writer, too. You’ve written half a dozen true crime novels. I’ve read several of them. They’re intriguing. You’re quite a good writer, Mr. Lawrence.”
“Thank you.”
“Could I interest you two into staying and going out to dinner with me this evening?” Durham asked. “There is this marvelous seafood place—”
“I’m afraid we can’t stay,” Maleah said. “We appreciate the offer.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I understand. Duty calls.”
Durham continued talking to Derek about writing as Durham walked them to the door and followed them outside to Maleah’s SUV. Then they shook hands and said their good-byes.
As soon as they were on the main road, Maleah asked, “Where to now?”
“You’re actually asking for my opinion?”
“We’re partners, as you keep reminding me. I’m consulting you about our next move.”
“You didn’t consult me before you declined Albert’s offer to take us to dinner.”
She shot him a quick, questioning glance. “I didn’t realize we had time to waste.”
“We’re going to have to eat anyway,” Derek reminded her. “I suggest we find a place to stay here on the island tonight and get an early start in the morning.”
When she opened her mouth to protest, to suggest they travel through the night, he cut her off. “We need rest, Blondie. We’re both exhausted. We’ve been on the road—”
“All right, all right.”
“We won’t waste our time. We’ll order room service and work through dinner, if that will make you happy.”
She shot him a menacing glare. “You don’t want to know what would make me happy.”
Derek laughed. “Probably not. But remind me sometime to tell you what would make me happy.”
Groaning, Maleah clutched the steering wheel tightly.
Derek wondered who now oversaw their family’s vacation home there on St. Simons. His mother? His sister? Or perhaps one of his uncles? He hadn’t been inside the oceanfront “cottage” since he was a teenager, but if he thought no one was using it right now, he’d take Maleah there tonight. Stupid thought. First of all, he didn’t have a key to the place. And he doubted the same island couple who oversaw the upkeep of the house and grounds all those years ago were still alive since they had been in their sixties when he was a kid.
“I need to stop at a gas station and fill up,” Maleah said. “We’re down to less than a quarter of a tank.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll find us a place to stay tonight.”
“Fine.”
Five minutes later, Maleah stopped at one of the Friendly Express stations on the island and Derek called to book them rooms at the King and Prince, a beach and golf resort. He wouldn’t mind luxury accommodations for a change and he thought Maleah could use a little pampering about now.
After swiping her credit card, Maleah placed the nozzle in the mouth of the gas tank and set the pump on automatic. She opened the door and asked, “Want something to drink? I’m getting a Coke.”
“A Coke’s fine. Want me to—?”
She noticed he was still on the phone. “I’ll get them. You finish your call.”
By the time she returned with their colas and placed them in the cup holders inside the SUV, the pump had shut off, indicating the tank was full. After hanging the pump nozzle back on the hook, she hopped into the Equinox, removed a small bottle of hand sanitizer from the console storage bin, and hurriedly cleaned her hands.
“Was your phone call to Sanders?” she asked.
“No. I haven’t gotten in touch with him yet. I was getting us a room for tonight.”
She started the engine. “Where to?”
He gave her the directions. When they arrived a short time later, he was surprised by her reaction. Other than giving the resort a quick once-over as they drove up, she didn’t react in any way. He had thought for sure she would bitch about their staying at such a luxurious hotel.
Their side-by-side rooms were identical, both with king beds, both with oceanfront views and decorated in a cool, soothing color combo of cream, white, blue, and gold. After dumping his bag in the closet, he returned to her room. She came to the door when he knocked, but didn’t invite him in.
“I thought we could go ahead and order in, eat in your room or mine, and then get down to work,” he said.
“I want a nice long soak in the tub,” she told him. “Would you please order for me? Any seafood dish is fine. Shrimp, salmon, whatever. And a salad. No dessert. Iced tea.”
“I’ll place the order before I hop in the shower,” he said. “Your room or mine?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll have them deliver to my room and I’ll call you.”
“Fine.”
She closed the door in his face.
Smiling, he shook his head.
He had never known a woman who irritated him the way she did. Or intrigued him as much. Or made him want to turn her over his knee and spank her. He chuckled as he unlocked his door. She’d skin him alive for that thought. And he had to admit to himself that if he ever got his hands on her, spanking wouldn’t be on his Top Ten list of things he wanted to do.
No sooner had he entered his room than his phone rang. He answered as he closed and locked the door.
“Good evening,” Barbara Jean said. “I have an update for you.”
“We have an update for you, too,” he told her. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you.” She went over some mundane basic facts with him about both recent murders. Derek made mental notes of anything he felt might be significant in compiling his profile of the copycat killer. “Sanders wanted you to know that he’s discussed all the information with Griffin and Nicole. For the present, Sanders is in complete charge of the copycat case. Griff’s focus is on locating the source of the rumors about Malcolm York. He’s in touch around the clock with Luke Sentell.”
“I assume if there was any news on that front—”
“Yes, of course, we would inform you and Maleah. But for now, all we know is that Luke is in Austria following a lead.”
“We’re staying on St. Simons tonight and heading out in the morning, probably going back to Vidalia for Maleah’s next scheduled visit with Jerome Browning.”
“What about Albert Durham? Did y’all find him?”
“Yes, we found him,” Derek said. “The only problem is that the man we talked to this evening is the real Albert Durham. The man who visited Browning at the state penitentiary is a fake. He assumed Durham’s identity and posed as a biographer to get Browning to share details about his kills.”
“I’ll let Sanders know.”
“Please do.”
“Derek?”
“Yes?”
“When Maleah sees Browning again . . .” Barbara Jean paused as if wanting to choose her next words carefully.
“I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
“She wouldn’t appreciate the fact that I asked or that you agreed. Our Miss Maleah sees herself as a tough cookie. She doesn’t want to need anyone, but I learned long ago that in one way or another, at some time in our lives, we all need someone.”
“So far she’s held her own with Browning,” Derek assured Barbara Jean.
“I have no doubt that she has, but . . . Well, let’s just say that Nicole and I worry about her as if she were our
