Lindsey was desperate for some sort of bone, a tidbit to help her defend him. “We need another common denominator other than you. A place the girls hung out, a person they all hung out with, something, anything?

He shook his head as he spoke. “There are popular hangouts for the campus crowds, but as I said, NYU is a big school with a massive student body,” he said in a defeated tone and then added, “and a multitude of hangouts to match.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “What about the last victim, Elizabeth Moore? You were seen going into her home the night of her murder.”

Roger ran a hand through his hair. “She was getting over losing her mother to cancer. I was like a father figure to her, I think. She was having trouble with her grades and really life in general.” He frowned, his eyes seeming to replay the past. “She started crying during the tutoring session that night, so I offered to walk her home. To be honest, I was worried that she was on the brink of a real disaster.”

Lindsey interjected, “What do you mean disaster?”

“She was partying a lot, drinking too much. I knew because she was late to class several times, and she had fallen asleep during lectures, that kind of thing. I confronted her during a tutoring session and told her she was making it hard as hell for me to pass her.” He shook his head. “The girl was headed for trouble.”

“Do you know where she usually partied?” Lindsey asked.

He grimaced. “I’m afraid not. It was out of character for me to even speak of personal matters with a student.” He glanced from Mark to Lindsey as if he was trying to read their thoughts. “It doesn’t look good for me, does it?”

Lindsey responded in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, carefully avoiding promises of any sort. “The evidence is fairly circumstantial from what we can tell.” She held up a finger. “However,” she said with emphasis, “it would help if we had another angle on the murders, another suspect perhaps. That’s what we’re going to look for over the next few days.”

“Mr. Williams,” Mark said and then paused. “Roger,” he corrected before continuing. “We do need you to know, people have been convicted on far less evidence. Though Lindsey is absolutely correct, the evidence is fairly circumstantial, the reality still stands as mentioned before; the jury will want justice for those girls. You are the common denominator, and without anything else for us to latch onto, it will be hard to create doubt in their minds.” Mark spoke the cold, hard truth. Though she had gotten Hudson off in similar circumstances, he hadn’t had some as incriminating as the visit to Elizabeth Moore’s house.

“Do you have any enemies?” Mark asked.

“No, none,” he said adamantly. “I keep to myself.”

Mark’s expression held skepticism, as did his tone. “None? Come now, everyone has some enemies.”

“Really,” Roger insisted. “I keep to myself.”

Lindsey thought he seemed a bit of a hermit. “Have you ever lived out of state?”

“No, why?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

“Just being thorough,” she commented. “Can you think of anything else we should know?”

“No,” he said in a defeated tone. “I wish I could say I did.”

Mark stood, and Lindsey followed his lead. Roger’s head flew up to watch their movement, but he didn’t stand. “We’ll be in contact,” Lindsey told him. “We’re filing a continuance to get more investigation time. We feel optimistic we’ll get it under the circumstances, but we’ll keep you posted.”

Mark added, “Finish that questionnaire.”

Walking around the table, Mark knocked on the door as he hit a buzzer. Lindsey frowned. The double-kill action indicated impatience, but upon examination of his features, Mark was nothing but calm.

Something had him uptight. She wondered . . .

* * * * *

Mark hated interrogation rooms.

Walking, Lindsey by his side, he was damn glad to be done with Roger Williams.

Opening the passenger’s door to his black BMW, he let his hand drift to the small of Lindsay’s back as he guided her into the car and tried not to stare at her very long, very addictive legs. A much-needed distraction from the edginess that had built during their little chat with Roger. He shut the door and walked to his side of the car, Lindsey on his mind.

Damn, how he wanted to pull down her walls and see the real woman. There was no doubt in his mind they would sizzle together.

Working by her side only seemed to ignite the heat he felt for her. Something about the way she handled herself . . . her confidence was sexy as hell. And he’d taken every opportunity possible to touch her, to remind her of the attraction between them. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, she twisted around to face him.

“What do you think?” she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

He rubbed his temple and sighed, intentionally turning away from Lindsey. He needed to focus on Roger Williams rather than getting Lindsey undressed. “I think,” he said, “I have a headache.”

“Is that why you were so impatient to get the door open?”

Mark’s head jerked around in surprise. “How did you know that?”

Lindsey smiled. “Never underestimate me, Mark Reeves. Have you always been claustrophobic?”

His eyes narrowed. No one had ever guessed his phobia. He was very good at hiding it. That Lindsey had, only served to make her more alluring. “Since I was five and got locked in a cellar for four hours. Those interrogation rooms always seem to bring it back. I know damn well I wasn’t obvious. How did you guess?”

She shrugged. “I had a friend in high school who was claustrophobic. When you knocked and hit the buzzer at the same time, it set off a light bulb.”

A slow smile filled Mark’s face. He had to respect her sharpness. No wonder she had been so successful in the courtroom. Mark flipped the air conditioner on high and then turned his attention back to Lindsey. “You know what I think, Counselor?”

She gave him a questioning look.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” he said, and then reached out and ran his fingers down a strand of her long blond hair.

“How would you know?” she questioned. “You’ve never even seen me in action before.”

Mark’s eyes danced with a dangerous challenge. “I’d like to,” he said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from hers.

He saw her swallow, and knew she was nervous. But he also had seen the flare of heat in her eyes. Abruptly, she looked away. “Is he innocent, Mark?”

He chuckled lightly at her change of subjects, letting her know he was onto her. “What do you think?”

She turned her gaze to him and frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not comfortable going with my gut anymore.”

“You think he is innocent,” he stated flatly. He already knew the answer.

She shrugged. “My instincts—for what that’s worth—tell me he is innocent.” She refocused on him. “What’s your gut reaction?”

His lips firmed. “I never go with gut feelings. As for facts, we don’t have enough for me to make an educated guess.” He turned towards the steering wheel and then glanced back at her. “We need that list of students.”

Lindsey pulled her briefcase from the backseat and removed a small file. When she’d finally gone to bed the night before, she hadn’t been able to sleep. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, she’d gotten up and done something productive. “I printed maps and directions off the Internet last night for anyplace I thought we might need to go.” Lindsey shuffled the papers in the file. “Here,” she said pulling out a map. “Home address and a map.” She handed the paper to Mark.

His brow arched up. “You’re quite thorough, aren’t you?” His lips turned up.

Lindsey cocked her head to one side and peered at Mark, a smile slipping onto her lips. “Did you expect less?” A hint of flirtation laced her words.

He smiled, feeling a wave of satisfaction. “Oh, no, definitely not.”