The Stranger You Know (Forensic Instincts 3)

“Much.” Claire shut her eyes, savoring the boneless satisfaction that seeped into every pore of her body. “Challenge met and overcome.”

“Glad to hear it.” There was a sexy smile in his voice. “Call for reinforcements anytime.”

“I will.” Claire smiled, too. “And don’t sound so smug. I rocked your world, too.”

“Yeah, you kind of did.” He sounded as if the admission was dragged out of him.

“It’s okay, techno-hottie. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good. I have a reputation to protect.” Ryan stretched. “Well, now I’m starving. Carb time?”

“Your coffee is cold.” Claire reached down for her T-shirt, and pulled it over her head. It hung down to her upper thighs, so she didn’t bother with anything else. “I’ll microwave it.” She walked into the kitchen, glancing down at Glen Fisher’s ballpoint pen as she did.

She came to an abrupt halt.

“He’s planning something,” she whispered. “It’s dark and it’s evil. And it’s bringing him one step closer to Casey.”

* * *

Patrick followed Suzanne into the subway at Lexington and East 51st Street, keeping a discreet distance while making sure she was directly in his line of vision. Unaware of his scrutiny, she proceeded to the Uptown platform and waited. The number 6 train arrived. The doors opened. She stepped inside.

Quickly, Patrick followed her.

Suzanne took the nearest seat, clutching her purse tightly to her side. To the average straphanger, she looked every bit the typical New Yorker, protecting her belongings from a “hit and run” purse snatcher. But Patrick wasn’t any average straphanger. His trained eye detected Suzanne’s heightened awareness of her surroundings and her even greater concern for the contents of her purse.

He stayed where he was, standing just a short distance away, close to Suzanne, equally close to the exit doors. Suzanne was visibly impatient and uneasy, staring at the doors as the train stopped at 59th, 68th St.–Hunter College, 77th, 86th, 96th, 103rd, 110th.

Finally reaching 116th Street, the train stopped, and Suzanne rose from her seat. Winding her way over, she stood right up against the doors and rushed out of the train as soon as they opened. With calm purpose, Patrick exited behind her and continued his tail.

There was no doubt that Suzanne was a woman with a mission. She blew out of the subway station, crossed 116th Street and headed west. She strode under the elevated tracks at Park Avenue and continued past the small shops on the south side of the street. Then she crossed Fifth Avenue, and veered sharply into a storefront with a large sign in the window that read Halal Meat.

Patrick remained outside, leaning against the wall and reading the newspaper—holding it up so his face was hidden. He was curious as hell as to why Suzanne would take this long trek just to pick up dinner.

Ten minutes later, he was even more puzzled. Suzanne left the store without making a single purchase. She headed back toward the subway, retracing her route.

Patrick didn’t break stride. He continued behind her, whipping out his iPhone and calling Ryan on speed dial.

Ryan sounded distracted when he answered.

“Hey, Patrick.” His mouth was clearly full.

“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I need some help.”

“Shoot.”

“I need you to investigate a butcher shop for me.” Patrick went on to explain the events that had just taken place.

“Yeah, that’s weird.”

Ryan was back on his game now. “Why would anyone go so far out of their way for a specialty butcher shop and then not buy anything?”

“Exactly. And she was gripping her purse like she was carrying the Hope Diamond inside it.”

“This sounds like it could be something. I’m on it.”

* * *

Claire put down her cup of tea and eyed Ryan quizzically. “Patrick has a lead?”