Free Dangerous by Patricia Rosemoor Page A

average height and broad.
    Drago grabbed her arm. “And where do you think you’re going? You’re not on the case, remember? Jackson is simply showing you respect by keeping you in the loop.”
    She knew he was correct, but it didn’t make her want to stay put. Still, she held herself in check and didn’t try to leave the car. Instead, she moved away from the door and was relieved when he let go of her arm.
    “I can’t stand it.”
    And she didn’t just mean her need to know what was going on. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t shut off her hormones permanently around Drago Nance? Even now, longing swept through her. If Jackson’s text hadn’t come through when it had, she feared they would be in bed now. Or on the floor. Or on the kitchen table. She couldn’t turn off her erotic impulses. Nor her imagination. Even now, with so much riding on this lead panning out, she was aware of how close Drago was, especially when he reached under the seat, his shoulder brushing her knee. She shivered and caught her breath.
    “Give me a second and you’ll be informed,” he said, pulling something free.
    She saw it was a sound amplifier. He plugged it into the dash and the car’s speakers and aimed the microphone at the building just as the entrance door creaked open. But rather than a man answering, a skinny woman with frizzed graying hair and Coke-bottle glasses stood there, looking indignant at the interruption.
    “Who are you and what do you want?”
    “Detective Jackson, Chicago Police.”
He showed her his star and ID.
“We’re looking for Paul Fox.”
    “Then why’d you buzz me?”
    “You live in apartment 2B?”
    “Yeah, but my name is Minny Thomas, just like it says there.”
She pointed to the panel with the doorbells.
“I don’t know any Paul Fox.”
    “She’s got to be lying,” Camille said.
    “Maybe.”
    “How long have you been living here?”
Jackson asked the woman.
    “A coupla months. You wanna know about the former tenant, ask the owner over at Welby Realty on Madison.”
    “We’ll do that. But the Internet company is still billing your address. Are you using the Internet connection?”
    “Ain’t got no use for a computer. No money, neither.”
    “Can we come up and take a look in your apartment?”
    “What do you think I have stashed up there? I ain’t got no money or drugs or nothin’! All right, all right—come on up. Then you can get outta my hair.”
    Jackson had the taller officer wait outside and followed the woman into the building with the other officer. Other than the mike picking up street sounds, the speakers went silent.
    “Great.” Camille felt as if her chest was encased in a vise. “One way or the other, looks like it’s a false lead.”
    “Give them some time to see what’s what.”
    “The clock is ticking.” She glanced at the digital on the dash. “It’s been twenty-four hours.”
    Drago reached over and clasped her hand. “We’ll find her in time.”
    Did he really believe that or was he just trying to keep her calm? Whichever, she clung to his hand like it was a lifeline, which maybe it was. Because if Angel killed again, she didn’t know how she would ever forgive herself.
    They sat in silence. Waiting. The seemingly relentless attraction between them at bay for the moment. Camille hoping…praying…that Jackson would find something to lead them to Angel before he killed the girl. She had to believe that he was following a pattern at least in his keeping Sandy alive the way he had the last two victims. They had to rescue her.
    Camille couldn’t bear to have another kid die because of her. Emily already haunted her.
    Then Drago said, “Wait, I see something.”
    Camille looked to the building and spotted Jackson and the uniformed officer through the glass door. But they didn’t open it, instead headed in the other direction. The other officer waiting outside watched but stayed where he was.
    “What are they doing?”
    Drago didn’t