities. She was getting her vet degree, then starting a career.
She glanced toward the door, saw Ethan walk into the room, and her whole body flushed with heat. In a pair of wraparound sunglasses, tall and broad-shouldered, built as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a romance fantasy, he made the wordvirilelook impotent.
Her stomach contracted. It was ridiculous. He was only a man. Maybe it was just that he made her feel safe, which no one had done in all the years since Bobby.
He pulled off the shades and tucked them into the top of his T-shirt, his dark gaze finding her as if he had some special radar. Instead of walking toward her, he headed for the bar and took a stool next to Dirk.
Val forced her attention back to the women, caught the tail end of a story about Meg’s darling little boy, Charlie, smiled, and managed to say something that didn’t sound completely inane.
When Matt Carlyle walked in and rounded them up to join the other models for dinner, she followed. Ethan and Dirk fell in behind the group, but instead of sitting at one of the tables, positioned themselves against the wall at opposite ends of the private dining room.
When the meal was over, the models headed up to their rooms, escorted by La Belle security guards. Dirk escorted Meg while Ethan accompanied Val, but they didn’t talk along the way.
