The Silence That Speaks (Forensic Instincts 4)

a total bust.

Emma packed up her makeup case, stacked everything neatly next to her folded sweater and jeans, picked up her purse and headed out of the bathroom.

She walked past Ryan and Claire, who were chatting in the hallway.

Ryan did a double take. “Wow. You clean up nice. No more little brat girl.”

Emma made a face at him.

“Ah, I stand corrected,” he said. “Still little brat girl, only in supermodel disguise.”

Claire poked him in the ribs. “What Ryan is trying to say is that you look beautiful. Roger won’t know what hit him.”

“Speaking of hitting him, you’re wearing the long-range transmitter I gave you, right?” Ryan asked. “Just in case Roger gets too friendly?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m wearing it.” Emma patted the upper edge of her dress. “And if you think it was easy to clip that thing on this skimpy little backless bra I bought, think again. I practically had to tape it to my boobs.”

“TMI,” Ryan replied, shaking his head. “As long as you’re wearing it, that’s all I need to know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Remember my juvie roots. I’ve dealt with a whole lot worse than Mr. Virgin. Believe me, I can handle him.” She grimaced. “But after this, I’m done. If Casey wants me to go on a second date, one of you is going.”

She shot Ryan a mischievous look. “I’ll loan you my dress. You’d look so hot in it—almost as hot as you looked in a custodian’s uniform.”

Claire’s laughter drowned out whatever nasty retort Ryan muttered under his breath.

29

EMMA WALKED THE three blocks to the club. She stopped when she reached the line outside the door. She could hear the pounding music and see the flashing lights even from here.

It was showtime.

She scanned the crowd of people, searching for Roger.

She spotted him without any trouble. Talk about finding your mark. He stuck out like a box of prunes in the candy aisle.

His pants were about two inches too short, his sweater was from the dark ages and his sports jacket had more wrinkles in it than the prunes themselves. But he broke into a broad smile when he saw her, waving frantically as if she might miss him.

No chance of that.

She walked over, relishing the admiring stares of the other guys in line. Hey, she could still get lucky for another night.

“Y-you look incredible,” Roger stammered, shoving his glasses back on his nose. Doubtful they would stay put, given the fine sheen of nervous perspiration on his nose and forehead.

Emma gave him a charming smile. “Thank you.”

“I guess you hear that all the time.”

“Not nearly enough. You’d be surprised.” Emma glanced around. She was already impatient. She couldn’t deal with the throngs of vapid girls, fixing one another’s hair and makeup and chattering nonstop about meaningless gossip.

Grabbing Roger’s hand, she pushed her way to the front of the line. Roger looked positively green with anxiety. Emma ignored the nasty comments and slurs being thrown her way. Too bad. Those slutty bitches could suck it. She was on a mission.

When they reached the bouncer at the door, Emma gave him their names. Never changing his expression, the bouncer robotically asked for their IDs. Emma whipped hers out while Roger fumbled with his wallet. The bouncer glanced down at their licenses. No problem, thanks to Ryan—he’d hacked into the club’s server and gotten their names added to the guest list.

Awesome—now they wouldn’t even have to pay the cover charge.

Still running the show, Emma didn’t wait for Roger to get the door. Flinging it open, she absorbed everything: the pumping music, flashing lights, dancing crowds. This was amazing. Except for one thing: someone was wearing way too much cheap perfume. It mingled with the smell of sweat and alcohol. Emma felt nauseous.

Snatching Roger’s clammy hand again, she practically dragged him to the enormous bar set up in the back of the club. It was time to catch up—time to drink. While Roger looked around with huge owlish eyes, Emma scanned for a bartender, preferably young, male and straight so she could get her drinks ASAP. Her eyes narrowed as she honed in on a bartender who met her specifications. Putting on her most seductive smile, she headed in his direction.