Her smile widened. “Well then, let’s start at our client’s home.”

* * * * *

They arrived at the townhouse, finding it to be only a few blocks from the NYU campus, in a quiet neighborhood. Roger Williams’ home was located on street level with a small patio entrance. Lindsey scanned the streets as Mark pushed some ivy aside to punch the buzzer on the door. When there was no response immediately, Lindsey reached across Mark and punched it again.

He gave her a look. “Now who’s impatient?”

She shrugged. “I admit it,” she said, and reached out and jiggled the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn,” she muttered.

Mark shot her a scowl. “That’s breaking and entering,” he reprimanded.

She shrugged again. Years in the FBI had taught her to push the envelope at times. A lot of agents did, they just didn’t admit it, and they damn sure made sure they didn’t get caught. “Arrest me, but . . .” she paused and wrinkled her nose, “get the charge right. It was attempted breaking and entering. And . . .” she held up a finger, “if it had been unlocked, there would be no breaking-in to be done.” Lindsey scanned the street and then turned back to Mark. “Watch the sidewalk for me for a minute, and tell me if anyone is coming.”

She headed for a window with a cluster of bushes offering coverage. Mark reached out and grabbed her arm. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

She shot him a glowering look and yanked her arm free. “Getting that list.” She pointed towards the street. “Watch for people.”

“Lindsey, no,” he said in an abrupt voice. She rolled her eyes, and darted away before he could grab her again. Men. Steve had hated some of her tactics, but he’d eventually learned to accept who she was. No way was she letting a criminal get away because she was afraid to push the envelope. She’d let Hudson escape, and that was her one and only mistake.

If she got in trouble for going above and beyond, so be it. Better that than the guilt of seeing a killer go free. She had every intention of getting this case right. No way was she letting it turn out like Hudson’s. Stopping in front of the window, her hands planted on her hips, she looked at Mark, her instincts telling her he was going to be a problem. “Mark, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

When she turned back to the window, she heard him grumble something inaudible. No doubt a complaint. This had to be done. She pulled the screen off the window and then jiggled the bottom of the seal. A smile slipped onto her lips the instant she found it unlocked. In a quick jerk, she raised the window and climbed through it.

Once inside the house, she leaned out of the window. She peered out at Mark who was scanning the street, his body stiff with tension. “Psst,” she whispered. “Mark.”

He looked up, his eyes sharp with anger as he moved towards her. She pointed to the screen beneath the window. “Put it back in, and I’ll let you in the front.” She shut the window before he could refuse and headed towards the door.

Lindsey found herself in a small, quaint, living area with a rock fireplace, and filled with high-back, woodsy furnishings and lots of bookshelves. She grimaced. Didn’t look like a psychotic killer’s home to her. Of course, what do the homes of psychotic killers look like?

Moving through the room with a swift, catlike motion, she was at the front door in seconds, unlocking the deadbolt. Pulling the heavy wooden door open, she frowned when she didn’t see Mark. Peeking outside, she found Mark messing with the window screen. She rolled her eyes at his back. “What are you doing?” she asked in an irritated whisper. “Just leave it!” He dropped the screen to the ground and started moving towards her. “Are you trying to look suspicious or what?”

“If you wouldn’t have bent the damn thing, it wouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a whispered reprimand as he shot her a glowering look. In a few crisp steps, he followed her through the door, pulling it shut behind him. “You’re killing me, woman,” he said through clenched teeth.

Lindsey gave Mark her back, moving through the hall to look for an office area. She could feel Mark’s eyes on her back as she disappeared into a room, and almost feel his frustration across the distance. She was already sitting at a small computer desk booting up a computer when he entered the room. A plump, white Persian cat came up and started rubbing on her leg.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered with irritation. She looked at Mark. “I’m allergic to cats,” she explained as she shoved the animal away with her leg just as the first sneeze hit her, followed immediately by two more. She sniffed, feeling the itching in her eyes already starting. “Damn, I’ll be sneezing all night.”

Mark didn’t comment. He was just standing there, staring at her. His expression said she was a major pain-in-the-ass. She didn’t care. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mark said, watching her tab through computer files.

She glanced up at him and then back to the computer screen. “We’re trying to help our client,” she reasoned. “He told us to get this information from his computer.” Then to herself, “Let’s see, what would this be called . . .” Her voice trailed off as she quickly thumbed through files.

“Here,” she said, punching Enter. “I think I found it.” She shot Mark a look that said I told you so, which only served to deepen the scowl on his face.

A few more keypunches and Lindsey sent the document to print. Mark sighed behind her and started rummaging through the desk. Lindsey smiled to herself. She turned to look at him. “Find anything?” And despite her effort, a hint of laughter slipped into her voice.

He straightened and eyed her. “No, nothing.” He rubbed his jaw. “In fact, the guy seems pretty darn uneventful.”

Lindsey pushed to her feet and pulled the papers off the printer. “Ten names,” she flicked the paper with her thumb and forefinger. “Only two of them are men. We have names, addresses, and phone numbers. Mission accomplished.”

Mark nodded and reached for her hand. “Perfect, let’s get out of here.”

Lindsey dodged his hand and made a face. “Let’s dig around a bit more.”

Before Mark could comment, Lindsey buzzed past him and disappeared into the hall. Lindsey found what she thought was the master bedroom, and slipped inside, flipping on the light switch as she entered.

Surveying the room, it appeared normal enough to her, with all the basics, and nothing exceptional. Bed, dresser, lamp, Ansel Adams pictures. On the surface, nothing stood out. She headed towards the dresser, intent on checking out the contents.

Mark’s voice drew her eyes to the doorway. “What are you looking for?”

She gave him a look of disbelief. “Even if you weren’t a criminal attorney, there would be no excuse for that question.” She plopped her hands on her hips. “The bedroom or the closet is where the weird stuff always is.” She dropped her hands. “If there is any.” She pointed to the closet. “Looks like a manly place to start your search, if I ever saw one.”

He made a frustrated sound, but didn’t argue, moving towards the closet. Lindsey figured he just wanted to get it over with. Lindsey searched drawer after drawer. When Mark finished the closet, he turned to face her. “Nothing.”

Lindsey sighed. “Same here.”

“Good, then it’s time to go,” he said firmly.

She tried to glare, but it was lost in the midst of another sneeze. “The damn cat must sleep in this room.”

Mark’s expression was dark. “Let’s go.”

Lindsey knew she had pressed her luck with Mark. It was time to do what he wanted. Besides, her nose was killing her. “Fine, let’s go.”

They made it to the hallway when the lock on the front door started to rattle. “The sister,” Lindsey whispered.

They scanned the room for their best escape route. Mark grabbed her hand. “Quick, the kitchen,” he whispered tugging her behind him. “Maybe there’s a back door.”