Free Captive Star by Nora Roberts Page A

chance." Her stomach was settling, but she continued to take small, shallow breaths. "We have to call the police."
    "Sure, we'll call 911, then we'll wait and explain ourselves. From the inside of a cell." Crouching down, he began shuffling through papers.
    "Jack, for God's sake, the man's been murdered."
    "He won't be any less dead if we call the cops, will he? Never could figure out Ralph's filing system."
    "Haven't you got any feelings at all? You knew him."
    "I haven't got time for feelings." And since they were trying to surface, his voice was rough as sand. "Think about it, sugar. Whoever did this to him would love to play the same game with you. Take a good look, and ask yourself if that's how you want to end up."
    He waited a moment, then accepted her silence as understanding. "Now you can go in the back room and save your sensibilities, or you can help me sort through this mess."
    When she turned, he assumed she'd walk away. That she might keep on walking, no matter the neighborhood. But she stopped at a file cabinet, grabbed a handful of papers. "What am I looking for?"
    "Anything."
    "That narrows it down. And why should there be anything left? They've already been here."
    "He'd keep a backup somewhere." Jack hissed at the snowfall of papers. "Why the hell didn't he use a computer like a normal person?"
    Rising, he went to the desk, wrenched out a drawer. He searched it, turning it over, checking the underside, the back, then tossing it aside and yanking out another. On the third try, he found a false back.
    His quick grunt of approval had M.J. turning, watching him take out a penknife and pry at wood. Giving up her own search, she walked to him. By tacit agreement with him, she gripped the loosened edge and tugged while he worked the knife around. Wood splintered from wood.
    "It's practically cemented on," Jack muttered. "And recently."
    "How do you know it's recent?"
    "It's clean. No dust, no grime. Watch your fingers. Here, you take the knife.
    Let me…" They switched jobs. He skinned his knuckles, swore, and continued to peel the wood back. All at once it popped free.
    Jack took the knife again, cut through the tape affixing a key to the back of the drawer. "Storage locker," he muttered. "I wonder what Ralph has tucked away."
    "Bus station? Train station? Airport?" M.J. leaned closer to study the key. "It doesn't have a name, just a number."
    "I'd go with one of the first two. Ralph didn't like to fly, and the airport's a trek from here."
    "That still leaves a lot of locks on a lot of boxes," she reminded him.
    "We'll track it down."
    "Do you know how many storage lockers there must be in the metropolitan area?"
    He turned the key between his fingers and smiled thinly. "We only need one." He took her hand, and before she realized his intent, he'd cuffed them together again.
    "Oh, for God's sake, Jack."
    "Just covering my bases. Come on, we've got work to do."
    At the first bus station, he'd grudgingly removed the cuffs before dragging M.J.
    into a phone booth, and making an anonymous call to the police to report the murder. Then he carefully wiped down the phone. "If they've got caller ID," he told her, "they'll track down where the call was made."
    "And I take it your prints are on file."
    He flashed a grin. "Just a little disagreement over pool in my misspent youth.
    Fifty dollars and time served."
    Because he'd shifted, she was backed into the corner of the booth, pressed to the wall by his body. "It's a little crowded in here."
    "I noticed." He lifted a hand, skimmed back the hair at her temple. "You did all right back there. A lot of women would have gotten hysterical."
    "I don't get hysterical."
    "No, you don't. So give me a break here, will you?" He tipped her face up, lowered his head.
    "Just for a minute." And he closed his mouth over hers.
    She could have resisted. She meant to. But it was an easy kiss, with need just a whispering note. It was almost friendly, could have been friendly, if not for the