A Face to Die For (Forensic Instincts 6)

Brianna’s fingers tightened in her lap. “He stopped asking me to come to his office or ‘accidentally’ running into me. Instead, he confined things to our classroom, which in some ways was more terrifying. I felt like a trapped animal. He kept making eye contact with me during class—constant, threatening eye contact. He wanted me to know he wouldn’t stop. I just didn’t know what he planned to do next, or when. But I was afraid. I made sure not to be alone on campus. I walked in crowds, especially at night. I kept to well-lit areas.”

She swallowed. “That wasn’t enough. Twice I saw him standing on the campus grounds staring at me. He wasn’t anywhere near his office or the quad where his classes are held. But he was in the exact path I took every day at that time. He was standing still as a statue, hands in his pockets, fixing his hostile gaze on me. It was no accident.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Casey agreed. “It was purposeful, a communication that he was taking this fixation outside of class.”

“That’s when I went to the police for the first time.”

“And they blew you off,” Claire supplied. “An upstanding professor, an overly imaginative student—there was no basis for an investigation.”

“Exactly. They took my complaint, then bluntly told me there was nothing they could do for me without evidence of a physical assault.” Brianna ran a nervous hand through her hair. “The next time I saw him was outside the Starbucks where I work when school’s in session. I was making drinks. I looked up and he was standing right outside the front windows, his gaze on me. Only me. He was waiting for me to look up and see him. When I did, he gave me an evil smile and then walked away.”

“He was escalating,” Casey said. “First, his advances were confined—from the classroom to his office to school corridors. Then, his advances turned stalker-ish—outside the school buildings, yet still on the grounds. And finally, he abandoned the confines of the school entirely and stalked you at your workplace.”

“Three times,” Brianna clarified. “The first two were at Starbucks. The last was after classes had ended and I was at Zolmer Advertising—that’s my summer job.”

“Shit,” Ryan muttered. “He went all the way over to Madison Avenue to watch you? This guy is on a mission.”

“It didn’t stop there,” Brianna said. “I started feeling as if I were being followed, not only to and from work but everywhere. The feeling was real. I know it. Several times, I thought I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd, but then he’d vanish. The scariest moment was when I spotted him outside my apartment building. I know it was him. But I couldn’t convince the police.”

“That’s when you filed the second police report,” Casey clarified.

“Yes. And it was just as pointless.” Tears slid down Brianna’s cheeks. “These last two weeks have been the worst. I started getting hang-up calls on my cell phone. The numbers are blocked, and when I answer, I hear raspy breathing on the other end, followed by a click. No voice. No message. Nothing. But on the days of the calls, I get a little gift left at my door, no note, no return address.”

“What kind of gifts?” Claire asked.

“The kind that only someone who knows me well could send. A snow globe of the English countryside—I visited England twice and fell in love with the beauty of its shires. A hook rug kit with a ferret at the center—I love ferrets and have one for a pet. I also love rug-hooking. It relaxes me. And a book of poetry by Emily Dickinson, my favorite poet.”

Brianna dashed away her tears. “That pushed me over the edge. I packed some things, left my apartment, and moved in with my best friend, Lina. She was with me the night I know he was standing outside my apartment. And she went with me when I filed my third police report, right after the book came. The officers were nice. But I still couldn’t give them any real evidence. No threats had been made. No notes had been left with the gifts.”

“I doubt the police were blowing you off,” Casey said. “They simply don’t have the manpower to investigate these situations.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think they were really concerned or taking it all that seriously. They gently suggested that the offender might be a determined ex-boyfriend.” Brianna’s chin came up. “But I know it’s not. And I pray you do, too.”

Casey had long since made up her mind. Brianna had had her at the physical description of Dr. Hanover’s flat, empty eyes—a psychopath’s eyes. Nonetheless, she silently looked at her teammates for their reactions. If there was anything but unanimous agreement, then Brianna would have to wait in the reception area while the differences were hammered out.

Ryan’s and Claire’s nods were instant and almost indiscernible. Emma’s was more emphatic, as she had yet to learn the subtleties of the job.

Regardless, a decision had been reached.

“We believe you.” Casey gestured toward the documents, still sitting on the floor alongside Brianna’s purse. “Let’s sign the papers. Consider yourself our client.”

CHAPTER 3

Plaza Hotel

Fifth Avenue

New York City, New York

Gia Russo loved her job, despite the fact that most brides-to-be were crazy.

She’d known what she was letting herself in for when she joined the team at Shimmering Weddings, an exclusive company that catered to the über-rich bride. Gia’s clients would have over-the-top demands. But they’d also have super-deep pockets, which meant the sky was the limit. And Gia couldn’t resist the opportunity to allow her creativity free reign.

She was a damned good wedding planner, as her growing client list, reputation, and resulting income could attest to. She was requested more than all the other planners at the company combined. And she wasn’t good at just the organizing and the multitasking. She excelled at managing her clients—socialites who wanted it all and who wanted it now.

That didn’t mean it was easy. Sometimes she was at her wits’ end. But the pluses far outweighed the minuses.

This afternoon had been a definite minus.