Daniel lingered behind, looking for Rose Browning. He’d kept an eye out for her since spotting her heading toward the restrooms. He hadn’t seen her come out, so she had to still be back there somewhere.
Unless there was a rear exit.
As he started toward the corridor, the object of his search emerged, stopping short as her startled gaze met his.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly.
She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t think you were.”
“I need to talk to you.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “About what?”
“Alice Donovan’s murder.”
The other eyebrow lifted. “Why would I want to talk to you about Alice’s murder? You’re not a policeman.”
He debated telling her who he was and why he was interested, but he didn’t want to lay out all his cards yet. He compromised. “Actually, I’m something of a true-crime buff. I’m thinking about writing a book on unsolved murders in the southeast.”
“You want to write about people murdering other people?”
Not the question he’d expected. “Maybe what I write will help solve the crimes.”
Her pale brown eyes glittered with skepticism. “Right.”
He couldn’t blame her for her doubt. It wasn’t a great cover story but it had the advantage of being the truth. Sort of. “Whoever killed Alice has killed before.”
She didn’t look surprised. Interesting.
“There was another woman about a month ago. Sherry Nicholson. Seen leaving the Anchor on Magnolia Avenue around midnight. Next morning her body turned up in the woods near Vulcan Park.” When Rose didn’t respond, he continued. “Victim number two was a med student at U.A.B.”
“Elisa Biondi,” Rose blurted softly.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”
“They’re connected, aren’t they?”
“I think so.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his. “Interesting hobby you have.”
He didn’t like her cool tone. What he did wasn’t a hobby; it was his job. He was damned good at it. Sometimes he got a big rush out of it. A lot of women found him fascinating because of what he chose to do with his life. Just not Rose Browning, apparently.
“He didn’t start here in Birmingham,” he said.
Her brow creased. “You think he’s killed before?”
Daniel hesitated, not sure why he’d opened up to her as much as he had already. He needed to control the conversation, not get sucked into spilling his guts to a big-eyed brunette beauty with her own secrets. “Why were you at Alice Donovan’s the other morning?”
She hesitated before answering. “I called her business that morning, and her employees were worried because she was very late. I’d offered to check on her. What were you doing there?”
“Following the police from the crime scene.”
She gave a soft huff of surprised laughter.
“I talked to your client, Melissa Bannerman. She told me you were at a club with her and Alice the night she died. Said you left a minute or so after Alice.”
Rose cocked her head. “Melissa told you that?”
“Yes.”
She stepped back, putting more distance between them. “Or maybe you were stalking Alice.”
He ignored the accusation. “Did you see Alice leave?”
“Yes. I saw her drive away, and she was alone and fine.” Rose started to walk briskly toward the exit.
Daniel caught up with her outside the funeral home. “That’s all you saw?”
“You think I saw someone grab her and just forgot to call the police?” She pinned him with a fierce glare.
“You may have seen something you don’t realize you saw.”
“I didn’t,” she said. But unease flickered over her face.
“Maybe someone at the bar paying too much attention to her. Or a car that left the parking lot right after hers-”
“I didn’t see anything like that.” She moved away, heading toward the parking lot. He let her go, walking to his Jeep at a more leisurely pace. She was already pulling out onto the highway by the time he slid behind the steering wheel.
No matter. He knew where she lived.
“IS IT A GO?” Rose tightened her grip on her cell phone, waiting for the neighborhood association president’s response.
“Tuesday at seven, regular room,” John Fielding answered.
Rose sighed with relief. “Perfect. Do you need me to help pass out the fliers?”
“We’ll have some printed up by one o’clock this afternoon. You can pick up a batch then.” He gave her the address of his law firm.
“I’ll be there.” Rose hung up and looked across the desk at Melissa Bannerman. “It’s on-next Tuesday at seven.”
Melissa smiled, though sadness lingered in her eyes. “I can’t believe you got it put together so quickly.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Mr. Fielding. He even managed to get the police to cooperate.”
Melissa looked surprised. “Did you think they wouldn’t?”
“The guy’s killed three women, and the cops haven’t got a clue. That’s not something they like to talk about.”
“Well, I definitely plan to be there.” Melissa stood, picking up the suit jacket draped over her desk chair. “After what happened to Alice, I’ve decided there’s no such thing as being too careful. I have a technician coming first thing in the morning to put in a new alarm system.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Rose agreed. She should consider it herself, although money was tight at the moment.
Melissa shrugged on her jacket and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go see what the Elegant Eatery has to offer.”
Rose let Melissa take the lead at the caterer’s, knowing her strong-willed client would make her own decision regardless of what Rose might suggest. She was too keyed up to sample the goods, anyway.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what Daniel Hartman had told her at Alice’s funeral.
It had been bad enough knowing that the killer had murdered three women. But if Daniel was right, he’d killed dozens of women across several states without being caught.
How could she possibly stop him before he killed again?
Chapter Four
A black ribbon still hung on the door of Five Points Floral Creations when Daniel arrived after lunchtime the Friday after Alice Donovan’s funeral. He recognized the clerk he’d met on Monday when he’d stopped by to find out more about Alice’s movements the night she’d died.
Daniel avoided the clerk, taking a slow tour of the display area, looking for a fall arrangement to send to his mother. A week in town and still he hadn’t called her.
He was a lousy son.
He took a bouquet of fall asters to the cashier’s counter where the clerk, a pretty girl with short black hair and a sapphire nose stud, met him with a smile. Sasha, he remembered.
She recognized him, as well. “Hi. Daniel, right? Did you get in touch with Ms. Bannerman?”
He handed her his credit card. “I did, thanks.”
“I hope you can help find out who killed Alice. I still can’t get my mind around it.” Sasha handed him his
