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  Send Me a Hero
by
RITA HERRON

  SILHOUETTE INTRIGUe DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

  did ou should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported Jif you
' Y : r Neither the author nor the publisher l a desharOye/ec;Yv;de;n
;payment for this book.  All the characters in this book have no
existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation
whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.

  They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in
part in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with
Harlequin Enterprises H B. V. The text of this publication or any part
thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
mean, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.

  Silhouette and Colophon are registered trademarks of Harlequin Books
S.A used under licence.

  First published in Great Britain 1999

  Silhouette Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey
TW9

  1SR

  © Rim B. Herron 1998

  ISBN 0 373 22486 9

  469907

  Printed and bound in Spain by Litografia Rosgs S.A Barcelona

  Dear Reader, At the tender age of five I developed a love for books
when the bookmobile, a library on wheels, actually brought books to my
doorstep.

  I read every mystery I could get my hands on, and at twelve I even
wrote a mystery novel of my own.

  During college I met and married my real-life hero, my husband.  With
bills to be paid, I put my dreams of writing on hold and opted to
teach.  With young children and their fertile imaginations surrounding
me, my love for story-telling resurfaced.

  Soon I was drawn back into reading.  A friend introduced me to rOmance,
and I discovered the best of all possible worlds--IntrigueTM, where the
writer and reader can combine mystery and romance to create the perfect
bock.

  My imagination began shaping my own stories and characters.  Being
fascinated with the psychology of the young mind, I wondered what would
happen to a child if she witnessed her own parents' murder, and what if
the town thought she was a little bit crazy, and what if she returned
to the town as an adult and there was this wonderful, sexy man...

  Hence, my first Intrigue novel, Send Me a Hero, was born.

  Sincerely,

  Rim Herron With thanks to:

  Bonnie Crisalli, who first encouraged me to write for IntrigueTM'
Julianne Moore for her suggestions and for buying this story, and
Natashya Wilson for giving it a title and seeing it through to the end
and with love to

  Lee, my husband and very own hero.

  Chapter One

  Darkness hung in Veronica's bedroom like a cold black cloud.  She awoke
with a start, her heart pounding.  The light she kept burning in the
bathroom had gone out---or had someone turned it off* She froze,
momentarily paralyzed with fear.  Someone was in her apartment.  She
could feel his presence.

  Her chest constricted so tightly she couldn't breathe.  She strained to
hear, praying she was just imagining the intruder, but a creaking sound
echoed through the eerie quiet.  Footsteps padded across the carpet.

  Terror rippled through her as she frantically scanned the room.  A
whisper of someone's breath penetrated the silence.  As her eyes grew
accustomed to the gloom, she spotted a shadow silhouetted against the
far wall near the door, but it disappeared so quickly she wasn't sure
it had really been there.

  Was she having another nightmare?  The shadow moved, appearing ominous
in the dimness of the room.  The silver glint of a knife flickered in a
ray of moonlight trickling through the venetian blinds.  A chill
slithered up her spine.  Someone stood, hovering in the doorway,
stating at her.  And she had no place to run.  Trembling, she scooted
back on the bed and reached for the phone.

  Just as her fingers closed around the handset, the dark shadow lunged
over her bed and straddled her.  The phone fell off the hook.  The
sound of the dial tone rang through the room.  She flung her hands at
the man and kicked wildly, hut 8 Send Me a Hero his heavy weight
settled against her body, pressing her into the mattress.  He snapped
her hands above her head in one fluid motion.  The scent of cheap
cologne and stale tobacco wafted around her, turning her stomach
sour.

  His hot breath scorched herneck, and she tried to scream, but he
pressed a pillow firmly Over her face, muffling the sound.  The heat of
his sweating body seeped into hers.  Something sharp pricked her upper
arm.  Then her hands were free and the point of the knife jabbed into
the soft skin at the base of her throat.  She was too petrified to cry
out.

  Determination and anger replaced her fear.  Srhe would not just lie
here and let someone kill her.

  Shoving with all her might, she bucked upward, twisting sideways in an
attempt to dislodge him.  Then she swung her fists wildly and slammed
against his body, managing to knock the pillow away.  She grabbed his
arm and wrestled for the knife.  The blade sliced into her wrist, but
she barely noticed the pain as she fought for her life.  With one last
desperat effort, she managed to knee him, causing him to fall to the
floor.  The knife dropped onto her bed.  She grabbed it and lunged for
the man as he reached for her again.  A loud groan escaped him, and she
thought she'd stabbed him.  He jerked backward and stumbled against the
wall, then knocked over her lamp with a loud crash, shattering it into
tiny pieces.

  Gasping for air, she stared in horror at the blood-covered knife in her
hands.  Blood seeped from her arm and trickled onto her bedclothes.

  Her gaze swept the room again for her attacker.  Had she mortally
wounded him?

  Panic raced through her.  She needed to run.  To scream.  But her limbs
felt like lead pillars, and her vocal cords had snapped shut.  The
man's heavy breathing rattled through the room.  The stink of death
permeated the air like the last burning embers of a fire.  Veronica
tried to shout for help, but the wretched sound she made came out as a
whisper.

  Her attacker groaned.  Staggered.  Collapsed against the plush
carpeting in the doorway.  Veronica's breath came out in shaky
distorted pants.

  She grabbed the phone from the floor Rita Herron 9 and pressed the
button down for the dial tone, then punched 911.  Dizzy with fear, she
closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her balance.

  This time the police would have to believe her.  They couldn't laugh
her away as a paranoid, helpless woman like the last time she'd
called.

  After all, an unconscious-perhaps dead man lay sprawled on her bedroom
floor.  That was all the evidence they would need.

  Another wave of dizziness assaulted her.  Veronica fought the nausea,
fought the exhaustion, but lost.  Clutching the phone in one hand, she
closed her eyes and mumbled for help, but the light slowly faded around
her and she drifted into a sea of darkness.

  DETECTIVE NATHAN DAWSON heard the police call come in over the radio
dispatch, quickly dropped his soggy hamburger into its paper wrappings
and picked qp the receiver.  "Dawson and Ford here."

  "Ten-thirty.  Intruder.  Possible homicide.  Caller is in the vicinity
of Green and Washburn."

  "We're  in the area," Nathan said.  "Specifics?"  "Address--apartment J-5,
Bainbridge Apartment complex.  Report  came in from  a woman," the  dispatch
officer said.  "Not sure if the perp is still in the apartment."

  Nathan glanced at his partner.  Ford arched his bushy eyebrow and
continued to chow down on his thick hamburger, using his tongue to lick
the mustard dribbling down his pointed chin.  The man was disgusting.

  Nathan already sensed tension between them.  He wasn't sure why, but
Ford had made it clear he didn't want a partner--especially him.  He
had to admit the feeling was mutual.

  "Got a name?"  Nathan asked.

  "Not yet.  Running the address through the computer now," the dispatch
officer said.

  "Caller still on the line?"  Nathan had already turned the car around
and was heading in the direction of the complex.

  The officer on the other end sighed.  "No.  I've already radioed the
paramedics.  She sounded out of it, like she might have been on
drugs.

  Only thing she said was, 'Help me, I think I've killed someone."  Then
she must have passed out or..."

  The officer didn't have to finish the sentence.  Nathan knew what the
or meant.  She might be hurt, she might 10e dead.  Or the whole thing
might be nothing.  As a policeman, he never knew what he was going to
walk in on.  Always be prepared--it was the motto a policeman lived
by----either that or die'.  "We'll be there in five.  Over."  Nathan
flipped on the police siren and headed down Main Street, passing idle
motorists and slipping through traffic with practiced ease.

  Ford shook his head in disgust.  "Can't even finish a damn hamburger
without some ruckus going on at that apartment complex.  Fourth call
we've had this week."

  "I'm surprised.  Seems like a classy place."

  Ford spoke through a mouthful of food.  "Some nutcase has been calling
in.  Hope to hell this ain't her.  Might have us a repeated homicide
caller."

  Nathan kept his eyes trained on the road ignoring Ford's blase
attitude.

  He hoped Ford proved to be a responsible partner he was cautious about
who he trusted to cover his back.  A blue-and-white pulled up just as
he swerved into the parking lot.  His hand automatically checked his
gun as he climbed out.  "Check the exterior of the complex," he told
the uniformed officers.

  The man-woman team nodded.  Each apartment had its own outside door and
private entrance.  Nathan and Ford moved silently to the one marked
J-5.

  The apartment was dark, the door unlocked.  Ford maneuvered the
flashlight inside the doorway and rolled it around the room, sweeping
it with a dim stream of light.  Weapon ready, Nathan slowly entered the
apartment, his ears pricked, his gaze penetrating the darkness and
scanning the den.  Sofa, chairs, entertainment center, fairly empty
room.  Ford checked the small white kitchen, gave him a nod, and Nathan
checked the outer bath.  Small, but neat.  Even in the dim light he
could tell the front living area hadn't been disturbed.

  Rita Herron A slight moan rumbled from the back.  He and Fort changed
glances and crept to the door.  Nathan eased it ( his .38 poised.  Tiny
rays of moonlight sliced the darkness he spotted a figure lying in the
rumpled bed.  Broken glas shattered on the floor.  Pillows and
magazines were scattered around, a pair of black heels tossed in
separate direct Another groan pierced the air.  Nathan moved closer to
figure.

  "If there was an intruder, he's not here," Ford said.  Nathan stood beside
the bed,  quickly  assessing the  situa  The woman  groaned  as if  she  was
frightened  or in pain.  D of  blood were splattered all over the bedclothes
and she a bloody knife clutched in one hand.  Blood oozed fron open wound in
her  right  wrist, and  a tiny  droplet lingered  her throat.   "Get me some
towels from the bathroom," he dered Ford.

  First he had to remove the weapon, in case she wok4 and tried to use it
on him.  He replaced his gun in its holster, slipped the knife from her
fingers, jerked a plastic bag t his pocket and dropped it inside.  Ford
tossed some towels way.  Nathan slowly lowered himself beside the woman
wrapped one around her wrist tightly, then pressed another: top to stop
the bleeding.

  "She gonna make it?"  Ford asked, walking around room.

  "Yeah.  But  she's lost  some blood."   Nathan noted  the ]  color of  her
creamy skin against her long dark hair and heart thudded.  "Miss, miss,
can you hear me?"  he asked gently shaking her.

  "She's a looker, ain't she?"  Ford moved up beside him.  Nathan glared
at his partner.  "Hit the lights and bring team in to start looking for
traceables."  Ford leered at J but left the room.

  The woman's dark eyelashes fluttered, and her soft pink quivered as she
tried to speak.  She had a small frame, aln lost in the
blood-splattered white cotton gown, high cheek bones, and dainty
fingers that were well manicured but de

  12 Send Me a Hero

  of nail polish.  He quickly inventoried her body to see if there were
other wounds.  Her skin was flawless, her legs long and slender.  There
didn't appear to be any other cuts, except a point where it looked like
the knife had pricked the skin at the base of her throat.  Bruises
marked her other wrist and slender thighs.

  He heard the wail of the siren and breathed a sigh of relief.  The
paramedics would arrive soon.  She was much too beatltiful to die.

  "I  KILLED  HIM, NO...NO,"  Veronica  mumbled.  he  kicked at  the tangled
bedcovers in an attempt to escape the horrible nightmare.

  A hand gripped her arm, and she threw up her other hand in defense and
screamed.  Thank God the sound came out.  Maybe this time someone would
hear her before he killed her.

  "Miss, it's okay.  I'm Detective Nathan Dawson, Oakland County Police
Department."

  Veronica drew back and clenched the sheet to her chest.  Trembling, she
forced herself to open her eyes, expecting to see the shadow from her
nightmare.

  The man sitting beside her flashed his badge.  "Can you tell me your
name?"

  Veronica nodded numbly.  "Veronica...Miller."

  The detective offered a smile.  "Lie back and relax, Ms. Miller.  Then
tell me exactly what happened."

  Still disoriented, Veronica stared at the handsome detective as he
propped a pillow behind her back.  He wasn't wearing a uniform, but the
badge seemed real.  She felt unsteady and confused, and so weak she
thought she might faint.  How had this man gotten into her apartment?

  "The paramedics will be here any second.  I have to keep pressure on  your
wrist wound."

  Dazed, Veronica glanced down and saw the bloodstained towel he'd
wrapped around her arm.  The horror and reality of what had happened
seeped in, and she trembled.

  "It's okay, now.  We're going to take care of you."  The

  Kta tlerron l J man's deep, husky voice soothed her nerves.  A calmness
enveloped her.

  Finally someone was going to listen to her.

  "You told the 911 operator that you'd killed somebody."  The detective
stretched one long leg out in front of him.

  "What?"   Veronica swallowed.  She didn't  remember making the phone call.

  She especially didn't remember admitting to murder.

  She started to push her tangled hair away from her face, but realized
her fingers were covered in a red sticky substance.  Blood.  Her
stomach roiled.  Visions of the attack flashed through her mind.  The
detective wiped her palms with a towel, then pressed a clean cloth to
the cut on her arm.

  Veronica bit her lip.  This couldn't be happening--not again.  "Once
again, miss, you said you killed someone."  Detective Dawson gave her a
concerned look.  "Can you tell me exactly what happened?  Was someone
in your apartment?"

  Veronica glanced around the room, searching for the shadow of the body
ng.  "I don't understand.  He was right there."  She pointed to the
floor beside the venetian blinds.

  Blue lights swirled and flashed outside her window.  An approaching
siren wailed loudly.  Her stomach turned again.

  "He put  a  pillow on  my  face.  He  tried  to smother  me.   I  couldn't
breathe."   She  pressed her  hand to  her  throat, gasping  for air  as she
relived the horror of the attack.  "I fought him, knocked the knife out
of his hand.  But the room was dark, so dark, and I tried to call for
help, but I felt dizzy."

  "You're okay now, Ms. Miller," the deep voice said softly.  "Try to relax.
Take a deep breath."

  Veronica's gaze swept the room.  Panic crawled through her.  It hadn't
been a dream.  She hadn't imagined the stranger in her apartment.  But
where was his body?  "He attacked me.  He was going to kill me.  What
happened to him?"

  Pieces of her shattered lamp littered the floor, pillows had been
tossed around the room, her makeup and perfume bottles were overturned
on her dresser.  Her breathing came out in sharp pants.  "I...where is
he?"  She searched the detective's 14 5encl Me a Hero face but saw
nothing except questions in his troubled expression.

  "That's what I need you to tell me, miss.  You were alone when we got
here.  You'd passed out.  The phone was off the hook and the door was
unlocked."

  "No," Veronica said vehemently.  "I always lock my door.  Always.  And
the windows, too."

  Detective Dawson nodded.  Another man entered the room, taking big,
lumbering steps toward Veronica.  His rough appearance and chilly
expression made Veronica shiver.  "This is Detective Ford," Dawson
said."  The man scrubbed his hand over his bristly red beard.

  "Dawson,  we  didn't find  anyone  here.  Dead  or  alive."  He  stared at
Veronica.

  Wariness settled  over her.   She'd dealt  with skepticism  all her  life.

  This man didn't believe her.  His glowering look said everything.

  Coming back to her hometown had been a mistake.  Her grandmother had
always told her to stay away, but her grandmother's death had prompted
the return of her childhood nightmares, and she'd felt compelled to
come back.

  Ford must have recognized her name from when she'd called in before.

  He probably thought she was a psychotic, paranoid woman.  Veronica
forced back a sob and searched her mind for an explanation, aware
Dawson was studying her.  "There has to be a body.  He fell.  He
collapsed right in front of me."  But then she'd collapsed, too.  Her
head still ached.  And why was her mind so foggy?  She felt as if she'd
been asleep for days.

  The two detectives exchanged looks.  "No sign of forced entry," Ford
said.  "No footprints outside the window."

  "The knife you had, was it yours?"  Detective Dawson asked.

  Veronica nodded.  "It...it looks like One from my kitchen."  "Dust
everything," Dawson said.  "And have Handley canvass the adjacent
apartments--see if they saw or heard anything."

  "Will do."  Ford cast Veronica another smug look and

  Rtta tterron I headed toward a uniformed policeman standing in the
doorway.

  "Check the carpet for hair fibers, too," Dawson said.  "I'm on it,"
Ford said, smirking at him.

  Dawson raked a hand through his sandy, unkempt hair.  Veronica rocked
herself back and forth, striving for calm.

  "Can  you give us a description  of the intruder?"  Dawson's voice sounded
deep and husky, and Veronica's anxiety mellowed slightly.

  "I didn't see his face.  He was just...big."  She tugged the sheet tighter
around  herself,  and suddenly  realized she  wasn't wearing  anything but a
skimpy cotton gown.  And it had drops of blood all over it.

  "Think, Ms. Miller.   You might have  seen something that  could help  us.

  Did he have a limp?  A scar?  Did he say anything?"

  Veronica shook her head, realizing how little she really had seen.  She
noticed the strong chiseled jaw, the small cleft in Detective Dawson's
chin, the bronze tones of his skin.  She forced herself to try to
remember details about the other man.  "He had on a mask or
something.

  Maybe a stocking.  And he wasn't quite as tall as you."

  Detective Dawson scribbled in his small notepad.

  "And he smelled..."

  "Smelled like what?"  Dawson asked.

  Veronica closed her eyes.  "Like sweat and some kind of cologne."

  "Did you recognize the cologne?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "I don't think so.  But there was something
else."  Her mind was still foggy, and the more she tried to remember,
the more her head ached.  "I can't remember."' Dawson nodded.  "It may
come back to you.  If you remember anything, today or tomorrow or
anytime, let me know."

  "I will," Veronica said, tightening her fingers around the sheet.

  Ford came back in, a scowl on his face.  He'd obviously It) 3ena Me a
Hero heard her comment.  He lumbered over and planted one beefy leg on
her cream-colored ottoman.  "The neighbors say they didn't hear
anything unusual," Ford said.  "Are you sure you weren't entertaining
and things just...well, got a little out of hand?"  Ford raised his
eyebrows suggestively.

  Fury  churned  through Veronica.   "How dare  you insinuate  such a thing.

  I thought you were supposed to be a policeman--here to help protect the
citizens."  She squared her shoulders and tried to sit up as she
leveled a cold look at Ford, but fell exhausted back against the
sheets.  She was unaware the movement caused the bedding to fall to her
waist until §he caught the nicer detective staring at her and realized
she'd exposed her gown.  A blush crept up her neck and she reached for
the blanket.

  Detective Dawson handed  her a  bathrobe from  the chair  beside the  bed.

  He  made certain  the towel  was secure around  her wrist.   "Put this on.

  And try to stay calm, miss."

  "Did you have company?"  Ford  asked again.  His persistence annoyed  her,
but she decided to play it cool.

  Veronica belted the robe tightly and sat on the edge of the bed.  "No,
I was alone all evening."  Detective Dawson's body felt hot next to
her.

  His eyes were like liquid pools of scotch whiskey, tame and wild at the
same time.  They reflected none of his thoughts, but if she wasn't
mistaken they hinted at a burning desire she recognized as male
interest.

  She didn't have time for male interest.  She needed this detective to
find out if someone was trying to kill her.  Or maybe he knew her
history and had already decided she was a flake.

  She'd endured skepticism before.  She didn't know if she could endure
it again.

  "You have to believe me," she said, panic lacing her voice.  "There was
someone here.  He tried to kill me."  She covered her face with her
hands as the memory flashed through her mind.

  Detective Dawson patted her shoulder in a comforting gesture.  "Relax,
miss, it's over now."  Ford wasn't so kind.  He narrowed his eyes at
her, reminding Ktta Herron I / Veronica of a mean old bulldog, then
held up an empty wineglass.  "Ms. Miller, were you drinking last
night?"

  Veronica hesitated.  She knew where this line of questioning was
headed, and she didn't like it.  Not one little bit.

  "I had one glass of wine," Veronica said through clenched teeth.  "It
wasn't even full."

  Ford  rattled a  prescription pill  bottle in  front of  her.  "And these?

  Did you take some before you went to sleep?"

  Veronica closed her eyes and grimaced inwardly.  "I...I've had trouble
sleeping.  The doctor recommended them.  But I didn't take one last
night."

  Ford held the bottle up to the light.  "Sleeping pills?  Hmm."  A smug
expression crossed his weathered face.  "You know, mixing alcohol and
drugs can cause hallucinations."

  "That's not what happened.  I told you--someone attacked me."

  Nathan Dawson's  warm, strong  hand covered  hers.  "Relax,  Ms.   Miller.

  We're dusting for fingerprints."  He gestured to where two officers
searched for clues.  "You said you fought him.  Do you think you
injured him?"

  Veronica straggled to remember.  "I...I thought I stabbed him, but I'm
not sure."

  "Where?"  The detective pointed to his chest, then each of his limbs in
turn as he spoke.  "Left side?  Right?  His arm?"

  "His  right arm," Veronica  said.  "He grunted and  moved off of me then."

  Dawson smiled.  "Good, that'll help us.  We'll have the blood sample
from the knife analyzed to see if there are two blood types on it.  If
something happened here, I'll get to the bottom of it.  It could have
been a robbery attempt."

  Ford cleared his throat.  "Listen, Dawson, there's something you ought
to know."

  Dawson gave Ford a warning look.  "Later, Ford.  Right now, we have a
crime scene to investigate.  Now get busy."  Ford sighed disgustedly
and left the room.

  "I've been getting hang-up calls," Veronica said, hoping to tell her  side
of  things before  Ford had  a chance  to muddy 18  Send Me  a Hero Dawson's
impression.  "And  I've been  hearing noises  as if  someone's been  hanging
around  outside  my apartment.   I told  the police,  but they  haven't done
anything."

  I'll check into it," Dawson said.

  "Thank you, Detective."  Veronica twisted her fingers together as she
forced herself to meet his intense gaze.

  Nathan Dawson didn't move.  His amber eyes turned from a light brown to
a darker shade streaked with gold.  Veronica's entire body tingled with
awareness.  But she reminded herself her reaction was simply because he
was being nice to her.  He was going to help her.

  She had to make him believe her.  She wasn't crazy.  Reporters and
people who knew of her background would disagree, but she knew
differently.

  She'd actually lived a mundane, quiet life for the past few years in
Fort Lauderdale.  Then she'd moved back to Oakland, a suburb of
Atlanta, her hometown, and strange things had started happening.  She'd
been a frightened and withdrawn little girl when she'd left Oakland.  ·
'But she wasn't a little girl anymore.  And she was tired of running
scared.

  She'd been running her whole life.

  But not this time.  This time she intended to get to the bottom of
things.

  The paramedics rushed in, accompanied by Ford.  "I'll let them see to
you now."  Nathan rose from the bed as one of the paramedics took his
place.  "We'll talk some more later."

  He felt in his pocket for his cigarettes, then remembered he'd quit six
months ago, the day he'd walked out of the hospital and realized he had
a second chance at life.  Literally.  The accident had almost stolen
his future, and he'd decided he wouldn't finish the job with
nicotine.

  But damn, he missed the buzz.  Especially now.  Hot on a case.  And the
woman?  Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a jolt
of beat slide into his gut.  A good, long smoke always cleared his
head, something he desperately needed.

  He stepped outside with Ford, but felt like he was abandoning
Veronica.

  Something about her tugged at him.  Maybe lxlta l-l e rrort l t those
enormous dark eyes.  Or those high, sculpted cheekbones.  Or that
jet-black hair that streamed down her back like reams of silk.

  Mentally shaking himself, he forced his mind to forget the physical
attraction he felt for her.  It had no business in his job.  Besides,
the woman was scared out of her mind.  She claimed someone had tried to
kill her, and it was his job to find out who attacked her.  He knew
real fear when he saw it, and this woman had been terrified.

  "Listen, Dawson," Ford  said as soon  as he  made it to  the front  stoop.

  "I don't think anyone tried to kill this broad."

  Dawson gritted his teeth.  "She is not a broad.  She's a woman--a
citizen who has requested our help."

  Ford slammed his fist against the rail.  He made no attempt to lower
his voice.  "You've been suckered in by those pretty looks.  Don't you
know who she is?"

  Dawson chewed the inside of his cheek.  "Should I?  Is she someone
famous?"

  "Not the way you mean."  Ford sighed audibly.  "She's a kook."

  "What?"   Dawson  tried  to  hold  on to  his  patience.   "If  you've got
something to say, Ford, spit it out."

  Ford scratched his beard.  "We've gotten a couple of calls from her
before."

  Nathan eyed Ford with curiosity.  "Yeah, she told me that.  Why didn't
someone follow up on it?"

  Ford grunted in obvious disgust.  "'Cause she's a flake.  Two weeks ago
she said someone was lurking outside her apartment."' "And?"

  "Turned out to be a stray cat.  I told you, she's a nut."  Ford's big
belly shook as he let out a harsh breath.

  Nathan frowned, still unconvinced the woman wasn't in danger.  "There
could have been someone there."

  "She called again last week.  Said someone had been in her office."

  "Yeah?  What did you find?"  Nathan arched an eyebrow.

  ,ena 1¥1e a 1-1eFo

  "Nobody but a cleaning service.  Said she's been getting hang-up calls,
too, and some pretty weird messages."

  In spite of himself, Nathan was growing more and more curious, not just
about Veronica, but about this case.  "What kind of messages?"

  Ford shrugged.  "Don't know.  When she brought in the tape, it had been
erased."  He shifted to his left foot and rubbed his thigh.  "My guess
is, she made it.  all up.  Trying to get attention."' "Yeah?  What
makes you think that?  Her injurieslook pretty damned real to me."

  "Well, she's weird.  Everyone who grew  up around these parts knows  about
her."

  "And why is that?"  Nathan asked, growing tired of Ford's cat-and-mouse
game.

  "'Cause of what happened to her folks years ago."

  Nathan leaned against the porch railing.  "What about her parents?"

  Ford  pulled out  a wad of  chewing tobacco  and stuffed it  in his mouth.

  "That's the interesting part.  Veronica Miller grew up around here, but
she moved to Florida to live with her grandmother."

  Nathan knew there was more.  Ford was obviously enjoying dragging the
story out, adding suspense.  "Okay, I'll bite.  Tell me the rest."

  Ford grinned.  "Veronica Miller's parents died right here in this
town.

  Same time of year as this.  Police called it a murder-suicide.  Father
killed the mom, then killed himself."

  Nathan swallowed, feeling the cold bite of winter all the way down to
his toes.  Through the glass door, he saw the paramedic helping
Veronica through the hallway.  She looked pale and fragile.  Then she
glanced up and met his gaze, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a
slight smile of relief.  His gut tightened.

  "They say Veronica witnessed the whole thing, but she doesn't remember
it," Ford continued.

  Rita Herron 21

  A drop of sweat rolled down Nathan's neck.  "How old was she?"

  "Seven."  Ford  paused.   "There's more.   Reporters  went nuts  over  the
story.   The girl had to  see a shrink."  Ford spat  a blob of tobacco juice
off the porch edge.  "Sounds to me like she still may be crazy.

  You know they say kids never get over traumatic things like that.

  Makes some of 'em pure schizo."  He studied the toe of his battered
boot.  "There were rumors she might even have killed her parents
herself."

  "It's hard to believe a seven-year-old would be strong enough to kill
two adults," Nathan said.  "Any evidence to support that theory?"

  Ford scratched his beard.  "Just the fact she was holding the murder
weapon when the police arrived."

  Nathan adapted his poker face.  "Let me guess.  The parents were killed
with a knife."

  Ford grinned.  "Yep.  A kitchen one.  Kind of like the one she had when
we got here.  And she kept muttering that it was her fault.  Some said
her grandma whisked her away to cover it up."

  A sigh of frustration escaped Nathan.  He looked out over the small
landing of her apartment complex.  The outside lights shone brightly,
and pansies filled the flower beds.  What a beautiful lime complex, and
what a sad story.

  Veronica and the paramedic came to the door.  She seemed vulnerable and
troubled and she'd called him for help.  As an officer of the law, he
had to protect her.  But what exactly was he protecting her from?  From
some weirdo or from herself?.  She could be telling the troth.  But if
Ford was right and Veronica was unstable, perhaps she hadn't been
attacked at all.

  A rancid taste filled his mouth.  He wanted to believe her, but he had
to check out all angles.  And knowing about Veronica's past shed a
whole different light on the situation.

  Chapter Two ir

  A dozen questions tumbled through Veronica's head.

  "We'll have this arm stitched up in a minute," the doctor said.  "You
were mighty lucky.  Another quarter of an inch and your main artery
would have been severed."  Arlene Baits reminded Veronica more of her
grandmother than a physician.  She'd been especially tender and kind
while she'd cleaned' Veronica's wound, chatting to distract her from
the unpleasant chore.

  But the past few hours kept replaying themselves in Veronica's head
like an old horror show.  The only halfway bright spot had been meeting
Detective Dawson.  He hadn't looked at her as if she were nuts like so
many people in the past.  But she'd seen him talking to Ford,
whispering and glancing back and forth at her.  Something was up.

  Either they'd found evidence in her apartment they didn't want to tell
her about or they didn't believe her.  She knew what Ford thought.  But
she couldn't read the other detective.  He'd been kind and concerned
and performed all the seemingly appropriate police tasks.  But he kept
stating at her as if he could see into her soul.

  No man had ever looked at her that way.  She shivered, then flinched as
the doctor dabbed antiseptic over the small nick on her throat.

  "All done.  How did you say this happened?"  the doctor asked again.

  lxlta t-lerron z.

  "Someone broke into my apartment and attacked me," Veronica said for  what
she  felt like  was the umpteenth  time.  At least  she hadn't implied she'd
tried to commit suicide like the paramedics.

  The elderly woman  clucked her  tongue.  "Can't  be too  safe these  days.

  I keep a dead bolt.  And my puppy dog, Randall, barks at anything that
gets near me."

  Veronica smiled.  Maybe she needed to get a dog.  "What'd you say your
name was, dear?"  "Veronica Miller."

  "Oh."   Dr. Baits tilted her  head sideways as if  in thought.  "I knew of
some Millers a long time ago."  Her eyes widened, then narrowed again.

  She suddenly pressed her lips tightly together.  Her hands trembled as
she helped Veronica down from the examining table.

  Veronica wondered at the woman's strange reaction.  The doctor was old
enough to have known about her parents.  And their murder.  Maybe she
remembered them.  Maybe she had an idea who had killed them.

  "You can go now," Dr. Baits said, her face pale.  Veronica started to
question her, but Dr. Baits quickly opened the door.  "That detective
said he's waiting to drive you home."  The woman forced a smile, but
Veronica recognized the lackluster quality.  "Handsome young fella.

  Better not keep him waitin'."

  Handsome didn't matter, Veronica told herself.  Just as long as he
could do his job.

  "Thanks for everything,  Dr. Baits."  Veronica  felt weak.  Perhaps  she'd
return  when she felt better to question the woman.  She wobbled on unsteady
feet but managed to make it to the waiting room without collapsing.  All she
wanted  was a nice  warm bed and  some sleep.  Then  she remembered what had
happened in her bedroom, and knew she couldn't sleep there tonight.

  "Are you all right?"  Detective  Dawson rose from the stiff-looking  vinyl
chair  and rushed instantly to her side.  His arm curved around her elbow in
support.  Veronica was immedi24 ena Me a Hero lately grateful she'd  changed
from her thin cotton gown into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

  "I'm fine," Veronica lied.  "Just exhausted."

  The detective nodded.  "You want to go home?  Or do you have some
family--" an odd expression crossed his face "----or do you want to go
to a friend's house?"

  Veronica froze, her gaze colliding with his.  She read understanding
and something else she couldn't identify.  His eyebrows furrowed, and
once again that strange probing look darkened his eyes, making her
wonder what he had on his · t .

  mind or how much he knew about her.  Questions lingered in his
expression.  He seemed to have as many as she did.

  "No friends," Veronica said as he walked her to the car.  She thought
of Eli, her parents' friend who lived only a few miles away.  He was
also her godfather, but she didn't feel comfortable homing in on his
family.

  "I just moved here a couple of months ago," Veronica said, deciding not
to go into a long explanation.

  "From Florida?"

  "Yes, but I was born here," Veronica said.  Maybe she should tell the
detective bits of her past before he heard the distorted version from
someone else.  "My parents died when I was a child so I moved away with
my grandmother."

  "What  brought you back to Oakland?"   Dawson asked.  "I'm a tax attorney.

  After my grandmother died, I didn't have any real ties to Florida.

  When Abe Walsh retired, I took over his practice."

  "I remember Walsh," Dawson said.  "Decided to travel the world.  Must
have retired with a hefty chunk of change."

  Veronica remained silent, her thoughts scattered.  She'd had to return
to this town.  Back in Fort Lauderdale, her boyfriend, Ron had pushed
for more commitment, but she'd been leery.  Her childhood nightmares
had returned, occasionally a flash of something from her youth seeping
in.

  Eli had contacted her, too, wanting to see hen-it seemed like
everything had come together at once, bringing her here.  She'd decided
if she finally

  Hll'a Herron Z3

  put all her ghosts to rest, maybe she could move on with her life.

  "You want to go back to your apartment?"

  An image of yellow police tape, shattered glass and dark shadows filled
her mind.  Veronica shook her head.  "No, a hotel would be nice.  I'd
like to stop by and pack a bag though."

  He opened the car door.  "Sure.  You should have dead bolts installed
tomorrow."

  "I will."

  Dawson made his way to the driver's side and climbed in.  "Which
hotel?"

  "One of the busy ones in town," Veronica said automatically.  One where
no one will know me.  She wrapped her arms around herself in a
protective gesture.  "Maybe I can lose myself in the crowd."

  AFTER NATHAN MADE SURE Veronica was settled into the hotel room, he
headed to the station.  If Veronica thought she could ever be lost in a
crowd, she was wrong.  The ridiculous thought made him chuckle.  She
was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  And he realized when
she'd made the statement that she didn't have a clue how men saw her.

  Or had her statement meant something else?  Had she wanted to lose
herself as in commit suicide?  He'd considered the possibility as soon
as he'd seen the wrist wound.  The paramedic had immediately asked her
the same question.  Her big dark eyes had turned to the young man in
disbelief, as if she couldn't fathom why he would ask such a thing.

  Considering her confused state, the combination of alcohol and possibly
sleeping pills along with her troubled past, the assumption seemed
logical.

  But still, something bothered him about the incident.  He didn't know
what had happened at her apartment, but he didn't think she'd tried to
take her own life.

  "Stop thinking with your hormones and use your brain," he muttered to
himself as he turned into the precinct.  It might Dena 1vie a nero be
2:00 a.m but he intended to start his investigation of Veronica
immediately.  He only hoped she didn't turn out to be nuttier than his
Aunt Willemena's fruitcake.

  An hour later, his eyes blurting, he slurped down the dregs of his
third cup of coffee and choked down a stale bear claw.  The files on
the Miller family lay before him.  There appeared to be enough for the
beginnings of a novel.

  Good heavens, the woman was a legend.  Or at least the news of the
Miller murder-suicide had been highlighted in Atlanta newspapers for
months after her parents' deaths.  He stared at the yellowed edges of
the old newspaper article, and his heart twisted at the sad expression
on Veronica's face--a seven-year-old girl with the weight of her
mother's and father's deaths on her mind.  Her big, dark eyes glistened
with pain and turmoil, and a single lone tear streaked her cheek as she
clutched an elderly woman's hand.

  They stood beside a gravestone, Veronica with a small bunch of fresh
daisies almost crushed to pieces in her tiny.  hand.  A few mourners
hunched in the wind on the dark, dreary day, a day much like this one
had been.  Police and reporters: had been present, too.  The poor child
hadn't been able to grieve without being hounded by the press.  Or the
police.  What kind of effect had the gossip and media attention had on
her?

  He leaned back in his chair, studying a picture of her folks when they
were alive.  The hot coffee burned his throat as he gazed at a tiny
Veronica being cuddled by her father.  It was the only picture where
she was smiling.  He realized it wasn't the color of her eyes, but the
deep sadness that had drawn him to believe her.

  Annoyed with himself, he stood and paced across the room.  Why was this
story getting to him?  He balled up several pieces of paper and spiked
them toward the trash can.  She was a grown woman now, not a child.  An
independent adult--a respected tax attorney.  He had to remain
uninvolved.

  Maybe his recent stay in the hospital had something to do with his
reactions.  Months of lying in bed and going to rehab Klta Herron z I
to regain the use of his leg, reliving the moment the bullet had
pierced the lining near his heart--a near-death experience did
something to a man.  And losing his partner--he would never forget the
devastation he'd felt when he'd awoken to find Reid gone.  He'd died
because he trusted the wrong person.  Nathan had come as close to dying
himself as he'd ever come.  In those dreadful months of recovery, he'd
realized something.  There wasn't a person in the world who cared about
him.  Not one.

  His family had all been gone for years, and he'd never let anyone get
close to him.  For the first time in his life, he'd begun to think
about his future.  Not just his future as a detective, but his
future...alone.

  But this wasn't the time to pursue a relationship.  And work definitely
wasn't the place.

  He slam-dunked another piece of paper into the trash can and sank back
in his chair.  His stint in the hospital had obviously turned him into
a melancholy wimp.  Police work and marriage didn't mix.  He'd seen
dozens of marriages fall apart because wives couldn't stand the hoars,
the danger and fear of losing their husbands.  And the combination of a
policeman getting involved with a victim was lethal.  He had a job to
do and he intended to do it.

  He shuffled the papers and zeroed in on a column a few weeks after the
reported murder-suicide.  The journalist suggested that Veronica had
suffered severe trauma from the incident.  The psychiatrist treating
her had released very little information, except that she had repressed
the horrible memories of that fatal night.  And that she might never
remember the details.  Serious long-term effects might reveal
themselves in her later years.  Schizophrenic behavior often resulted
from childhood trauma.  So did paranoia.  Illusions of someone
threatening the person were common.  Suicide in cases like this was
prevalent, most likely in the teens or early twenties.  He couldn't
ignore the facts: Veronica fit the profile, even her age, which was
twenty-seven.

  Nathan scrubbed his hands over his eyes, and leaned on his palms.

  Things were not looking good for Veronica's case.  He ena Me a Hero had
to admit Ford might be right.  He couldn't do anything else tonight.

  The lab wouldn't be open until morning.  It would take time to study
the evidence and match blood types.

  If Veronica had stabbed someone with that knife, the person's blood
should show up.  And if they couldn't find any evidence to support her
claim, well, he'd discover the truth about her, too.  He stood and
dragged his weary body toward the door.  He might as well get some
sleep.  Tomorrow he had work to do.  And he had to forget about the
alluring Veronica Miller as a woman.  Whether she was delusional or
someone was threatening her life, she obviously had persoffal
problems.

  And that was looking on the bright side.  After all, she just might be
a lunatic.

  VERONICA BRUSHED DOWN her straight black skirt and smoothed her teal
silk blouse over her bandaged arm, grateful the blouse's collar hid the
small cut on her neck.  She walked into her office, hesitating
momentarily as she always did when' she entered the huge Victorian
house that had been her father's office years ago.  Of course, it had
undergone major renovations, but she'd hoped being in his work space
might jog her memories.  So far it hadn't.

  A yawn escaped her.  Last night she'd barely slept.  She'd tossed and
turned in the hotel bed, wondering why someone would attack her.  It
had never happened before.  So why now?  Could it have been a simple
robbery attempt?

  In the wee hours of the morning, she'd slipped into a fretful sleep,
and she'd awoken at dawn, still unrested.  But she had to come to work
today.  Although she'd always been a failure with people, especially
men, she was a whiz at numbers--a skill and service her clients paid
prime money for.  Work was her salvation.

  "Ms.  Miller, Wayne Barrett is waiting for you in your of-rice."

  Veronica's secretary, Louise Falk, gave her a sympathetic smile as she
stopped to check her messages.  "He's on the rampage this morning."

  Veronica smiled.  "I expect so.  He not only received my Ktta Merron zv
bill, but he just learned he owes the government a huge sum of
money."

  Louise sipped her coffee.  The woman was tall and skinny and could
drink five pots of coffee a day without getting jittery.  Veronica
envied her that.  She and caffeine did not agree.  She fixed herself
some decaf tea and hoped she could enjoy it before Barrett exploded.

  "You want me to call 911 if he starts shouting?"  Louise licked the sticky
icing from a Danish.

  "I  think  I can  handle  him."  Veronica's  fingers tightened  around her
leather attach case.  "By the way, did you find the Avondale file?"

  Louise gave her an odd look.  "You filed it yesterday before you
left.

  Don't you remember?"

  Veronica chewed her bottom lip.  "Oh, yes, that's right."  Massaging
her temple, she searched her memory.  She didn't remember filing it.

  What was wrong with her?  Normally she was organized, but lately she'd
been misplacing things.  First she thought she'd lost her keys, then
she'd found them in her office desk.  And now a file.

  "Well, good luck with Barrett," Louise said, turning back to the computer.

  Veronica mumbled thanks, squared her shoulders, reminded herself of the
assertiveness training classes she'd taken and strode toward her
office.

  Wayne Barrett, big-time entrepreneur, offered a perfunctory greeting as
she entered.  He sat gripping a mug of coffee, tugging at his waxed
mustache.  A designer suit, red power tie, Gucci shoes--the man had
money and liked to flaunt it.  He even had his nails manicured.  He
said he could enjoy his wealth better if he held it with polished
hands.

  She'd disliked the man the moment she'd met him.

  "Hi, Mr. Barrett."  Veronica placed her tea and briefcase on her desk,
snapped open the sleek Italian case and pulled out a file.  "I assume
this is what you came to discuss."

  Barrett perched in the red leather chair nearest her desk, crossed one
leg over the other and leaned forward, Veronica 3u ena Me a Hero was
sure, to intimidate her.  "Of course.  You knew it wasn't what I was
expecting."  The anger in his deep baritone jostled her already taut
nerves.

  But she refused to show it.

  Instead she met his cool gaze and calculating eyes with a confident
smile.  "I know.  But when you withheld information about those bonds
from me and your wife--" "My ex-wife," Barrett clarified hastily.

  Veronica nodded, although she knew the divorce hadn't been officially
granted yet.  "Yes, your ex-wife notified the courts of this money, and
the government had tribe informed.  I'm sorry it worked out like this,
but my hands are tied."

  Barrett's nostrils flared with anger.  He stood and glared into her
eyes.  "I paid you to work this out.  Walsh always took care of me."

  Veronica leaned back in her chair, putting some distance between
them.

  This man smelled like whiskey and it was only 8:00 a.m. He had the
nerve to blame her for his toss, when he'd withheld pertinent
information about his earnings from the government.

  "I   found  you  every  loophole  available--within  the  law."   Veronica
punctuated the last words,  simultaneously tapping her pen  on the desk  for
emphasis.

  "You know this will cost me two million," Barrett said.  "I thought you
were the best tax attorney around.  Walsh even recommended you."  '
Veronica refused to let him faze her.  "I am a good attorney, but I'm
also honest.  I won't go to jail to hide your earnings, Mr.  Barrett.

  Or to save you from having to pay your wife and the government what you
lawfully owe them."

  A vein bulged in Barrett's pale forehead.  "Sometimes, Ms. Miller,
there are worse things than going to jail.  Remember, I know where you
live."

  He jerked his own briefcase from the floor and stormed from her
office.

  Veronica exhaled a shaky breath at his implied threat.  Could Barrett
have attacked her the night before?

  The phone jangled, catching her off guard, and she almost Rtta Herron 1
jumped out of the chair.  Forcing herself to steady her voice, she
picked up the receiver.  "Hello, Veronica Miller speaking."' "Veronica,
this is Eli."

  Veronica relaxed, grateful for the comfort of her godfather's voice.

  She'd missed talking with him lately.

  "How are you, dear?"

  "I'm fine.  Just got rid of a nasty client, but what's new?"  Eli laughed.
His voice was rusty, and she realized  age.had crept up on him while  they'd
lost  touch.  "Tomorrow  night we're having  a reception in  honor of my son
Gerald."

  "Oh.  What's the occasion?"  Veronica asked.  Although she didn't remember
Gerald,  Eli had  kept her  informed of  all his  son's political activities
through his letters.

  "It's a kickoff for his campaign,"  Eli said, pride evident in his  voice.

  "Like father like son, huh?"  Veronica said.

  Eli laughed.  "Yeah, but he's not stopping at senator.  He wants to run
for president."

  "Wow."  Veronica was mildly impressed.  "What time is the party?"

  "Seven o'clock.  And bring a date if you want."

  Veronica laughed silently.  She hadn't been in town long enough to meet
anyone she wanted to date.  She'd spent the first few weeks getting
settled and reviewing a few of the accounts she inherited from Walsh.

  "Sounds  great," Veronica said.  I'll be  there."  She was tempted to tell
Eli about  her midnight  visitor, but  he sounded  weary himself,  and  with
Gerald's  decision to run for election  and Eli's own commitments to several
state departments, he obviously had his plate full.  Besides, living on  her
own  had taught her to  be independent.  Eli had his  own family and life to
deal with.

  "See you then."  Eli coughed, then hung up.

  Hmm.  Eli still hadn't shaken the cold he'd had when she'd had lunch
with him.  Veronica reached for the stack of files on her desk.

  Paperwork should take her mind off her problems.

  Dena lvle a nero Later that afternoon a light knock sounded at the
door.  Louise poked her head in.  "This package arrived for you."

  Veronica squinted in confusion at the brightly wrapped package.  "For
me?"  Who would be sending her a gift?

  Louise placed the small package on the desk.  "Maybe it's from a secret
admirer," she said, slipping out the door.

  Veronica removed the small card and read it silently.  "Something to
remember me by.  See you soon."

  It had to be from Ron.  But what did he mean he would see her soon?

  She'd told him she wanted time and space.  For heaven's sake, she'd
moved to Oakland to get away from him.

  She examined the package.  Pale blue paper with roses on it.  Her hand
trembled.  Something about the wrapping seemed familiar, but she
couldn't place it.  She silently chastised herself for being so
jittery.

  She'd probably bought similar paper and wrapped a gift with it for
someone else.

  She must be getting paranoid from lack of sleep and nerves.  Gingerly,
she fingered the delicate baby pink bow and finally.  lifted it from
the gift.  The paper came away easily.  She slowly opened the container
and took out a beautiful music box in the shape of a hot air balloon.

  It was lovely.  The familiar characters from The Wizard of Oz danced in
the basket.  Again, something about the gift tugged at the corners of
her memory, but nothing materialized.

  Ron hadn't sent the gift.  She was sure of it.  He was the most
practical man she'd ever known, he would never have sent her something
this frivolous.  But if he hadn't sent it, who had?

  As she stared at the little scarecrow and cowardly lion, the image of
Dorothy in her red slippers appeared in her head.  Dorothy tapping her
ruby red slippers together chanting, "There's no place like home.

  There's no place like home."  A vague memory floated through her mind;
her mother had read her the story as a child.  She'd had the music from
the movie.  A chill slithered up her spine.  Why did the childlike
story make her feel so frightened?  Had she been listening to the song
the night her parents were killed?

  Rita Herron 33

  With shaking fingers, she slowly wound the music box and listened as it
played.  She hummed along in a low voice.  "Somewhere over the
rainbow..."

  An image of Dorothy being chased by the bad witch and the horrid
monkeys took her breath.  Her hands shook so violently she dropped the
music box onto the desk with a thud.  The song droned on.  "Why, oh,
why, can't I?"  Veronica covered her ears to drown out the sound.  Why,
oh, why, couldn't she remember what happened that night?

  As the music continued to play, she could almost hear her mother's soft
voice singing the words.  Her mother had given her a music box just
like this one for her seventh birthday, only a few days before her
death.

  She hadn't seen the music box in years.  And nobody had known about it
except her parents.

  NATHAN STOOD in the open doorway of Veronica's office, one hand
gripping the shiny doorknob, the other shoved in his pocket, and
watched silently as Veronica stared at the small music box.  She
mumbled something about monkeys.

  "The monkeys, they're after me."  Panic tinged her voice, and her eyes
were glazed and haunted with shadows.

  "What's wrong  with her?"   he  asked the  tall, lanky  secretary.   She'd
opened  the door  for him  when Veronica had  refused to  answer her buzzer.

  "I don't know," she said, her voice filled with concern.  "She's been
acting a little strange lately, forgetting things.  A messenger
delivered a present for her a few minutes ago."  Louise pointed to the
torn wrapping paper.  "It must have been that music box.  I've never
seen it before."

  Nathan closed the distance between himself and Veronica in a few quick
strides.  "Why would it cause her to react this way?"

  "I have no idea," Louise said, wide-eyed.

  "I didn't mean to do it," Veronica  whimpered in a tiny voice that  jabbed
at  Nathan like razor-sharp scissors.  He  didn't have a clue what she meant
or even if she knew, but he needed 34 end Me a Hero to snap her out of  this
delusional state.  He lowered himself beside her.

  "Ms.  Miller," he said, gently nudging  her shoulder, "Ms. Miller, can you
hear me?"

  An almost childlike cry escaped her.  Although he told himself this was
strictly business, that this woman might be psychotic, his heart
wrenched.  All he could see in his mind was a picture of a sad little
girl with a handful of crushed daisies standing beside her parents'
grave.  Lost and alone.

  "Ms. Miller...Veronica, can you hear me?  It's Detective Dawson."  He
took her icy hands in his and turuel her to face him.  Gently he
stroked some warmth into her chilled fingers and watched as her
breathing began to steady.  "Veronica, tell me what happened.  I'm here
to help you.  You have to talk to me."

  "I'll get some water," Louise said, dashing from the office.

  "Veronica, look at me."  He framed her face with his hands and forced
her to meet his gaze.  Although her eyes still' seemed slightly glazed,
her pupils weren't as dilated as when he'd first arrived, and she
focused on him.

  He kept talking in a soft, comforting voice.  "I came by to see how
you're doing today.  Everything's going to be all right."

  Veronica's limp body sagged against her chair.  She glanced around her
office, her desk, then back to him, still in a state of confusion.

  "Veronica, will you talk to me now?"

  "What...how long have you been standing there?"  Her voice sounded weak
and distant.

  "Not long."  Nathan replayed the details of her file in his' head.  The
lack of evidence from the night before complicated things even more.

  He needed more details from Veronica.  "We need to talk."

  Louise rushed in and thrust a glass of water in Veronica's hands.  "Are
you okay, Veronica?"  Louise rubbed a hand over her own forehead and
made a futile attempt to tuck the loose strands of her auburn topknot
back into place.  "You scared me to death."  ltta nerron aD

  Veronica looked at her in confusion, then seemed to visibly shake
herself.  "I'm fine."  She stared at Nathan, a dazed look on her
face.

  "What did you say you were doing here?"

  "I came by to ask you some more questions.  Who sent the gift?"

  "I don't know," Veronica said in a listless voice.  "The card didn't say."

  "You shouldn't have opened a strange package after what happened last
night."  Nathan turned to Louise.  "What did the messenger look like?

  Was it a courier service?"

  Louise bit her lip.  "I...I didn't see them.  I went to the rest room
and found it on my desk when I returned."

  "What time is it?"  Veronica asked, looking more and more confused.

  Louise and Nathan exchanged concerned looks.  "It's about four-thirty,"
Nathan said.

  "Why  don't you go on home?"   Louise suggested.  "You don't have any more
appointments today.  I'll answer the  phone and lock up."  Veronica  nodded,
and Louise made a hasty exit.

  Nathan quickly took the initiative.  "We're through with your
apartment, Ms. Miller.  Why don't you call a service to clean up while
you and I go someplace to talk?"  Veronica's dark eyebrows arched in
surprise.

  "About your case," Nathan clan6ed.  "We need to discuss what we found
at your apartment."  That would be the hard part, Nathan thought
morosely.  He had no idea how she would react to his report.

  Veronica nodded and stood.  Nathan noticed her trembling hands, the way
she almost collapsed against her desk as she tried to stand.  "Are you
okay?"

  A sudden bout of determination filled her eyes.  "I will be," she said
simply.  She buzzed Louise, asked her to call her usual cleaning
service to clean her apartment, then grabbed her briefcase and purse
and headed toward the door.  "Let's go to the cafe around the corner,
Detective Dawson."

  Nathan watched the way her curvaceous backside swayed

  )'fU 1¥" U I-I'FO

  in her short black skirt as she disappeared out the door.  The woman
definitely had a figure.  Subtle round curves.  Just enough breasts to
fill a man's hands.  Gorgeous long legs.

  And she carded herself like she had all the confidence in the world.

  But he knew her bravado was a sham.  When he'd witnessed her unveiled
fear only moments earlier, he'd had to order himself not to wrap her in
his arms and comfort her.  Worse, he'd had to remind himself he was a
professional, a detective, not the woman's boyfriend or lover.

  Veronica Miller's lover.  Just the thought made his groin ache.  But a
personal entanglement with this woman would be a tnistake.

  Business, buddy, strictly business, he reminded himself as he followed
her to the elevator.  Maybe if he told himself that fact often enough
he would believe it.

  Chapter Three

  Several minutes later, Veronica seated herself at a small table in the
corner of the cafe with Detective Dawson.  She liked doing business,
enjoyed working with facts and numbers, but she'd always had trouble
dealing with people.  Give her a calculator and a computer any day.

  They didn't talk or expect anything.  She couldn't fail them, she
couldn't cause them to die.

  What did Detective Dawson know?  Had he discovered the truth about
her?

  Her stomach knotted with dread as he sat at the secluded table she'd
chosen in the corner.  Did he know who'd broken into her apartment?

  Had he come here to ask her to go to the police station to identify her
attacker?  A part of her desperately wanted that to happen, while
another part of her wasn't quite ready to face the truth.

  She slipped her hair from its clasp and finger combed through it,
letting the strands float around her shoulders.  Somehow the simple act
helped her to relax.

  Hadn't that been her problem her whole life?  She couldn't remember
who'd killed her parents because she couldn't face the truth.  That was
what the psychiatrist had told her grandmother.  She could understand
as a child not being able to remember, but was the truth too horrible
for her to accept even now?

  5end Me a Hero Her stomach turned as the waiter placed glasses of club
soda in front of them.  Veronica brought her glass to her mouth merely
to have something to do with her hands.  She barely felt the cold
liquid brush her lips before she set it back down and twined her
fingers in her lap.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked the detective square in the eye.

  "Ms.  Miller--Veronica, may I call you that?"

  Veronica nodded.

  DaWson stretched out his long legs, brushing his knee against hers.

  She wondered if it was accidental."  She'd been too frightened the
night before to notice this man's powerful masculinity.  His broad
shoulders and muscular body filled out his cream-colored polo shirt to
perfection.  He had a hard, chiseled face with high cheekbones and a
small cleft in his chin, and sandy blond-brown hair that was so thick
she briefly considered sinking her fingers into it.

  "You look better," Dawson said with a slight smile.  "Thanks.  I feel a
little better."  Veronica shifted, uncomfortable.  The way his deep,
husky voice murmured her name sent a shiver up her spine.  It was too
personal.  And his amber-colored eyes gazed at her with such sincerity
she wanted to confide in him, to tell him the whole, sordid truth.  But
if she did, would he help her?

  "Okay, Detective Dawson, what did you want to discuss?"  Always get to
the point, Veronica had learned.  Take charge of the meeting.  Don't
let the other person intimidate you.

  The detective's mouth curved into a smile as if he knew exactly what
she was doing.  She shifted again, this time brushing her leg against
his.  The soft fabric of his khakis felt warm against her stockinged
thigh.  He smiled again.

  "Detective?"  She raised her glass for another sip of her club soda.

  His gaze followed the movement, then suddenly, as if he Klla tlerron o
realized what he was doing, he straightened in his chair and assumed a
more businesslike pose.  His smile faded, and a serious expression
darkened his eyes.

  Veronica decided she preferred him the other way.  "Like I said, the
police finished combing your place."  "And?"  Veronica's pulse
jumped.

  "They didn't find anything to indicate an intruder."

  Veronica's hands tightened around the glass.  "How about the blood on
the knife?"

  The detective sipped his drink, then set his glass down with a thud.

  "The  tests aren't  finished yet.  There  weren't any fingerprints though.

  Except yours, of course."  He paused as if he was waiting for her
reaction.  "If someone was there, they wiped their prints and blood off
the knife after you passed out."  ' Veronica leaned back and closed her
eyes momentarily.  Could she have imagined the whole thing?  As a
child, she had such vivid nightmares that she swore they were real.

  Could it be happening all over again?

  When she opened her eyes, Detective Dawson was watching her.

  "You want to tell me about the music box?  Why did it set you off like
that?"

  Veronica swallowed, tried to lift the glass for another drink, but her
sore arm ached and she spilled the cold liquid down the front of her
blouse.  Dawson calmly handed his napkin to her, his intense gaze
unnerving her even more.  He stared at her arm where she'd been wounded
the night before.  She was grateful the long sleeve of her blouse
covered the bandage, although the imprint of it could be seen through
the sheer material.

  "Tell me about it, Veronica."

  Deep down inside, Veronica's heart twisted.  How she wished she could
tell someone the awful haunting secrets she kept buried inside.  For
some reason, it seemed especially important that she make this man
believe her.

  But when she opened up to people, they thought she was nuts.  She'd
only shared her fears and details of her past with DEna 1¥1C a rlero a
couple of men in her life, and they'd turned away from her.  She
couldn't bear to open herself up to that kind of pain again.

  Dawson folded his hands on the table.  "Veronica, I can't help you if
you don't talk to me."

  She laid the soggy napkins on the table and met his gaze.  "It was
nothing.  It just reminded me of the movie."

  "Yeah.  Almost everyone's seen The Wizard of Oz, but most people don't
freak out when they hear the theme song."

  Veronica squelched the retort on the tip of her tongue.  She might as
well tell him as much of the truth as possible.  He would probably find
out everything about her when he checked into her past.  "My mom used
to sing me that song before she died?"

  Dawson rubbed his thumb over his chin.  "I can understand how that
would upset you.  But you don't know who sent it?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "I told you in my office, l have no idea."

  "Maybe someone in the family?"

  "I don't have any family."  Veronica's hands squeezed her glass.  "I'm
sure you've discovered that by now."

  Dawson's brief nod told her all she needed to know.  Of course he'd
read her history.  Was he here just to satisfy his curiosity or did he
really want to help her?

  "And you live alone?  Not even a pet?  Cat or dog?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "No.  I don't like cats.  I'm thinking about
getting a dog, though."

  Dawson downed the rest of his drink.  "Hmm.  There were cat hairs in
your apartment."

  Veronica glanced up, her eyes wide.  "Cat hairs.  Then that proves it,
someone must have been there."

  "That proves a cat might have wandered in sometime when you left the  door
open.  It doesn't prove a person was there."  Veronica frowned.

  "Okay,  let's get back to  the music box.  Why did  it upset you so much?"

  Dawson asked softly.

  Veronica hesitated, cupping her empty glass in her hand and swirling
the ice cubes around.  "My mother gave me a music Ktta Herron 41 box
that played the song for my seventh birthday.  It was a few days before
she died.  No one knew about it except my grandmother."  Veronica
sighed.  "And my grandmother is dead."

  Dawson nodded, his expression unreadable.  "What about a
housekeeper?"

  "We didn't have a housekeeper.  And the strange thing is that I think
it's the same music box."

  Dawson drummed his fingers on the table.  "What makes you think
that?"

  Veronica chewed her lip.  "I'd forgotten about it until I saw it.  Then
my memory came flooding back.  It had this little crack in the bottom
left corner where I dropped it, but Daddy glued it back together."

  "And this one has a chip in the same place?"

  "Yes."  Veronica was quiet.  "I haven't seen that box in years.  I  didn't
even  remember it  existed, much less  know what happened  to it years ago."

  Dawson made a mumbling sound.  "Okay, let's assume someone found it and
sent it to you.  When your grandmother passed away, maybe she'd kept it
with some of her things.  Did she leave you anything valuable?  Money,
property, jewelry?"

  Veronica wrinkled her forehead in thought.  "why do you ask?"

  "I'm looking for an angle.  I thought if she did, perhaps there's  another
family  member out there  who wants the inheritance,  too.  It might explain
the attack.  Has anything like this happened before?"

  "No."  Veronica mulled over the possibilities.  "And there wasn't any
other family that I'm aware of.  Besides, my grandmother didn't have
much financially.  Just a small house, a few personal things.  We
weren't wealthy by any means."  "what happened to the house?"

  "I sold it," Veronica said.  "I couldn't stay there without her."

  Dawson ran a hand through his thick hair.  "Do you know ena Me a Hero
anyone who would want to hurt you?  Any enemies?

  Someone who might have a vendetta against you?  Co-workers or clients
you've made angry in the past?"

  Veronica shifted uneasily as Wayne Barrett's arrogant face flashed
before her, his threat echoing in her ears.  He had lost two million
dollars.  Still, she hated to accuse him of trying to hurt her when she
had no proof.

  Detective Dawson covered her hand with his.  "If you want me to help
you, you have to trust me."

  Veronica's jaw ached from clenching it.  Trust.  The
Seventy-fivemillion-dollar word.  She'd never totally trugted anybody,
not even Ron.  It had eventually destroyed their relationship.

  "Come on, Veronica.  These are routine questions any detective would  ask.
We  can go down to the station to finish this if you'd rather, but I thought
you'd feel more comfortable here."

  "All right," she began.  "In my  business, I've made a few clients  angry,
usually by not saving them as much money as' they want."

  "Lost any cases recently?  Had to turn anyone in to the IRS?"

  Veronica smiled.  "I don't lose, Mr.  Dawson."  "Nathan."  "What?"

  "If we're going to be working together, I'd just as soon you call me by
my first name."

  "Is that normal?"

  Nathan grinned.  "It is for me."

  Veronica couldn't resist a smile.  The man could probably charm Uncle
Sam out of an audit.

  "I'd like you to get me a list of all your clients.  Highlight any who
haven't been pleased with their settlement."

  Veronica nodded, and glanced up at the waiter.  "Would you like to
order dinner?"  he asked.

  As if on cue, Veronica's stomach growled.  "Sure.  I skipped lunch.

  I'll have a salad and quiche."

  "Real men don't eat quiche," Nathan muttered.  Veronica

  Rita Herron 43

  smothered a laugh.  His mouth quirked into a smile as he met her
gaze.

  "You're beautiful when you smile."  He handed her the bread basket and
she blushed.  "Bring me the ribs."

  Veronica laughed again, this time unable to smother the sound.  "A real
macho man, huh?  I suppose you want your meat bleeding?"

  "Sure, it's juicy and tender that way," Nathan said with a grin.

  As the waiter placed their orders, Nathan turned back to Veronica.  "So
you may have a disgruntled client in the wake.  How about boyfriends?

  Any lovers or ex-ones we should worry about?"

  Veronica tensed and tore her roll in half.  How in the world could she
answer that?

  "Are there, Veronica?"  Nathan's husky voice made her squirm.  "Are you
involved with anyone I should know about?"

  She slathered butter haphazardly all over her roll.  "No," she said
softly.  "No one you should know about."

  THERE WASN'T A MAN in her life.  A ridiculous sense of relief filled
Nathan.  After following Veronica home and making sure her apartment
was secure, he headed to the station.

  Veronica's lack of a boyfriend eliminated the possibility of an
ex-lover trying to hurt her, but he had a disturbing feeling that
wasn't the reason he felt relieved.  Damn.  He couldn't do this.  He
could not get involved with her.  He could not be suckered in by her
big doelike eyes or that lyrical voice of hers.  He could not care
about Veronica Miller.

  She was just a case.  Just a strange, bizarre, fascinating case.  And
the first person to make him feel really alive since his accident.

  Since he'd come back to work, he'd mostly stuck to routine
investigations.

  Now, he'd finally been handed something interesting.  Only it wasn't
just the case fascinating him.  It was the woman herself.  She was
beautiful and enticing, although quite possibly a mental case.

  But for some reason he believed her.

  44 5entl Me a Hero He parked at the station, climbed out and hurried to
his desk.  Ford was perched on top, one leg swinging against the metal
frame, his hand around a mug of coffee.  Or what the precinct called
coffee.  It tasted more like bitter chunks of sludge, but it usually
did the job--it kept you awake when duty called.  And right now, duty
had his number.

  "Okay,  Ford,  what did  you find  out?"  Nathan  relaxed into  his chair,
refusing to let Ford see  his irritation.  He knew  Ford thought he was  too
young  to be a  detective, and Nathan  intended to prove  the man wrong.  He
also understood Ford's skepticism  about Veronica, and Ford  had a right  to
his doubts.  Shoot, even he had doubts.

  Ford pointed to a file on his desk.  "Got some background on the Miller
woman.  She moved here from Fort Lauderdale a couple of months ag0.

  Left a booming practice to branch out on her own."

  "Any problems with co-workers there?"

  "Naw.   Her  boss said  she was  a brilliant  attorney.  Said  she kept to
herself, didn't socialize much.  Thought she was a little weird, but  didn't
say anything specific."

  Nathan opened the file.  Somehow he felt guilty, as if he was violating
Veronica's privacy.  He'd never felt that way before.  Investigating
people was his job.  "Did he know why she decided to leave the
practice?"

  Ford slurped his coffee.  "No.  Her boss seemed shocked, said her
announcement came out of the blue.  He even offered her a partnership,
but she refused."

  Nathan tapped his fingers on the file.  Why had she left such a good
position to move back here?  To the town where her parents were killed
a place that must hold haunting memo-ties for her?  Was she running
from someone or something back in Florida?

  "Oh, her secretary did say she thought she was seeing a counselor.

  Said  the move  might have  had something to  do with  her boyfriend, too.

  They had a big fight before she left."

  Nathan glanced up at Ford.

  Ktta nerron +D

  "Said his name was Ron Cox.  Sent a return plane ticket to her office
the day she left."

  Nathan swallowed, angry with himself for being so gullible.  Veronica
had told him there was no man in her life.  If she'd lied about having
a boyfriend, what else had she hidden?

  VERONICA W/kS MESMERIZED momentarily by the opulence of Eli's
mansion.

  She'd never known anything like it.  The three-story Georgian home and
estate had been featured in a magazine once, so she knew it had been
designed with ornate Ionic columns, imported marble and tile, elaborate
decorative moldings, and its extensive gardens featured statues,
topiary and fountains.  It certainly didn't look like anyone's home.

  Taking a calming breath, she opened her car door, made her way up the
cobblestone walkway and rang the brass doorbell.  A butler answered.

  "Eli, it's so good to see you."  Veronica waved to her godfather as he
crossed the marble floor of his elegant foyer and approached her.  A
brilliant smile spread across his face, and Veronica was grateful to
see his coloring had improved from the week before.

  Dressed in a tuxedo, starched white ruffled shirt, and shiny Italian
shoes, he looked distinguished and evermore the politician as he
gracefully executed his way past staunch supporters and fans of his own
days as senator.

  "It's good to see you, dear."  Eli kissed her on the cheek and extended
his arm to escort her into the enormous main dining room.  A crowd of
sleekly dressed guests were chatting and sipping champagne, or nibbling
at the array of hors d'oeuvres situated artfully on white linen-covered
tables.  A massive crystal chandelier sparkled above the candlelit
room, and additional silver trays filled with food and drinks were
being passed around by walters dressed in black.

  An uneasy feeling flitted over Veronica as she joined the party.

  Tension crackled through the air.  Hushed murmurs and curious stares
met her appearance.

  Someone was watching her.  She'd had the same feeling 3ena ivle a FIeFO
before--twice when she'd gone walking around her apartment complex, and
once on the ride to work.  She'd considered reporting her fears, but
she had no proof.  And she knew the police wouldn't believe her.

  "Relax, dear,  they  won't bite,"  Eli  whispered in  her  ear.   Veronica
laughed softly.  Even in Eli's letters, he'd had a sense of humor.

  "I'm  really  not  much of  a  party  person."  Veronica  spotted  a woman
watching her from across the room.  She recognized Eli's wife, Barbara,
from pictures she'd seen in the paper.  Barbara wore a long black
velvet dress that flattered her figure.  Veronica smiled as Barbara
approached, but the smile Barbara returned lacked warmth.  "I hope your
family didn't mind me coming."

  Eli shook his head, his thinning dark hair lacquered in place.

  "Nonsense, of course not.  This is a party for my son.  I've wanted you
to meet my family for a long time."

  "Veronica, it's nice to meet you," Barbara said in a formal tone.

  "Thanks for inviting  me," Veronica said,  curious at Barbara's  coldness.

  "This is a lovely party."

  "And  you look  lovely yourself."   Barbara raked her  gaze over Veronica.

  Her gray eyes reminded Veronica of a stray cat's, beady and glittering
as if she were preparing for an attack.

  Veronica suddenly felt self-conscious.  She'd dressed in a short black
evening dress she'd worn to dozens of other business functions.  It was
modest but well fitting, slightly curved off the shoulders but
certainly not revealing.  But Barbara seemed to disapprove.  Or maybe
it wasn't the dress, maybe it was just her.

  "Hi there,  Eli.  Things  are  going well."   A small,  white-haired  lady
wearing spectacles ambled up and slipped her arm around Eli's waist.  A
sleeping, white long-haired cat nestled under her arm, and she seemed
oblivious to the fact that her turquoise silk dress was covered in
feline hairs.  Eli grinned and patted her back.  A pudgy older man,
mostly bald, strolled up beside her.

  Rita Herron 47

  "Mom, this is Veronica Miller.  You remember my goddaughter."  Eli swept a
hand toward Veronica.   "Veronica, this  is my  mother, Alma.   And this  is
Daryl  Scroggins.  He  used to be  the police chief  around here years ago."

  The old woman's pale coloring turned a pasty white.  "Yes, I remember
something about her," the woman said in a low voice, peering at her
over her glasses.  "Nice to see you, Miss Miller.  Amazing how much you
look like your mother."  "Yes, it is," Barbara said in a clipped
tone.

  Eli's mother hurried away, making Veronica wonder if she'd somehow
caused the woman to be uncomfortable.  Daryl Scroggins gave her an
assessing look, his right eye twitching nervously.  "So you're the
little Miller girl all grownup?"

  Veronica's fingernails bit into the palms of her hands.  She didn't
think a reply was necessary.

  "Bad thing about your folks."  Scroggins shook his head.  "Wish I could
have done more back then."

  "Thank you."  The quiet that descended  on the room made Veronica's  chest
ache.  She heard several people whispering about the murder-suicide.

  She'd never believed the story, but neither could she remember the
troth about what had happened.  If she had, she could have convinced
the police to investigate further.  Her grandmother had repeatedly
complained that the police hadn't done everything they could have to
solve her parents' case.  On the other hand, she had discouraged
Veronica from returning to Oakland.

  Eli stroked her arm.  "Come on, Veronica.  I want to introduce you to
some friends."

  Veronica tried to relax, but she felt like an unwelcome outsider.  When
Eli briefly introduced her to his guests, she sensed tension in their
tight smiles and nods.  They knew who she was,-knew of her past.  Some
of the people had probably known her parents.

  Coming back to her hometown had been a huge mistake.  She'd wanted to
remember, but could she really deal with all the gossip and curious
stares directed her way?

  She gazed into the crowd as Eli chatted with an old friend.

  48 Send Me a Hero A familiar face wedged its way into the sea of
people.  Detective Dawson.  What was he doing here?

  "You know that man?"  Veronica asked.

  Eli nodded.  "Of course.  I know almost everyone in town."  Veronica
couldn't take her eyes off the detective.  He turned and spotted her
from across the room.  Their gazes locked.  She could feel his heated
look bum into her skin.  Where he'd looked handsome in casual clothes,
he looked absolutely devastating in a mr and tie.  The black color and
fit of his jacket made his shoulders look even broader, and the dim
lights gave his bronze tones a tint that radiated sex appeal.eShe
smiled shyly.  He smiled, but his jaw tightened and he gave her a short
nod.  Still, as she walked away, she felt his gaze seating into her.

  "How's your practice?"  Eli asked.

  "Growing,"  Veronica  said, trying  to tear  her gaze  from the detective.

  "My calendar's almost booked.  Being this close to Atlanta really  helps."

  Eli's face reddened and he broke into a coughing spell.  "Are you all
right, Eli?"

  He nodded, wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin.  "Fine."

  Veronica sighed in relief.  She hadn't been around Eli much while she
was growing up, but he'd always sent birthday cards and called
regularly.  And he was her last link to her parents.  Eli had been
their best friend.  She'd had the foolish notion that if she lived
close by, his family might welcome her.  But so far, his mother and
wife hadn't exactly been warm.

  "I guess you've been working so hard you haven't had time to get married?"

  Veronica took a glass of club soda from a waiter, surprised at the
question.  "No.  I'm not sure marriage is for me."

  "Why do you say that, dear?"   Eli asked.  Veronica noticed the age  spots
on  his hands and realized  he was getting older.   If her father were still
alive, they'd be almost the same age.  Although he'd been dead twenty years,
she still missed him.

  "I guess I'm just a loner," Veronica said.  "But I don't Rita Herron 49
mind.  I'm independent, have my own business, friends."  She squirmed,
hating herself for lying to Eli.

  "You've already made friends here?  Anybody I might know?"

  Veronica assumed Detective Dawson didn't count.  Or her secretary.

  "Well, not yet.  I've only been here a short while."  "Well, I'd like
to be the lady's friend."

  Veronica jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind her.

  "Gerald!"   Eli  turned  and  grinned broadly  as  a  tail, me-dium-built,
dark-haired man slapped him on the back.

  "The party's great, Dad," Gerald said with enthusiasm.  "And who's this
beautiful woman on your arm?"  Gerald's wide grin showed off a set of
perfectly straight polished teeth.  A politician's smile, if she'd ever
seen one.

  "This is Veronica Miller," Eli said, grinning.

  Gerald's smile widened.  "It is a pleasure, Ms. Miller.  Welcome to
our home."

  Veronica smiled, a shiver slithering up her back as Gerald took her
hand and kissed it.  When she glanced up, she saw Detective Dawson
watching her, his face impassive.

  "My pleasure,  too."   Veronica studied  Gerald.   He was  handsome  in  a
polished  sort of way--smooth, soft-looking skin; neat clipped nails; smail,
stylish, round glasses;  not a hair  out of place.   Still, she felt  uneasy
with him.

  "Father says you're new to Oakland.  A tax attorney?"

  "Yes," Veronica said.  "I was working in Fort Lauderdale but I decided
to branch out on my own."

  "Atlanta certainly can use you."  Gerald grinned flirtatiously.

  "Perhaps I can show you the city sometime and we can have dinner?"

  "Perhaps,"  Veronica  said.  She  noticed the  detective easing  near her.

  Eli frowned.  "I thought you didn't have time for a social life."

  Veronica shifted and squeezed her hands around her glass at Eli's
disapproving tone.  "I haven't.  But maybe sometime I will."

  50 Send Me a Hero "Excuse us for a minute," Eli said, deftly guiding
Gerald away.  "I'll definitely see you later, Veronica," Gerald said,
giving her a wink.  Veronica felt a presence behind her.

  "Hi," Detective Dawson said softly.  "I didn't realize you knew the former
senator."   Veronica faced him  and sipped her drink.   "He's my god father.
He was a friend  of my parents."   Dawson leveled her  with a probing  gaze.
"So, you're friendly with the family?"  ·

  Veronica laughed nervously.  "Hardly.  Eli's kept in touch with letters
and cards.  I just met Gerald."  Besides, I don't remember the others,
she added silently.

  "I see."  Dawson downed a swig of his champagne.  "Gerald has his eyes
out for you.  You looking for a new boyfriend?"

  "What are you talking about?"  Veronica asked, her nerves ' on edge.

  "Why didn't you tell me about Ron?"  Nathan asked.  Veronica glanced at
her hands.  "There's nothing to tell."  "Listen, Veronica.  I'm trying
to help.  But how can I investigate your story if you don't tell me the
truth?"  Nathan asked.  "A lover--" "Nathan."  A woman called, flitting
toward them.

  Nathan frowned.  "We'll finish this discussion later."  He motioned to
a woman a few years older than Veronica with dark red hair swept up in
a fashionable chignon and glittery combs on both sides.  "You know
Tessa?"

  Veronica shook her head.  She knew Tessa was Eli's daughter from a
previous marriage, but they'd never met.  At least not that she
remembered.  Tessa must be close to forty.  She was wearing blue spiked
heels and a royal blue dress that hugged her curves and dipped to
expose her ample cleavage.  She sauntered toward them, confidence
radiating from her every pore.  "Nice looking," Veronica said,
wondering if in spite of the age difference, the detective had dated
her.

  Klta /--/eFFort D 1

  "Yes," Dawson said in a low voice, "she is."

  Their gazes locked again.  Once again the tension radiating between
them was palpable.

  Tessa maneuvered her way between Veronica and Nathan.  "Hi, Nathan.

  Good to see you again."

  "You, too," Nathan said.  Veronica tensed and watched Tessa give Nathan
an appreciative look.

  "Hi, Tessa."  Veronica extended her hand.  "I'm Veronica Miller.  Your
dad and I--" "I know who you are," Tessa said in a sweet voice.  But
oddly, her blue eyes reminded Veronica of cold, crystal ice chips.  "My
father told us you were coming.  Maybe we can go shopping together some
time," Tessa suggested.

  "Sure," Veronica said, confused about the mixed signals emanating from
Tessa.

  Darjl Scroggins, the former police chief, joined them, introducing her
to his wife.  "Welcome to Oakland, Miss Miller,'' the middle-aged woman
said.  "Eli talks about you all the time.  Did you really set up your
office in the converted house where your father worked?"

  "Yes," Veronica said.  "It's a lovely office and a great location."

  "I don't mean to be rode, dear, b.ut you're not living in that...that
other house, are you?"  the woman asked, fingering a gold broach pinned
to the lapel of her organdy suit.

  Veronica stiffened.  "You mean my parents' house?"  "Yes," the woman
said.

  Tessa's long, red fingernails tapped up and down Detective Dawson's
sleeve.  "That would be so spooky."

  "No," Veronica said.  "I'm not staying there.  I have an apartment."

  "You  know they never sold the  place," Scroggins commented, taking a long
draw of beer.

  Another elderly woman joined them.  "I've been selling real estate
around here for years.  Tried for a while to sell the house, but no one
would buy it."  oena Me a tlero "'Fraid it might be haunted," Scroggins
said.  "You haven't been out there have you, Miss Miller?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "Not yet."

  A sudden hush fell over the crowd at her statement.  It was as if a
cold wind had blown into the room, absorbing all the warmth.  Nathan's
expression was unreadable.

  "Well..."  Scroggins said.  "Let me know  if you decide to go.  House  has
been  sitting there  empty for  years.  Might not  be safe.   We've had some
vandalism from time to time, but old  Mr. Parker who lives near there  keeps
an ye on the place."

  "Thank you."  Veronica shivered as images of empty, cold, dark rooms,
rotten boards covered in cobwebs and scampering, hungry mice came to
mind.

  "I wouldn't go out there for anything in the world," the nosy old real
estate lady said.  "Spooky the way it happened.  Your dad was a good
attorney.  Then one day--" "Vera, let's get another drink," her husband
said, and steered his wife away.

  "Come  have some  finger food  with me,"  Tessa purred  into Nathan's ear.

  "Why don't you get us  a plate?"  Nathan suggested, cap-raring  Veronica's
gaze.

  Veronica swallowed, trying to block out the old woman's words and keep
her emotions at bay.

  Tessa's ruby red lips formed a perfect pout.  "Okay.  I'll bring you
some champagne, too," she said.  Eli's daughter sauntered away,
flirting with every man in sight.  Before Veronica had a chance to
speak, Eli approached with a younger version of himself.  It had to be
his youngest son, Sonny.  He was only two years older than Veronica.

  Staggering slightly, he steadied himself and flashed her a grin.

  Veronica cringed.

  He appeared to be drank.  Drunk and leering.

  "This is Sonny," Eli said.  "Sonny--" "I know who this is," Sonny said
with a slight slur.  "I've been dying to meet her all night."

  Rita Herron 53

  Detective Dawson's posture straightened.  The older police chief,
Scroggins, engaged Eli in a conversation.

  Veronica offered her hand to Sonny.  He grabbed it and planted a sloppy
kiss on the top.  "Pleased to meet you, V."  "It's Veronica," she said
through clenched teeth.

  "Dad said you used to live around here when you were little."

  Veronica nodded.  An older couple approached, staring at her as if
they'd seen a ghost.  "That's right."

  "How about you and me painting the town?"  Sonny grabbed another glass
of champagne from a waiter who whizzed by.

  "I don't think so," Veronica said.  "I'm busy with my new practice."

  Tessa sauntered up and handed the detective a tray of goodies.  She
stared at Veronica, then Sonny.

  "Why  not?   Got  to have  fun  sometime,"  Sonny said,  leaning  so close
Veronica could smell his strong cologne.  The odor mixed with his breath and
seeped into her nostrils, almost making her ill.

  "I don't have time," Veronica said, backing away.

  Sonny reached for her arm, his mouth turning down.  "I'm a lot of
fun."

  Veronica  felt  the detective  watching her.   He was  going to interfere.

  She didn't want to make a scene.  "I'm really tired.  I think I'm going
home."  Veronica pried Sonny's fingers away and made a hasty retreat
toward Eli to say goodnight, ignoring the angry look Sonny shot her.

  Two more couples stopped her to welcome her to town, one a potential
client, the other old friends of Eli's who remembered her parents.

  "We   sure  were   sorry  to   hear  about   them,"  the   thin  man  said
sympathetically.  "Mighty fine people.  Your dad was a good lawyer."

  Veronica nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  "We're glad you came back," the woman added, patting a

  54 Send Me a Hero

  hand over her gray curls.  "You were so little.  I know you missed
growing up without your folks."

  "Yes," Veronica said.  "But I had my grandmother."  And Eli's letters,
she added silently.  Their conversation ended when a man walked up onto
a platform and silenced the crowd.  He introduced himself as Gerald's
campaign manager, then broke into a speech about Gerald.  Veronica
robbed at her temple where a headache was starting to form, and headed
to the door.  She couldn't get her parents out of her mind.

  As she neared the door to the hallway, she was surprised to see her
secretary chatting quietly in a corner with t;erald.  She hadn't
realized Louise knew him.  She started toward them, but changed her
mind and decided she really was ready to leave.

  She caught Eli and he walked her to the door.  "I hope it wasn't a
strain for you to come here tonight," Eli said.

  Veronica kissed him on the cheek.  "Of course not.  Thanks for having
me, Eli."  Then she hurried to the car, trying des- ' · perately to put
her parents' deaths out of her mind.  But as she drove down the long
driveway and pulled onto the highway, she thought she saw a car pull
out behind her.  Was someone following her?

  AFTER VERONICA LEFt, Nathan quickly extricated himself from Tessa's
clutches, bade good-night to Eli and hurried to his car.  He was going
to find out the troth.  Knowing Veronica had lied about her boyfriend
had eaten at him all day.  If he didn't talk to her about it tonight,
he'd never get any sleep.  He'd looked over her client list, and a few
names had drawn his eye as possible troublemakers.  And what the hell
had been going on at that party?  The tension had been as thick as a
desert dust storm.

  He parked in front of Veronica' s apartment, surprised to see he'd
beaten her home.  He flipped off his lights and waited.  Maybe she'd
gone to a friend's, or was driving around for a while.  Seconds later
her black Acura streaked by.  She practically jumped from her car and
tore up the path to her apart Ktta Herron 33 ment, glancing over her
shoulder as if she Wts looking for someone.

  Either something had upset her, or she was ill a huge hurry.

  He slammed his car door and rushed after h,r, determined to find out
the troth if he had to drag it out of er.  He caught her just as she
made it to the stoop.

  "Ms.  Miller," he said, grabbing her  arm.  Slit shrieked and spun around,
her eyes wide with fright, her skin  glowing alabaster in the harsh glow  of
the streetlight.

  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you."

  She winced and robbed her bandaged arm.

  "I'm sorry," Nathan said.  "I forgot about /our injury.  I never meant
to hurt you."

  Her jaw clenched and shadows darkened he eyes.  He instinctively knew
something had happened.

  "What's wrong?"  he asked, inhaling the sot scent of her perfume.  She
smelled faintly like roses.

  Veronica shook her head, her keys jangling inner trembling hands.  He
took the keys and opened the door, anl they walked into her apartment
in silence.  He reached for th light switch, but she flipped it on,
dropped her purse and tarted to her bedroom.

  "Veronica, can we talk?"  he called.

  "In a minute."  She closed the door, effectivel: shutting him out.

  Her voice sounded shaky.  Why wouldn't she talk to him?  Was she
planning more lies?  Maybe she was taring a pill or getting a drink to
calm herself.

  He studied her den, hoping to learn more abolt her.  A simple beige
leather sofa faced a natural wood entetainment unit with a small TV and
stereo.  Two navy wing chirs flanked a stone fireplace.  The room was
sleek and neat lut devoid of color.  Unlike most feminine rooms, it
lacked luffy pillows and tons of knickknacks.  Unpacked boxes wer
pushed into the corner.  She had a small collection of mstery novels
stacked on a table and an assortment of tax- nd financial-related books
filled a bookcase.  A big book sticling out from

  56 3'enct Me a Hero

  under a stack of magazines drew his eye.  He.  lifted the magazine and
read the rifle.  The Psychotic Mind of a Killer.  Hmm.  Interesting.

  Her walls were bare of pictures and he saw no photographs of family or
friends anywhere· Odd.  Then he remembered his apartment was similar.

  Was Veronica as lonely as he was?

  The door squeaked open, and she came in wearing jeans and a pale pink
T-shirt that molded her rounded breasts.  She'd scrubbed her face free
of makeup and had shed her shoes.  He didn't know why he found her
being barefoot so sexy, but he did.  He shifted in his seat, renundmg
himself of the reason for his visit.  He couldn't trust her or give in
to this crazy attraction.

  He decided to cut to the chase.  "Why didn't you tell me about Ron?

  And that you knew the senator?"  He wondered why her connection to a
notable figure had been absent from her file.

  Veronica walked across the room, putting some distance between them.

  "I told you, there's nothing to tell."

  Nathan couldn't prevent the expletive that tore from his mouth.

  "Listen, Veronica, you called the police because you said someone attacked
you--" "Someone did attack  me," Veronica said,  anger coloring her  cheeks.

  "Then  you have to help me.  I'm trying to find out who it is, and I don't
have rime for these games."

  "I'm not the one playing games, Mr.  Dawson."

  "You had a lover  in Fort Lauderdale  but you left  out that tiny  detail.

  You said you didn't have a boyfriend."

  "I didn't think it was any of your business," Veronica snapped.  "We broke
up."

  "Everything about you is my business," Nathan said, softly.

  "Well, you don't have to worry about Ron.  We dated, Detective.  That's
it."

  Nathan glared at her.  "He wanted more?"

  K1Ta nerron D i

  Veronica paused.  "Yes.  But I didn't.  I moved.  End of story."  She
exhaled.  "Besides, Ron's not dangerous."

  A long silence stretched between them.  Nathan wasn't so sure.  He'd
been a cop too long.  A scorned lover or boyfriend could mean
trouble.

  Men had killed for less.  He would investigate Ron Cox whether Veronica
believed him dangerous or not.  Her earlier comment reverberated in his
head.  "What did yOU mean--you weren't the one playing games?"

  Veronica hugged her arms around her in a protective gesture.  "I think
someone's trying to drive me crazy."

  Nathan narrowed his eyes.  "First someone is trying to kill you.  Now
they're trying to drive you crazy.  Which is it, Veronica?"' "I don't
know," she said, her voice breaking.  "Maybe both."

  "Did something happen on the way over?"

  Veronica hesitated, avoiding his gaze.  "I'm not sure.  I thought
someone might have been following me, so I kept driving, but then they
disappeared."

  Nathan cleared his throat.  "Did you get a look at the car?"  Veronica
crossed the room and peeked through the blinds.  "No, it was too
dark.

  It looked like some kind of Jeep but I couldn't tell for sure."

  Nathan paused.  He remembered her strange reaction to the music box,
the animosity at the party, the conversation he'd overheard about her
family.  And when she'd fled the house, he'd seen the former senator's
pale face.

  "Did something happen at the party you're not telling me about?"

  Nathan asked.

  Veronica shook her head.  The doorbell rang, and she went to get it.

  Nathan was right behind her.

  "Who is it?"  she asked, her hand on the doorknob.  "Florist delivery
service," a young male voice answered.  Nathan peeked through the
blinds.  When he saw the truck with the familiar flower logo on it
under the streetlight, he nodded for her to open the door.

  The young man was wearing a yellow paper hat with the bena Me a Hero
words, Fancy Flowers, printed on the front.  He held up a long white
box with a yellow ribbon tied around it.  "Your lucky day, er, night,"
he said, grinning.

  "Thank you."  Veronica took the box and smiled.

  "Sure thing."  The teenager Waved and almost tripped over his feet to
get back to the van after Nathan handed him a sizable tip.

  She carried the box to the kitchen counter.  "It's probably from Eli,"
Veronica said.  "A welcoming gift.  He used to send me flowers for my
birthday."

  Nathan followed her to the kitchen.  "Let me click it first."  Veronica
glanced into his eyes.  "You think--" "I don't know," Nathan said.

  "But it's better to be careful."' "There isn't a card," she said,  looking
over the box.  Nathan carefully examined the package, then slowly untied the
ribbon.  When he lifted the lid, she gasped.  He swallowed hard and  glanced
at  her pale face.  Tears pooled in the corners · of her huge eyes.  "Oh, my
God," Veronica whispered.  "Who would do such a thing?"

  Nathan gritted his teeth.  The box was filled with crashed daisies,
like the ones Veronica had held in the picture by her parents' grave.

  She dropped her head into her hands and shook her head back and forth,
her voice desolate.  "Everything was fine until I moved back here.  Why
is this happening to me?  Why?"

  Nathan heard the frustration in her voice, the fear, the agony.  He
couldn't stand it any longer.  The smart thing to do was not to get
involved.  But then again, he didn't always do the smart thing.

  Sometimes he just went on gut instincts.  And right now his gut
instincts were screaming at him to comfort her.  Ignoring the branding
heat of the police badge in his breast pocket, he took her in his arms
and held her while she cried.

  Chapter Four

  Veronica tried to shove away her lingering fear, but her body trembled
and her mind raced with unanswered questions.  Had someone been
following her when she'd left Eli's house?  And if so, whom?

  And who could have been so cruel as to have sent a box of crushed
daisies?

  While Nathan's arms tightened around her and he stroked the long column
of her spine with his wide palm, she Sagged against him, her heart
racing, her mind ordering her to extricate herself from his comfort.

  Her body adamantly refused.

  "I don't know what's going on, but we'll get to the bottom of it,"
Nathan said in a quiet voice.  He gently traced his thumb along her
chin and tilted her face to gaze into her eyes.

  Embarrassed at her loss of composure, she brushed the damp tears from
her cheeks and inhaled a calming breath.  But being held in Nathan
Dawson's arms was definitely not calming, and inhaling the deep musky
scent of his body and cologne was intoxicating.  A danger in itself.

  Although his jaw was taut, heat flared in his eyes.  His gentle touch
and powerful, protective arms made her sway.

  "Veronica?"

  Desire laced his husky voice, his lips a mere whisper away, his breath
hot on her skin.  Veronica's breasts pressed against the hard wall of
his chest.  Heat skittered up her spine, and the

  60 Send Me a Hero rough texture of his stubbled jaw on her cheek sent a
shaft of white-hot need darling through her.

  "Tell me not to do this," he whispered as his lips grazed her hair.

  "Nathan, I--"  Veronica's  unspoken  argument died  when  his  warm  mouth
descended  on hers in a bold motion,  sending a rush of pleasure and passion
though her that was almost frightening in its intensity.  His mouth devoured
hers,  his lips daring and forceful as he claimed the tender recesses of her
mouth with his  plunging tongue.   Veronica's body  reacted to  his need  by
molding  to his hard masculinity,  and t low moan  escaped her when his lips
moved to the delicate skin beneath her jaw.

  Quivering now from his touch instead of fear, she felt his hands press
her intimately against him, and she muttered a raspy sigh that was
partly a plea to stop, partly a plea not to.

  Nathan suddenly gentled his hands and loosened his fierce hold on her,
letting his hands linger at her waist as he touched ' his forehead to
hers and exhaled loudly.  His words came out on a ragged breath.  "I'm
sorry."  Veronica tensed immediately and flexed the palms of her hands
against his chest to push him away, his apology shredding her fragile
pride.  Instead of releasing her, Nathan continued to stroke her back
as he had before, slowly allowing the tension to ease from both their
heated bodies.  When he finally looked at her, she saw a mixture of the
passion they'd ignited along with a strong sense of regret, but he
still didn't let her go.

  "I shouldn't have done that, because I'm working on your case," he said
in a husky voice.  "Not because it wasn't good."

  Veronica felt her anger slip and toyed with the pleats of his
cummerbund.  Beneath her thin T-shirt, her nipples stood erect against
the soft cotton, and her breasts ached for Nathan's touch, a
realization that shocked her.  She had her own policies about not
getting involved with people she worked with, and she desperately
needed his help as a detective.

  Klra rlerron o!

  ' 'Veronica?"

  Why had her reaction to his touch been so volatile?  Ron had barely
excited her.  "You're right," she finally said, pulling away.

  Nathan gave her a hard, assessing look, then dropped his hands to his
side.  "Do you have some coffee?"

  Veronica wrung hr hands.  "I'm not a coffee drinker.  But I'll make you
some."

  "Don't go to any trouble."

  "No, it's okay.  It's instant.  I keep it for...just in case."  She darted
to  the door, biting her tongue.  She'd almost told him she kept it for Ron,
but she'd been here several  weeks and hadn't invited  him for a visit.   In
fact,  she hadn't even considered the  idea.  She'd simply bought the coffee
out of habit.

  Still shaken from the passionate kiss, she willed her hands to be
steady while she made tea and coffee.  Nathan's scent wafted into the
kitchen, and she felt his penetrating stare on her back and heard his
steady breathing in the strained silence of the room.

  "How long have you been here?"  Nathan asked, glancing around the tidy
kitchen when she handed him the steaming coffee mug.

  Veronica stirred sweetener into her tea and sat down at the oak table
and chairs that had belonged to her grandmother.  The kitchen was clean
but bare--white cabinets and countertops, a small kitchen island, beige
tile floors, nothing impressive.  But then she'd never gone in for
frivolous things or decorating.  Nathan sprawled his long legs out
beside her and sipped his coffee, obviously waiting for her answer.  "I
moved here about eight weeks ago."  "Did you inherit a lot of Walsh's
clients?"

  Veronica warmed her hands by cupping them around her mug.  "A few."

  "Bring any with you from Florida?"

  Veronica sipped her tea.  "A couple of entrepreneurs who travel
worldwide, live by their fax machines.  And I represent a few of my
grandmother's friends.  They live in a retirement

  02 ,ena Me a ttero community in Fort Lauderdale.  With their limited
pension plans and social security, they need all the breaks they can
get."

  Nathan nodded and stared, his gaze unnerving her.  She suddenly wished
she'd thrown a heavy sweatshirt on over her thin cotton T-shirt.  The
memory of his heated kiss and her own response lingered between them,
causing the air to crackle with tension.

  Nathan swirled the dark coffee around in his mug.  "How did your firm
feel about your leaving?  Any hard feelings?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "Not that I knctv of.  They seemed
amicable.

  My boss told me if I ever wanted to come back to let him know."

  Nathan took a long sip of coffee and frowned.  "How about the
businessmen you mentioned?  Must have been some major-league clients.

  Were the partners upset when you took their business?"

  Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  "One of-them made a
big deal out of it.  But the boss said I'd earned the clients.  Neither
one resided in Florida anyway.  Besides my contract specified I
couldn't practice within a ten-mile thus and--" "And you're well out of
that range," Nathan finished her.

  "Exactly."

  "Smart businesswoman," Nathan said, nodding his approval.

  Veronica smiled.  "I like my work."  It's not threatening, like you.

  "Did you work up a client list for me?"

  Veronica sighed.  "No, but I will tomorrow."

  "Good.  Include the names of the people you worked in Florida."

  "I really  don't  think---" "Veronica,  it's  my job  to  investigate  all
angles."  drummed his fingers on the table.  "I'd like to talk to boyfriend,
too."

  Rita Herron 63

  Veronica gritted her teeth.  "Is that really necessary?  I told you Ron
isn't dangerous."

  I'll be the judge of that.  Besides, it's routine."

  Veronica rose, her nerves on edge at the thought of Nathan talking to
Ron.

  "Is there some other reason you don't want me to contact him?"  Nathan
asked.

  "I...I don't want him to worry about me," Veronica said quietly.  "Or
come here."

  "Does he know where you are?"

  "Of course.  I didn't just run away."

  Nathan was silent for a moment.  Tension radiated between them.  "You
think he'll show up here out of concern?"

  "I don't know."  She turned to face him.  "He doesn't khow about my  past,
though, and Fd like to keep it that way."

  Nathan arched an eyebrow.  Veronica realized he expected her to tell
him more, but she sipped her tea instead.

  He  finished his  coffee, leaned  back in his  chair and  folded his arms.

  "Why?  Don't you think he could accept it?"

  A sliver of apprehension knotted Veronica's stomach.  She'd suffered
every imaginable kind of reaction to her past, from disgust to morbid
curiosity to rejection.  She had no idea how Ron would have reacted if
she'd told him.  But she assumed he'd have insisted she forget her need
to reconcile herself with her past.

  She had no intention of doing that.

  "None of the people I worked with in Florida know.  I didn't think it
was any of their business," Veronica said, rubbing her hands up and
down her arms.  "Besides, I told you my relationship with Ron is
over."

  She refused to  squirm when  he studied her  with his  dark probing  eyes.

  The  memory of  the kiss  taunted her.   Had Nathan  already forgotten it?

  Probably.  He was a sexy, virile man.  He probably had dozens of
women.

  Whereas she was sexually inept, a freak--at least that was what one
college boyfriend had told her.  He'd attributed her ineptitude to her
traumatic past.

  Jena Me a Mero

  community in Fort Lauderdale.  With their limited pension plans and
social security, they need all the breaks they can get."

  Nathan nodded and stared, his gaze unnerving her.  She suddenly wished
she'd thrown a heavy sweatshirt on over her thin cotton T-shirt.  The
memory of his heated kiss and her own response lingered between them,
causing the air to crackle with tension.

  Nathan swirled the dark coffee around in his mug.  "How did your firm
feel about your leaving?  Any hard feelings?"

  Veronica shook her  head.  "Not  that I  know of.   They seemed  amicable.

  My boss told me if I ever wanted to come back to let him know."

  Nathan took a long sip of coffee and frowned.  "How about the
businessmen you mentioned?  Must have been some major-league clients.

  Were the partners upset when you took their business?"

  Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  "One of them made a
big deal out of it.  But the boss said I'd earned the clients.  Neither
one resided in Florida anyway.  Besides, my contract specified I
couldn't practice within a ten-mile radius and--" "And you're well out
of that range," Nathan finished for her.

  ' 'Exactly."

  "Smart businesswoman," Nathan said, nodding his approval.

  Veronica smiled.  "I like my work."  It's not threatening, like you.

  "Did you work up a client list for me?"

  Veronica sighed.  "No, but I will tomorrow."

  "Good.  Include the names of the people you worked with in Florida."

  "I  really  don't  think--"  "Veronica,  it's my  job  to  investigate all
angles."  He drummed his fingers  on the table.  "I'd  like to talk to  your
old boyfriend, too."

  Rlta Hetton 0.5

  Veronica gritted her teeth.  "Is that really necessary?  I told you Ron
isn't dangerous."

  'I'll be the judge of that.  Besides, it's routine."

  Veronica rose, her nerves on edge at the thought of Nathan talking to
Ron.

  "Is there some other reason you don't want me to contact him?"  Nathan
asked.

  "I...I don't want him to worry about me," Veronica said quietly.  "Or
come here."

  "Does he know where you are?"

  "Of  course.  I  didn't just run  away."e Nathan was  silent for a moment.

  Tension radiated between them.  "You think he'll show up here out of
concern?"

  "I don't know."  She turned to face him.  "He doesn't know about my  past,
though, and I'd like to keep it that way."

  Nathan arched an eyebrow.  Veronica realized he expected her to tell
him more, but she sipped her tea instead.

  He  finished his  coffee, leaned  back in his  chair and  folded his arms.

  "Why?  Don't you think he could accept it?"

  A sliver of apprehension knotted Veronica's stomach.  She'd suffered
every imaginable kind of reaction to her past, from disgust to morbid
curiosity to rejection.  She had no idea how Ron would have reacted if
she'd told him.  But she assumed he'd have insisted she forget her need
to reconcile herself with her past.

  She had no intention of doing that.

  "None of the people I worked with in Florida know.  I didn't think it
was any of their business," Veronica said, rubbing her hands up and
down her arms.  "Besides, I told you my relationship with Ron is
over."

  She refused to  squirm when  he studied her  with his  dark probing  eyes.

  The  memory of  the kiss  taunted her.   Had Nathan  already forgotten it?

  Probably.  He was a sexy, virile man.  He probably had dozens of
women.

  Whereas she was sexually inept, a freak--at least that was what one
college boyfriend had told her.  He'd attributed her ineptitude to her
traumatic past.

  64 Send Me a Hero

  Nathan stood, pushed his chair back from the table and placed his empty
cup in the sink.  "Thanks for the coffee.  I'll come by your office
tomorrow for that list."

  Veronica nodded.  "And what about Ron?"  He hesitated.  "I have to
check him out."  Veronica sighed.

  "I'll be discreet."  He closed the  distance between them and covered  her
small  hand with his own.  "Trust  me, Veronica."  Then he squeezed her hand
and walked out the door.

  She watched the door close and touched her hand to her cheek where he
had offered her comfort.  Trust me, Veronica.

  If only she could.  Her heart squeezed at his husky plea, and the words
rang over and over in her head like the beckoning sound of church bells
drawing one into its welcoming sanctuary.  But trust didn't come easily
for her.  Too many memo-ties, too much pain and gossip in the past, and
too few friends.  His kiss had been passionate, his touch warm and
hungry and perhaps sincere.

  But she wasn't sure she could ever trust again.

  THE NEXT MORNING Nathan showered and washed his face, trying to wipe
away the memory of the heated kiss he'd shared with Veronica.  He'd
wanted her to trust him, but how could he ask her to do that if he
couldn't trust himself around her?

  And why had he kissed her?  It was totally against his beliefs to get
involved with her.  But the memory burned in his mind like the hot
coals of an open fire and he was afraid he already had become involved
with her.  No amount of scrubbing could wipe the sweet touch of her
lips from his mouth or banish the memory of her fiery response.

  Damn.  He had work to do.  Arid Veronica Miller was right at the heart
of it.

  And worming her way into his heart--against his will.  Slinging on an
oxford shirt, jeans and boots, he grabbed his badge and gun, then
headed toward his car.  Forget breakfast.  His appetite could only be
satisfied by finishing what he'd started with Veronica--and that was
impossible.

  Rita Herron 65

  He might as well work on her case.  The sooner he got to the bottom of
the mystery surrounding her, the sooner he could put her warm, delicate
body and baby doelike eyes out of his mind.  The sooner he could forget
that she tasted as fresh as a mint julep on a hot summer day.

  At the office fifteen minutes later, he tapped into the precinct's
computer to begin his investigation of Ron Cox.  It wasn't because the
guy had been involved with Veronica personally, he told himself, but
because it was the logical place to start the investigation.  Perhaps
the Florida police department had dealt with the man in sonde form
other than his capacity as a lawyer.  Sometimes lawyers were like bad
cops--it was too easy to find loopholes and too tempting to cross the
line.

  "Hey, Dawson."  Ford leaned over his shoulder, his breath heavy with cigar
smoke.  "What the hell you doing?"

  Nathan read the information coming in over the transit.  "Checking out
a lead."

  "The Bailey robbery?"

  "No, the Miller case."  Nathan skimmed the lines of text, searching for
anything he could find on Cox.  If he had any kind of record, he would
have had to be fingerprinted.  The FBI would have a file on him.

  The chair beside Nathan squeaked and protested as Ford lowered his
heavy bulk into it.  "Why are you wasting the taxpayers' time?  I told
you she's a nutcase."

  Nathan gritted his teeth.  "I have to check it out."  He narrowed his
eyes at Ford.  "Then I'll decide."

  "You're  crazy yourself," Ford said in  a disgusted voice.  "Wait till the
lieutenant hears about this."

  Nathan slammed his hand on the table.  "I'll handle Stevens.  Why don't
you get to work?"

  "You expect me to help you?"

  "You're my partner, aren't you?"

  Ford's fat cheeks ballooned out in anger.  "Not by choice."

  "Well, it certainly wasn't my choice, either," Nathan snapped.  A buzz
of voices sounded in the hallway.  The other 66 Send Me a Hero
detectives and cops strolled in.  Nathan and Ford glared at each
other.

  "I'll check the background on the Bailey case," Ford finally said, heading
to his own desk.

  "Fine.  By dividing up, we can get the legwork done on both cases.

  Then we'll meet up."  Nathan turned his gaze back to the screen, his
eyes widening as the data kicked in.  Cox had been fingerprinted and he
had a record, a misdemeanor for vandalizing as a teen, but nonetheless
a record.  Nathan studied the data.  Hmm.  Interesting.  Ron Cox was
five foot eleven, 170 pounds.

  Scrawny.

  First wife--deceased at age twenty-five.  Cox had been questioned about
the murder, but released, citing lack of evidence.  No mention of cause
of death.  Worth checking into, Nathan noted to himself.  No
children.

  Lawyer with Hepplewhite and Sutton, handles investments, been with the
firm for four years, being considered for partner.  Annual income
$110,000.

  Then he realized Veronica's salary probably tripled his own, also.  Not
that it mattered, but it was a real ego buster.  Shaking away the
thought, he turned back to the information and scanned for details on
the man's arrest.  Zilch.  He wondered if it could have been a
substantially more serious charge and he'd pleaded down to the
misdemeanor.

  He would check the Internet for any news articles about Cox's arrest
and investments.  A few minutes later he hit the jackpot.  There wasn't
just one, but several articles about Ron Cox.  He was one of Florida's
leading attorneys specializing in land investments, and Florida was
booming with investors.  A whole series of stories had been written
about tourism and the economy.  The price of land had skyrocketed for
condos and town homes near the coast.  As he skimmed the articles, he
understood how Cox earned such a hefty salary.  His specific knowledge
was valued by proprietors of several major companies who were expanding
and building entire vacation resorts catering to the wealthy.

  Then one article drew his eye.  A small subsidiary of one of Klta
Herron 0 /

  the companies had accused Cox of embezzling funds and taking money from
elderly people.  The case had gotten local media attention, but
suddenly the news had ceased.  He skimmed the next few editions of the
paper and discovered a small section explaining that the company had
reached a settlement and the charges had been dropped.  Hadn't Veronica
mentioned helping some older groups?

  Nathan ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair,
placing his booted feet on his desk while he considered the
possibilities.  Did Veronica know about Cox's past?

  Surely she knew.  The stories had appeared in the paper only six months
ago--she was still living in Florida at the time.

  Perhaps Veronica had discovered something about Cox's business by
mistake.  Cox might be worried about her coming forth with the
information.  If his career was at stake, he had a viable motive--men
had killed before for money.  It was a theory worth investigating.

  He checked his watch, then stretched and ignored the hum of the other
computers and officers in the room as he strode toward the door.  The
flower shop would be open by now.  He planned to go by and see if he
could learn who'd sent Veronica the crushed daisies before he picked up
her client list.  Maybe the florist would solve the little mystery for
him and he could wrap up this case.  Then he could forget Veronica
Miller.

  VERONICA TRIED to concentrate on her agenda for the day as she took her
morning run, but images of Nathan Dawson kept popping into her head.

  At least his image was more pleasing than the dead flowers she'd
received and much less upsetting than the music box.  Well, upsetting
in a different way, she conceded.

  After lying awake half the night trying to figure out the odd
circumstances surrounding her arrival in Georgia, she'd finally fallen
into a fitful sleep and dreamed that she was being chased by a madman,
the same one who'd killed her parents, and she'd gone running off a
cliff.  She'd been falling, falling, fall 68 Send Me a Hero ing into
empty air with nothing but jagged rocks below to break her fall--her
fall to death.

  Picking up her running pace, she pumped her legs and turned the corner
near her apartment complex, then slowed as she noticed a man wearing a
dark coat walk past her car.  What was he doing?

  She jogged the trail that went around the parking lot and watched the
man, but the hood of an all-weather coat hid his face.

  Then the man was gone.  Disappeared right before her eyes.  She
followed the path bordering the building and searched to see if he'd
run around the back, but she saw nothing except a couple of teenagers
embracing on the park bench.  Circling back, she scanned the parking
lot to make sure he wasn't hiding behind a bush, but again she saw
nothing out of the ordinary.  Was she just being paranoid?

  Building up speed, she jogged around the building again, once more
searching for any signs of the man.  A young mother pushing a stroller
passed her and waved.

  She veered toward her apartment, certain she was just imagining things,
when she saw a hooded figure dash from her apartment door.  Freezing
momentarily, she forgot to breathe.  Then the figure disappeared and
anger replaced her fear.  She charged up the steps, expecting to find
her door ajar and her things scattered, but her door was locked and a
newspaper lay on the stoop.  She picked it up and wondered if the man
was the new delivery guy.  Reaching inside her pocket and retrieving
the mace she carried when she jogged, she held it in one hand and
rolled the paper up with the other hand so she could use it as a weapon
if she needed.  Then she crept inside her apartment.  But once again,
nothing was amiss.

  Hands trembling, she poured herself a glass of water then went to stand
on her deck.  Was she going crazy?  She scanned the parking lot and
play area and saw nothing but the mother and the small children.  A
black Land Cruiser left the parking lot, and old man Perkins meandered
out for his morning paper.  Good grief.  Had she been frightened over a
paperboy?

  Rita Herron 69

  She chastised herself a thousand times while she showered and dressed
for work.  "Now where's that red blazer?"  she mumbled searching
through her closet.

  A few minutes later she gave up the search and pulled on a black
jacket, then left for work.  Maybe today Detective Dawson would show up
with some answers.  Once she sorted out her past, her life could get
back to normal.

  NATHAN FELT LIKE A THORN in a rose garden as he stepped inside the pale
pink walls of the florists shop and noticed the delicate arrangements
of fragile flowers in glass showcases.  A tinkling bell chimed above
and a small gray-haired woman wearing an apron over stretch knit pants
greeted him with a kind smile.

  "What can I do for you, young man?"  She wiped her hands on her apron,
her eyes twinkling.  "Looking for something for that special
someone?"

  Nathan stilled, realizing her assumption.  He hadn't been called young
in a long time; all the more reasonhe should avoid getting personally
involved with Veronica.  "No, ma' am.  I need some information."

  "Okay.  Are you looking for something indoor or outdoor?"  Nathan shook
his head and produced his badge.  The woman swallowed a small gasp as
her eyes widened.  "I'd like to find out who sent some flowers to a
woman last night."

  "Why?  Was something wrong with the arrangement?"

  Nathan's jaw tightened as he fought frustration.  "I need to know who
sent them, ma'am.  It's police business."

  The woman squared her shoulders and ambled toward a small round table
where she produced a ledger.

  "Tell me who they were sent to."

  "Veronica Miller.  Apartment J-5, Bainbridge Apartments.  They arrived
last night about ten."

  The woman propped a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles on her nose, then
scanned the ledger.  "Daisies?"

  "Yes."

  70 Send Me a Hero The woman peered over her glasses.  "I thought that
was odd."

  Nathan cleared his throat.  Now they were getting somewhere.  "What was
odd, ma'am?"

  "Well, the daisies were already wilting.  I was about to throw them out
but the customer insisted on them.  Paid for them in cash."

  "And  who was the customer?"   Nathan asked impatiently.  The woman tapped
her forehead in thought.  "She was wearing  a red jacket with a pin on  it."
She  tapped the ledger.  "I remember  the pin sparkled in the sunlight--some
kind of bird.  A swan, peacock, pelican maybe."

  Then she described the customer and Nathan strode from the store.

  He had to see Veronica.

  VERONICA RUSHED into her front office, poured herself some tea and
waved to Louise who was busy on the phone verifying appointments for
later in the week.  Sailing past the coatrack, she noticed her red
jacket.

  "Well, I'll be darned," she muttered as she grabbed it and carded it to
her office.  She didn't remember leaving it at work.  In fact, she
usually kept her jacket over her chair so she wouldn't forget it.

  Deciding it wasn't important, she opened her briefcase and spread the
files she'd meant to study the night before on her desk.  Pouring over
endless paperwork would no doubt take her mind off the handsome
detective and his kiss--and the haunting memories of her early-morning
nightmare.  She wasn't sure which disturbed her more.

  An hour later she'd compiled the client list for Nathan and set it
aside.  She was engrossed in one of her client's financial plans when
the phone rang.

  "Veronica Miller speaking."

  "Veronica, it's Eli.  I wanted to make sure you were all right."

  Veronica's fingers tightened around the handset as the memRita Herron
'11 ories of the crushed flowers blurred her vision.  "Of course I'm
all right, why wouldn't I be?"  Eli hesitated.  "Well, you seemed tense
at the party.  You're my goddaughter, and now that you're in town, I
intend to make sure you're taken care of."  Veronica fiddled with her
ballpoint pen and smiled.  "I'm fine, Eli.

  You're really sweet to ask."  She'd fretted about the flowers all night
and decided there had to be a logical expla nation.  Perhaps Eli had
ordered them and the florist had made a mistake.  "Eli, you didn't send
me flowers last night, did you?"  " "Why, no."  He chuckled.

  "But I wish I'd thought of it.  You must have a secret admirer."

  "Some admirer," Veronica mumbled as the line broke up with static.

  "What?  You'll have to speak up, dear.  I'm on the cell phone."

  "Nothing."   Veronica  thought  quickly.   "It  was  probably  a  business
acquaintance, and they forgot to put in the card."

  "Probably so.  Listen, I'd like to have lunch later in the week.  How
about Friday?"

  "Sure."  Veronica penciled in Friday and said goodbye.  She turned back
to her file but a familiar scent wafted into the room and she felt
someone's presence.  When she glanced up, Nathan was standing in the
doorway.  He'd been devastatingly handsome in the tux, but even in his
faded jeans and the blue oxford shirt, he looked sexy as sin.

  "Hi."  She fumbled with her pen and dropped it on the floor.  "I guess
you came by for that client list."

  Nathan nodded and moved in the doorway.  Veronica couldn't read his
expression, but the smile she'd seen last night when he'd asked her to
trust him was absent from his eyes.  "Do you have it ready?"

  Veronica handed the list to him.  "There are several sheets.  I made
notations by the ones who are no longer with me.  The red asterisks
indicate clients who weren't happy with their settlements, but I still
don't think any of them are dangerous."

  72 Send Me a Hero Nathan scanned the paper.  "Thanks.  I'll look into
it."

  An uneasy feeling swept over Veronica at Nathan's cold, formal tone.

  Where was the man who'd been so sensitive last night?  The man who'd
kissed her and awakened needs she hadn't even realized she'd had.

  Nathan paused by the chair where she'd draped her red jacket.  An odd
expression drew his eyebrows together, and when he looked at her, then
back at the coat, a chill slithered up her spine.

  "Whose jacket is this?"  he asked.

  Veronica swallowed, reminding herself she had no reason to be afraid of
Nathan Dawson.  He was here to help her.  "It's mine."  ' Nathan's
unreadable expression turned into a puzzled frown.  His long fingers
stroked the colorful pelican pin on the lapel.  "That pin belonged to
my grandmother," she said.  "There are only a few like it in the
world."

  Nathan's jaw hardened and Veronica tensed, her shoulders rigid.

  "What's wrong, Detective?"

  When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh.  "I went by the florist on the
way over here.  He said the person who ordered those flowers was a
woman."

  Veronica's pulse jumped.  "You know who sent them?"  "The florist said
the woman had long dark hair, dark eyes."  He touched the pin again and
stared into her eyes.  Veronica could have sworn he was looking
straight into her soul.

  "In fact, she said the woman was wearing a red jacket with a pin on the
lapel.  sounded just like this one."

  Chapter Five

  Nathan steeled himself against Veronica's reaction.  Her soft gasp and
wide-eyed stare was almost convincing, and when she sagged into the
chair with a dazed expression on her face, he fought the urge to
comfort her.  Instead he cursed himself for allowing her to get to him
the day before, and he let his anger chum.  He wouldn't be a sucker for
anyone--not even a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty like Veronica.

  Had she ordered the flowers for herself, then pretended to be upset?

  Could Ford be right?  Could she be mentally disturbed?  With her
history, it was entirely possible.

  His former partner had let his personal feelings interfere with an
investigation and it had cost him his life.  And Nathan had almost
died, too.  He couldn't afford to take any chances.

  "You think I sent them to myself?."  Veronica finally asked in a dull
voice.

  He chewed his bottom lip and said nothing.  The disappointment in her
eyes almost softened his resolve, but he knew now he had to solve this
case.  Even if it meant discovering she was a pathological liar.

  "That's what you think, isn't it?"  The color returned to her face in a
splash of angry crimson.  "You're just like everybody else.  Once you
heard about my past, you decided I was crazy."

  "I don't know what I think," Nathan finally said.  "But I want to find
out the truth."

  74 Send Me a Hero

  "I'm  sure hundreds of women own red  jackets.  As far as the pin, I don't
know."  Veronica's dark eyes blazed with  fury.  "Yesterday you asked me  to
trust  you, and today you accuse me of sending myself a box of dead flowers.
You don't know the truth when it's looking straight at you."

  Nathan closed the distance between them and glared at her.  "I'm not
accusing you of anything, I'm just doing my job."

  Veronica's fingers curled around the mahogany desktop.  "Fine.  That's
what I want you to do---your job.  Find out who's doing these things to
me."

  Nathan leaned forward and met her angry gaze.  Her sultry peach scent
enveloped him.  For a moment he considered reaching out and stroking
her, trying to calm her.  But that would only draw him in more, and if
she was lying, he'd become a bigger pawn in her psychotic game.

  Instead, he clutched the papers she'd given him and forced his voice to
be level.  "I intend to find out who's behind all these things, Ms.
Miller."

  "Good, because 1 want them to stop.  I have work to do."  "So do I."

  "Good."  "Fine."

  Several tense seconds stretched between them.  Finally, Nathan lowered
his voice.  "I checked into your boyfriend."  "My ex-boyfriend."

  Nathan nodded.  "Did you know he had a record?"  Veronica's head
snapped up.  "What for?"  "A misdemeanor for breaking and entering."

  He watched  Veronica strain  to control  her reaction.   "Anything  else?"

  "He was questioned about his first wife's death."

  Shock rode across Veronica's face.

  "You didn't know about that, did you?"  When Veronica didn't answer, he
continued.  "Did you know about the charges for embezzlement?"

  "Those were dropped," Veronica said tightly.  "Ron was cleared."

  Rita Herron 75

  Nathan studied her.  Was she defending the man because she still cared
for him?  Or could she be hiding something else?

  "Besides, that happened in Florida.  I don't see how that can possibly
be related to what's going on here."

  Nathan fisted his hands by his sides.  "Did you and Ron ever discuss
business?"

  Veronica's tone was sarcastic.  "Not confidential matters if that's
what you're implying."

  "Bear with me for a minute, Veronica."  Nathan reined in his temper.

  "If Ron was involved in something illegal, and .... If', you inadvertently
got privy to ms,de mformatmn,  Cox would have a  motive to come after  you."

  Veronica mulled over the possibility, her tone softening.  "I suppose
it's possible, but I don't remember anything.  The only thing Ron told
me about were a few investments."

  "Land investments?"

  "Yes, but I don't remember the details."  Veronica shuffled the papers
on her desk and shrugged.  "Just bit and pieces here and there.

  Nothing you couldn't find out onyour own if you were interested."

  "Give it some thought.  A name, place, anything could be important."

  Veronica nodded.  "Anything else?"

  Nathan gritted his teeth.  Yes, he wanted to kiss her rosy lips and
taste the fire in her body.  But that was impossible.  He didn't even
know if she was telling him the truth.

  "You don't believe me, do you?"  she said, folding her arms across her
chest.

  He arched an eyebrow, wondering how she'd come so close to reading his
thoughts.

  She lowered her gaze and shuffled through her papers again, stacking
them in neat, organized piles.  "I have work to do."

  His chest squeezed tightly at the hurt in her voice.  The image of her
as a child, her parents murdered in front of her eyes flashed before
him.  The loneliness and desolation in her expression as she'd stood
over her parents' graves holding those daisies.  Damn.  He wished he'd
never seen that picture.

  76 Send Me a Hero

  "Don't you have to go back to work, too?"  Veronica asked in a clipped
tone.

  He finally found his voice.  "I am working.  You said you'd gotten some
strange messages?  When did they start?"  "Right after I moved here."

  "I'd like to put a tracer on your home and office phones."  "Fine."

  "Okay, good."

  Veronica angled her pen above her paperwork.  "Then that's that."

  "Look, Veronica--" A knock at the door halted his words.  A good thing,
he thought, before he made a fool out of himself.

  Louise poked her head in.  "A gentleman's here to see you, Ms.
Miller."

  She grinned and escorted Gerald Jones in.  "It's our next
senator--maybe our future president."

  Nathan clenched his jaw at the smile the politician gave Veronica.  And
when she returned it with a warm one of her own, he strode out the door
without saying goodbye.

  VERONICA TRIED to shove thoughts of the irritating detective from her
mind while Gerald surveyed her office.  It shouldn't matter if Nathan
believed her, as long as he found the person harassing her, but it did
matter.  For some odd reason she cared what he thought more than she'd
cared about anyone in a long time.  Disgusted with herself, she tried
to resurrect the walls she'd built around herself.  Hadn't she learned
from experience that caring could destroy a person?

  "This is pretty nice, Ms. Miller.  Simple, but nice."  Gerald ran his
finger along the wooden statue of a seagull she'd purchased at an art
show in Florida.

  "Thanks,"   Veronica  said,  unsure  whether  his  comment  was  really  a
compliment or just his way of flirting.

  Gerald leaned casually against the cherry bookcase beside the door, his
hands in his designer trouser pockets, his smile a showcase of polished
manners.  "I was in the area and dropped by, hoping to take you to
lunch."

  Rita Herron 77

  Veronica folded her hands across the top of her desk.  "I really have a
lot of work to do."

  Gerald grinned and sauntered toward her, then offered his hand.  "Well,
you have to eat.  It might as well be with me."

  Veronica smiled.  "Shouldn't you be someplace shaking hands or kissing
babies?"

  Gerald's rich laughter filled the room.  "I don't think it'll hurt my
image to be seen with a beautiful woman, especially one of Atlanta's
finest attorneys."

  "I see."  Veronica smiled in spiteof  his remark.  "So you wanted to  talk
business?"

  "No, I want to relax and enjoy myself, get to know you better."  Gerald
led her toward the door.  "After all, you're Dad's goddaughter.  That
must make us... godsiblings or something."

  Veronica  had  always wondered  how Eli's  children would  feel about her.

  He'd kept her abreast of their education and careers, but she'd worried
they wouldn't welcofne her into their family.  Maybe she was wrong.

  The thought of refusing Gerald's invitation struck Veronica as a good
idea, but she'd promised herself she would associate with the people
from her past.  Perhaps Gerald had heard Eli talk about her parents,
and she could learn something that would trigger a memory.

  "I'll be back in about an hour," Veronica told Louise as Gerald walked
her to the door.

  "Take your time," Louise said, waving her off.

  "Very impressive,"  she said  as  she climbed  into Gerald's  sleek  black
Cadillac and sank into the plush leather seats.

  "Father bought it for me as a kick-off campaign present.  Thought it would
make a better image than my Porsche."

  Veronica laughed.  "He's got a point.  Impressions are important."'
"Yes, they are," Gerald said,  some of the zip  leaving his smile.  "As  Dad
always  reminds me."  He quickly maneuvered the car onto the road, and a few
minutes later they were  settled at a table  in a small Italian  restaurant.

  5end Me a Hero "This is great," Veronica said, admiring the lacy
curtains and antique paintings.  Soft piano music provided a perfect
accent to the dimly lit atmosphere.  "I've heard about this place, but
I've never been here."

  "They have great pasta, and the bread is just like in Italy."  Gerald
raised his wineglass.  "A toast to us getting to know each other
better."

  Veronica raised her water glass and clinked it with his.  "Why don't
you start by telling me about yourself?."

  Gerald grinned.  "My life's an open book--I'm sure you've read the
papers."

  Veronica nodded.  "Yes, but tell me about growing up.  Are you and Eli
close?"

  Gerald's  smile faded  slightly.  "As  close as a  father and  son can be.

  There's always that parent-child thing."

  Veronica studied his face, wishing she understood the par-ent-child
thing.

  "Oh, I'm sorry."  Gerald  looked contrite.  "That  was insensitive of  me.

  Father said you don't remember your childhood."

  A wave of apprehension rippled through Veronica.  "That's right.  At
least not the first seven years."

  Gerald pushed his stylish glasses up on his nose.  "Is that why you
came back here?  Hoping to remember?"

  Veronica picked at her food, hedging.  "That's part of it.  I hoped
moving here would bring back memories, but so far it hasn't."

  "Well, perhaps it still might.  Dad said you're using your father's old
office space."

  "That's right.  The real estate agent said the house has changed a lot,
though.  It was an insurance office for a while."

  Gerald smiled at her over his glass.  "And after that, an architectural
designer rented the space."

  "You  know, I've been thinking," Veronica said.  "I know my father's files
were lost in a  fire, but I  wondered if he might  have made backup  copies.
Could the police have confiscated them before they were burned?

  It would be interesting to look over some of his old work."

  Rita Herron 79

  Gerald arched an eyebrow.  "I assumed they all burned."  Gerald's
comment seemed innocent enough, but his tone indicated he was more
curious than he let on.

  Of course, he could just be curious like some of the other people she'd
met before--wanting to find out for themselves if she really did have
amnesia.  Another self-appointed shrink.

  "I  have some old boxes of  memorabilia," Veronica said.  "Maybe I'll look
in those."  Or perhaps the police had the files, she thought.  She would ask
Nathan.

  "Hmm."  Gerald chewed the thiqk bread.  "Do you think it's a good idea
for you to pursue all this?  I mean, what possible reason would you
have to look into your father's old files--the cases would all be
outdated by now."

  Veronica  sipped  her water  and decided  she'd said  enough.  "I suppose.

  Anyway, maybe I'll talk to Eli about it.  He might know."

  A muscle tightened in Gerald's jaw.  "I doubt Father would remember.

  He's getting up there in age now, you know."

  "Yes, I know," Veronica said, thinking of her own father and the years
they'd missed together.

  "And Father is rather busy,"  Gerald said.  "Between Mother, handling  his
finances  and overseeing my campaign, I'm  not sure he has time for anything
else right now."

  Gerald's barrage of excuses made Veronica uncomfortable.  She got the
distinct impression he didn't want her bothering Eli.  Maybe she wasn't
welcome into the family after all.

  "Tell you what, if I get a chance, I'll mention it to him and let you
know," Gerald said, patting her hand in a patronizing gesture.

  She studied his easy smile, and her nerves jangled with the strange
feeling Gerald was putting her off.  She checked her watch.  "I need to
get back to the office.  I have an appointment at two."

  Gerald paid the check, and Veronica stiffened when he placed his hand
at the small of her back and guided her to the car.  When he dropped
her at her office, she watched him drive away and wondered about their
luncheon.  Once the politician, 80 Send Me a Hero always the
politician.  Had she really gotten to know Gerald better or had she
seen only the side he wanted her to see?

  NATHAN DROVE down the winding driveway to Barrett Pharmaceuticals.

  Although Veronica had insisted she had no enemies, after studying her
client list, he'd noted a couple of possibilities.  Wayne Barrett
topped the list.  The other one, a man named Paul Merino, had suffered
a stroke and lay immobile in a nursing home.

  He parked his Honda in the circular drive, noting the landscape crew
working on the property by the lake.  Barrett had a fortune, But he'd
lost a small fortune when Veronica had filed his taxes.

  More than likely, he hadn't been very happy about that.  Barrett was a
shrewd, cutthroat businessman.  He had stock in several other companies
and a lawsuit for insider trading.  And he'd recently filed for
divorce.

  Had his financial loss triggered the divorce?  Even if it hadn't, it
had certainly complicated matters for Barrett.  Another motivation for
him to harass Veronica.

  Nathan entered the modern building, scanning the various security
cameras as he walked to the front desk.

  "I'd like to see Mr.  Barrett, please," Nathan said.

  A young secretary wearing a short skirt looked up at him and smiled.

  "Fm afraid that's not possible."

  Nathan flashed his badge, almost laughing at the surprised expression
on the young girl's face.  "Now, can you get me in?"

  "It's still not possible."  The woman straightened her shoulders.  "Mr.
Barrett isn't here."

  Nathan fought the frustration building in his chest.  "Do you know
where he went or when he'll be back?"

  Soft blond curls bounced around her face as she shook her head.  "He's
taken an extended leave of absence."

  A tall man wearing an impeccably fashionable suit stepped up behind the
woman.  "Is there a problem, Charlene?"

  Rita Herron 81

  The gift smiled.  "This man is a detective.  He's looking for Mr.
Barrett."

  "Good."  The man extended his hand.  "I'm Dwain Rogers, vice president
of the company.  I'm glad you're already on the case."

  "What do you mean?"  Nathan asked.

  "I  called  the  police  as  soon  as  I  discovered  the  discrepancy  in
accounting.   This  weekend  Barrett  left  with a  sizable  portion  of the
company's money."

  "Do you know how I can reach him?"  Nathan asked.  "Or do you have any
idea where he migh go?"

  "Not a clue," Rogers said, frowning.  "But when you find him, I want to
have a word with him myself."

  "I'll send  a  team out  to  search the  building  and interview  all  the
employees," Nathan said.  "I'd like to take a look at his office."

  "Fine."  Rogers led the way down a plush rose carpeted hallway and into
an office the size of a hotel suit.  "Let me know if you need
assistance."  Rogers disappeared across the hall.

  Nathan glanced around the office.  It was furnished with expensive
cherry wood furniture and dark green sofas.  A fully stocked wet bar
stood in the corner.  He examined the man's desk, skimmed the papers on
top, searched through his files, then rummaged through the top
drawer.

  Finally he pulled out a date book and studied the dates.  Barrett had
had several appointments with Veronica, one the day she had been
attacked in her apartment, another the following day.  Then he turned
the page and noted red stars punctuating certain dates.  What did they
mean?  As he closed the book, a piece of paper slipped to the floor--a
familiar newsclipping about Veronica's past.  Her home address was
scribbled in red ink across the top.

  He stuffed the date book in his pocket, muttered a silent curse and
hurried to the car.  Within seconds, he'd ordered an APB on Barrett.

  Then he decided to see if Veronica knew anything about 82 Send Me a
Hero

  Barrett's disappearance.  Maybe he'd been wrong to suspect she had done
these things to herself.  Both her prior boyfriend and Barrett had
possible motives to harm her.

  And if they succeeded, he'd never forgive himself.

  AFTER VERONICA FINISHED with her last client, she released her hair
from the brass clip and ran her fingers through it.  "I'm leaving now,"
Louise called out.

  "Fine, see you tomorrow."  Veronica pulled her drawer open and fished
out the small photo book she kept with her at the office.  She stared
at the pictures of her parents, of herself as a baby in their arms, and
later as a toddler.  Her grandmother had made the scrapbook for her,
and she'd always valued it.

  Then her gaze rested on a photo of her and her parents.  She was six,
wearing a ruffly church dress, standing in between her parents.  Her
mother wore a red dress with the pelican pin stuck high on the right
side of her big white collar, and her father wore a dark suit and
tie.

  His black hair had started to recede slightly, but he looked handsome
and happy to be with her.

  Her parents had loved her.  Her grandmother had told her repeatedly how
much they'd cared for her, how her mother used to sing her to sleep at
night and her father used to bring her treats.  Why couldn't she
remember them?

  She massaged her temple, feeling the slight beginnings of a headache as
she often did when she attempted to force her memory.

  "Veronica?"

  She recognized the deep husky resonance of Nathan's voice
immediately.

  It sounded so different from Ron's wimpy voice, and much sexier and
more masculine than Gerald's polished speech.  She closed her eyes,
trying to tamp her emotions.  "Are you all right?"

  "I'm  fine."  Veronica glanced at him in his jeans and worn shirt and knew
she would never ask  Ron to come  for a visit.  After  meeting a virile  man
like Nathan, how could she ever consider being with a dud like Ron?  Shaking
off the imposRita Herron 83 sible thought of a relationship with Nathan, she
closed her photo book and secured it back in her desk drawer.

  His boots pounded against the hardwood floor.  "I went to see Wayne
Barrett today."

  "You did?"

  "Yeah.  Apparently he skipped town.  His employees don't know where he
is."

  Veronica massaged her forehead.  "He didn't leave an address ?"

  "Nope.  I don't think he wants to be found."

  "Why not?"  · "He stole some money from the company."

  Veronica blew out a breath, then rose and glanced out the window.  The
sunlight was quickly fading, and dusk was beginning to settle above the
willow trees outside.  How could the sky be so beautiful and the world
so ugly?

  "I talked to the vice president, then to my lieutenant.  We put out an
APB on him."  Nathan pulled the scn/p of paper from his pocket.  "And I
found this in his desk."  · Veronica took the note and saw her name and
home address.  She stared at Nathan in confusion.  Then he handed her
the article, and she clutched her stomach as it roiled.

  "He knew about my past."

  "That's  right.  About your parents...and  your amnesia."  "You think he's
the one who's been taunting me?"

  Nathan shrugged.   "It's possible.   I definitely  want to  talk to  him."

  "When  you do, ask him about my  jacket.  I couldn't find it this morning,
then it turned up at the office."  Veronica sighed.

  "And..."

  "And what, Veronica?"

  "I thought I saw someone around my apartment this morning.  But  then...he
disappeared."

  "Can you give me a description?"

  She shook her head.  "No.  He was wearing a raincoat.  He had his head
covered."  She hesitated, struggling to recall more details.  The
telephone rang, interrupting the strained silence.

  84 Send Me a Hero "Veronica Miller speaking."  She heard deep
breathing, then a fuzzy, hard voice she didn't recognize.  Nathan must
have read the distress on her face, because he punched the speakerphone
button.

  "Leave the past alone," the husky voice said.

  "Who  is this?"  Veronica asked.  Her  hands trembled as she stared at the
phone, then at Nathan.

  "Someone who knows  all about you.   Someone who wants  you out of  town."

  The phone clicked into silence.  Veronica gritted her teeth.  Nathan
had to believe her now--he'd heard the man's voice.

  "We'll find out who the caller was," Nathan said, pressing the button
to show the caller's number.

  As the phone number blinked before her, Veronica covered her mouth and
gasped.

  "Veronica, do you recognize this number?"

  Veronica swallowed, her voice a choked whisper.  "It's...it's mine."

  Chapter Six f

  She raised her fear stricken face to his.  "Someone's at my
apartment."

  Nathan cupped his hands around her arms.  "Let's go."

  They rushed from her office.  "I can drive," Veronica said.  "I don't
want to leave my car."

  "You're shaking too much to drive.  We'll get your car later," Nathan
said, ushering her into his Honda.  He cranked the engine and raced out
of the parking lot, then radioed for backup.  He covered Veronica's
hand with his.  "We'll catch this bastard, don't worry."

  She gave him a strange look, and he realized she hadn't expected him to
believe her.  She'd gone through her whole life distrusting, expecting
the worst from people.  As a cop he was always skeptical, but Veronica
wasn't a cop.  She was a soft, beautiful, sexy woman who deserved
someone to trust.  He wanted the same.  When he'd been flat on his back
after the accident, he'd realized he didn't want to be alone.

  But could he be that special someone to Veronica and still do his
job?

  If he got too involved with her, would he become sloppy?

  His thoughts were so jumbled he ran through a red light.  Horns blasted
at him.  Veronica's raspy breath broke the silence and he squeezed her
hand in reassurance.  He considered using the siren, but if someone was
still at her place, he didn't 86 Send Me a Hero want to warn them of
his arrival.  He wanted to catch the creep and make him pay for
frightening Veronica.

  Several minutes later, he barreled into her complex and shut off his
lights.  The backup hadn't arrived, but he couldn't wait.

  "Stay here.  I'll come back after I check the apartment."

  Her lower lip trembled.  "Be careful."

  He nodded.  "I will.  We'll get this guy."  He paused and stroked her
hair.  "If you hear gunshots, radio for help."

  Her big dark eyes glistened with fear.  "I don't want you to get
hurt."

  He gave her a slow smile.  "Don't worry.  I'll be back."  Then he ran
his finger along her jaw and opened the car door.  Looking around
cautiously, he scanned the parking lot but saw nothing suspicious.

  Only a couple of teenagers necking and an old man walking his dog.  He
hurried up the sidewalk to Veronica's apartment and inched up the
steps, his hand covering his gun, ready to draw.  Darkness hovered
around him, and a shadow moved.  He reached for his .38 as a big dog
raced from the bushes.  He exhaled a harsh breath.  He'd almost pulled
his gun on a golden retriever.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he stopped at the door to her
apartment, leaned one ear against it and listened.  Nothing.  He
jiggled the door and it swung open, the squeaking of the rusty hinges
echoing in the seemingly empty apartment.  Slivers of moonlight
streamed through the venetian blinds, illuminating his way as he crept
inside.  He scanned each corner and turned as he had the first time
he'd come to her apartment.  Nothing.  Seconds dragged into minutes as
he checked the rooms.

  Finally he made his way back to the den and turned on the light.

  Veronica stood by the phone, her hand resting on a tape recorder.

  "I thought I told you to stay in the car."

  "I was worded."

  He slowly moved toward her and covered her hand.  "What's this?"

  Rita Herron 87

  "It's  a recorder."  She sighed and looked at him with her big brown eyes.
Two officers rushed in, guns drawn.  Nathan  held up his hand to stop  them.

  "The  apartment's  clean.  Search  the  complex."  The  men rushed  out to
follow his orders.  He punched the Play button and heard the same voice
that had taunted Veronica at her office.  His gut clenched.

  "The tape recorder's not mine," she said on a whimper.  "I swear it's
not mine."

  Nathan wanted to believe her.  "Let me take it in and dust it for
fingerprints.  We can also checkethe voice print."

  Veronica nodded, her face pale.  "I don't understand why this is
happening."  She turned away from him, her arms hugging her middle as
if she needed to support herself.  "I'm... I'm going to get some
water."

  Nathan examined the recorder to see if it could have been programmed to
go off at a certain time.  He didn't find anything to indicate it had,
The sound of glass shattering in the kitchen jerked his head up.

  "Oh, my God," Veronica said in a strained voice.

  Nathan rushed into the kitchen and saw glass slivers scattered across
the floor.  "What is it, Veronica?"  She pointed to the front of her
refrigerator where someone had taped newspaper clippings of the story
about her parents' deaths.  He moved forward and steadied her with his
hand.  "These aren't yours?"

  "No," she said in a heated whisper.  "Of course they aren't mine.  Do
you think I'd keep something like this on my refrigerator?"' Nathan was
glad to see the anger flare in her eyes; it was better than the shock
and desolation he'd seen a few minutes before.  "No, I don't," he said
honestly.

  Veronica traced her thumb along the photograph of the gravestone.  Her
finger lingered at the headlines suggesting she might have been a child
murderess.  "I don't know why someone would do this," she said in a
voice so soft he almost didn't hear her.

  88 Send Me a Hero "I don't, either," he said quietly, nestling his hand
under her elbow to guide her to the table.  "But I intend to find
out."

  Veronica sat ramrod straight, her eyes glazed as he fixed her a cup of
tea.  He joined her, and they sipped in silence.  "You don't remember
anything about that night?"  he finally asked.

  She shook her head and pushed a strand of hair from her face.  Her hair
swept her shoulders, stark black against the porcelain flesh of her
neck, and hung like an ebony curtain shadowing the solemn angles of her
delicate cheekbones.  "I wish I did.  I've tried so hard to
remember."

  The other two officers appeared in the doorway.  "We didn't find
anything, sir," the youngest one said.

  Nathan nodded.  "I can take it from here.  You two go on, but patrol
this area tonight."  The men agreed, then left.  Nathan turned to
Veronica.

  "Your past  may not  be the  reason for  these tauntings,  but someone  is
certainly  using them  to hurt you,"  Nathan said, thinking  of the range of
possibilities that existed.

  "My past has always controlled my life."  Veronica emptied her cup and
put it in the sink.  "I have to face it and bury it so I can go on."

  "What are you talking about?"  Nathan asked.

  Dodging the shattered glass on the floor, she stepped forward and faced
him, determination darkening her brown eyes.  "I'm going to drive out
to my parents' old home.  Maybe seeing the house--where they died--will
trigger my memory."' Nathan pushed away from the table.  "You're not
going out there alone."

  "I need to do this," she said as she walked into the den.  Nathan  grabbed
her  arm  and  swung her  around.   "Veronica,  you're too  upset  to drive.
Besides, even if you  had your car, remember  what Scroggins said about  the
place not being safe.  No one's lived in it for twenty years."

  In a defiant act that Nathan had to admire, Veronica jutted her chin
out and said courageously, "I have to go."

  Rita Herron 9

  "Okay."   He released her arm and headed to the door.  "But I'm going with
you."

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, hands entwined, her stomach aching, Veronica stared
at the haze of oncoming headlights dotting the highway and gathered her
courage.  She had to face the past.  It was the only way she could move
on.  After finding the newspaper clippings on her refrigerator, she
knew the past was a clue to all the mysterious things happening to
her.

  "You said the house was on Dover Drive?"  Nathan asked.  "Yes.  It's at
the end of the street,"eVeronica said, remembering what her grandmother
had told her.  She could hear her grandmother's sweet Southern voice:
"Honey-child, you used to ride your tricycle all over the place.  Drove
your mama plumb crazy when you started riding a two-wheeler.  You'd
zoom up and down the dirt road, fly around the dead end, then screech
your tires like you was hot as a fox on a road race."

  Veronica smiled at the memory of her grandmother's voice.  If only she
could remember riding the bike, seeing her mother and father, hearing
their voices.  Sometimes she felt as if she had a big bottomless hole
inside of her that would never be filled without those memories.

  Then other times she trembled at the thought of recalling her parents'
deaths.  Did she really want to remember the horrible details?

  "Veronica, are you all right?"  Nathan asked, turning on the side road
that led to the subdivision.

  "I'm fine," she said.  "Just thinking."

  "About your parents?"

  "Yes."  Sensing his sincerity, she considered sharing her feelings, but
Nathan's job stopped her.  What if she remembered she had killed her
parents?  Could she handle knowing she had destroyed her own family?

  Would he arrest her?

  A shiver tore through her, and Nathan glanced at her.  "Cold?"

  She wrapped her arms around her middle.  She could hear the cold metal
handcuffs clamping shut.  "A little."

  5end Me a Hero "This isn't much of a subdivision," he said as the road
narrowed.  "It's more like living in the country."

  "I know.  It was a long time ago.  Grandmother said the houses were on
half-acre lots."

  Even in the dark, Veronica noticed there were only two other houses on
the road.  Both were old and dilapidated, barely livable.  A black cat
with a tiny white spot on its face darted across the road and Nathan
swerved to miss it.  "Geez.  Crazy animal's going to get run over."

  "I guess he's not used to seeing many cars out here," Veronica said.

  The car hit a pothole and he steered it around another one, then slowed
as they neared a dirt drive.  Tall pines and spruce trees lined the
road casting shadows across the dark earth while a quarter moon
provided just enough light for Veronica to see the ragged condition of
her childhood home.  Most of the trees were bare of leaves, their
branches tired and frail with winter.  Her heartbeat pounded in her
ears as the car crawled toward the old house.  Morosely, she thought
the dead-end street and deserted house symbolized her life.

  What had once been a lovely white house with a front porch now looked
weathered and saggy, with rotten boards, chipped paint and overgrown
bushes marring the front stoop.  A few of the shingles on the roof hung
precariously to the side.  Tree branches blown from a storm had crashed
into one window, sending shards of broken glass across the wooden
planks and front steps.  The hedges and grass were overgrown, the yards
full of weeds, and a mountain of kudzu covered a broken-down fence
around the backyard.  An old rusty wheelbarrow filled with pine straw
lay overturned in the gravel drive.

  Nathan stopped the car, flipped on the parking lights and turned off
the engine.  Dark clouds billowed above and thunder rumbled somewhere
in the distance.  A few scattered raindrops glistened on the
windshield.

  Veronica forced her mind back to the photographs her grandmother had
shown her her father pushing her in a homemade swing from the oak tree
in the front yard, her Rita Herron 91 mother planting petunias around
the mailbox, Veronica running through the water hose on a scorching
summer day.

  She and Nathan sat in stony silence, the air between them heavy and
tense with unanswered questions, the slow drizzling rain turning into a
downpour.  Veronica knew Nathan was watching her, waiting for any sign
of her memory to return, but she tried to block out his presence and
focus on the past, on remembering some detail, however small it might
be.  The car closed in around her, and the dreams she'd had as a child
lingered in the back of her mind, teasing her fear and rattling her
concentration.  As in her repeated'nightmares, a shadow, big and
hulking, loomed before her, hands outstretched, ominous fingers
reaching for her, strangling her with their bony tendrils.  Thunder
crackled like hungry mountain lions roaring in the night.  Lightning
lit the sky in jagged streaks and patches against the dark sky.

  The air became still and thick and hot.  Veronica suddenly couldn't
breathe.  Raindrops beat violently again§t the car, pounding
relentlessly as the clouds unloaded their water onto the earth like
teardrops falling from the sky.  Veronica closed her eyes and dug her
fingernails into the sides of the car seat, her heart racing painfully,
fear pressing like a giant boulder on her chest.  Her throat
constricted, and perspiration trickled down her neck.  The shadow's
giant fingers encircled her-neck.  She was gasping and heaving for air,
praying the shadow would leave, that it wouldn't find her, that she
could run far, far away and never have to see it again.

  "Veronica, Veronica, can you hear me?"  Nathan was shaking her, but she
couldn't respond except to go limp in his arms.  "Look at me,
Veronica.

  Are you all right?"

  The car spun in crazy circles.  She swayed and groped for something
solid to hold on to: Then she felt Nathan's strong, powerful arms
surround her, heard somewhere in the deep recesses of her consciousness
his husky voice murmuring words of comfort, felt the gentle brush of
his lips across her forehead, his hand stroking her hair and massaging
the tension from her straining muscles.  Her lungs drew in cleansing
breaths as she 92 Send Me a Hero struggled for composure.  She blinked
back the tears she'd tried to keep at bay all evening, but moisture
trickled down her cheek, soaking his shirt.

  "I can't remember," she finally said, her voice thick with emotion.  "I
try so hard, but I just can't."

  "Shh, it's okay," Nathan said softly,  tenderly combing her hair with  his
fingers.

  "You  know, I can understand why  I blocked out that night," Veronica said
in frustration.  "But why the rest  of my childhood?  I don't even  remember
living here."

  He wrapped the long ends of her hair around his fist and tightened his
hold.  "Maybe there's a reason you can't remember.  Maybe you're not
supposed to."

  Because I killed my parents, I'm the reason they died.  The
self-recriminations and guilt that had consumed her all her life roared
through her head, and she trembled again.  Nathan pressed her against
his chest, his body offering the kind of solace only a man with great
tenderness and unfathomable passion could give.  She sagged against him
and absorbed his strength, allowing his warm breath to mingle with her
own and his scent to envelope her with its intoxicating, masculine
aroma.  His hands were hypnotic, his voice like the soothing purr of a
lover's caress, his hard body a wall of strength.  "Do you want to talk
about it?"  he asked.  Veronica shook her head.  "You'll think I'm
crazy."  "Try me."

  She looked into his eyes, the dark rich color of scotch drawing her in
with their tenderness.  "I had these nightmares as a child," she
finally said.  "I still have them sometimes."  "What happens in the
dreams?"

  Veronica hesitated, trying to gain control of her emotions.  "I'm in
the bedroom with my parents...but there's someone else there.  I can
see a shadow."

  Nathan traced his finger along Veronica's hand, opened her palm and
twined her fingers with his.  "Then what happens?"

  "I don't know."  She clenched her hands in frustration.  "I

  Rtta Herron 93

  can't see the person's face.  I try and try but I can't.  It's dark and
I try to scream but...but nothing comes out."

  He cradled her and rocked her gently in his arms.  The only comfort she
remembered was her grandmother's arms.  Nathan's felt stronger, more
secure, as if he'd never let the shadow capture her.

  "I think it's a vision of the person who was there," she continued,
"but the the doctor said it was just a figment of my imagination,"
Veronica finished in a low voice.  "He said the shadow represented a
little girl's fear or something like · that."

  "The  police didn't find evidence of  anyone else being there that night?"

  "My grandmother said they didn't.  That's when they ruled it--" She  broke
off, unable to finish the sentence.

  "I  know," Nathan whispered.  He rubbed  her shoulders and wiped the tears
from her eyes with the pads of his thumbs.  "Why don't you let me look  into
it?   I'll talk to the  police chief who was  in charge of the investigation
years ago."  She didn't know what to say.  "You believe me?"

  Nathan chewed his lip.  "I want to help you find the truth.  Isn't that
what you want?"

  Veronica nodded and lowered her eyes.  He hadn't exactly said he
believed hen-only that he wanted to find the truth.  She wanted
desperately to find the truth, too.  But the thought also terrified
her.

  If she found out she had caused her parents' deaths, would she be able
to live with herself?.

  NAT4 WRAPPED his jacket around Veronica, hugging her to him.  A surge
of protectiveness swelled inside him and he wanted to barricade himself
around her so she would never have to feel afraid again.  His body
throbbed with unleashed desire as her breath whispered against his neck
in tiny puffs and her fingernails dug into his chest with a kind of
desperation that made his chest ache and his lower body harden with
pure need.  The scent of her shampoo invaded his nostrils, and b'ena Me
a Hero his hands itched to tangle themselves in the long ebony strands
of her glorious hair.

  But he could not take advantage of her.  She was a frightened, confused
woman who needed his help and understanding.  Not his body, not his
lust or his potent desire.

  "I'm going to take you home," he said quietly, unfolding his arms from
around her and settling her back against the seat.  He tried to ignore
the flicker of want burning in her eyes as the moonlight illuminated
her face.

  Then the need was gone, and he saw the walls being resurrected around
her as she clutched the jacket more tightly around her.  He drove
slowly and turned the radio to a soft rock station to fill the awkward
silence.  When they arrived at her apartment, he walked her to the
door.

  "I'm coming in to check the apartment."

  Veronica didn't argue.  She looked tired and slightly nervous as the
door squeaked open, and he was certain the memory of finding the tape
recorder and the newspaper articles still lingered in her mind with
haunting clarity.  He switched on the light and followed her as she
walked through the house.

  "Why don't you get some rest," he suggested, fighting the urge to take
her in his arms one more time.

  Veronica nodded, the pallor of her face a ghostly white in the dim
light.  "I think I'll take a long bath."

  "Do you want me to stay?"

  Her head snapped up.  As she stared at him with a multitude of
questions in her eyes, he instantly realized what she thought he'd
implied.  A big part of him wanted to let her believe that, to test her
and see what her answer would be.  But he still didn't know if she was
doing these things to herself, and he couldn't take advantage of her.

  "I meant out here--until you get through."  He shifted from one foot to
the other and avoided looking at the creamy base of her throat.  "I
thought you might feel safer that way A tiny smile tilted her rosy
lips, and she handed him his jacket.

  "Thanks.  I do feel safe when you're around."  Then she turned and hurried
into the bathroom.

  Rita Herron 95

  He heard the water running, imagined the bath salts turning into
bubbles, Veronica stripping down to beautiful nothingness and slipping
inside the tub, her rosy nipples taut and glistening with water, her
bare toes dangling over the side of the tub begging for his kiss.

  He muttered a curse, then settled onto the couch and dropped his head
into his hands.  Veronica felt safe with him.  That should make him
feel good--but she wasn't safe with him.  Sure he wanted to protect her
and comfort her, but he was a man.  A simple male, who also wanted to
take her to bed and show her his raging desire.  · He bit his lip and
listened with one ear for the water to turn off, praying silently that
she'd locked the door.

  VERONICA RELAXED into the sea of bubbles and stared at the unlocked
door, wondering if Nathan had seen the flicker of need she'd unveiled
before she'd rushed into the bathroom.  She was so inexperienced and
shy, too afraid to ak him to join hen-too afraid he would say no.

  Dribbling the warm water over her skin, she realized she hadn't been
much of a sexual being at all.  Not until she'd met Nathan Dawson.

  She'd tried with Ron, forced herself to let him touch her, but beyond
the touching, which she hadn't really enjoyed, and a few pleasant
kisses, their sex life had been a failure.  She'd thought she might be
inept.

  But Nathan had awakened that hidden part of her that she'd never felt,
and her body tingled with anticipation at the mere thought that he was
sitting on her sofa while she lay naked in her tub.  What would she do
if he opened the door and joined her?

  She lay back and imagined him opening the door and walking in,
envisioned him staring at her with raw heat and need in his eyes, then
watched with her heart pounding as he stripped his clothes off and came
toward her, his lips curved into a deliciously wicked smile.  He was
standing proud and masculine, his broad chest and body and legs covered
with sandy blond hair, his sex throbbing and bold, screaming for her.

  96 Send Me a Hero Veronica sat bolt upright and grabbed her robe,
embarrassed at her errant thoughts.  Thank goodness she hadn't told him
to join her.  The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but she
hadn't said them.  If he wanted her, he would make a move.  And
obviously he hadn't.

  As she tightened the robe around her waist and combed the tangles from
her wet hair, reality crept in--he didn't want her because he thought
she was crazy.

  NATHAN STRODE toward the door for the tenth time, his fingers itching
to turn the knob and join Veronica.  His hand fingered the buttons at
the top of his shirt, but warning bells sounded in his head.  He wanted
her with an intensity that made him question his own sanity.  He had to
remember why he was here---certainly not as Veronica's lover.

  He was here because she might be crazy, and he needed to solve her
case.  And as much as he wanted to take the woman, to pour himself into
her sweetness, he couldn't--not until he' unraveled the troth from the
mystery surrounding her.

  He dropped onto the sofa, hurriedly scribbled some notes, collected the
tape recorder and article, then picked up the phone and checked in with
the precinct.  He'd post an officer outside her door.  He couldn't stay
himself.  He couldn't stand the temptation.

  "Dawson, where the hell have you been?"  Ford said, adding a few succulent
curse words that Nathan tried to ignore.

  "I'rrt still working on  the Miller case.  What's  up with you,  partner?"

  Ford  laughed.  I'll  fill you in  on that  robbery if you  ever come in."

  Nathan gritted his teeth.  "I'll meet you there in the morning."' I'm
also going to make an appointment to see Scroggins, the officer who
worked the Miller case years ago.

  "You know you're wasting your time  with that weirdo," Ford said  deadpan.

  "You do your job the way you want, I'll do mine the way

  Rita Herron 97

  I want," Nathan growled.  "And I want a guard outside her apartment all
night."

  "Oh, God, you're hung up on her, aren't you?"

  "Just  do what I said and get  a guard here," Nathan snapped, cutting Ford
off.  "If  there's any  tack,  I'll take  responsibility.   See you  in  the
morning."   Nathan paced the floor for  the next thirty minutes, hoping Ford
would send the  guard before Veronica  came out.  He  didn't think he  could
stand being alone with her and not holding her.

  Finally she stepped out from the bathroom, her hair wrapped
turban-style in a towel, her creamy fle[h glowing in the vee at the top
of her long silky robe.  He swallowed a groan.  "I have to go in a few
minutes.  I've asked for a guard outside your door."  ' Veronica toyed
with the sash around her robe.  "Thanks for staying."

  He nodded, studying her.  She looked more relaxed and calmer, her
cheeks rosy from the warm bath.  "Do you think you can get some sleep
now?"  He certainly knew he wouldn't.  'I'll try," Veronica said,
offering him a shy smile.

  "Then  I'll  see you  tomorrow.  I'll  wait outside  until he  shows."  He
jotted his phone  number on a  pad next  to the phone.   "Here's my  number.

  Call me if you need me."  Then he hurried to the door so he could
escape before he touched her.

  "Nathan?"

  He paused and looked into her eyes.  The desire he saw in her
expression almost broke his good intentions, and he gazed at her for a
long moment.  The question lingering between the two of them crackled
like static electricity.  He should get out of there before he did
something they both might regret.  He reached for the doorknob but
couldn't leave.

  Not without touching her one more time.

  He closed the distance between them, traced one finger down her jaw,
then lowered his mouth to hers.  Gently, slowly, he savored the
yearning he felt in her response, the soft moan that escaped as she
parted her lips and teased his mouth with

  98 5end Me a Hero her tongue.  She tasted sweet and needy, and his ache
for her grew as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.  She caressed
his jaw with her soft palm, and he thought he would die from the raw
need that surged through him.

  A knock sounded at the door, bringing his sanity back.  "That's
probably him now."

  "Probably," Veronica whispered.

  He pulled away slightly, momentarily leaning his forehead against
Veronica's to gain control.  "I should go," he finally said in a low
voice.  "I'll talk to the guard before I leave."

  Veronica nodded, her breath gently brushing against his cheek.

  "Thanks, Nathan."

  Her whispered words brought a smile to his face.  As much as he wanted
her, winning her trust was more important than his own desire.  He
nodded, then said good-night and closed the door.

  VERONICA WATCHED out the window as Nathan hurried to his car and drove
away.  Being alone hadn't really bothered her before, but tonight she
felt bereft as he walked away from her.  People were always leaving
hen-first her parents, then her grandmother.  And when the
investigation was over, Nathan would leave, too.  She had to be
prepared for that.  He was only doing his job.  She touched her finger
to her lips and smiled; at least she had the memory of his kiss.

  A shadow passed beneath the streetlight and Veronica locked the dead
bolt.  She peered out the window again, bending one blind slightly so
she couldn't be seen, then searched the darkness for any sign of the
shadow.  A van pulled up and a group of teenagers piled out, laughing
and talking.

  Veronica massaged her temple and fought the panicky feeling that often
came with night.  Her body ached with fatigue, but she still didn't
want to go to bed.  Would she have the nightmare tonight?  Would she
imagine the screams of her parents as she often did when she closed her
eyes?

  She reminded herself that Nathan had posted a guard outside her
apartment, then fixed herself a cup of hot tea and turned Hlta rlerron
on the TV.  After grabbing a crocheted afghan her grandmother had made,
she curled up on the sofa to watch Miracle on 34th Street, hoping she
might fall asleep before dawn.  As she sipped her tea, her thoughts
drifted to her past, to the visit to her old house, to Nathan and how
she'd felt in his arms.  Maybe he could help her unravel the secrets of
her life, and maybe if she discovered she was the reason her parents
had died, she would one day be able to forgive herself.  And maybe he
wouldn't walk out on her when this was all over.

  Veronica sighed.  That would take a miracle.

  Chapter Seven In the car, Nathan tried to distract his thoughts from
the sensuous way Veronica had looked all freshly bathed, the ebony
strands of her hair glistening with moisture.  He had to forget the
kiss.  And that little throaty moan she made-Damn.  He needed to Occupy
his mind with work so he wouldn't have time to think of the non-work
related activities he craved indulging in with the woman.  Cursing his
uncontrollable reaction to her, he dialed the precinct.  "Sherry, this
is Detective Dawson.  Can you find out who handled the Miller case
years ago?"

  The elderly policewoman whistled into the phone.  "Anything for you,
lion."  He waited, listening to her fingers click on the computer.

  Seconds later she spoke up.  "Daryl Scrog-gins.  He was the police
chief back then.  Retired about five years ago."

  "Thanks, Sherry.  You're a doll."

  Sherry laughed.  She was always teasing him to find a good woman and
settle down.  "Come by the house and I'll make you a pecan pie."

  Nathan laughed.  "Maybe one day soon."

  Sherry chuckled.  "And bring your woman by so I can meet her."  '
"There  isn't  a  woman,"  Nathan  said, although  he  instantly  thought of
Veronica.  "Listen, Sherry.  See what you can find out on Wayne Barrett
and Barrett Pharmaceuticals."

  Rim Herron 101

  "Sure thing."

  "Thanks.  I'll talk to you later."  He remembered seeing Scroggins talking
to  Veronica at Gerald's  campaign party.  He hung  up and dialed Scroggins.

  "This is Detective Dawson," he said.  "I heard you worked on the Miller
murder-suicide investigation twenty years ago."

  Scroggins sounded defensive.  "Yeah, why do you want to know?"

  "Well, I'd rather not talk about it on the phone.  I'd like to come by
your house."

  He waited, curious at the long paus[ on the other end of the line.

  "Not tonight,"  Scroggins finally  said.  "My  wife and  I have  company."

  "Okay.  How about in the morning?"

  "I'm busy."

  Nathan tightened his fingers around the phone, wondering again at
Scroggins's reluctance.  Was he really busy or just putting him off?.

  "You  name the  time, I'll  be there," Nathan  said, refusing  to give up.

  "Look, son.  That case is two decades old.  You ought to leave the past
alone."

  Nathan frowned at his last statement, then Scroggins slammed down the
phone.  What was it the person had said on the message to Veronica?

  Leave the past alone.

  VERONICA TOSSED and turned in her sleep as she wrestled with demons
from her past.  Flinging her hands wildly, she tried to escape the
clutches of the approaching shadow.  Patches of gray light enveloped
her, blurring her view, and she strained to see the doorway, but air
pressed around her, suffocating her, tearing the life from her lungs as
someone thrust a bloody knife toward her.  She opened her mouth to
scream, but the sound caught in her throat and a sliver of pure terror
racked her body.  Her parents.  They were going to die.

  She reached out to save them, to run for help, but something 102 Send
Me a Hero blocked the doorway and her legs were immobilized like steel
pillars, dragging her down.  She crouched into a ball and hid in the
darkness, biting her lip until she tasted her own blood, covering her
ears to drown out the pain of her parents' cries.  She closed her eyes
so tightly her eyelids ached and her chest heaved with her silent
sobs.

  She couldn't save them.

  Perspiration trickled down her neck, but the room grew cold as if death
had opened a door.  The sharp sound of someone's shoes scraping along
the floor made her flesh crawl.  She'd had that feeling before.  A loud
thump followed.  Was it her parents' bodies collapsing against the
floor as the life slipped from them?

  She awoke with a start at the sound of another loud thump against her
front door, her body trembling from the remnants of the recurring
nightmare.  It took her several seconds to steady her breathing, to
remind herself that she had lived through this one, just like she had
lived through that night.

  Her stiff muscles protesting, she jumped off the sofa, stumbling over
the afghan tangled around her feet.  She tried to focus and stared at
the door for several seconds, straining to hear.  Nothing.

  She slowly padded over to the window and peeked outside.  The gray fog
of morning greeted her.

  She opened the door slightly, retrieved the morning paper, relocked the
door and carried the paper to the kitchen, hoping the local news could
displace the fear lingering from her troubled sleep.  Although
determined to push her nightmares from her mind, she shook slightly as
she made her tea.  When she opened the paper, the headline shocked her:
"Owner of  Barrett Pharmaceuticals  skips  town with  stockholders'  money."

  Hmm.  Wayne Barrett was a ruthless businessman and a callous husband
who'd cheated on his wife both financially and physically.  As she
skimmed the article, she found a list of the major stockholders.

  Interesting.  Gerald, Eli's son, owned over forty-five percent of the
company, his grandmother forty percent.  Had Barrett ripped them off,
too?  And was Barrett the main supporter for Gerald's campaign?  If so,
Barrett's move Rita Herron 103 could have a drastic effect on Gerald's
future.  Eli was wealthy, but campaigning could drain a person's
wealth.

  The story posed lots of questions about Barrett, and she was certain
she would be hearing from Barrett's ex-wife's lawyer.  She might as
well shower and get to work.  If she didn't, she'd probably have
newspeople hounding her house.  Reporters had nearly driven her crazy
as a little girl.  They were the last people she wanted to talk to.

  As NATHAN STUDIED the files Sherry ad left on his desk, he rubbed his
hand along his aching neck, trying to work out the kinks he'd gotten
during his tortured sleep the night before.  He'd dreamt about
Veronica.

  First he'd been holding her and giving her comfort while they searched
through her parents' old house, then he'd been caressing her in the
twilight with nothing but a sheet covering them.  She'd been naked in
his arms, and he'd made sweet love to her over and.  over.  Her cries
of pleasure had been so beautiful, and they kept replaying over and
over in his head like a soft jazz song.

  Both dreams taunted him.  Both dreams made him want her more.  In the
wee hours of the morning, he'd been so tormented, he'd almost gotten up
and called her just to hear her voice.  Now, he was plain frustrated
and felt like biting off someone's head.

  He smelled Ford's smoky breath before he heard him speak.  Ford would
be the perfect one to vent his irritation on.

  "I  tied up the robbery case  yesterday while you were messing around with
that nutcase with the brown eyes."

  "I wasn't messing around with her.  I was investigating."  Nathan gave
him a sharp look.  "Make any arrests?"

  "Yep.  Bunch of punk kids.  Recovered all the merchandise, too."  Ford
lit a nonfilter cigarette and blew a stream of smoke in the air.

  Nathan gritted his teeth, inhaling the smoky aroma, mentally reminding
himself Ford was not going to egg him into smoking again.  He'd given
upthe habit.

  If he hadn't, he'd have smoked a pack this morning when I u,I he'd
woken up with the sheets tangled around him and visions of Veronica
Miller dancing around his head.

  "Great," Nathan said, standing up.  "I've got some legwork to do."

  "We're supposed to be partners," Ford said sarcastically.

  Nathan grinned.  "I know.  I made a list of places I'd like you to
check out for me."

  Ford growled.  "Listen here, you can't waltz in here and tell me what
to do."

  "Hey, we're partners, right?"  Nathan grinned and walked toward the  door.
He  planned to be waiting on Daryl Scroggins first thing so the man couldn't
put him off again.  "Besides, it's official.  Stevens wants us to check  out
Barrett Pharmaceuticals."' "At least that's a real case," Ford said.  "I saw
the paper this morning."

  "Well, get  the details,"  Nathan said.   "It's our  job to  find out  the
truth,  not  the reporters'."   He wanted  to know  exactly how  Barrett and
Gerald  Jones  knew  each  other.   Especially  since  Gerald  had  been  at
Veronica's office only two days before.

  Ford snarled and puffed his cigarette, his eyes gleaming with anger.

  Nathan didn't point out that Barrett was one of his prime suspects in
harassing Veronica.  He laughed silently.  Ford would really be pissed
if he thought he was helping him with Veronica's case.  After all, Ford
thought Veronica was crazy.

  "Good MORNnG, Louise."  Veronica stepped into her office and paused.

  "Eli, what are you doing here?"

  Eli's warm smile wasn't as bright as usual.  He gave her a hug.  "I
came to visit my goddaughter.  Anything wrong with that?"  Veronica
shook her head.  "No, of course not."

  She took a stack of messages from Louise.  "All about Barrett?"'

  Louise nodded.  "The phone's been ringing like mad.  And it's only
eight o'clock!"

  Veronica laughed and opened the door, leading Eli in.  He shoved his
hands in his pockets.  He looked tired and worried, and she suddenly
felt uneasy.

  "Something wrong, Eli?"

  She settled at her desk and motioned toward the couch.  Eli shook his
head and picked up the glass paperweight her grandmother had given her
when she'd graduated from law school.  "Eli?"

  "Oh,  yes."  He placed the  paperweight down, his shoulders straightening.

  "I came to talk to you about Gerald."

  Veronica nodded, noting the newspaper he had rolled up under his
arms.

  "This wouldn't be about Barrett Pharmaceuticals; would it?"

  Eli gave her a shaky smile.  "You're a smart girl, Veronica."' "I'm an
attorney," she said.  "And Barrett was.my client.  Everybody is
interested in that."

  "I assume you know Gerald and my mother owned stock in his company."

  Veronica nodded.  "Is this going to affect Gerald's campaign?"' "I
believe we have that covered," Eli said.  "But that's not what I want
to discuss."

  She arched an eyebrow, unable to read Eli's strange expression.  Did he
want her to handle Gerald's financial affairs with the company?  "Okay,
what is it then?"

  He settled down in the chair, looking weary.  "I know Gerald took you
to lunch the other day."

  "Yes."

  "I'm not  sure  you  and  he... well,  that  you  should--"  Eli  coughed,
struggling for words.

  "That we should What, Eli?  Work together?"  e swallowed, and Veronica
noticed the bulging vein in his throat.

  "That you should become involved."

  Her eyes widened, her temper quickly surfacing.  "In 10{3 ena Me a Hero
volved?"  She stood up, hands on hips, and glared at Eli.  "You're
telling me you don't want me to date your son?"

  "That's  right," he said quietly.  "Gerald's  in the middle of a campaign,
there's enough gossip about Barrett--" "And you think I'll have a bad effect
on  his reputation."   Veronica tried  to squelch  the hurt  building in her
chest.  She was his goddaughter and she'd trusted him.  She thought he loved
her.

  But when it came to his family, she was an outsider, someone with a
past that could hurt his precious son.

  "Don't  worry,  Eli," she  said in  a hard  voice.  "I  don't plan  to get
romantically involved with Gerald."

  "Wait, Veronica," Eli sounded desperate.  "You don't understand."' "Oh,
I understand perfectly," she Said, walking toward the door and opening
it for him.  If she'd had the slightest hope she would handle the
family's business or be a part of Eli's life, the idea had just died.

  Being her godfather had simply been a responsibility he'd carried out
for her parents' sake.  No emotional ties.

  Well, she could handle that.  She'd never had anyone to depend on but
her grandmother anyway.  "I really have work to do now, Eli."

  He frowned, his gray eyebrows knitting together.  "I'm sorry if I've
offended you, dear.  That wasn't my intention."

  "It's fine," Veronica  said, forcing  a smile.   "I'm glad  you came  by."

  But don't bother to again.

  Eli hesitated as if he wanted to say something else, then shook his
head and walked out the door.

  "ScROGGINS,  glad you could see me,"  Nathan said, pushing his way through
Scroggins's front door.

  The older man gave him a surly look and stepped into the marble
entryway.  "I didn't exactly say I could see you."

  Nathan grinned.  "Well, now I'm here, I think you can make time for
me.

  After all, you and I have a lot in common."

  "How's that?"  Scroggins asked, his frown deepening.

  Ktta llerron lO /

  "We both stand for the law.  I'm a detective and you were once the  police
chief."

  Scroggins's hand shook as he mbbed his balding head.

  I'll just take a few minutes of your time, sir," Nathan said, finding
his way through the house.

  Scroggins followed him into a den filled with fancy furniture, but
piled with magazines and ashtrays.  A bulldog growled from his post in
the corner near the stone fireplace.  "Have a seat," Scroggins said
sarcastically, pointing to the newspaper-covered sofa.

  Nathan swiped a stack of papers fo the side and lowered himself onto
the expensive furniture, aware Scroggins wanted him to hurry.  He
didn't intend to.

  "I thought I told you to let thepast alone," Scroggins said, settling
himself in a brown recliner angled toward the large-screened TV.

  "Well, sir, I'd like to do that, but it seems someone else doesn't want
to do that."

  "What are you talking about?"  Scroggins asked.

  "You know Veronica Miller?"

  He nodded.  "Course I do.  Everyone knows who she is."  Nathan winced
at his snide remark.  No wonder she was skeptical about people's
reactions.

  "I'm trying to find out who's harassing her."

  Scroggins frowned.  ,And how do you think I can help?"  Nathan
explained briefly about the intruder, Veronica's call for help, the
message on her machine, the newspaper articles.  "Someone is either out
to hurt her on-" "Or she's doing it herself," Scroggins said.

  "I  was going to say 'or they're trying to drive her crazy."  ' "Why would
someone Want to do that?"

  ,I thought you could tell me," Nathan said.  He steepled his fingers in
front of him and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.  "Tell me
about her parents and the night they died."

  "I don't  see how  that  can help."   Scroggins  huffed and  adjusted  his
recliner.

  108 Send Me a Hero "Humor me," Nathan said, aggravated at Scroggins's
lack of cooperation.

  "You investigated the case.  I suppose you knew her parents."

  Scroggins nodded, closing his eyes briefly.  "It was a sad thing.  The
Millers were nice folks.  Mrs. Miller was pretty as a peach, sweet and
good with the little girl."

  "And the father?"

  "A nice man, good lawyer.  Everyone in town respected him."

  "He didn't have any enemies, no cases pending or ones he'd lost that could
have angered someone enough to hurt him?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Did you investigate it?"  Nathan asked, growing angry.

  Scroggins patted his bulging belly.  "Look, it was a long time ago.  I
did everything I could."

  "What happened to Mr.  Miller's files?"

  Scroggins shrugged.  "Burned up in a fire couple days later."

  Nathan bit back an expletive.  "Didn't he have any backup copies?"

  Scroggins shbok his head.  "Look, we weren't so big in computers then,
it was hard to copy and store papers.  Took up too much space to keep
extras."

  "Didn't you think the fire was a little suspicious?"  "Maybe."

  Scroggins rolled a cigar between his fingers.  "But there wasn't
anything I could do about it.  Hell, I knew everyone in town---didn't
know a soul who'd hurt Miller and his wife.  Had to be a
murder-suicide."  Scroggins heaved a breath, then continued.  "At
first, the grandma wanted me to keep investigating, then she changed
her mind.  She was glad I closed the case, said she didn't want the
child dragged through any more trauma."

  Nathan narrowed his eyes at Scroggins.  "Look, you were a cop, for
God's sakes."  The man said nothing, and Nathan paused, realizing
Scroggins must have a strong connection to the townspeople.  Had he
given up so easily because he'd been afraid he might step on someone's
toes?  "How about the Millers?  Did they have a happy marriage?"

  "Had a  squabble or  two like  most married  folks.  Mostly  little  petty
things."  Scroggins paused as if remembering.  "Except for that night.

  It was a terrible one."

  "If  no one was there,  how did you know  about the fight?"  Nathan asked.

  Scroggins scratched his head.  "Well, Ms. Trudy, woman who lived a
couple houses down, had set out to carry the Millers some fresh jelly
she'd made.  Drove up and heard the fight.  She got scared, rushed home
arid called."

  "Do you know what prompted the argument?"

  Scroggins shook his head.  "Don't know.  Little girl's the only one
that knows that."

  Or the murderer.  Veronica has amnesia.  "Veronica says someone else
was there.  She sees a shadow in her dreams."

  The old man's eyebrows arched, the wrinkles beside his eyes drawing out
in thin lines.  "She was just a kid, Dawson.  Poor little thing was
traumatized.  Why, she was in shock when they carded her to the
hospita!.  Took her a few weeks before they could even get her to
talk."

  Nathan's gut clenched.  This was getting him nowhere.  "And you called
the case a murder-suicide.  What did you base that on?"

  "Wasn't nothing else I could do,"  Scroggins said, lighting his cigar  and
glaring  at  Nathan as  if he  dared him  to argue.   "Weren't no witnesses.
House was a mess, furniture overturned, lamps broken.  Ms. Trudy claimed she
heard  the Millers screaming at each other.   By the time we got there, they
were both dead."

  "And Veronica?"

  "She was sitting 'side the bodies.  Covered in blood.  Had the danged
bloody knife in her hands."

  Exactly the way he'd seen her the first time.  Nathan chewed his lip in
thought.  "I read the articles.  Someone suggested Veronica might have
murdered her parents?"

  1 lO 5end Me a Hero "Yeah, but I couldn't go with that.  She was just a
little bitty thing.

  I don't think she could have done it."

  Nathan agreed.  But still...if someone was there and she'd seen them,
and that person knew she was a witness... "Was there a suicide note?"

  "Nope.  That worded me."  Scroggins blew out a puff of smoke.  "I  figured
it  must have been a crime of passion.  Man stabbed the woman in anger, then
couldn't stand himself for killing his wife so he killed himself."

  "Makes sense," Nathan said, knowing it was possible.  Domestic violence
cases were more frequent than he'd ever dreamed.

  "Would you  mind if  I looked  over  your file  on the  case?"   Scroggins
snapped  his  head up.   "What you  want that  for?"  "I  wanted to  do some
checking on my own."  Maybe he would find out why Scroggins was so reluctant
to help him, too.

  "Look, Dawson.  I know you want to protect the Miller woman.  But have
you considered the fact she's doing all this to get attention?"

  Scroggins scraped his fingernails up and down the chair.  "It was
common knowledge she had some emotional problems after her parents
died.  Her grandmother took her away, but I heard she had to see one of
them psychiatrists.  Even heard one time she tried to commit suicide
when she was a teenager.  Took some sleeping pills or something."

  Nathan hadn't heard that.  He remembered her wrist wound and heating
the paramedics asking her if she'd cut herself on purpose.  Then he
remembered how vulnerable and afraid she'd looked the night she'd
called them, and he couldn't bring himself to believe she'd done that
to herself.  But if it were true, he would find out.

  And if Scroggins was holding something back, he would find that out,
too.  "Thanks for your time," he said in a clipped voice.  Then he
strode out the door, slamming it behind him.  Back in his car, he
headed toward the precinct.  Maybe Ford Rtta lterron 111 had something
on Barrett.  He picked up the phone and dialed Sherry.  "Hey, Sherry.

  It's Nathan."

  "Hey, sugar.  What's up?"

  "Got anything on that voice print on the Miller tape?"

  "Yeah;  but  we couldn't  tell  if it  was  a man  or  a woman's.   It was
computerized."

  "How about the results from that knife?"

  Sherry paused.  He knew she was consulting the computer database.

  "Only one  blood  type  identified.   Ms. Miller's.   Oh,  and  there  was
evidence  of a sleelinducing drug in her system."' · "Hell."  Nathan stopped
at a red light and tapped his  hand impatiently on the steering wheel.   "No
other blood?  DNA?"

  He heard Sherry snap a piece of gum in her mouth.  "DNA tests indicate
the possibility of another person's blood on the knife, but the tests
are inconclusive."

  Nathan silently cursed, contemplating his next move.  Veronica had been
certain she'd cut the intruder's arm.  Back to square one.  "I need you
to run another check for me."  "Okay, what is it this time?"

  "I'd  like a list of all the  townspeople who lived in Oakland at the time
of the Miller murder-suicide."

  "That'll take some time."

  "I know, but it could be important."  Nathan hesitated, a frisson of guilt
shivering  up his spine.  "Pull up anything you can find on Veronica Miller.
I need to know everything about her life after she moved to Florida with her
grandmother."   He  paused  again.   "And,  Sherry,  she's  had  some.  some
emotional problems.  Find out the names of any psychiatrists she's seen over
the years."

  As he hung up, a knot of apprehension tightened his stomach.

  Veronica's face flashed into his mind.  He wanted her, and he wanted to
believe her.  But he had a job to do.  And he had to know the truth,
even if it killed him.

  AFTER AVOIDING the media all day and finishing her paper' work,
Veronica hurried home, needing to be in the sanctuary

  112 Send Me a Hero of her own apartment where she was safe from the
questions and phone calls about Barrett.  And where she could nurse her
hurt over Eli's rejection.

  Working all day was really a blessing--she'd been too busy to think
about Nathan Dawson and the strange feelings he evoked in her.  She'd
been too busy to worry about the threatening phone call the day
before.

  She was grateful she'd had Louise call a locksmith to have the locks
changed for her.  She kicked off her shoes as she entered and started
undoing her blouse, peeling the silky fabric away as she made her way
to her bedroom.  A jog would help ease her tension.

  Maybe four or five miles.

  She would jog until she dropped from exhaustion, both physically and
mentally.  The faint scent of a man's cologne made her pause but she
dismissed it, thinking it must be the potpourri she'd put in the
bathroom.  Or maybe Nathan's lingering scent.  She tossed her blouse
onto the bed, shimmied out of her skirt and dropped it to the floor,
then reached for her hose.  But out of the corner of her eye, she
spotted something odd.  Slowly she glanced up, caught sight of the
mirror and gasped.

  Someone had been in her apartment.  Again.  And this time they'd
written all over her mirror in bright red lipstick: "Leave the past
alone.  Bury it or you'll be buried alive."  Veronica's legs wobbled as
she sank onto the bed and reached for the phone.  She considered
dialing 911, but instead grabbed Nathan's card off her dresser and
punched in his number.

  "Hello?"   His  husky  voice  calmed her  immediately.   "Nathan,  this is
Veronica."  "Yeah?"

  She heard her own shaky breath and tried to find her voice.  "Veronica,
what's wrong?"

  She shuddered.  "Someone...someone broke in...can you--' ' "I'll be
right there, Veronica.  And don't touch anything.  I'm on my way."

  Rita Herron 113

  Seconds dragged into torturous minutes as she waited for Nathan to
arrive.  Veronica twined her hands and rocked herself back and forth,
then jumped when a pounding sounded at the door.  Wrapping her robe
tightly around her, she stumbled to answer it.

  "Veronica, it's me.  Open up!"  Nathan yelled.

  She swung open the door and stared at him, her heart pounding at the
look of concern on his face.

  "Are you okay?"  he asked, gripping her  by the arms and checking her  all
over.

  "I  am now," she whispered.  The/t she fell into his arms and sank against
him.

  Chapter Eight With one arm still around Veronica, Nathan closed the
door.  "Shh, it's okay," he muttered softly as he stroked her trembling
body and felt her chest heave against his.  His own breathing was
erratic, his pulse racing, his mind still trying to erase the fear that
had jolted through him when she'd called.  On the way over to her
apartment, he'd envisioned a number of disturbing scenarios, and to see
her now and know she was all right sent a wave of relief rushing
through him.

  She was a gutsy woman or she could never have become an attorney, but
she felt small and fragile in his arms, and anger burned through his
veins at the thought of someone terrifying her.  In the back of his
mind, the evidence was piling up.  Scroggins's information taunted
him--as a child she'd had to see a psychiatrist; as a teenager, she'd
taken sleeping pills and tried to commit suicide; then when the blood
tests came back on the bloody knife from the attack, there had been a
sleep-inducing drug in her system.

  Damn.  She didn't look emotionally disturbed.  She looked beautiful and
sexy as hell.  Her long ebony hair fell in silky strands that tempted
him beyond reason.  She smelled like peaches and soap, and some womanly
scent all her own that was as intoxicating as an aphrodisiac.

  Questions needled him.  He could be wrong about her.  But he shoved the
thought aside.  It felt too right to hold her, too perfect to have her
snuggle against him as if he were her Rita Herron 113 savior.  You
couldn't save your partner, and he died because he trusted the wrong
person.  And you almost died trying to help him.  What if you can't
save her?  Your heart is at stake here.  Will you die trying?

  He loosened his hold and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping
to soothe the tension from her stiff muscles and get his own irrational
emotions under control.  Her body felt so welcoming and his own reacted
as a man to a lover's, not as a cop to a woman in distress.

  And if you're sloppy because you're involved with her and someone is
trying to hurt her, you could cost her her life.  The thought sobered
him immediately.

  "Thanks for coming," Veronica said softly,  raising her dark eyes to  look
into  his.  The fear and vulnerability  trapped him, held him ostage, and he
watched with admiration  as she  made a valiant  attempt to  gather her  own
composure.   He  wanted to  make love  to  her.  Now,  more than  ever.  Not
because she  was afraid,  but because  she didn't  want him  to see  it.   ·
Instead  he reminded himself that if he finished this case, he would be done
with Veronica.  And more  thanlikely she wouldn't want  anything to do  with
him.   They'd met under such  stressful circumstances that they'd connected.
But could it last?

  He tilted her chin up and stroked her jaw with the pad of his thumb.

  "You want to show me what they did this time?"

  The slight nod of her head was her only answer.  He released her and
took a deep, calming breath while she led him to her bedroom to see the
violence someone had inflicted upon hen-the most primal part of him
wished she were leading him to her bed instead.  The soft sway of her
curves beneath the satin robe drew his eye, but he forced himself to
scan the room, his gaze finally resting murderously on the message
written on her mirror.

  "Son of a--" he muttered,  striding over to examine the  lipstick-scrawled
words.

  "I don't know how they got in," Veronica said, hugging her arms around
her.  "I had the locks changed today."

  110

  When he glanced at her, an unsettling thought hit him in the gut.  He'd
never seen a more innocent-looking face.  But as he studied the
writing, something nagged at him.  He'd seen Veronica's signature on
her client list.  The person who wrote the damning message dotted their
is with an open circle just like Veronica.

  She smiled slightly and lowered her hands by her sides.  He jerked his
gaze away.  "Who changed the locks?"

  "I don't know.  I had my secretary call and set it up."  "Louise, the
woman I met?"

  "Yes," Veronica said.  "I was in a meeting all afternoon.  She met the
locksmith, then brought me the new keys."

  Nathan frowned and pointed to the mirror.  "You didn't touch it?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "No, I went straight to the phone and called
you."

  He met her gaze and saw his own need and desire reflected in her
turbulent eyes.  She ran her tongue over her lips and combed her
fingers through her hair.  Her hand was trembling.

  He turned away and picked up the phone.  "Ford, I need some
assistance."

  He briefly explained about the threatening message.

  "You want us to do what?"  Ford growled.

  "Fingerprint Ms.  Miller's apartment."

  "The woman probably wrote the threat herself," Ford said.  "You're wasting
the department's  time.  When  are  you going  to  quit thinking  with  your
hormones?"

  Nathan reined in the curse word on the tip of his tongue.  Hadn't he
told his former partner, Rick, the same thing?  But Rick hadn't
listened.  And now he understood why.  Rick had been just as mesmerized
by that girl, Melissa, as he was by Veronica.  Rick had made a fatal
mistake in trusting a suspect.  Was he falling into the same trap?

  And whether he liked it or not, somehow he and Ford had to learn to
work together.

  "You  know if you'd stop running  every time that woman called, she'd quit
pulling these pranks," Ford said snidely.

  Rita Herron 117

  "Just do  it," Nathan  snapped.  "And  don't take  all day  about  getting
here."  He slammed down the phone, then glanced up and saw Veronica watching
him, her expression unreadable.

  "Thank you for checking into this," she said quietly.

  "I'm going to find out who's doing this," Nathan said.  Even if it's  you.

  But deep down, he couldn't believe it was.  Then he thought about
Scroggins and what he'd said about Veronica's father's files being
burned after his death.  Tlee coincidence was too neat and tidy to be a
coincidence.  And he already had two suspects with motives to threaten
hen-Veronica's old boyfriend and Wayne Barrett.  Maybe she was an
innocent pawn in someone else's twisted game.  Maybe she really did
need his protection.  He'd be a fool not to listen to his own
instincts.  "I'd like to talk to your secretary," he said,
hesitating.

  "Sure."   Veronica  dialed  Louise's home  phone  and explained  about the
break-in.

  Nathan heard Louise's shriek.

  "I'm fine," Veronica said.  "But Detective  Dawson wants to ask you  about
the locksmith."

  He didn't hear Louise's reply, but Veronica handed him the handset.

  "Ms.  Falk, which locksmith company did you use?"

  "Rogers  Locksmith," she said.  "Why,  good gracious, I can't believe this
has happened.  I watched him change the locks myself."

  "And it  was just  the  two of  you?"   Nathan asked.   "Well..."   Louise
hedged.  "I mean there are other people who work for the man's company,
but he was by himself at Veronica's."

  "It's  strange," Nathan said.  "Veronica's  apartment has been broken into
twice, and  there was  no  sign of  forced entry.   It's  almost as  if  the
intruder had a key."

  "I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  Louise  said,  sounding slightly
defensive.  "I only phoned the man, Mr.  Dawson."

  Nathan paused at her haughty tone.  Could Louise be involved?  What
motive would she possibly have?  He shook 118 Send Me a Hero himself
from his thoughts, remembering how upset Louise had been when Veronica
had received the music box.  He heard the doorbell and hung up.

  Veronica let Ford and a young, uniformed officer in.  He saw the wide
frown Ford gave Veronica and noticed her posture go rigid in defense.

  He wondered what kind of lawyer, she was, probably pretty forbidding if
her dark eyes were angry instead of frightened.  When she met his gaze,
he almost smiled at the display of bravado she showed his partner.  She
was used to dealing with people like Ford.  She wasn't going to let him
intimidate her.  Good.

  "Make it quick," he heard Ford tell the young officer as he began  dusting
the  mirror.  Ford put on  his own gloves and  began combing the place.  "Is
there anything missing, Ms. Miller?"' "I don't think so."

  "Why don't you look around?"  Nathan suggested.  Veronica started to  pick
up some books off the table.

  "Don't touch anything, just check and see if anything's been stolen,"
Ford said.

  Nathan glared at Ford.  "I'll walk with you, Veronica."  She nodded and
walked through the kitchen, then the bathroom and the den.  Her gaze
rested on an antique mahogany desk in the corner.  "It looks like
someone's been through my desk."

  Nathan studied the sleek wood and the modem computer, the closed
drawers.  It looked neat to him, definitely not as if it had been
ransacked.  "Why do you think that?"

  "My  disks  have been  moved,"  she said.   "I  keep them  in alphabetical
order."  She pointed to the  file box.  Some of  the disks were upside  down
and they definitely weren't in any order.

  "They're also color coded according to the files I'm working on at the
present----completed files, cases pending.  See, they're all
jumbled."

  Nathan motioned to Ford.  "Dust this case inside and out.  If there's
anybody else's fingerprints on them, I want to know.  ' '

  Ktta Herron 11

  Ford grumbled but followed his instructions.  Nathan noticed Veronica's
pale face.  She looked tired and weary, and suddenly he wanted to see
her away from this apartment, and away from her office, where she
wouldn't be so strained.

  "How  about we  go get  a bite  to eat?  Chinese  sound good?"   A look of
surprise crossed her face as her eyes met his.  "There's something I want to
talk  to you about," he said, realizing  he was making up an excuse to spend
more time with her.

  "The case?"  ' Nathan nodded.  Oh, well, he thouglt as she went to  change
clothes, the case was as good an excuse as any.

  "I NEED TO STOP by my place and get my wallet," Nathan said when they
were in the car.  Veronica nodded, and he drove the short distance in
silence.  "Come on in.  I want to check my messages."

  As soon as they entered, Nathan regretted the decision to invite her
in.  His place was a mess.  His black lab greeted them by thumping his
tail on the floor and whining for food.  "Hey, there, Chocolate," he
said, stroking his head.

  "Pretty  dog," Veronica said, petting his back.  The dog nuzzled her hand,
flopped onto the floor and rolled over with his legs sprawled.

  "He wants you to scratch his belly," Nathan said.

  She laughed and knelt down, then rubbed Chocolate's stomach.  His tail
thumped in response.

  "Sorry the place is such a mess.  I haven't been here much lately."  He
grabbed clothes and newspapers and shoved aside an empty can of dog
food as he tried to clear a path to the sofa.

  He saw Veronica take in the sparse furnishings, the tattered,
out-of-date sofa, the socks balled up on the floor.  "Looks like you
need a housekeeper," she said.

  Their gazes locked.  Nathan grinned.  "I need more than that."

  He saw the hesitation in her eyes and wished he could re aena Me a nero
tract his statement.  "I'll check my messages and get my wallet,'' he
said quickly, and left the room.  He returned to find Veronica staring
at a photo of his parents.

  "They died a few years ago," he said quietly.  "A car wreck."

  "No brothers or sisters?"

  "Nope, just me."

  She placed the  photo back  on the  scarred-pine end  table.  "I'm  sorry.

  I know how that can be."

  Feeling uneasy at the sympathy brimming in her eyes, he motioned her to
the door.  "Come on, let's go eat."

  As they drove to the restaurant, Veronica watched the buzz of cars rush
by, heard the sound of horns and engines.  She imagined what her life
would be like without the chaos she'd encountered since she'd arrived
in Oakland.  In Florida, she'd felt some semblance of being a normal,
respected attorney.  There, no one knew about her past.

  Here, she felt like one of the yellow traffic lights that were now
blinking and blowing in the wind, warning people to approach with
caution.  Perhaps she should forget her search into her past.  Perhaps
she should go back to Florida.

  And to Ron.  Where everything was safe.

  She stared at Nathan's strong, chiseled profile, and a sliver of desire
curled low in her belly.  She could still feel the imprint of his touch
when he'd held her.  His strong masculine scent invaded her senses,
reminding her that he was a man of action and power, not one who wanted
to impress people.  An honest man, one who protected and served the
people, one who put his own life on the line for the sake of the
town.

  How could she ever go back to Ron after knowing Nathan?  And how could
she leave Oakland without confronting the very past she'd been running
from all her life?

  "I  hope you like spicy food,"  Nathan said, pulling into the parking lot.
"The Kung Pau chicken is delicious."

  "Sounds great."   Veronica wet  her  lips with  her  tongue, a  shiver  of
excitement  skittering up her  spine as she noticed  him watch the movement.
He put the car in Park and  turned to her, his silent perusal straining  her
already-taut nerves.  "What?"  she finally asked.

  He shook his head.  The look of need she'd seen a few minutes earlier
disappeared, and she wondered if she'd imagined it.  "Nothing.  Let's
go."

  A few minutes later they were seated in the dimly lit oriental parlor
where Chinese lanterns and fans adorned the walls.  A huge aquarium
filled with colorful fish kept small children entertained while they
waited for their food, and soft oriental music played in the
background.  Veronica relaxed and studied the menu.

  "Let's share a couple of entrees," Nathan said.

  Let's share more.  She bit her lip, shocked at her own thoughts.

  "Sure.  The Kung Pau chicken and what else?"  "You choose."

  Veronica smiled.  "Snow pea shrimp."

  Nathan closed the menu.  "Sounds great."  The.  walter approached to
take their order.

  "Egg rolls?"  he asked.

  "Of course," Veronica said.  "And sweet and sour soup."  "Egg drop soup
for me," Nathan said.  "Wine, sir?"

  Nathan arched an eyebrow.

  "I'd like a glass of Chablis," Veronica said.

  "The  same  for me."   He  grinned.  "Well,  it  seems we  have compatible
appetites."

  "Looks that way."  She patted her stomach.  "And I'm starving."

  Nathan's gaze raked over her attire, lingering for a long moment on her
casual silk T-shirt, then sweeping up her neck to focus on her mouth.

  Veronica cleared her throat, a blush creeping up her cheeks.  "I meant
I was hungry for food."

  He leaned back in the chair and broke into laughter.  The rich, deep
sound filled Veronica with a heady sense of power.  He covered her hand
with his, and she stared at the rough, oena Me a rlero callused skin
and golden hair covering his knuckles, then glanced back up at his
face.  His laughter died, but a slow lopsided smile curved on his lips
that was so sexy she was tempted to reach out and trace his mouth with
her fingers.

  Instead, he turned her hand over so he could look at her palm.  "Tell
me about yourself," he said quietly.

  Veronica tensed, and he gently traced circles in the center of her palm
with his finger.  "You already know everything."

  He paused, tilted her face to his and smiled with a gentleness that
contrasted sharply with his hard features.  The tender gleam in his
eyes filled her heart with mushy thoughts she knew she shouldn't be
thinking.

  "I know some of your past," he said in a low voice.  "But tell me about
living with your grandmother.  Tell me about school and why you decided
to be an attorney.  Tell me what you like to do---besides work."

  "Oh."

  "Relax, Veronica.   This isn't  an inquisition."   He squeezed  her  hand.

  The warm sincerity in his touch only heated her desire for more.  "I'd
like to know you--the Veronica that isn't being taunted by
some.lunatic."

  She forced a smile, grateful the waiter interrupted with wine and their
egg roils and soup.  Reluctantly she pulled out of Nathan's hand to
take a sip of her wine.

  "Well, my grandmother was a sweet woman, a little old-fashioned."

  "That must have made it hard when you were a teenager?"  "What?"

  Veronica suddenly wondered if this was an inquisition.  She had too
many secrets to hide, too many things she wasn't proud of.

  "I figured she was strict, you know, about dating."

  "Oh, yeah.  She was.  But she was fair."

  "She was good to you?"  He wiped a drop of soup from the corner of his
mouth, and Veronica shuddered inside.

  "Yes, she was great.  She encouraged me to...to see a cOunselor when I
was little."

  Nathan paused, his spoon near his mouth.  "Did that help?"

  Rita Herron 123

  She avoided his probing stare.  "Some, I guess.  The nightmares went
away for a while.  Then I got involved in school activities and things
were better."

  "Let me guess--cheerleader?"

  Veronica laughed, "Hardly.  I was on the swim team."  "Wow, I'm
impressed."

  "You should be.  I beat Ray Winterbottom every time."  "Who was he?

  Your boyfriend?"

  "No way.  He was a computer genius."  She smiled and sipped some more
wine.  "Probably a millionaire by now."

  Nathan grew silent and Veronicafwondered if she'd said something
wrong.

  "And what about law school?"

  "Easy," she said.  "I wanted to be like my dad."

  The sudden silence between them was filled with tension.  "I can't get
away from it," Veronica finally said.  "I have to face it so I can go
on."

  "Is that why you came back to Oakland?"

  "Yes.  I've always had the nightmares.  But when my grandmother died,
it was like it was all happening again.  That feeling of losing someone
I had to come back."

  The waiter interrupted and brought their entrees.  Nathan took a bite,
then sighed.  "I talked to Scroggins, the officer in charge of your
parents' case."

  Her fingers tightened on her fork.  "What did he say?"  "Not much."

  Nathan chewed another biteful of food.  "I wondered if all this might
be connected to your father's death.  Perhaps a case he'd worked on.

  So I asked him about your dad's files.  There weren't any backups."

  "I figured as much."  Veronica's mind started spinning.  "Do you really
think all this might be connected to one of Dad's cases?"

  Nathan shrugged.  "I don't know.  So far, none of your cases from
Florida show anything suspicious.  I'd say right now we've got three
possibilities.  Your old boyfriend--" "It's not Ron," Veronica said
matter-offactly.  Nathan arched an eyebrow and frowned.

  124 Send Me a Hero "I really don't think it is, but go on."

  "Barrett?"

  "That's  possible," she conceded.  "Although if he's doing it for revenge,
it's a pretty intricate plan.  Even with what he lost, the man did get  away
with a sizable amount of money."

  "You're right," Nathan said.  "But revenge is a strong motivation for a
lot of people."

  "Okay, any other theories?"

  "Maybe we should pursue your dad's old cases.  Only problem is we don't
have his files."

  Veronica snapped her fingers.  "No, we don't.  But I do have a couple
of boxes of memorabilia my grandma saved for me.

  There might be something in there."  "Where are the boxes?"  "At my
apartment."

  "And you know what's inside?"

  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that she might have hit on
something to help.  "I've never opened them."

  Nathan tossed back his wine and held out his hand.  "Feel like taking a
look?"

  Veronica smiled and summoned her courage.  She'd come to Oakland to
deal with her past.  The odd circumstances surrounding her had
frightened her, but she was tired of being scared and alone.  It was
time for her to take control of her life.

  Nathan seemed like a man she could trust, at least with her past.  But
with her future, she wasn't sure.  She'd have to be careful not to fall
for him, to guard her heart as she always had.  He was a man who lived
with danger every day, a man who was too experienced for her, a man who
would move on when her case was over.  If she got too close to him,
he'd break her heart.

  Besides, even if there was nothing in the boxes to help find her
father's killer or discover who was threatening her, going through the
boxes might help her move on with her life.  She accepted Nathan's
outstretched hand and twined her fingers with his, just as the waiter
brought their fortune cookies.  "I guess it's about time."

  He released her hand and broke open his fortune cookie.

  Veronica did the same, pausing when Nathan chuckled.  "What does it
say?"  she asked.

  He grinned and kissed her fingertips.  "It says romance is at your
fingertips.  How about yours?"

  Veronica tensed as she unfolded the slip of paper.  She instantly
refolded it and started to stuff it in her pocket.  "Hey, let's see,"
he said, taking it from her.  He eased the paper open and read aloud,
"Honesty is the key ¢o obtaining trust."

  ON THE DRIVE HOME, Nathan tried to divert his eyes from Veronica and
how tempting she looked in that sexy bit of a top and the way it clung
to her breasts.  And he tried to forget how nervous the fortune cookie
had made her.  Was she nervous because she was keeping something from
him?  Glancing into the rearview mirror, he noticed a dark sedan behind
them.  Were they being followed?

  He made a quick turn at the red light to see."The sedan turned also.

  He tried to make out the driver, but the windows were tinted and the
sedan stayed just far enough behind them that he couldn't get a make on
the car.  He eased up to a stop sign and flipped on his left turn
indicator.

  The driver slowed and flipped on his turn signal.  Nathan gritted his
teeth.  He was growing tired of the game.  Speeding up, he pulled into
the other lane and soared through a red light.  The car turned at the
stop light and he left it behind.

  "Was that car following us?"  Veronica asked.

  "I'm  not sure.  I thought so."  Nathan ran a hand over his face, deciding
he must be paranoid, then mentally ticked off the things he needed to do  on
the  investigation.  Follow up  with the man in  Florida he'd asked to check
out Ron Cox.  Follow up on Barrett's whereabouts.

  Find out whose, if any, fingerprints turned up in Veronica's apartment,
check with the locksmith Louise Falk had used.  He paused as a thought
struck him.  Perhaps he should also check up on Louise Falk.  After
bencl Me a Hero all, she had had access to Veronica's keys.  And as her
secretary, she could get to her files.  Except the ones she kept at
home.  Unless those were only backup disks and she had the information
on her hard drive at work.  Hmm.  Something to think about.

  And find out what connection Gerald Jones had to Barrett.  Come to
think of it, he'd seen Gerald talking to Louise at the party at Eli's
that night.

  "Thanks for dinner," Veronica said, breaking into his thoughts.

  "It was great," Nathan said as he pulled into her complex.  He stopped
and faced her.  "You really want to go through those boxes?"

  "Yes."  She smiled, and he remembered  the picture of her standing at  her
parents'  graveside.   She was  a  courageous woman.   He couldn't  begin to
imagine what her life had been like.

  "Do you want me to leave?"

  She shook her head.  "I know you've heard a lot of things about me, so
if there is something in there about my father's work, I want you to
see it."

  Nathan's throat closed.  He wanted to believe her so badly he ached.

  "Then let's go."

  Veronica opened the door and they walked silently to her apartment.

  "You know,  when I  first  moved here  I couldn't  get  used to  the  cool
weather.  Most of the leaves had already fallen to the ground."

  Nathan laughed.  "I guess it is a switch from Florida."  "But now I
like the idea of a change in seasons."  She stopped and stared at the
bare trees.  "It looks so desolate without the leaves.  But when spring
comes and the flowers bloom, it must be beautiful."

  A soft breeze picked up the strands of her hair and tossed them around
her face.  Nathan slowly reached out and moved them back, tucking them
behind her ear, certain he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

  "Spring  is beautiful," he said quietly,  realizing this year would be the
first time she would Rita Herron  127 experience the magnificent season  and
remember  it.  He imagined her standing underneath a blossoming dogwood tree
With its dainty white buds showering around her.

  Looking through her father's things would be hard for her.  He only
hoped he could be around when spring finally came for her.

  WHILE VERONICA unlocked her apartment door, ey heard the phone
ringing.

  By the time they entered, the answering machine had clicked on and he
heard a man's agitated voice.  "Veronica, this is Ron.  I really wis
you were home."

  She bit her lip and he stood behind her, watching her reaction.

  The man continued in a rush, his voice growing more and more
irritated.

  "I don't know why you haven't returned any of my calls, but I want to
talk to you.  It's been eight weeks now.  For all I know, you could
have fallen off the face of the--" Veronica clicked off the machine,
grabbed the ,phone and turned away from him.  "I'm here, Ron."  'She
sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

  "I'm sorry.  I haven't called, but my schedule's been crazy and I had
to get settled and..."

  She rattled on with excuses, and Nathan folded his arms, wondering what
Ron was saying on the other end of the line.

  "No, don't come here," she said.  "Listen, Ron, I really can't talk  now."

  A long pause followed.  Veronica lowered her voice.

  "Yes."  She glanced at him nervously.  "It's business, Ron.  Can I call
you back?"

  Business, huh ?  He had a feeling they both knew there was more than
business going on between the two of them.

  "Okay,  tell Mr. Raddison I'll give him  a call."  She hung up and brushed
her hands down her skirt.

  "Who's Raddison?"

  "He's one of the men I  represent in the retirement community.  He  thinks
someone's trying to scam them."

  "Sounds like a job for the police."

  128 Send Me a Hero "I'll talk to them tomorrow.  I can't let those
older people suffer."

  Nathan thought of her grandmother and how much Veronica must miss
her.

  "If I can do anything to help, let me know."  "Thanks."

  He frowned.  "So, is Cox coming here?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "I don't think so."  She turned, obviously
avoiding the issue.  "I'll find those boxes."

  Nathan nodded.  He halfway hoped Cox would show up.  He'd like to talk
to the man himself.  And if he had anything to do with the threats on
Veronica, he would do a whole lot more than talk.

  Chapter Nine

  Veronica dragged three boxes into the living room and knelt beside
them.  The plain brown boxes were sealed with shipping tape,
nondescript in every way.  But they held precious fragments of a life
she remembered nothing about.

  "I understand why I blocked out that night," she said, as she cut open
the tape.  "But I still don't know why I can't recall the earlier
years.

  There must be some happy memories there, too."

  "Who  knows?"  Nathan lowered himself  beside her, then squeezed her hand.

  Veronica gazed into his eyes and accepted the strength he offered.

  "Maybe you'll find out when you look inside."

  She wondered if it were possible.  She'd hoped seeing the old house
would trigger her memory, but it had only given her the creeps, just as
the music box had.  What if the same thing happened when she opened the
box of keepsakes?  What if she found something to confirm the fact that
she was responsible for her parents' deaths?

  She released Nathan's hand, but hers shook so badly he took the
scissors from her and opened the boxes himself.  When he finished he
placed his hands on his knees and waited.  "Take your time, Veronica.

  It's okay," he said quietly.

  Veronica lifted the sheets of tissue paper covering the contents and
looked inside.  The first box had a family picture on top.  She pulled
it out and examined the faces.  Her mother had 130 Send Me a Hero been
a beautiful woman.  She had Veronica's same dark hair and slender build
with porcelain skin, a dainty nose and brown eyes.  Her father was
handsome, with light brown hair, a mustache and hazel eyes that held a
commanding look.  His nose was prominent and his jaw wide.  He'd been a
tall man, almost overshadowing her mother's small frame.  She favored
her mother more than her father.

  She was wearing a frilly blue dress and was sitting in her father's
lap.  Her mother stood behind them with her hand on her dad's
shoulder.

  It amazed her that she could see the three of them together, but she
had no recollection of posing for the picture.

  "They were handsome people," Nathan said,  brushing a strand of hair  from
her face.  "You're beautiful, just like your mother."

  Veronica nodded solemnly.  She'd almost forgotten he was there.

  Next she pulled out a small, worn teddy bear and a raggedy green
blanket.  "These must have been mine when I was lit-tie."

  Nathan laughed softly.  "Your security blanket.  Looks like you wore it
out."

  Smiling, she stroked the bear and blanket, then laid them down and drew
out a long white christening gown.  She admired the intricate lace and
embroidery design across the front.  "It's beautiful.  I wonder if my
mom embroidered it.  Grandma said she liked to sew."

  Nathan gave her an encouraging look and she pulled out a rattle, a
scrapbook and a journal that had belonged to her grandmother.  She
opened the scrapbook and saw dozens of pictures of her and her
parents.

  Some were of her as a baby, then a toddler at a birthday party they'd
planned for her.  A few pages had blank, faded spots as if photos had
been removed.  Veronica wondered who had taken the pictures out and
why.

  "You  were chubby when  you were little," Nathan  said in a teasing voice.

  Rita Herron 131

  "Well, it's no wonder.  Look at that cake," she said with a smile.

  "It's huge."

  Nathan took out a small bronzed baby shoe and traced his fingers over
it.  "You had tiny feet though."

  Veronica laughed, her heart squeezing at the sight of the baby shoe.

  She'd never really thought about having children of her own, but seeing
the precious baby mementos brought a vision of a little boy to mind; a
little boy with sandy blond hair and eyes a deep amber.

  She stared at Nathan, surprised at her thoughts, and their gazes
locked.  A slow smile spread onrhis face and she wondered if he had
ever thought about having children.  He was kind and strong and
protective, but gentle; he would make a wonderful father.

  But Nathan would leave the minute they solved the case.  He was
interested in her story, but that didn't mean he would ever fall in
love with her.

  She flipped through the box and noticed a phott)graph of her parents on
their wedding day.

  "She made a beautiful bride," Nathan said, his voice husky.  Veronica
pictured herself standing in a long white gown with a lacy veil and a
handsome man on her arm.  Nathan.  His breath feathered against her
cheek 'and She realized he'd dropped a kiss into her hair.  She leaned
against him and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fantasize about
belonging to him.  His lips pressed gently along the colunm of her neck
and she shivered.  He moved his hands to her waist and paused, leaning
with his face buried against her hair.  For a brief moment she forgot
the horrors of her childhood, the trouble that had happened since she'd
moved to Oakland.  Then he pulled away, and the sweet moment was
broken.

  "They had  a small  wedding,"  Nathan commented.   She studied  the  other
photographs.  "That's odd."  "What?"

  "My  parents were so close to Eli.  I wonder why there aren't any pictures
of him in here."

  "Hmm.  He was senator back then, wasn't he?"

  132 Send Me a Hero "Yes."

  "He probably traveled a lot."

  Veronica closed the book.  "You're right."

  "What's the other book?"

  "It's a journal of my grandmother's."  Veronica turned several pages,
feeling as if she were violating her grandmother's privacy by reading
her personal writings.

  "How did it  get in  the box with  your parent's  things?"  She  shrugged.

  "I don't know.  It was dated years ago.  It must have gotten mixed in
when we moved to Florida.  I'll read it later."

  "What's in the second box?"  Nathan asked.

  "Looks like a few of my mom's things."  She opened a decorative flower
box containing a corsage.  "She wore this on her wedding day."  Next
she dragged out an exquisite wedding gown, trimmed in tiny pearl
buttons and lace.  Veronica's eyes teared at the sight.  Every girl
dreamed of marriage and having their mother there.  She would never
know that as a reality.  She touched the slippery satin to her cheek,
then quickly wrapped the gown back in its covering before she could
become too emotional.  When she glanced up, Nathan was watching her
with a strange expression in his eyes, a combination of heat and desire
and something else: yearning.  Veronica smiled and he smiled back,
reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek.  Embarrassed, she lowered
her head.

  The wedding guest book was next.  She skimmed over the names, again
surprised Eli wasn't there.  Perhaps their friendship developed after
they were married.  Oddly enough though, she noticed Eli's mother's
name, Alma Jones.  And Arlene Baits, the doctor who had treated
Veronica at the hospital.

  She thought back to how nervous the woman had seemed when she'd
discovered Veronica's identity.  Maybe she would go back and talk with
her.

  "Hey,  this  looks  like  a  date book,"  Nathan  said,  sounding suddenly
businesslike as he searched the other  box.  She glanced over his  shoulder.

  "It was my father's."

  Klta rlerron lJJ Nathan flipped through the pages.  "Do you mind if I
take it and look it over?"

  Veronica shook her head and he continued to study the small book.  She
extracted a gold sealed envelope and opened it.  It held her parents'
marriage certificate and her birth certificate.  She'd been born on
May' 7 at Oakland Community Hospital, weighed seven pounds and eight
ounces, and had been nineteen inches long.  She traced her finger along
her parents' marriage certificate, pausing when she noticed the date of
their marriage.  Her parents hadn't been married until December 1. That
meant her mothffr was already pregnant when they got married.

  Swallowing her surprise, she quickly stuffed the certificate back in
the envelope before Nathan could see it.  She had enough of her past to
be ashamed about.  She didn't want him to know that on top of
everything else, she'd been conceived out of wedlock.

  When he noticed her quickly stuff the papers away, he motioned to the
envelope.  "What's in there?"

  "It's just my birth certificate," she said softly."

  He put the date book in his pocket and stood.  Other than a pair of
bookends and an empty tape recorder, the third box was almost empty.

  "Well, I guess that's it," Veronica said, pushing up from the floor.

  "It doesn't look like we found anything to help."

  "I want to get a closer look at the appointments your father had before
he died.  It might give us a clue."  He patted his pocket where he
stuck the book and Veronica followed him to the door.  "I suppose I
should be going," he said, pausing.

  She started to speak, but clutched the doorknob, her gaze straying to
her bedroom.

  "I'll clean the lipstick off your mirror before I go," he said, as if
he'd just remembered it.

  Veronica shook her head firmly.  "No, I need to do that."  His hand
covered hers.  "Will you be all right?"  "I may sleep on the couch, but
I'll be fine."

  He lifted his hand and rubbed her chin with the pad of his 134 Send Me
a Hero thumb.  "I've got a car watching your apartment again.  I'll
make sure he's in place before I go."  She smiled shyly and nodded, her
heart thudding painfully at the concern shadowing his husky voice.

  "You need to get the locks changed again.

  And this time, you stay here while they change them."

  "I will."

  "And don't let anyone have an extra key."

  "I won't."

  He gazed into her eyes, then back at the couch, and she desperately
wanted to ask him to stay.  Instead she clamped her hand over his and
squeezed it tenderly.  He lowered his mouth and gently brushed his lips
across hers.  When he raised his face, she saw again the raw yearning
in his eyes as they darkened.

  Then remorse or some emotion that looked like uncertainty filled his
eyes, and he left, closing the door behind him.

  Veronica leaned against the door, wondering if Nathan realized how
close she'd come to begging him to stay.  Only he would have been
playing bodyguard, and she didn't want him to sleep on the couch to
protect her.  She'd never wanted anything as much as she wanted to feel
his arms around her.  She wanted him to lie in her bed and bring her to
ecstasy with his hands and mouth.

  How could she be falling in love with the man, when he was doing
nothing more than offering his comfort and expertise as a detective?

  She was going to make a fool of herself and drive away the only man
who'd ever heard her story and not gone running.

  She glanced outside, saw the blue-and-white car, then locked the door,
pushing aside thoughts of Nathan.  She stared at the boxes, still
shaken by the fact that her mother had been pregnant when she'd married
her father.  Her grandmother had told her she was premature, but that
obviously had been a lie.  What else could her grandmother have lied
about?

  She walked over and picked up the journal.  Still feeling as if she
were intruding on her grandmother's thoughts, she laid it on the end
table.

  After changing into her gown and robe, Rita Herron 135 she settled on
the couch with some tea and the book.  She took a deep breath and
opened it to the first page.

  Skimming the few pages in front, she learned her grandmother had
started the journal when her grandfather had taken ill with cancer.

  Her  grandmother  had described  her feelings  while she'd  cared for him.

  She found a section describing her grandmother's reaction to her
mother's pregnancy.  She could hear her grandmother's voice in her
writing; it was almost as if she were in the room.

  I pray she will marry the man and not make my grandchild grow up a
bastard.  Amelia is already growing heavy with the child, and unless
they marry soon, the whole town will know.  I've considered moving away
to hide' our shame, but Amelia seems to be coming around, and I've
talked with Amelia's doctor about keeping her pregnancy a secret.

  She's agreed to tell people that the baby was premature.

  Veronica closed her eyes and squeezed back tears.  Her grandmother had
considered her birth the family's shame.  She remembered the way her
grandmother had cried and taken care of her.  Had her grandmother loved
her?  Or had she only taken her in out of pity?

  Curious, she turned a few pages.

  Amelia is to be wed today.  I thank God for answering my prayers.  I
have made her wedding gown to disguise the soft mound of her belly in
hopes that no one will notice.  Her morning sickness has finally gone
and she is starting to talk about the child as if it is already
alive.

  I regret the way my daughter has behaved, but I think she will make a
wonderful'mother.  She is kind and loving and I see the way Robert
looks at her, and I know he is a good man who will provide a living for
her and the baby.

  136 Send Me a Hero Veronica wiped a tear from her eye and read on.

  Her grandmother had always told her that her mother loved her, but
somehow reading it in print made it so much more real.  She could
imagine her mother pregnant, smiling at the thought of her birth.

  As the day draws near for the baby, I am nervous.  Amelia's doctor has
taken ill and I hope the new doctor Baits will keep our secret.

  Veronica paused--Arlene Baits, the woman she'd met in the emergency
room.  Had she delivered Veronica?  Excitement made her turn the pages
faster and skim for details.

  May 7--Dr. Baits helped Amelia bring a baby girl into the world
today.

  It will be hard for people to believe she is premature since she is
such a nice healthy size, but Dr. Baits has told people Amelia would
have had a ten-pounder if she'd carried to term.  And Robert is such a
tall man that I think folks may accept the story.

  The baby is beautiful, with soft dark hair and big brown eyes.  She
reminds me of Amelia, but I think Robert is a little disappointed that
she doesn't favor him.  She may change as she gets older.  Babies do, I
told him.

  Veronica continued to read, tears slipping down her face as her
grandmother described her visits to see her, how much her mother loved
her and how proud she was her father's law practice was doing so
well.

  She skimmed over her early childhood, forcing herself to try and
remember the incidents her grandmother described.  But nothing seemed
familiar.

  Later, the handwriting grew disjointed, as if her grandmother had been
upset.  She read on and realized her grandmother had written the
entries after her parents' deaths.

  My heart aches with the loss of Amelia and Robert, and to think that
they destroyed themselves is more than I can Rita Herron 137 bear.

  But I must protect my little Veronica, who the doctors say is severely
traumatized from witnessing their deaths.

  She lies so still with her eyes so wide, and her skin feels cold and
clammy, like she has taken ill.  In a way I suppose she has.  She has
taken an illness in her mind and she may never be right again.

  The doctors talk to her, but she doesn't respond, and the reporters
hover outside the door and window, trying to get in.  I want one day to
see her run and play and be normal again.

  Veronica's chest squeezed as she sensed the pain and frustration her
grandmother must have felt.  She had never felt normal.

  Weeks have passed and my little Veronica las finally come out of the
shell she was locked inside.  But her memory has gone with her parents'
deaths.  Some say it is a terrible thing I think it is a blessing in
disguise.

  Veronica wiped her eyes and lay down on the couch, hugging her
grandmother's journal to her chest.  "How could it be a blessing in
disguise, Grandmother?"  she whispered.  Not only could she not
remember their deaths, but neither could she remember them when they
were alive.

  NATHAN FELT LIKE growling the next morning as he lumbered into the
police station.  A long night with only his electric blanket, his dog
and the hum of his ancient refrigerator to keep him company had
itestroyed his sleep.

  Hell, who was he kidding?  Veronica had destroyed his sleep.

  Or rather, the fact that she wasn't with him.

  He'd studied her father's date book and made a note of all 138 Send Me
a Hero the appointments Mr.  Miller had the weeks prior to his death.

  Interestingly enough, Alma Jones, Eli's mother, had scheduled a meeting
with him only two days before he'd died.  Had the woman been soliciting
campaign contributions for her son or had she some other business in
mind?

  He had to remember that Miller was the only attorne) in town back then,
so most of the people had used him.  It was likely half the town had
made appointments with him that month.  Including Scroggins, the former
police chief who had been less than eager to talk about Veronica.

  He slurped his morning coffee and made a list of the phone calls he
needed to make.  Last night after he'd finished with the book, he
couldn't sleep and he couldn't get Veronica out of his mind.  He wanted
her.  Emotionally stable or not, he wanted her.

  "Got that report on the fingerprints," Ford said, slapping a file down
in front of him.  "Only fingerprints in the apartment were hers and
yours," Ford said.  "Even on the mirror?"  "Yep."

  "How about the computer disks?"

  Ford lit up a cigarette.  Nathan really felt like growling.  He'd come
close to driving to the store the night before and buying a pack.  He
didn't need this temptation now.

  "We got part of one, but couldn't match it.  Whoever touched them isn't
in the system."

  "Meaning there could have been someone there, but they didn't have an
arrest record.  Or they used gloves."

  "It's a long shot," Ford said, raising his eyebrows in skepticism.

  "Did you find anything on Barrett?"

  "He's got several offshore accounts.  Could be anywhere."

  "Keep checking.  And run a background check on Louise Falk."

  "Who the hell is she?"  Ford snarled.

  "Veronica's secretary.  She's one of the few people who had access to
Veronica's keys."

  Rita Herron 139

  "And while I'm doing all the legwork, what are you doing?"' Nathan gritted
his  teeth.  "I'm checking  up on her former  boyfriend.  And digging up the
past."

  "Found the shrink who treated the Miller broad after her parents' deaths,"
Ford  said, waving a slip  of paper in front  of Nathan.  Nathan snatched it
and read the name.   Dr. Sandier.  I'll  head over there  after I make  this
phone call."

  Ford shook his head as if he already knew what the psychiatrist would
tell Nathan and ambled over to his own desk.

  Nathan punched in the number of hi[ friend in Florida.  "Bill, this is
Dawson.  What do you have for me?"

  The man on the other end laughed.  "Always straight to the point,
aren't you?"

  "It's important," Nathan said.  Too important.  Veronica's starting to
mean too much to me.

  "Well, I found out something interesting on the Miller woman."

  His stomach knotted at Bill's tone.  Guilt warred within him at
checking up on her.  He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

  "She was seeing a psychiatrist in Florida, but he wouldn't give me any
information.  Said her file was confidential."

  Nathan sighed audibly and clenched the slip of paper in his fist.  He
shouldn't have been surprised, but if Ford got wind of it, he'd be
certain Veronica was mentally incompetent.  "How about Cox?"

  "Cox is pretty boring.  I could fall asleep just looking at him."

  Nathan laughed.

  "Goes to work at six, out to lunch with several suits every day, night
he works late, goes to a local gym once or twice a week, eats takeout
dinner."

  "Any women in his life?"

  Bill chuckled.  "A couple of uppity attorneys.  Certainly not your
type."

  "I didn't mean that," Nathan said, realizing his type had

  ,ena Me a Hero

  never been dark-haired, dark-eyed mysterious women--until now.

  "Naw.  Man's a workaholic.  Nothing interesting, including the car he
drives."

  "What kind?"

  "A dark sedan.  Tinted windows.  Real conservative."

  Nathan remembered the dark sedan he thought had been following him and
Veronica on their way from the restaurant.  "And he's been in Florida
all week?"  "Until yesterday.  I.eft on business."  "Do you know where
he went?"  "Drove to Savannah."

  Hmm.  Savannah was near enough to Atlanta for Cox to drive over in an
evening.  Veronica had talked to him the night before, too.  What if he
hadn't been calling from Florida?  What if he'd been right here in
Oakland?

  VERONICA TUGGED her jacket around her shoulders to ward off the chill
of the January wind and glanced over her shoulder to see if someone was
following her.  She thought she'd seen a black car behind her on the
highway, but it hadn't turned in to the hospital.  Maybe it was only
her imagination.

  She intended to see Arlene Baits and question her about her birth.

  Somehow talking to the people who'd known her parents made her feel
closer to them.

  All night she'd tossed and turned on the sofa, thinking about her
grandmother's journal and her reaction to the death of her parents.

  Which doctor had treated her after they'd died?  If Arlene Baits had
helped deliver her, maybe she had been around when she was taken in for
trauma and could give her some answers.

  If she had to, she was prepared to visit the former police chief and
ask to see the records on the investigation of her parents' deaths.

  After finding out how much her parents loved her and each other, she
couldn't make herself believe the murder-suicide theory.  Or that she
had hurt them.

  Rita Herron 141

  And if she'd seen the real killer, whoever it was had gone free,
because she'd been afraid.

  She might have been a traumatized little girl twenty years before, but
now she was a grown woman and an attorney.  Justice hadn't been served,
and if getting her memory back was the key to finding the person who'd
ripped her childhood to shreds, she was determined to face it, no
matter how painful.

  The small county hospital was a buzz of activity when she entered.  She
had a little over half an hour before she'd have to be at the office,
and she'd promised to meet Tessa Jones, Eli's daughter, for lunch.

  She still hadn't understood the woman's phone call this morning and her
insistence on the meeting.  She seriously doubted Tessa wanted to talk
about her taxes.  Certainly Eli had all his children's financial
matters well in hand.  Distracted with her thoughts, she almost ran
into an orderly pushing a wheelchair with an older woman sitting in
it.

  It ?eminded her of her grandmother.  And her reason for being there.

  She scanned the nurses' station and spotted a friendly looking young
woman.  "Hi, I'm Veronica Miller.  I'd like to see Dr. Arlene
Baits."

  The girl held out a clipboard.  "Fill this out, please."

  Veronica smiled.  "No, I'm not here as a patient.  I need to speak with
her."

  The young woman pointed to the waiting area.  "I'll see if I can find
her."  She checked the clock.  "It's just about time for her shift to
end.  She'll probably be out in a minute."

  Veronica stared at the faded yellow paint on the walls and thought
about Nathan.  Had he found out who'd broken into her apartment and
written the threatening message?  "Ma'am, Dr. Baits can see you
now."

  Veronica followed the young woman to a small lounge where the doctor
waited.

  "Dr.  Baits, I'm glad you could talk with me."

  The older doctor turned around, sloshing hot coffee over the rim of her
cup.  "Oh, my."

  142 Send Me a Hero "Are you okay?"  Veronica asked, approaching
cautiously.  The woman recovered, her hand trembling as she placed the
coffee on the table and settled into a chair.  Veronica sat down beside
her.  "Seeing me upsets you, doesn't it, Dr.  Baits?"

  "Please  call me Arlene," the woman  said, patting her gray hair in place.
"That's what your mother called me."

  "Really?"  The thought of this woman  and her mother being friends  warmed
her and slightly settled her jangled nerves.

  "Yes, you look so much like her, dear.  It's uncanny."  Dr. Baits took
a sip of coffee.  "You have the same dark hair and those eyes.  I
always thought your mom was a beautiful lady."

  "She was," Veronica said, her throat closing.  She took a moment to get
her emotions under control.  "And you delivered me?"

  The older woman nodded.  "Sure did.  Course I delivered half the babies
in the town back then.  Wasn't as many specialty doctors around, you
know?"

  "I suppose not," Veronica said, studying the woman's neatly trimmed nails.

  "So what can I do for you, dear?"

  Veronica's voice came out barely above a whisper.  "You can tell me
about my mother."

  The woman smiled gently.  "She was a sweet young thing.  Delivery went
fine, although a little long.  Thought Robert was going to wear the
floor out with his pacing."

  Veronica laughed.  "Did you treat me as a child?"

  "Oh, yes.  But yx)u were a healthy little thing.  Never had much more
than a cold or an occasional bout with the flu."  "And my parents--they
loved me?"

  A look of surprise crossed Dr. Baits's face.  "Of course they did,
child."

  The lump in Veronica's throat grew.  "Dr. Baits, were they happy
together?"

  Dr. Baits paused, her forehead furrowing.  "They had a gOOd marriage,
a spat here and there, but nothing big, you know."

  "They wouldn't have killed each other, would they?"

  Ktta Herron 143

  The sudden silence was deafening.  Dr. Baits fidgeted in her seat,
folding the cuffs of her lab coat.

  "I have to know the  truth, Dr. Baits.  I know  I was with them when  they
died,  but I don't  remember it."  Veronica  paused, then went  on in a more
heated voice.  "Maybe I'm  grasping at straws, but  from everything I  heard
about  my parents, they weren't the  volatile type.  I read my grandmother's
journal.  I know my parents loved  each other, even though they got  married
because my mom was already pregnant."

  Dr. Baits shifted, her hands toying with the cuffs of her coat
again.

  "I  didn't  know you  knew  abort that.   What else  did  you read  in the
journal?"

  "Not enough,"  Veronica said.   "That's  why I'm  here."  She  sensed  the
doctor didn't want to discuss the forced marriage.  Perhaps she thought
she'd get in trouble for lying about Veronica's premature birth.  "I
can't believe their death was a murder-suicide," Veronica continued.

  The warm hand that covered Veronica's was'both gentle and strong.  "I
never believed that, either," Dr.  Baits finally said.

  "I  have these nightmares.  And I see  this shadow.  I think it's a vision
of somebody else who was there."

  "You know that for sure?"

  Veronica shook her head in frustration.  "I can't see the face.  But I
was hoping you might have known if either one of my parents had any
enemies.  Who could have killed them?"

  Dr. Baits sighed.  "I don't know, child.  I really don't.  It was a
sad, sad time."

  Veronica stood and wrapped her arms around herself.  "Were you the one
who treated me after they died?"

  Dr. Baits cleared her throat.  "Yes, I was here.  But you were in
shock.

  Severely traumatized.  We called in a specialist."

  "Was it  someone here  on the  staff?  Are  they still  here?"  Dr.  Baits
nodded.  "A man named Dr. Sandler.  You probL ably don't remember much about
him.  He evaluated you,  but you moved away  before he finished  treatment."

  "No, I don't remember him.  But I have to talk to him,"

  144 bena Me a Hero Veronica said.  She glanced at her watch,
remembering her luncheon appointment.

  "He's on the fifth floor," Dr.  Baits said.

  Veronica thanked her and rushed out the door.  A long elevator ride
later, her stomach was roiling.  As she sidled off the elevator, she
checked the nurses' station..

  "Dr.  Sandler's  with someone  fight  now," the  nurse said,  checking her
calendar.  "Then he has patients scheduled the rest of the day.  I can  give
you  an appointment tomorrow."   "That would be  fine," Veronica said.  "Ten
o'clock."

  "Ten's good," the nurse said, scribbling the time in the appointment book.

  Veronica exhaled, feeling as if she'd finally made a start.  Then a
familiar face caught her eye.  "Nathan?"

  He was sitting in the waiting area, his fingers steepled, his brows
drawn in concentration.  When he spotted her, his face registered
surprise.  "What are you doing here?"  he asked.

  Veronica stopped in front of him.  "I was going to ask you the same
question."

  ' 'I-"--' ' The nurse cleared her throat.  "Detective Dawson.  Dr.
Sandler will see you now."

  Chapter Ten 4'

  When Veronica's eyes narrowed, he wondered if she'd somehow guessed his
agenda.  Guilt nagged at him, but he wasn't prepared to tell her the
truth.  "I came by to check the profile of a perp in a case I'm working
on."

  "Oh, well...of course."  She looked embarrassed, and suddenly he felt
like a big heel for lying to her.  But what was he supposed to say?  I
came by to find out about you, to talk to the psychiatrist who treated
you when you were a' child.  "Your turn?"  he said, quickly
recovering.

  She chewed her bottom lip, and he could tell he'd caught her off
guard.

  "I had a checkup downstairs, that's all.  Thought I'd say hello to Dr.
Sandler, see if he remembered me."

  She was lying.  He had no idea why, but the fact that her voice
squeaked slightly and her pulse was jumping in her throat gave her
away.  Relief momentarily filled him.  If lying about this was so
difficult for her, perhaps she'd been telling the truth about
everything else that had happened to her.

  But the realization she would lie to him also infuriated him.  Couldn't
she see he was trying his damnedest to help her?  Why didn't she trust
him?

  "I  see,"  he  said,  not  bothering to  hide  his  skepticism.   "And did
everything check out okay?"

  "Yes, well..."  She checked her watch in a nervous gesture.  "I've got
to get to work.  I'll see you later."

  Definitely.  Nathan watched her tug her jacket around her 146 Send Me a
Hero and rush away, the wind whisking her hair around her face in long
wild streaks of ebony, her long legs gliding like a dancer's.  He
wanted to have her wrap them around him.

  Hell, he wanted to bury his hands in her wild tresses and sink himself
inside hen-in spite of the fact that she didn't trust him or that he
didn't know whether she was lying about the attack.  He'd never felt
this way before, beguiled to the point of not caring if he lived on the
edge, so turned on by one woman that his judgment was starting to feel
impaired.  And that was dangerous.

  He rubbed the base of his spine and hip.  He knew the possible
consequences of losing his objectivity.  He had the scars to prove what
happened when a cop let his personal feelings get in the way of his
professional code.  A siren wailed in the distance, reminding him he'd
actually come here on business, to find out more about Veronica, not
just to lust after her.

  Dr. Sandier met him at the door.  "Hi, I'm Detective Dawson.  I called
earlier."

  "Yes, come on in."  The tall, lanky doctor ushered him into a small office
and  motioned toward  a chair.   Nathan eyed  the leather  chaise lounge and
wondered if he should lie down and  ask for therapy--he had to do  something
about  this emotional stuff going on  inside him.  If the investigation were
over, it would be different, but  he still-"Detective, you wanted to  talk?"

  Nathan  glanced up  to see  the doctor  watching him  with avid curiosity.

  He realized his silence had been more revealing than he'd intended.

  "I need some information about a case I'm working on."  The doctor removed
his  glasses and twirled them around with  his fingers.  "If this is about a
patient, you know files are confidential."

  Nathan nodded.  "I understand that.  But she's not a patient now.  It's
someone you treated years ago."

  "Still " Nathan held up a hand to stop the protests.  "We can speak in
hypothetical terms if you want, but I have reason to believe Rtta
Herron 147 this woman is in danger.  And I think it may be related to
her past."

  The gray-haired doctor crossed his long legs and linked his hands
around one knee.  "I see."

  Encouraged, Nathan went on.  "Her name is Veronica Miller."' A twitch
in the doctor's left eye was his only reaction.  "I heard she moved
back to town."

  "Yes, and ever since she has, she's had some strange things happening
to her.  Someone broke ineand attacked her, left several threatening
messages."

  "Oh, my," Dr. Sandler said, shaking his head.  "It was bad enough what
the poor child went through years ago, but now someone is trying to
hurt her."

  "I'm afraid so," Nathan  said, realizing the  man truly seemed  concerned.

  "And  I need to know as much as  you can tell me about her condition after
her parents were killed."

  "Haven't you read her files?  I  gave an in-depth statement to the  police
years ago."

  "I did.  But I wondered if she gave you any clue, no matter how small,
about who might have killed her parents."  "No."  Sandler's word was
emphatic.  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm certain."  Dr. Sandler's gray eyes narrowed.  "I hated all the gossip
about the child  and would have  done anything  to have saved  her from  the
ordeal she went through."

  "Do you remember anything strange, anybody who showed up to visit her
at the hospital that seemed odd?"

  The doctor scratched his chin in thought.  "Not that I recollect.  Her
grandmother came immediately, Dr. Baits, Daryl Scroggins, the police
chief back then, and the Jones family.  Eli came every day, practically
kept a vigil till she came out of shock.  Even missed a debate,
everyone thought that was real decent of him.  And his mother was here
almost as much."  "How did you diagnose Veronica's condition?"

  "It was a classic case of childhood trauma.  I told her grand 148

  Send Me a Hero mother I wasn't sure she'd ever remember what
happened.

  Her grandmother seemed to think it was a blessing."

  "And you?"

  "I've always been of the theory that the mind remembers things when the
person is ready to accept it.  However, I do think a loss such as this
can have devastating effects on a person."

  "How so?"  Nathan started to scribble in his notepad.  "There are all
kinds of latent effects.  Schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder,
paranoia, to name a few.  In some cases if the person isn't treated,
they may become delusional.  There're a variety of psychotic behaviors
a traumatized child may show later in life."

  "Is  it possible the person might  actually do things to harm themselves?"

  "It's possible."  Dr. Sandler unfolded his long legs.  "The conscious
mind has its own way of taking care of repressed issues.  It's
unpredictable.  Varies with each case."

  Nathan didn't like what he was heating.

  "Do you really think  someone's trying to hurt  Ms. Miller now, after  all
these years?"  Dr.  Sandler asked.

  "As a child, Veronica witnessed the murder.  If the murderer is still
in town, he may be afraid her memory will return."

  "I  see.  Well,  I hope  you find  the person,  then, before  he hurts Ms.
Miller any more than she's already been hurt."

  Nathan shook Dr. Sandler's hand and left.  The doctor had confirmed
two of his theories.  One, it was possible Veronica could be doing
these things herself.  And two, if her parents' case wasn't a
murder-suicide, but a double homicide, the threats to Veronica could be
very real.  He wasn't sure which one frightened him more.  He was still
concerned about her former boyfriend, too, who was supposed to be in
Savannah.

  Things seemed to be growing more complicated.  And he was determined to
find the answers--before Veronica was hurt again.

  AFl'ER WADING through her morning paperwork and talking with the
retirement community about the problems the elderly Ktta Herron 149
people had complained about, Veronica had a major headache nagging at
her temple.  She was ready for a nap, not lunch with Tessa Jones.  She
hadn't talked with Eli since his last visit, since he'd subtly
suggested she not date his son, the future senator.  Her feelings were
still hurt, and all morning she'd wondered what Tessa had in store for
her.  Did she want to warn her to get out of Dodge, too?

  "I'm taking the afternoon off," Louise said, poking her head in Veronica's
office.  "I made some fresh tea if you want some."  f
"Thanks."   She shuffled a few papers  and remembered about having the locks
changed.  "Did you get that new locksmith on the phone?"

  "Yep.  He said  he'd meet you  at your place  at five."  "Great,  thanks."

  "And  Ms. Jones called and said she'll  see you at that little French cafe
around the corner."

  Veronica had a cup of tea to calm herself, then checked to make certain
her hair was in place as she headed to meet Tessa.  After she'd left
the hospital, she'd tucked the windblown mass into a topknot and added
a jacket to look more professional for her meeting.  Visiting with
Tessa was intimidating and she wanted to look her best.  A few minutes
later she found Tessa waiting at a corner table.

  Tessa beamed as Veronica walked over to greet her.  She was wearing a
stunning green silk dress and green suede heels.  Her gold bracelets
jangled as she shook Veronica's hand.

  "Hi.  Great cafe."  Veronica indicated the simple French decor of the
restaurant.

  "I love this place," Tessa said, settling down in her seat again.  "The
wines are fabulous.  And they have a divine French onion soup."  She
nodded toward an already-filled glass.  "I took the liberty to order us
a glass of wine."

  She normally skipped the wine for lunch, but Veronica didn't want to
offend Tessa, so she simply smiled and sipped the Chablis.  "The food
smells heavenly," Veronica said.

  150 Send Me a Hero "It is."  After they ordered quiche and salad, Tessa
unfolded her napkin and toyed with the long gold loop dangling from her
ear.  "I thought we should get to know each other."

  "Really?"

  Veronica couldn't hide her surprise.

  "Yes, Daddy's talked about you for years.  And Gerald mentioned he took
you to lunch the other day."

  Oh, boy--here it comes.

  Instead Tessa gave her a sugary smile.  "Since you're Father's
goddaughter, I figured that makes us kind of like sisters."' "I hadn't
thought of it that way."  Although once upon a time, I wanted it to be
that way.  Veronica stiffened, wondering where that thought had come
from.

  "Dad said when you were small, your parents brought you to one of his
fund-raisers and you followed me around all day."

  "I did?"

  "Yes, isn't that cute."?"

  "I...I suppose so."  Veronica took a mental count.  When she was seven,
Tessa would have been nineteen.  She could see how she must have been
drawn to her.

  "Anyway, I'd forgotten  all about  that," Tessa  said in  a chatty  voice.

  "Dad said you wanted me to tie bows in your hair."

  Veronica laughed softly.  "I must have been a pest."

  "Not really.  So, after the party the other night, Dad told me what a
tough time you had after your parents died, when you went to live with
your grandmother."  Tessa's eyes teared, and Veronica couldn't help but
feel she was being sincere.  "I can't imagine losing my father."

  Veronica swallowed several sips of water, hoping to dislodge the lump
forming in her throat.

  Tessa gave her a sympathetic look.  "What made you decide to move back
here after all those years?"

  Veronica had expected subtlety.  Instead this woman had no qualms about
asking what she wanted to know.  "I wanted to Rita Herron 151 work for
myself instead of a large firm," Veronica said, sipping her wine.

  "Yes,  but you could have done that anywhere.  Why Come back to this town?
You must  have bad  memories."   She brought  her hand  to  her cheek  in  a
dramatic gesture.  "I just can't imagine."

  "That's  just it,"  Veronica said,  meeting Tessa's  curious gaze head-on.

  "I don't have any memories of this town at all."

  "None?"  Tessa asked sympathetically.

  "None," Veronica said matter-offactly.

  "So when those doctors said you have amnesia, it was true.  I thought
they were just making it up."

  "It's true," Veronica said, suddenly losing her appetite.  "I've tried
everything to remember.  Even hypnosis.  But nothing worked."

  "That must be horrible."

  "Yes."  Tessa's smile radiated warmth  and sincerity, but Veronica's  head
was starting to throb even more, and she felt nauseated.

  "But  I  see you've  already  found a  man.   You're seeing  that handsome
detective?"

  Veronica took a sip of water.  "He's a--Tessa, I'm not feeling well,"
Veronica said, massaging her temple as a wave of pain rocked through
her.  "It seems I'm getting a migraine."  "Oh, dear, do you want to
take something?"

  "No, I have something at home.  I think I need to lie down."  "I'm so
sorry."  Tessa seemed concerned, and Veronica felt even worse for
skipping out on their lunch.  Perhaps she and Tessa could be friends,
after all.  "I hope I didn't upset you by bringing up your parents,"
Tessa finished.

  "No, no, lunch was a lovely idea.  Actually I woke up this morning not
feeling well."  Veronica rubbed the base of her neck.  "Must be a bug
or something."

  Tessa patted her hand.  "I hope you feel better.  Let's do it again
sometime soon."

  "Sure."  Veronica clutched her purse and avoided looking

  152 Send Me a Hero

  at the quiche as she hurried out.  She certainly couldn't stomach any
food.

  Once outside, she blinked to ward off the dizziness.  Hoping the fresh
air would do her good, she walked back to her office, breathing deeply
and trying to suppress the throbbing at her temple.  She clutched the
stair mil and slowly climbed the steps, then shuffled into her office
by sheer willpower.  Two painkillers later, she stretched out on the
sofa in her office and fell sound asleep.

  WHY WASN'T VERONICA answering the phone?

  The hairs at the back of Nathan's neck stood on end.  He was too damn
worried about her to even think.  First, the threatening message last
night.  Now, she wasn't answering her-phone.  What if something had
happened to her?

  "They found  Barrett," Ford  said,  leaning against  his desk.   "In  some
little  hotel downtown.  All holed up  with a new mistress."  ' "Right under
our noses.  How the hell did they trace him there?"

  "His wife.  She had a PI on him the whole time."

  "So, he's been there since the day Barrett Pharmaceuticals called?"

  Ford nodded.  "Looks that way.  Means he's probably not responsible for
that little Miller gal and her wolf cries."

  Nathan let out several curse words and grabbed his jacket.  "Maybe,
maybe not.  He could have orchestrated the whole thing from the
hotel.

  Besides, I don't think she is crying wolf, Ford."

  "You're a sucker," Ford said.

  Nathan ignored him and rushed to his car.  He might be a sucker, but
his gut said something was wrong.  He had to listen to his instincts.

  Veronica was in danger.  He knew it; he just' didn't know who was after
her.

  VERONICA WOKE with a start, her vision cloudy, the sound of a tree limb
scraping against the windowpane drawing her gaze Rita Herron 153 to the
darkening sky.  Her heart was pounding, her breathing erratic.

  She covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths to
remind herself that the dream was over.  And it was just a dream--just
like she'd had thousands of times before.

  The shadow had been pursuing her again, chasing her through the forest,
and as she ran through the safety of the woods, the branches had
snatched at her hands and legs and tried to grab her.  She'd seen a
bright light up ahead and heard music playing, the soft lyrics of
"Somewhere over the Rainbow"  fading in and out.   She tried to run  faster,
but  suddenly teetered  on the  edge of  a deep hole.   She dove  for a tree
branch to swing across it, but her hands slipped and her fingers scraped the
bark, the prickly wood splinters digging into her palms.

  She felt herself falling, falling, swirling through the air, sinking
into nothingness, then slowly waking up.

  She shook off the exhaustion and fear that carae with the dream and
stared at the clock, groaning as she noticed the time.  Ten minutes
before five.  She had to meet the new locksmith in a few minutes.

  She padded into the bathroom and washed her face, then retrieved her
keys and purse and a few files to work on at home.  Switching off the
lights, she made her way down the stairs.  The remnants of fatigue and
her earlier healache weighed on her body, and her muscles felt heavy
and achy.

  Stepping outside, she wrapped her coat around her and scanned the
grassy area.  Empty.  The gray sky was cold and dark, signifying
possible snow, and a chill crept up her spine as the wind howled and
whistled through the bare trees.  She shivered and glanced around for
other people, but the parking lot was amazingly vacant for so early on
Friday, and the sunset had diminished with the impending bad weather.

  She should have listened to the weather forecast.  It hardly ever
snowed in Georgia, but occasionally an ice storm or light snow would
blow through, immobilizing the city.  No one was prepared for 154 Send
Me a Hero il icy roads, and snowplows were reserved for the major
expressways.

  Hurrying home would be best, so she opened the car door :!

  and climbed in, fighting with the wind as it caught a few i strands of
her hair and swiped them from her topknot.  Some thing white caught her
eye.  A towel lay in the passenger seat, all wrapped up.  Odd.

  She hadn't put it there.  Reaching across the seat, she slowly unfolded
the edges of the towel, her heart thumping as a red stain came into
view.  The ends of the towel flopped open and she saw the shiny glint
of metal.  Blood trickled onto the soft leather of her car seat, and a
scream locked in her throat.  It was one of her own kitchen knives,
covered in blood.  Someone grabbed her arm and a male voice penetrated
the eerie silence, calling her name.  "Veronica, what the hell is
wrong?"  She turned, wide-eyed, to see Nathan standing beside her
car.

  "Veronica, what is it?"  A muffled cry escaped her and she pointed with
unsteady hands to the seat.  Nathan's jaw tightened as he spotted the
bloody knife.  He helped her from the car.  "Come on, sit in here."

  Without preamble, he gently shoved her into the front of his own car
and radioed for a crime unit.  "I want this car searched with a
fine-tooth comb."  "I...I got in and it was there," Veronica mumbled,
still shivering uncontrollably.  "This game is getting tiresome,"
Nathan said, gritting his teeth.  He pulled Veronica into his embrace,
and she relaxed against him, grateful for the warmth of his strong
arms.  "It's okay."  He rubbed his hand along the base of her spine,
and Veronica felt his calm soothing voice wrap around her like a tender
caress.  "When the crew gets here, I'm taking you home."  "I was
supposed to meet the locksmith," Veronica whis pered.

  Rita Herron 155

  "We'll  meet  him," Nathan  said.   "And I'll  make sure  your apartment's
secure this time."

  "Stay with me," she pleaded, burying her face in his chest.

  "Don't worry."  He threaded his fingers in her hair.  "I'm not going to
leave you, Veronica."

  Not ever.

  Nathan knew the silent vow was a mistake, but he could no more stop
himself than he could push Veronica away and let someone else take her
case.  That would be the smart thing to do.  He was definitely too
involved.  But he would not leave her until he figured out who was
tryin to hurt her.

  And then--he would leave her only if she asked him to.  Her soft body
sagged against him, and within minutes he felt the tension drain from
her as she relaxed in his arms.  She was safe.  He knew it now, but he
couldn't erase the heart-pounding fear he'd experienced when she hadn't
answered the phone.  Her firm breasts were pressed against his chest,
and the whisper of her breath on his neck had him clinging to her.

  He'd been scared out of his mind on the way over,)magining all sorts of
things that could have happened to her.  He buried his face in her hair
and inhaled her sweet scent, oblivious to his vow to remain
professional.

  He needed the reassurance.  He needed to know she was safe.  And
dammit, he needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held.

  The blue-and-white rolled up, and he pulled away from Veronica only
long enough to give them orders.  "I'm taking her home.  Be sure to
fingerprint the car and the knife.  Check the bloodstains for type and
bag it all for evidence."  He lowered his voice.  "I'm going to catch
this bastard."

  The officers nodded and set to work while he climbed in the car.

  Veronica looked pale, but she'd composed herself and he glimpsed the
courage she'd drawn from all her life.  The ride back to her house was
silent and filled with tension.  He didn't force her to talk, and he
realized he needed the time to gather his own thoughts.  He'd been
frightened.  When he'd seen she was safe, he'd wanted to lavish her
with kisses and

  5encl Me a Hero hugs and tear off her clothes, sate his need for her
right there in the parking lot.  Damn.  He'd never felt this way
before.

  Gathering his calm, he parked, hopped out and went around to the
passenger side.  She was already climbing out.  The locksmith was
waiting.  Nathan watched the man work while Veronica excused herself.

  He heard the shower running and imagined her standing naked under the
spray of water.  He desperately wished he could join her.  But he had
to make certain the apartment was secure.

  And he needed to give Veronica time.  He wanted her to be sure she
wanted him, not just a warm, comforting body.  Because once he took
her, she was going to be his.

  Forever.

  It couldn't be any other way.  Not with Veronica.  "Finished," the man
said.

  Nathan paid him and checked the dead bolts, then called for a pizza and
found a bottle of wine in Veronica's cabinet.  Making himself at home,
he pulled two glasses from the cabinet and poured them nearly full.

  When the pizza arrived, he paid for it and put it in the oven to stay
warm.

  Then he settled on the couch with the wine and sipped, thinking of how
he'd have to be patient with Veronica.  She was a classy woman, an
attorney, not a rough-and-tumble sort of woman.  If he took her like
some macho, needy jerk, he'd scare her to death.  He'd have to go slow,
to be tender, to make sure his rough callused hands did nothing but
pleasure her.  Yes, he would take it slow.  He would pleasure her
before he found his release.  Even if it killed him.

  Then he would do it over and over and over again until she begged for
him to take her one more time.

  The fire in his body intensified when she came out wearing a short
silky robe.  Water droplets lingered in the curve of her breasts and
were much too tempting for him to resist.  And the bravado she showed
made his chest tighten with a feeling he was too afraid to label.  He
stood, closing the distance between them, until he held her with his
legs spread wide, and her Rita Herron 157 delicate body was wedged so
close to him he could feel her breath on his neck.

  "Veronica, I--" "Shh," she whispered as she pressed two fingers to his
lips.  She took the wineglass from him and ran her tongue gingerly
around the edge, then brought the clear liquid to her mouth.  He
watched her inhale the sweet scent of the wine, saw the pleasure it
gave her the moment it touched her tongue, and saw the urgent need
reflected in her eyes when she licked her lips and swallowed.  The
curve of her throat was so pale, so enticing, and his body ached with a
n[ed only Veronica could satisfy.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head slowly and the
soft sway of her long tresses tumbling around her shoulders sent waves
of desire thrumming through him.  He looked toward the window where the
gray sky had begun showering the earth with light snowflakes.

  "It's snowing," he said in an effort to divert his mind.

  "It's beautiful," Veronica whispered, not once tearing her gaze from  his.

  "No, you are."

  A slow smile spread on her mouth.  The hunger in his body grew at the
sight.  Veronica finger combed a lock of his hair off his forehead, and
the shy gesture seemed so intimate he knew he could never let her go.

  Even if she wanted him to.  "I was so worded about you," he finally
said.

  She closed her eyes and leaned against him, and he wrapped his arms
around her.  "I'm okay now.  As long as you're here."

  He wound a strand of her beautiful hair around his finger, resisting
the temptation to dig his fingers in the long locks.  His chest ached
with the fear he'd felt earlier.  He needed to forget his own needs,
though, and take care of her.  "Are you hungry?"

  He felt her soft laughter against his chest.

  "I meant for food.  There's a pizza in the oven."

  She looked into his eyes, her face serious.  "Do you always take care
of your...cases so well?"

  158 Send Me a Hero He swallowed against the sudden rise of emotion in
his throat.  "You're more than a case and you know it."

  Her gaze locked with his.  Then she smiled, slow and sweet, and spoke
so softly he could barely hear her.  "I think we'd better have the
pizza."

  He laughed and hand in hand they walked to the kitchen.  He carried
their wine and she took their plates to the den where they sat down on
the floor in front of the coffee table.  As Veronica sank her teeth
into the gooey cheese, he ate his own slice, barely tasting the rich
sauce.

  She smiled and licked her fingertips, and he sipped his wine, his heart
hammering in his chest.

  "This is nice," Veronica said quietly.

  "What?  The pizza?"

  "No, being here...with you.  Just relaxing."  She ran her finger along
the rim of her glass, and he downed his wine.  "It feels so normal, so
peaceful."

  He tipped her chin up with his thumb and wiped a crumb from the corner
of her mouth.  "It's okay to feel that way.  Things have been difficult
for you."

  She shook her head.  "It seems my whole life has been hard."

  He  forced her  to look  into his eyes.   "It won't  be forever, Veronica.

  I promise you."  He wanted to reassure her, to let her know she had
solace from her troubles for a while.  But when he lowered his mouth
and tasted the tangy wine mixed with Veronica's sweetness, with her
strength and determination, he knew he was taking more than he was
giving.  He needed her courage, her strength, her soft womanly way of
facing things and still managing to have a sweet vulnerability about
her.  Something he'd lost on the force.  Something no one could give
him but her.

  "Veronica, I need you," he said softly.

  She cupped his face with her hands and he felt her nod against his
chest.  Her arms slipped around his waist and she hugged him, ever so
gently, then ran her hands up his back and held on to him.  She felt so
right, so perfect in his arms.

  Rita Herron 159

  His resolve broke.  He captured her mouth in a kiss, his lips devouring
everything she offered, his mind a million miles from work.  His soul
floated in a space it had never been before, mingling and joining with
her every breath.

  Then she inhaled and the soft curve of her breasts swelled, her nipples
pushing taut against the silky fabric, and he grabbed her to him with a
need that he could longer hide or deny.  "Veronica, if you want me to
stop--" "I don't."

  Relieved, he frantically lowered his head and ravished her sweetness,
inhaled the soft scent of her soap and tasted the wine and the need in
her own urgent mouth as she opened for him.  She grasped at his arms
and he felt his muscles clench at her seeking hands.  Her mouth felt
warm and inviting and he plundered the inside with his tongue until her
own tongue met his in slow uninhibited thrusts.  He nibbled at her
lower lip and drove his lower bocly against hers, crushing her breasts
against the fabric of his blue denim shirt and rubbing his hands up and
down her back and down to the soft curve of her hips.  "Veronica, I--"
"Don't talk," she whispered.  "It feels too good."

  It felt like heaven and hell all mixed together as he tortured himself
by trying to hold back.  Then she dug her fingernails into his back,
and he lost control.  Sweeping her up in his arms, he carded her to the
bedroom, kicking off his shoes as he went, nibbling at her neck and the
soft shell of her ear until she writhed in his arms and tugged at his
shirt.  She pulled it loose and covered his chest with the palms of her
hands, raking her fingernails across his hard nipples until he thought
he was going to burst from the pleasure.

  Still, he forced himself to pause, to drink in the moment when he would
see her naked before him.  She kicked off her shoes, and he grinned.

  Easing her to the floor, he met her gaze and read the urgent hunger,
and his vow to go slow evaporated like ice on a hot August day.  He
shoved her robe aside, revealing the creamy mounds of her full breasts,
and she moaned 160 b'encl Me a Hero and pushed his own shirt over his
shoulders, smiling when it dropped to the floor.

  She kissed the base of his throat while he covered her breasts with his
hands.  Then he squeezed and rolled her nipples with his thumbs until
he felt her pushing herself against him and knew she was hot and aching
for more.  Gently he eased her robe to the floor.  Pausing in awe, he
drew in a harsh breath as his eyes took in her small waist, her bare
torso, her glorious bosom, then drifted lower.

  She smiled that shy kind of smile that melted his insides, and his body
instinctively pulsed and thrust against her.  "Sweetheart, you are so
beautiful."

  She found the snap of his jeans, and the sound of the snap popping open
and the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered made his muscles quake
with desire.  She pushed his jeans over his hips, and her blatant
perusal of his body only heightened the urgency.

  "I can't believe you're here like this," Veronica whispered.

  He held her hands with his own and studied her face.  "You want to
stop?"

  She shook her head.  "No.  Will you stay all night?"  Veronica asked
softly.

  "You'll have to kick me out," he said, taking her mouth again and lowering
her  to the bed.  He  lay beside her, propped himself  on his elbow and gave
himself time  to enjoy  the beauty  of  her lying  naked in  the  moonlight.
Streaks  of yellow and bronze  streamed through the window, highlighting the
tips of her hair  and illuminating her  face with a  golden glow.  The  soft
scent  of her shampoo and the fresh bed linens were enticing, the air filled
with her womanly fragrance like the  aroma of honeysuckle on a warm,  spring
day.  She ran her hands through his hair, down his arms and body.  He kissed
her again, warming her with  the touch of his  hands and mouth, tasting  the
saltiness, the sweetness of her smooth skin.

  Then he was on top of her, stroking and petting her, reveling in her
soft cries and her pleas for more, loving her body in ways he'd never
loved a woman before.  Rising above her, he l!fa rxerron lOl cupped her
breasts and licked the tip of her nipple, suckling it and circling it
with his tongue, then laving the other nipple as he probed her soft
womanhood with his need.  He quickly /bund a condom and slipped it on,
then thrust gently until he felt the tip of his body enter hers and saw
her tense and close her eyes.

  "Veronica, look at me, baby," he ground out.  She opened her eyes, and
the smile of pleasure and the blatant need he saw made him pause.  "You
are so wonderful."

  She caressed his face with her fingers, and he kissed them, one by
one.

  He traced a path down her ,'rns to her waist, then lower, teasing her
body with playful fingers.  Veronica groaned and cupped his buttocks
with her hands.  He lowered his mouth again and consumed her with a
kiss that deepened as he pushed inside her, and she moaned with
pleasure.

  She was tight, and her body hugged his as he filled her and pumped
himself in and out, her dark eyes wild with emotions.  Her chest heaved
as he drove her crazy with his hands; taunting her nipples over and
over again with his tongue until she begged for more, and when he felt
her body convulse around his, he fisted his hand in her hair and
dragged her mouth to his, never once letting his gaze leave her face.

  He wanted to see every moment of her pleasure.  Then she gripped his
hips and wrapped her legs around him and he groaned in total ecstasy.

  Chapter Eleven Veronica snuggled into Nathan's arms, taking solace in
his protective embrace and reveling in the euphoric aftermath of their
lovemaking.

  She wanted him again.  And again.  And again.

  The soft sandy hairs on his chest tickled her chin as she buried her
face against him, and the fact that he kept stroking her back and
holding her told her he, too, wanted more.  The danger and fear she'd
feltearlier evaporated in the face of his strength, and a sense of
peace filled her.  With Nathan's arms around her she felt safer than
she had in a very long time.  But what would happen in the morning?

  "That was incredible," Nathan whispered in her hair.  Veronica nodded
against his chest, then moaned a reply.  A deep chuckle resonated from
him.  He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him, rubbing himself up
and down over her body in an intimate gesture that made her gasp.  "I
want you again."

  Veronica smiled.  "Well, what's stopping you, Detective?"

  He threw his head back and laughed again, so hard that Veronica laughed
with him.

  "You know that's the first time I've really heard you laugh," Nathan said,
his face serious.  "It sounds great."

  She traced her finger along his stubbled jaw.  "It's all because of
you."

  Their gazes locked and a moment of silent understanding Ktta Herron
10.5 passed, then Nathan lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss
just as hungry as the first one, and Veronica knew the night was going
to be filled with loving and laughter.  She prayed it would never
end.

  Hours later as a sliver of early-morning sunshine peeked its way
through the venetian blinds, Nathan awoke with a start.  He'd heard a
sound.

  Someone was outside Veronica's apartment.

  Easing his arm from underneath her head, he paused for only a second to
take in her quiet beauty as she lay sleeping, her long hair fanned
across the pale ellow sheets, her porcelain skin rosy from his
lovemaking.  He yanked on his jeans, pulled on his shirt without
buttoning it and reached for his gun.

  Then he heard it again.  Footsteps---quiet and slow as if someone were
easing their way around the side of the apartment toward her front
door.

  "Veronica," he whispered, shaking her gently.

  Sleepy-eyed, she rolled over and stretched, her breasts rising above
the edge of the sheet.  Jesus.  He wanted her again.  Instead he
grabbed her robe.  "Here, put this on."

  She gave him a puzzled look, but he pressed his finger to her lips to
keep her quiet.  "I think I hear something outside.  I'll be right
back."

  She sat up, immediately tense.  "Don't go."

  He smiled slowly, then cupped her face with both his hands.  "I'll be
okay.  It's probably just someone walking their dog."

  She nodded, obviously not buying his explanation, but slipped on her
robe.  "Be careful."

  He gave her a quick kiss, then handed her the phone.  "Call 911 if you
need to."  Moving slowly, he made his way through the living room and
paused at the door.

  He could hear the faint rustle of footsteps in leaves through the
hollow wood.  He gripped his gun in one hand and eased the door open.

  A tall man with light brown hair wearing a designer jogging suit was
standing in the doorway, "Freeze.  Police."

  104 ena Me a Hero The thin man's eyes bulged, and he jammed his hands
up in the air.  "I'm not armed.  Don't...don't shoot."

  Nathan kept the gun aimed at the man's chest.  "Who the hell are you
and why are you creeping around outside?"  "I'm--" "Ron?"  The sound of
Veronica's voice broke off the man's stuttered words.  It took Nathan a
moment to realize he was standing face-to-face with Ron Cox, Veronica's
old boyfriend.  The man who was supposed to be in Savannah.

  He felt Veronica move up behind him.  "What are you doing here?"  he
demanded.

  "I should be asking you that," Ron said snidely.  He started to lower
his hands, but Nathan shoved them up and glared at him.

  "Let me pat you down first, buddy."  "What?"  Ron asked indignantly.

  "Nathan, I don't think---" He ignored them both and did a quick brisk
search.  When he found Ron clean, he lowered his gun, but not his
distrust of the man.  He didn't like Cox on sight.  He was too clean,
too polished, too whiny looking.

  And he was snooping around Veronica's when he was supposed to be miles
away.

  "Veronica, what's  going  on here?"   Ron  asked, recovering  enough  from
Nathan's intimidation tactics to push his way inside.

  She glanced nervously at Nathan and back at Ron.  Nathan folded his
arms and made no attempt to move.

  "I...this is Detective Dawson.  He..."

  "I'm  here to protect Veronica,"  Nathan supplied.  "Protect her?  Is this
standard police procedure?"  Incredibility hardened Ron's voice as he did an
obvious  perusal  of Nathan's  and Veronica's  appearances.  "It  looks like
you're doing a whole lot more than that, buddy."

  Nathan almost laughed at the man for throwing his own word back at
him.

  His anger only made him look more wimpy.  Nathan could take him with
one simple blow to the solar plexus and the man would never know what
hit him.

  llta ¢rron I o3

  He also realized Veronica's hair was mussed and she was wearing nothing
but her skimpy robe.  Her cheeks and face were slightly red from
whisker marks.  His shirt was unbuttoned and he'd skipped the socks and
just slipped on shoes.  It looked as if they'd been in bed--doing
exactly what they had been doing.

  And he wasn't going to apologize or make excuses to this weasel.

  Veronica, on the other hand, appeared mortified.

  "I asked you a question," Ron said to Veronica.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle.  "It's a long story, Ron.  Why
don't you come in and I'llr make some coffee."

  Coffee--Nathan wanted to bark.  Were they going to entertain this
little bozo?  He felt like arresting him, for... for...what, he didn't
know yet.  Just for being alive and being on Veronica's doorstep.

  "Okay," Ron said.  "You know I like mine with cream and sugar."

  "And you know how I like mine," Nathan added.

  Veronica rolled her eyes and hurried to the kitchen.  He and Ron simply
stood and stared down each other.

  "You'd better have a good explanation," Ron said.

  "So had you," Nathan replied.

  Veronica brought in a tray and pointed to the couch.  "Sit."  Nathan
smothered a grin at the commanding tone of her voice.  She was a little
thing but strong and stubborn.  Maybe that was the reason he'd fallen
in love with her.

  In love?  He froze, automatically feeling his heart pound at an odd
rhythm.  He was in love with Veronica.  What a fine time to realize
it--right in the middle of a confrontation with her former boyfriend.

  And lover?  Had she slept with this turkey?

  "You go first," Veronica said to Ron.   "I want to know why you're  here."

  Ron sighed angrily and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on his thin
pointed nose.  "I was worded about you.  I couldn't figure out why you
wouldn't return any of my calls."

  Nathan saw Veronica's gaze shift to him and back.  What lO0 DC/Ia 1¥"
ti f'lFO was she thinking?  Did he have something to do with the reason
she hadn't phoned Ron?

  "I told you when I left that it was over, Ron.  That I wanted to move
on."

  "I  know," Ron said, avoiding looking  at Nathan.  "But I thought once you
got here, you'd miss me and change your mind."  Then he did look at  Nathan,
a glare  that  only a  man could  understand.  "But  I see  you haven't been
lonely."  "It's...it's not what you think."

  Nathan arched an eyebrow at Veronica.  It damn well was what the man
thought, and she'd better not deny it.

  Ron clicked his teeth.  "Come on, Veronica.  I'm not stupid."' She ran
her hands up and down her thighs in a nervous gesture.  "Well, maybe
partly.  But there's more."  She went on to explain about the attack
and the threats she'd been getting.  Ron's already-white skin turned
ghostly pale.  His eyes bulged beneath his glasses.

  "Oh, my God.  You think someone's trying to kill you?"  Veronica shrugged.
"Or  drive me crazy.   I really don't  know what to  think, except somehow I
think everything may  be related to  my past--the parts  I can't  remember."
She started to explain, but Ron stopped her.

  "I know about your parents, Veronica."

  She stared at him with her mouth open.  "How...when?"  Ron leaned his
elbows on his knees.  "I've known from the beginning.  Old man Owen
checks out all the potential employees before he hires them."

  "So everyone knows?"  Nathan's chest ached at the horrified expression
on Veronica's face.

  Ron nodded.  Nathan watched the exchange with interest.  If Ron had
known, he could have used her past to torment her.  But even though he
disliked the man immensely, he sensed Ron genuinely cared for
Veronica.

  Another thought to ponder.  "I'm sorry, Veronica," Ron said, reaching
for her hand.  She pulled back.  "But why didn't you say something?"

  Rtta Herron 167

  Ron frowned at her withdrawal.  "I figured if you wanted to talk about
it, you would."

  "So I hid it from everyone there for no reason."

  "I...I didn't understand why you wouldn't talk about it," Ron said.

  The true concern in Ron's voice struck a nerve in Nathan.  At least the
man had one good point he hadn't cared about Veronica's past.  And his
gut instinct told him Cox wouldn't hurt her.

  So, did Veronica still care for him?

  "How long have you been in toffn?"  Nathan asked, remembering the dark
sedan that had followed them.

  "A couple of days," Ron said, looking sheepish.

  "So you were here in Oakland when you called me?"  Veronica asked.

  Ron nodded.  "Yeah, I wanted to ask you if I could come over, but you
sounded too distracted.  I couldn't figure out what was going on.  Then
I saw you with him."  Ron glared at Nathan.

  "And you followed, us?"  Nathan asked.

  "Yes."

  Veronica's eyes widened.  "You did what?"

  "I only wanted to find out who he was.  And how involved the two of you
were."  Ron gave Veronica a hurt look.  "I guess I got my answer."

  "I'm sorry, Ron," Veronica said quietly.  "I really am.  You're a good
friend, but like I told you in Florida, that's all it can ever be.

  When I met Detective--" "You don't have to explain about us," Nathan
cut in.

  "Yeah,  I think I'd rather not hear the details," Ron said sarcastically..

  Veronica wrung her hands together as the tension crackled through the
room.

  Ron finally stood, jammed his hands in his pockets in'a gesture of
defeat and faced Nathan.  "You'd better not take advantage of her."

  "I can take care of myself," Veronica snapped.

  3ena Me a Hero

  Nathan pushed himself up and shook his head.  "I'm going to catch the
creep who's doing this."

  "Can I see you alone for a moment?"  Ron asked Veronica.

  Nathan waited, hoping she'd say no.  Instead she looked to him and
arched her beautiful eyebrows.  "Do you mind?"

  Nathan's hands fisted by his sides, but he gave her a brief nod and
stepped into the bedroom.  He paced back and forth across the room, his
mind reeling.  What did the two of them have to talk about that he
couldn't hear?  What was Veronica saying to him?  When this mess was
over, would she go back to that wimp?

  No.  He damn well wouldn't let her.  She was his now.  And if he had to
make love to her over and over all day, he'd prove it to her.

  A few minutes later he couldn't stand it any longer.  He opened the
door and saw Ron lean over and kiss Veronica on the cheek.  "I hope you
find what you came here for," he told her 'softly.  Then he turned and
walked out the door.

  Veronica had wondered if the "morning after" would be uncomfortable,
but awkward didn't begin to describe the incident with Ron.  She stole
a glance at Nathan over the fresh blueberry muffins she'd made after
Ron left, and saw him watching her, something he'd been doing intently
since Ron had walked out the door.

  "These are delicious," he said.

  Forcing a smile, she broke her muffin in two and watched Nathan lick
his lips.  A crumb clung to the corner of his mouth and she was tempted
to lick it off.  Last night she .would have.  This morning she didn't
feel quite so bold.

  "So what did Ron want during your little private talk?"  His tone  sounded
mild,  but Veronica could read his eyes  now, and they held more than simple
curiosity.  And more than just interest in her case.  They held heat and the
remnants  of their night of passion--the same wonderful memories hovering in
the front of  her own mind.   And she also  thought she detected  a hint  of
jealousy.  Could the handsome detective have feelings for her?

  lllU nerron 1o "He wanted me to be careful, that's all."

  "And?"

  "And  that's  all.  It's  over  between us,"  Veronica said  quietly.  She
didn't know if that was  the answer he wanted to  hear, but she wasn't  into
playing games, not with either man.

  "Good."   Nathan slurped his coffee and grinned.  "I don't share my women,
Veronica."

  Veronica almost choked on her food.  "Your what?"  Nathan wiped his
mouth.  "Excuse me--my woman."  Veronica stared at him, remembering the
mindless pleasure he'd given her.  What a totally barbaric thing to
say.

  Then suddenly she laughed and so did Nathan.

  "It's Saturday.  Do you have to work?"  he asked.  She cleared the  table.

  "I need to do some errands."  "Want a bodyguard?"  Nathan asked coming
up behind her and circling her waist with his arms.  "'Cause I like
guarding your body."

  Veronica moaned as he nibbled at the sensitive skin at the base of her
neck.  "Don't you have work to do?"

  "Protecting you is my work," he whispered against her hair.

  "Is that all I am?  A job?"  Veronica bit her tongue as the words came
out, mortified she'd revealed so much of her feelings.

  Nathan spun her around.  The anger in his eyes made her stiffen in his
arms.  "You know you're not."

  "I...I'm sorry."

  He cupped her face and lowered his head, devouring her mouth with
his.

  When he final!y broke the kiss, she could hardly breathe.

  "I need to take a shower," she said softly.

  Nathan grinned.  "So do I."

  An hour later, after they'd made wonderful love in the shower, Nathan
drove Veronica to her office to retrieve her Car.

  "I'm  going to  the precinct  to check  on the  labwork.  Will  you be all
right?"

  I /o bena Me a Hero "Yes," she said.  "I have a little paperwork to
catch up on."

  "I'll bring steaks tonight," Nathan offered.

  I'll pick up some wine."

  After he walked her to her office and checked the inside, he kissed her
and waved goodbye.  She waved back, and a strange feeling overcame
him.

  He zeroed in on her hand.  Veronica was right-handed.

  Aha.  That was it.  He'd known from the beginning she hadn't tried to
commit suicide.  And he couldn't wait to explain his theory to Ford and
watch the detective's face.

  A few minutes later he stood in front of Ford's desk.  "I figured
something out today."

  "What?"  Ford asked as he wolfed down his second bear claw.

  "Veronica is right-handed."

  "So?"

  "When her wrist was cut during that first attack, it was her right  wrist.
If  a right-handed person tried to commit suicide, she'd cut her left wrist,
not her right."

  Nathan saw the moment Ford conceded.  His furrowed eyebrows formed a
straight bushy line.  "You might be right."

  "I am right," Nathan said.  "Tell me what you found on the prints off
her car."

  "Nothing," Ford said.  "Oh, except her secretary's.  You asked me to check
into her, too."

  "Her prints were on Veronica's car?"

  "Yeah, but she works with her, doesn't she?  MaYbe she took something
to her car for her."

  Nathan nodded.  "It's possible.  Does she have a record?"

  Ford licked the powdery sugar from his lips.  "For prostitution in
'88."

  "Ahh, interesting."  Nathan let the idea chum around in his mind.

  Louise Falk worked for Veronica, had access to her keys, her car and
perhaps her house.  But why would she hurt Veronica?  Even if Veronica
had known about her past, which he didn't think she did, Veronica had
given her a job.

  "Final report on the bloody knife in the car," Ford said.  "Blood was
from a butcher shop, not a human's."

  "So, someone is trying to drive Veronica crazy."

  "But why?"

  "It has to be her past.  But Louise Falk doesn't fit.  If she did know
Veronica as a child, she was just a kid herself."

  "I'll check into Falk's family," Ford said.

  "Good  work," Nathan said, realizing the two of them were actually working
together.  "I'm going to check out some  of the people in Mr. Miller's  date
book.  Maybe the key in discovering who's threatening Veronica4s to find the
person responsible for murdering the Millers."

  "So you don't think it was a murder-suicide?"  "Veronica doesn't,"
Nathan said.  "And I believe her."  Ford shook his head.  "I hope
you're right."

  He remembered a similar conversation with his former partner, only his
partner had been wrong.  But this was different.  And sometimes a cop's
instincts led him to the truth.

  Only problem was, Nathan wasn't sure he hoped he was right--if he was
and the murderer was in town and afraid of being discovered, Veronica
was in terrible danger.

  VERONICA WAS LEAVING her office when the phone rang.  Thinking it was
business, she hurried back to answer it.  "Veronica Miller speaking."

  "Ms. Miller, this is Alma Jones.  We met at my grandson's campaign kickoff
party."

  "Yes,  you're  Eli's  mother.   I  remember."  How  could  she  forget the
withered old woman who'd been so unfriendly to her?

  "My granddaughter, Tessa, said she had lunch with you yesterday."

  "Well, it wasn't exactly lunch.  I'm afraid I wasn't feeling well and
had to leave before our food arrived."  Had Eli's family decided to
welcome her into their tight-knit group?

  "Listen, I'd appreciate it if you would stay away from my family.  What
with Gerald running for the senate, our family

  I / DeK/U 1¥" U /-/eFo

  can't use any negative publicity right now.  You understand, don't
you?"

  "What?"  First Eli didn't want her to see Gerald, now his mother wanted
her to stay away from the whole family.

  "Murdering your own parents was bad enough,  but I won't let you harm  any
of my children."

  Veronica gasped.  She'd heard rumors that some people thought she was a
child murderer, but no one had ever said it to her face.  Anger
hurriedly replaced her hurt.  "Look, Mrs. Jones, I don't have any
intention of interfering with your family.  In fact, I don't even want
to be a part of it."  Veronica slammed down the phone and dropped her
face into her hands, her pulse racing.  How dare the woman.

  Still reeling fifteen minutes later when she parked at the hospital for
her appointment with Dr. Sandler, she did the relaxation exercises the
psychiatrist in Florida had taught her.  Taking deep breaths and
imagining herself on a quiet, deserted island helped.  Only the island
wasn't deserted Nathan was there.  And it was perfect, a romantic haven
where problems didn't exist, where their love could blossom and they
could make love beneath the stars every night with only the moon
watching them and the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

  Feeling better, she made her way through the quiet hospital corridors
and up to Dr. Sandler's office.  She offered him a calm smile when he
greeted her.

  "Well,  Ms. Miller, it's a pleasure.  You've turned into a beautiful young
woman."

  Veronica blushed as he gave her a firm handshake.  You could tell a lot
about a person from a handshake.  "Thanks.  I'm afraid I don't remember
much about you."

  "Of course not.  The last time I  saw you, well, it wasn't under the  best
of  circumstances."  He offered  her a sympathetic look,  which she tried to
ignore.

  "I know."  Veronica settled into one of the leather chairs flanking his
massive oak desk.  "I wanted to talk to you about what happened."

  Dr. Sandier folded his hands, and Veronica had an eerie IXila
Cl"I'Y.)n I ID feeling that the next few minutes were crucial.  "I want
to know what I said when I was a child.  You know, after my parents'
death."

  "Why now?"  Dr.  Sandler asked.

  Veronica told him about the threats.

  "I know.  I talked with that young detective yesterday who's working on
your case."

  "You what?"  Veronica felt  as if the  wind had been  knocked out of  her.

  "Dawson,  I believe  he said.  I  thought you probably  gave him my name."

  *

  She shook her head, stunned.  He'd lied to her.  Why hadn't Nathan told
her?  Was he checking up on her?  Hurt spiraled through her, and it
took her several seconds to regain her composure.

  "Relax, Ms. Miller.  I didn't disclose anything confidential.  I pride
myself on my ethical practice."

  "Of course."  Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, her anger growing.

  He had spent the night with her, made love with her until dawn, but he
hadn't told her he'd asked a psychiatrist about her.  Did he think she
was crazy?  Or did he believe she could have killed her own parents?

  "Um, Ms. Miller?"  The doctor checked his watch.  "I have to see  patients
soon."

  "Oh,   yes."   Veronica  collected  herself.   "I've  had  these recurring
nightmares all my life.  A big ominous shadow is chasing me, trying to catch
me.   One doctor told me it was a child's way of compensating for the fear I
felt, that  the  shadow represents  death.   But I  think  the shadow  is  a
person's  face.  I  think I'm seeing  a vision  of the person  who killed my
parents."

  Dr. Sandler's eyes narrowed in concentration.  "Either one is
possible.

  Have you tried hypnosis?"

  "Yes.  But nothing happened.  I wondered, did I say anything to give you a
clue   as  to  who  killed  my  parents?"   The  doctor  shifted,  obviously
uncomfortable.  "Please tell me the truth."

  "Ms.  Miller, you were very small and fragile, in shock."

  I/4 ena Me a Hero

  "What did I say?"

  "You mentioned a big, dark shadow."

  "But the police didn't think anyone else was there?"

  Dr. Sandier shook his head.  "No."  He paused, then continued.  "The
only other thing you said was that it was your fault.  You kept saying
it over and oven-'It was my fault.  My parents died because of me.""
Veronica's throat closed.  It couldn't be true.  She couldn't have
killed her father and mother.  But if she hadn't, then who had?  And
why did she feel so guilty?

  AFTER CHECKING Veronica's father's date book and the list of people
presently living in the town against those who were around at the time
of his death, Nathan found only four names that ranked as
possibilities.  Alma and Gerald Jones were two of them.  Scroggins was
another.  The last was a girl named Susan Pritchard.  At the time she'd
been seventeen, and would now have been thirty-seven.  Only, she had
died in a car accident within a few days of Veronica's parents'
deaths.

  Her parents still lived in town.  Nathan made a quick phone call, but
the Pritchards weren't home, so he decided to swing by and visit Gerald
and his grandmother.

  The Jones family had been a founder of the town, and Alma knew everyone
who lived in Oakland.  He'd heard the woman was a society matriarch and
would do anything to ensure her son's future in politics.  Now Gerald
had been added to the repertoire of her protective arms.

  He drove to the mansion and pulled up in the big circular drive, amazed
to see gardeners tending the lawn in the heart of winter.  A
distinguished, stiff-looking butler greeted him and showed him to the
formal sitting room where Alma Jones sat.  Wearing a long golden robe
and feathered slippers, she looked as regal as a queen on a throne.

  Her gnarled fingers took away slightly from the powerful image, but her
cool assessing eyes and pointed chin made up the difference.

  "What can I do for you, Detective?"

  The obvious distaste she had for his position in life came through loud
and clear.  "I want to discuss something that happened a few years
ago."

  "Is this about that Miller woman?"

  Nathan hesitated, wondering how she knew.  Then he quickly realized
Alma knew everything.  She probably paid spies to collect gossip for
her.

  "Yes, in a way.  Why do you ask?"

  "I saw the two of you cavorting at Gerald's party."

  Perceptive woman.  "Actually, I'm looking into an old murder case--the
Millers."

  "You mean that murder-suicide?"r The woman's lower lip curled into a  look
of disdain that only a true snob could pull off.  "It was a horrid thing for
the community.  And I did feel sorry for that poor child."

  "I heard  that you  and your  son  visited her  in the  hospital."   Shock
widened  the woman's eyes momentarily, but  she quickly masked it and fanned
her face, her  diamonds glittering  as she waved  her hand  back and  forth.
'"Yes, Eli was...worded.  And in his position, we thought it was a good move
to show concern for the child."

  "So, you did it to impress  the cameras?"  A bitter taste filled  Nathan's
mouth.

  "That  was part of it.  And as senator, Eli felt a certain responsibility.

  The town supported him, he felt he owed it to help console that little
girl in her tragedy."

  "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

  The old woman smiled as if she was glad he understood.  His stomach
clenched.

  "Mrs. Jones,  Mr.  Miller's date  book  indicates you  and  your  grandson
visited him the week before he died."

  Yellow tinged the old woman's white pallor as she dug her bony fingers
into the kerchief in her lap.  "Yes.  He was the only lawyer in town.

  He handled some financial affairs for US."

  "And Gerald?  He was only--what, around twenty back then?"

  I lO ,)ella IVl U "-16'"o

  "Eighteen,   but  he  had  a   trust  fund.   Miller  was  overseeing  its
executions."

  She had an answer for everything.  The quickness of her reply struck
him as odd, almost as if she'd practiced her re- ; sponse.  "Actually,
Detective Dawson, I hated to mention this after the poor family's
death, but I was withdrawing my ac- 'i1 counts from Mr.  Miller."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes."  The old woman tethered.  "There  was some gossip I that he  wasn't
quite  on the up-and-up.  And my family certainly couldn't have had our name
associated with someone of that caliber."  "I see."

  Nathan studied the old woman.  She was cunning and definitely out to
protect her family.  But at what cost?  "And you think that might have
had something to do with the deaths?"  "Who knows?"  The woman toyed
with the emerald on her left hand.  "Perhaps someone found out and Mr.
Miller was so distraught he killed himself."  Or he was in with the
wrong people and they murdered him.  The implication came through loud
and clear.  Nathan's gut pinched.  He didn't want to tell Veronica this
latest insight.  If it were true, she would be crushed.  "Was Eli here
the night the Millers died?"  "Oh, no.  He was away on the campaign."

  She smiled, flut tering her long gray eyelashes.  "But he came back
right away to check on the child."  Nathan stood.  He'd had enough of
Alma Jones and her con descending snobbery.  "Is Eli here?"  "No, he
and Barbara are hosting a charity event tonight."  "How about
Gerald?"

  As cool as Mrs. Jones appeared, anxiety streaked her face.  "He's in
his office.  But I believe he's busy.  You could make an appointment
with his secretary."  "That's okay.  I think I'll just knock."  Nathan
remembered seeing an office on the main floor the night of the party.

  He

  IlllU nerron 1 / I had a feeling it was Gerald's.  "Thanks for your
time, Mrs. Jones."  ' "Certainly."  The woman nodded stiffly,
dismissing him.  He found Gerald's office and tapped on the door.

  "Come in."

  Nathan opened the door and tried not to gawk at the elaborate
furnishings.  Gerald's office contained more furniture than his entire
apartment, and the price of his sleek cherry desk probably tripled the
cost of Nathan's entire living room set.

  "To what  do  I owe  this  visit?"  Gerald  asked  with his  usual  smooth
politician's smile.

  Nathan made himself comfortable in one of the leather wing chairs.  He
gave a short rendition of his search into the Miller case.  "I wondered
what business you had with Mr.  Miller years ago."

  Gerald's false smile slipped slightly.  "I didn't have business with
him," Gerald said.  "I was only a young boy."

  Nathan hesitated, remembering Alma Jones's story.  "You didn't go to
see him about a trust?"

  Gerald looked puzzled for a moment.  "Oh, yes, I did have a trust.  I
don't remember what day it was that I was scheduled to see Mr. Miller,
though.  In fact, I never made the meeting."  "You didn't meet with him
at all that week?"

  Gerald shook his head.  "Not at all.  Now, if there isn't
anything'else, I have an important call to make."

  Feeling dismissed, Nathan stood and left, an uneasy premonition
settling inside him.  For some reason he couldn't pinpoint, he sensed
Gerald was lying.

  VERONICA GATHERED the mail, and after flipping through the assortment
of junk pieces and bills, stared at an unmarked envelope.  Ripping it
open, her chest squeezed at the sight of the newspaper articles
nclosed.  They were all about her parents' deaths.  She immediately
glanced around her to see if anyone was watching.  Who had sent the
unmarked envelope?  And why?

  Tired of being afraid, she summoned her courage and opened the door to
her apartment.  The minute she stepped inside, she knew someone had
been there.  Were they still there?

  The apartment smelled like a man's cologne, but not like Nathan's.  It
was some sickly sweet smell that lingered in the air like rotten
fruit.

  And the furniture had all been rearranged in her living room.  Her
hands trembled and fear mushroomed in her stomach.  Her sofa was
against the far wail, the chairs sectioned off to form their own
conversation group and the coffee table had been pushed to the side.

  Magazines lay scattered on the floor, and the cushions from the couch
were stacked in a tall pile.  Who would do such a strange thing?  Was
someone playing with her mind?

  Her temper flared.  An intruder had once again violated her personal
domain.  Some sicko who wanted to drive her crazy.

  Pausing at the door, she listened for the intruder and prepared to
bolt.  How had they managed to get in with the new locks she'd had
installed?  Anger overrode her fear.  She wasn't crazy.  Someone was
out to get her.  Maybe the same person who had killed her parents.

  A deep voice sounded behind her, and she screamed.  Firm hands grabbed
her.

  "Veronica, stop, it's me, Nathan."

  It took a second for his voice to register and when it did,
embarrassment flooded her face.  "I'm sorry."

  "Shh.   No, I am."  He gently wrapped  his arms around her, and she sagged
against him.  "I'm  so sorry,  sweetheart.  I  didn't mean  to startle  you.

  What's going on?"

  "I just got home," she said in a dull voice.  "It looks like the new locks
didn't work."

  Nathan cursed and released her.  He drew his gun and pushed her behind
him.  She remembered her talk with the psychiatrist, and followed
Nathan into the apartment, a mixture of anger and hurt spiraling inside
her.

  He hastily searched her apartment, but Veronica knew it would be
empty.

  Whoever was doing this was too clever to be caught.  And right now,

  Ktta Herron 119

  her heart was breaking from wondering why Nathan had seen Dr. Sandier
behind her back.  She'd told herself that having his comfort and body
was enough, that if he walked away from her, once the case was solved,
she would be fine.  But she realized she wanted much more.  She wanted
his love.  And she didn't want him to leave.  For the first time in her
life, she'd started to envision a future with a man instead of being
alone.

  She stood silently in the living room, one hand clinging to the sofa
arm for support.  When Nathan sauntered back into the room, he threw
the dead bolt, then stuffed his gun inside his jacket and stared at
her, fury in 'his eyes.  "Are you all right?"

  Veronica nodded as her mind filled with memories Of his hands
pleasuring her and his arms closing around her.  He was beside her in a
flash, curling his hands around her arms.  "What's wrong?"

  "I went to see Dr. Sandier today," she said quietly.  "Only he told me
he'd already talked to you about me."' The took of guilt that washed
over his face only made her feel worse.

  "Why did  you  do it?"   Veronica  asked.   Then she  finally  voiced  the
question  that had been eating at her all afternoon.  "Do you think I killed
my parents?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Sensing the importance of his answer to her question, Nathan considered
lying.  But he wanted a relationship with Veronica based on trust, and
that came from being honest.  So he forced a calm into his voice he
didn't feel after seeing her apartment disturbed, and stroked her arms
up and down with his hands.  "Do you?"

  Veronica asked.  Hurt kindled in her eyes.  "No," he said.  "I
don't."

  He saw relief flicker briefly across her face, then the anger
returned.

  "Then why did you talk to him about me?"

  "Let's sit down and I'll explain,"  Nathan said, leading her to the  sofa.
She sank down beside him, her posture stiff.

  "I went because I'm trying to find out what's going on here."  He motioned
around the apartment.   "And if your  old boyfriend or  one of your  clients
isn't responsible, then it must have to do with your past."

  "I think so, too," Veronica said in a quiet voice.

  He took her hand in his, but she remained tense.  "I thought it might
be helpful if the doctor could give me some information about your
condition when they brought you in as a child."

  "You want to know if I'm a basket case," she accused.  "No, that's not
it," Nathan said.  "I want to understand you, Veronica."  He ran his
finger in a circle around her palm, speaking softly.  "I want to help
you."

  IXllU llFFOItl 11

  His comment silenced her.  She simply stared at him in disbelief.

  "That's  the truth."  He squeezed her  hand between both of his.  "I don't
know much about amnesia, especially  when it results from childhood  trauma.
I hoped  the doctor could  help me understand it."   He paused, watching her
face as her anger faded.  "I also thought he might have remembered something
you said that could help us."

  "That's  the reason I  went," Veronica admitted.  "What  did he tell you?"

  "Nothing confidential," Nathan sa'id.

  She smiled.  "He didn't tell me much, either, except that I blamed
myself."

  "That's probably normal for a child," he said.  "I know kids from divorced
families who think it's their fault."

  "I guess you're right."  Veronica shivered, and Nathan warmed her hands
between his.  "I can't help but think there's more to it, though."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I don't know.  Just a feeling."  She leaned back against the sofa, her
face weary.

  Nathan drew her into his arms.  "Don't be angry with me, Veronica.  I
really want to understand you."  He caressed her back with his hands,
easing the tension from her shoulders with his tender ministrations.

  She gazed into his eyes.  "I'm not angry.  But it's important to me
that you believe me."

  Nathan cupped her face in the palms of his hands, his mouth a whisper
away.  "I do believe you.  And we're going to solve this together."

  Lowering his head slowly, he inhaled her intoxicating scent and pressed
his lips onto the soft edges of her mouth.  "You're not alone,
Veronica.

  Not anymore."

  Seducing her with words felt so heavenly and so right, and as Veronica
relaxed in his arms, he absorbed the excited shivers of her body into
his soul.  He loved her, with every breath and inch of his body and
heart, and he intended to show her.

  Her hands eagerly clutched him, and when she pulled at his

  DftU 1¥1U U llUl'O

  clothes, he grinned and bit the sensitive area of her throat,
pleasuring her with his tongue as he plunged inside her welcoming mouth
and thrust his body against hers.  She gripped his muscles and dug her
fingernails into his skin, tugging him closer, and he slid her silken
blouse down until he saw the soft crevice between her breasts, the
glorious peaks already rising for his attention.  Pushing her
lace-covered bra down to expose her flesh, he laved her nipples until
she cried out and begged for more.

  "Nathan, please.  I want you."

  "I want you, too, sweetheart."  With one quick movement he shoved her
slacks down her thighs, his tongue tracing a pattern from her pelvis to
her delicious toes.  Then he feathered kisses along the insides of her
thighs.  She moaned and tried to pull him up.  "No, let me love you,"
he whispered against her soft delicate skin.  She dug her hands in his
hair, and he pushed her legs open to reveal the heart of her womanhood,
then lowered his mouth and loved her until she writhed beneath him.

  Then he drank of her heat and reveled in the pleasure of her sweet
taste.

  "Please,  oh,  please,  Nathan, I  want  to  feel you."   Jerking  off his
clothes, he rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him.  She  straddled
his  thighs and the look of pure  joy in her expression made him crazy.  She
tortured him with kisses.

  Her tongue caressed him and her fingers gripped his buttocks until he
jerked her hands away and pulled her over him.  She straightened
slowly, her breasts a beautiful vision as her long hair swept against
her creamy skin.  And when she sank onto his manhood he moaned and
clung to her, kneading her breasts, rising up to suckle the rosy tips,
then pulling her down harder and faster until they were both crying out
in release.

  Nathan tightened his arms possessively around her and closed his
eyes.

  The moment was perfect.  Feeling sated and still hot at the same time,
he knew it would be another long night of lovemaking.  He wished he'd
never doubted her, wished he'd been able to say he believed her from
the start, but he was too much of a detective not to question every i

  Ktta tlerron i aspect of a case.  This time his investigation had led
him to love.

  Should he tell Veronica his feelings, or was she too confused to know
what her feelings were?  He was experienced enough to know danger
heightened adrenaline and sexual interest, and it was easy for a cop
and the person he was protecting to get involved.  But usually it
didn't last.  If she had feelings for him, would she still have them
when things calmed down?

  She turned to him with her dark eyes sparkling and threaded her hands
in his hair.  "You make me ,feel whole."

  Nathan hugged her to him, touched by her admission, then carded her to
bed.  He had never been happier, and he wanted to tell her, but not
until the case was solved and there was nothing between them.  Then she
smothered his mouth with a mind-boggling kiss and he forgot to talk.

  And when dawn broke the next morning, and she was still sleeping in his
arms, he lay there watching her, savoring every moment..

  VERONICA AWOKE the next morning, patted the bedbeside her and felt a
moment's disappointment when it was empty.  Had Nathan left?  Her heart
stopped momentarily, and she realized the feeling was nothing compared
to what she would feel if he left for good.

  "Hi, sleepyhead."  Nathan grinned as he carded a tray into her room.

  She tried to hide her surprise.  "I thought you'd gone," "I'd never
leave without saying goodbye."

  Veronica's smile slipped and Nathan arched an eyebrow.  "I told you I'm
not going anywhere, darling.  Trust me."  He leaned over and planted a
quick kiss on her lips.  "Now let's eat."

  "Eat?"  Veronica stared at the tray in surprise.  "You made French toast?"

  "Sure,"  Nathan said, wiggling his eyebrows.  "I'm a man of many talents."

  Veronica laughed, wrapped the sheet around her and shoved her hair from
her eyes.  "Okay, sit."

  1 SZl' ,eP'lafl Me a Hero Nathan stretched out beside her.  "Actually
I'm so tired from slaving over the stove, I was hoping you'd feed
me."

  His puppy-dog expression and sudden look of fatigue was so comical
Veronica burst into laughter.  "Okay, baby, open wide."

  Nathan did.  And seconds later he had his mouth full, but the French
toast sat untouched.

  Several long minutes later, Veronica lay back, thoroughly sated and
Nathan once again handed her the breakfast tray.  "It's cold," he said,
feigning disappointment.

  "I thought it was pretty hot myself," Veronica said.

  He laughed.  "The food, silly."

  She nuzzled his neck.  "It was worth it."

  Nathan kissed her soundly, then they both sipped juice and devoured the
food.  "Did you find out anything else yesterday?"' Veronica asked.

  "I checked your father's date book."

  "And?"

  "And Gerald Jones and his grandmother  both had appointments with him  the
week he died."

  "Gerald?  He must have been a teenager then."  "Eighteen.  Sonny was a
kid, closer to your age," he said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

  "His  grandmother  said he  talked with  your father  about a  trust.  But
something about the way Gerald  acted made me think  I didn't get the  whole
story."

  "Hmm."   Veronica  tucked the  sheet around  her.  "That  gets us nowhere.

  We know my parents and Eli were friends."

  Nathan scratched his chin.  "Yeah, but Eli's mother acted suspicious to
me, like she might be covering up something."

  "Really?"  She furrowed her brow.  "I had an interesting chat with her
yesterday myself."

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.  "What happened?"

  Veronica told him about Alma's less-than-friendly phone call.

  "What a witch," Nathan said, chopping his toast into pieces.

  lxlta tlerron 1 OD

  "Snobbery's  everywhere,"  she  said.   "Believe  me,  I  know."   '  "And
politicians are the worst.  Always worried about their image."

  "That's what Gerald said.  It must be awful at times."  "It's the life
they choose."  Nathan squeezed her hand.  "There's one other family I
need to talk to.  And I'd like to talk to Daryl Scroggins again.  He
seemed reluctant for me to dig up the past."

  "I'd like to go with you," Veronica said.  "Okay.  You want the shower
first?  "Who says we have to take turns?"

  Nathan laughed and motioned for her to lead the way, but as he crept
off the bed, he heard a thump.  Something slipped from between the
mattress and boxspring and fell to the floor.  A hypodermic syringe.

  He stared at it, his thoughts racing back to the first time he'd been
called to Veronica's apartment when she'd been attacked and they'd
found a sleep-inducing drug in her system.  She had insisted she hadn't
taken anything.

  "Nathan?"  When he looked up, Veronica stood beside him.  He pointed to
the syringe.

  She gasped.  "Where did that come from?"

  "It  must have been caught in the  mattress.  It fell out when we got up."

  "Well, what's it doing here?"  She leaned over and started to pick it
up, but he ordered her not to touch it.

  "Do you keep hypodermics here for any reason?"

  "Of course not."  Her mouth dropped open as she realized the implications.
"It's  not mine.   I've never seen  it before.  I  don't even like needles."

  Nathan hurried to the kitchen, retrieved a plastic bag and sealed up
the needle.  When he went back to the bedroom, Veronica had her robe on
and her arms folded.  She glared at him.  "You still suspect me?"

  He shook his head.  "I'm going to have it dusted for prints.  Maybe
it's the missing clue we've been looking for."

  "What do you mean?"

  1 t50 5end Me a Hero "Remember that night you were attacked?"

  I'll never forget it."  Veronica shivered, and he hated that he'd
reminded her of that horrible night.

  "The report confirmed a sleep-inducing drug in your system.

  But you insisted you didn't take any sleeping pills."

  "I didn't."

  "Well, maybe someone helped you along."

  AvI'll DROPPING OFF the needle at the lab, Nathan drove to Daryl
Scroggins's house.  For a retired cop, he certainly seemed to have done
well for himself.  The thought hadn't occurred to him the first time
he'd visited Scroggins, but this time a seed of awareness niggled at
his consciousness.  How had Scroggins been able to retire and pay for
this place on a cop's salary?

  "Are you sure you want to do  this?"  Nathan asked as he parked and  faced
Veronica.

  "Yes."  She gave him a brave smile.

  "It can't be easy for you to hear about your parents."

  "It  isn't," Veronica said.  "But it's  important I do.  I've been running
from it long enough."

  Nathan kissed her hand.  "Remember, I'm here with you."

  When Scroggins saw Veronica and Nathan at his door, he tried to shut
it.

  "No, you don't."  Nathan wedged the door open with his foot.  "We have
some unfinished business, Scroggins."

  "I told you to leave the past  alone," Scroggins said, glaring at him  and
then Veronica.

  "I  don't  give  a  damn what  you  said,"  Nathan barked.   "I  want some
answers."  He nudged Veronica  into the doorway.  "And  I think you owe  Ms.
Miller the truth."

  Beads of perspiration exploded on Scroggins's forehead, and Nathan
thought for a moment the man was going to have a heart attack.

  Scroggins pressed his hand over his chest and heaved for air.

  "I'm  not going anywhere," Nathan said more calmly.  "So why don't we have
a little chat, Scroggins."

  Scroggins dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his
forehead.  Finally he waved them into his den.  Nathan was struck again
by the plush surroundings.  "You sure did well for yourself when you
retired," Nathan said casually.  He met Scroggins's gaze.  "Must have
had some investments on the side."

  Scroggins glared at him and settled his round body into a chair, then
picked up a glass of whiskey and downed it.

  Veronica seated herself in a chair.  She knotted her hands in her lap
as her gaze swept the surroundings.  Several photos of the Jones family
caught Nathan's eye.  Ie focused on an eight-by-ten of Scroggins
accepting some kind of award.  The senator was congratulating him.

  So...they were close.  Scroggins was probably in the senator's
pocket.

  "I want to know everything you know about the Millers' deaths," Nathan
said.

  Scroggins gestured toward Veronica.  "Is that what you want, little
Missy?"

  "My name is Veronica, Mr.  Scroggins.  And yes, I want to know.

  Everything."

  Scroggins winced  at her  irritated tone,  then rubbed  his balding  spot.

  "Well, there ain't much to tell that ain't already been said.  I got a
call, disturbing the peace.  Raced over to your place."

  "How long did it take you to get there?"  Nathan asked.

  Scroggins thought for a minute.  "I'd say about fifteen minutes."

  "Fifteen  minutes?"  Nathan asked incredulously.  "Then someone else could
have been there and left?"

  "I know that," Scroggins said.  "But there wasn't any evidence to prove
it.  Believe me, I looked."

  "So, you deemed it a murder-suicide?"  Veronica asked.  "Wasn't nothing
else I could do."

  Nathan kept one eye on Scroggins while glancing around the room.  "You
wouldn't be covering up for someone, would you?"

  Dena Me a nero Scroggins bolted up from the chair.  "What the hell are
you implying?"

  "That someone paid you to keep quiet," Nathan growled.  "I would never
cover up murder," Scroggins snarled back.

  Nathan raised his brows in question.  He saw Veronica shift
uncomfortably.  "What would you cover up?"  she asked.  Scroggins's
long pause only confirmed his guilt.

  "Answer her," Nathan said.  "If you  don't, I'll make sure the  lieutenant
brings  you in for questioning.  And you  know how reporters in a small town
can make that look."

  Scroggins dropped into his chair, looking defeated.  He Wiped his
forehead with his handkerchief.  "The report on your parents was
accurate," Scroggins said.  He looked at Veronica with such remorse
that Nathan found it hard to believe he wasn't telling the truth.  "I
really did try to find out who killed them.  But there wasn't any
evidence.  And once reporters got wind of the fact that you were
holding the bloody knife.  well..."

  "You let them believe it was a murder-suicide to protect me?"

  Veronica's face paled.  He hadn't considered the fact that Scroggins
had protected Veronica.

  "I knew you were too little to do such a thing.  But the media thought
it was a great story, and I've seen the way they do things before.

  They can't convict you through the paper, but they can ruin your
life."

  Scroggins exhaled loudly.  "I figured you'd been through enough
already.

  If I couldn't find the killer, least I could do was let you off the
hook from those leeches.  And if the killer was still around, I was
afraid he'd come after you."

  Veronica dabbed at her eyes, and Nathan fought the temptation to
comfort her.  She straightened her shoulders, and once again he admired
her fortitude.  "Thank you, Mr. Scroggins," she said.  "I appreciate
what you did."

  "You realize Veronica's life may be in danger now," Nathan said.  "She
may have seen the real murderer.  If there's anything you can tell us
that will help, we need to know."

  Klta Herron 1 jl

  Scroggins folded his fingers in his lap.  "I did cover up something,
but I didn't think it was connected to the murder.

  I ain't proud of it, but I didn't see any harm at the time."

  ' 'What?"

  "I think I know the person who might have burned Miller's files."

  Veronica's eyes widened.  "Who?  Why would someone do that?"

  "That's just it.  It didn't have anything to do with your parents' death."

  "Explain, Scroggins," Nathan saicr.

  "I  had a theory but I never  could prove it.  This little teenager in the
town got pregnant.  She'd been to see your daddy, Ms.  Miller."

  "For what?"

  "A paternity suit?"  Nathan guessed.

  Scroggins nodded.

  Nathan snapped his fingers.  "Let me guessSusan Prit-chard?"

  Scroggins poured himself another drink.  "She was just a young little
thing.  Turned out files didn't even need to be burned."

  "Why is that?"  Nathan asked.

  "Little gal died in a car wreck a few days later.  No one would ever  have
known about the baby."

  "And who do you think burned the files, the baby's father?"' Veronica
asked.

  Scroggins leaned on his knees.  "Seems logical."

  "Who was the father?"  Nathan asked, losing his patience.  "You'd have
to ask the girl's parents."  "Come on, you have an idea," Nathan
said.

  Scroggins looked down at the floor.  "My best guess--it was our next
senator--Gerald Jones."

  "I WONDER if Eli knew," Veronica said, once they'd settled back in the
car.

  "Probably," Nathan said in disgust.  "If not, I'd say the 19o enct Me a
Hero odds were his mother did.  Alma Jones struck me as the type who'd
take care of her family at all costs."

  Veronica shivered.  "Do you think she'd murder for them?"

  "Who knows?  I'd like to talk with the Pritchards next though."

  Ten minutes later they arrived at a wooden clapboard house situated on
an old country road.  The house needed a paint job, and various car
parts as well as an old Mustang jacked up for repairs littered the
front yard.

  "Far cry from the Jones's," Nathan said under his breath.

  "You think that's why Gerald wouldn't marry her?"  Veronica asked.

  "Eighteen-year-old  boy, son of a politician  in the middle of a campaign,
with his own goals set for office--yeah, I think that's why."

  "That's awful," Veronica said.   "How could Eli raise  a son so  shallow?"

  Nathan clutched her hand in his as they made their way up the overgrown
drive.  "That's the life of a politician, remember?"' "But Eli wasn't
that way," she said.

  Nathan studied her.  "You really care about him, don't you?"

  "Well, he is my godfather.  He wrote me all those years and helped finance
my college."

  "Like I said, I have a feeling  Alma Jones took care of Gerald, and  Eli."

  Nathan knocked onthe door.  They heard a dog barking, then the door
screeched open.  A small, frail-looking woman wearing a black knit
shawl peered at them though the mesh of the screened door.  "Who is
it?"

  "Mrs. Pritchard, my name is Detective Dawson, and this is Veronica Miller.
We'd like to talk to you."

  "'Bout what?"  The woman wrapped the shawl tightly around her.  "Has my
husband been selling moonshine again?"

  EIk%%U Z'I IUfl!

  Nathan smothered a laugh.  "No, ma'am.  I'll explain if you'll just let
us come in."

  The older woman took a minute to decide.  "You got five minutes, buddy
boy," she said, pointing to a raggedy blue couch.  Nathan and Veronica
sat down, and Nathan explained briefly who he and Veronica were,
skipping the details about the threats on Veronica, but focusing on the
fact that she couldn't remember her parents and was trying to piece
together the past.

  "We thought you might help us."  Nathan lowered his voice in  sympathy.*"I
understand  you  lost  your daughter  twenty  years  ago, and  that  she was
pregnant."

  The old woman's gray eyes grew angry.  "Who told you that?"

  "It doesn't matter," Nathan said.  "But it is important to us to find
out the truth.  Ms. Miller may be in danger."  The lady's eyes
softened as she looked at Veronica.  She started to cry.  "We still
miss our Susan.  Joe didn't even know about the baby."

  Veronica patted her hand.  "I'm sorry you lost her, especially at such
a young age."

  "That's right.  You understand about loss, don't you, lion?"  The old
woman smiled at Veronica, and Nathan decided to let her continue.

  "We think  my  father's files  might  have had  something  to do  with  my
parents'  murder.  But the files were  burned."  "What's that got to do with
my Susan?"  she asked.  Veronica's voice softened with concern.

  "We suspect whoever burned the files did so because Susan went to see
my father."

  "Yes, she did," the old woman said, folding her hands together.  "Susan
wanted to keep the baby, but the father wanted to pay her to have an
abortion."

  "So Susan went to see Mr.  Miller?"  Nathan asked.

  "Yes, she planned to bring a paternity suit against the father."' "Mrs.
Pritchard, I know this is hard for you, but it's im ,ena Me a Hero
portant."  Veronica continued to pat the old woman's hand.  "Would you
tell me who the baby's father was?"

  A worried look knitted her brows.  "I reckon so.  That woman can't hurt
us anymore.  We've done lost everything."  She dabbed at her moist
eyes.

  "Who are you talking about?"  Veronica asked.

  "Alma Jones.  Why, that was the meanest woman to ever walk the face of
this earth.  She killed my Susan and my grand-baby."

  "I don't understand," Veronica said.

  "See, her grandson was the baby's father."

  Nathan glanced at Veronica and saw her face tighten.  "But Gerald, he
was one of them ladies' men.  Thought he was God's gift to every woman
in a skirt, strong our little girl along."

  "Then she got pregnant, and he abandoned her?"  Nathan asked.

  "Shore did," the old woman said.  "And if that weren't bad enough, his
grandmama come over here offering to bribe Susan.

  Wanted to pay her to have an abortion and leave town."  "But you said
she killed Susan?"  Veronica asked.

  Mrs. Pritchard's face crumpled.  "Susan was so upset and depressed
about the way Gerald done her.  Told her she was a tramp and he'd never
had any intentions of marrying a poor little country girl like her.

  Said she was dumb as dirt for even thinkin' such a thing.  Broke her
heart.

  "Then that woman came over here one night and kept badgering her.

  Susan got so upset, she got in the car and took off, driving like a
maniac."

  "That's the night she had the accident?"  Nathan asked.  "Yes.  'Cause
she was so upset," the old woman said bitterly.  "See, Alma Jones
killed her.  And I won't never forget it."

  A few minutes later, Nathan and Veronica climbed in the car to go to
her apartment.  "That was a terrible thing for Mrs. Jones and Gerald
to do to that girl," Veronica said.  "And I can't help but wonder..."

  Ktta Herron lJ

  "Eli might not have known," Nathan said, reading her thoughts.  "Alma
Jones could have hidden the whole thing from him."

  Veronica sighed, and Nathan ran his hand along the seat and threaded it
through the back of her hair.  "You okay?"

  "Yes."  She leaned against him.  "I'm glad you're here."  But Veronica
couldn't stop thinking about the young pregnant girl and how Alma and
Gerald had been so callous toward her.  She wondered if Eli had
known.

  After all, when he'd warned her not to date Gerald, she'd sensed he
didn't want anyone to destroy his son's reputation and career.eTo what
lengths would Eli go?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Veronica entered her apartment, thoughts of Gerald, Eli and Alma
tormented her.  She'd forgotten she'd left the newspaper clippings
she'd received in the mail scattered across the coffee table.  Nathan
immediately zeroed in on them and sat down to study them.  Veronica
retreated to the kitchen to put the takeout Mexican food they'd bought
on a tray.  Part of her felt shameful; another part wondered what he
thought as he looked at the pictures.  He'd said he didn't think she
killed her parents, but did he think she was unstable or strange?  And
what would happen once he solved the case?

  Since she'd met Nathan, she'd started dreaming of a future and a
family--like the one she'd lost as a child.  But each time she thought
of having a baby of her own, fears bombarded her.  Since she couldn't
remember her own mother, how would she know how to be a good one
herself?.

  Poor Susan Pritchard hadn't gotten the chance to find out.  How many
other women had found themselves in the same position with Gerald and
been paid off to keep quiet or have an abortion?  And if Eli had known,
what kind of a man did that make him?  When she'd first moved to
Oakland, she'd dreamed of becoming a part of Eli's family, but now she
wasn't sure it was the kind of family she wanted to belong to.

  "Both Eli and his mother were at your parents' funeral," Nathan said,
holding up one of the articles.

  "They were friends."

  Rita Herron 195

  "You know, I got a different feeling from Alma Jones."

  Nathan grabbed a nacho and dipped it in salsa.  "I'm not sure she
considered your father a friend."  "Why not?"  Veronica cut the
quesadillas in half and bit into one.  "Eli's mother said she visited
your father to tell him she was taking her business to another
attorney."  "But why?  I thought Dad was the only lawyer in Oakland."

  Nathan ate his quesadilla, suddenly quiet.  Veronica sensed he was
hiding something.  "What is it, Nathan?  What aren't you telling me?"

  ·

  Nathan's gaze met hers.  "I don't know if there's any troth to it."

  "To what?"

  When he looked away, Veronica braced herself for bad news.

  "Mrs. Jones suggested your father might have been...um, less than honest."

  "My  father?"  She bolted off the  sofa so quickly she almost knocked over
the coffee table.   Nathan's glass skidded  sideways and he  caught it,  his
fingers folding tightly around the rim.

  "I  don't  believe  it," Veronica  said  angrily.   "I've heard  a  lot of
accusations and gossip over the past few years, but I don't believe for
a minute my dad was a crook."

  "I didn't say it was tree," he clarified.  "I only said that was what
Mrs.  Jones implied."

  "And I suppose she implied someone killed him because of his  dishonesty."

  Nathan nodded.

  "Well, she's wrong."  Veronica crossed her arms and paced across the room.
"If anybody was  shady, it would  have been  her.  After all,  look how  she
treated that Pritchard girl."

  "I agree," he said calmly.  "Although I found a couple of excerpts in
the papers that suggest the same theory."

  "Nosy reporters," Veronica said.  "They'd do anything for a story.  I
wonder why they didn't catch wind of that Pritchard 196 Send Me a Hero
girl's accident and splatter the fact that she was pregnant all over
the papers."

  "You're  right," Nathan said.  "I imagine  somebody got paid off along the
way."

  She stared out the window at the fading sunlight as it formed shadows
on the lawn and sidewalk.  Just like in her nightmares, she thought she
saw the dark shadow of a man lurking behind every tree.  She was more
certain every day that the visions in her dreams were visions of the
man who'd killed her parents.  And if she could just remember that
night and see his face, she could make him pay for destroying her life
and murdering her family.  Did Eli's family have something to do with
it?

  "Veronica?"  Nathan's calm voice broke into her thoughts.  She pivoted
and saw him watching her, concern darkening his eyes.  "I have a
theory.  You want to hear?"

  She nodded.

  "Suppose Susan  goes  to  your father  for  help.   She wants  to  file  a
paternity  suit.  Mrs. Jones  and Gerald wanted to  hide the fact that Susan
Pritchard was pregnant."

  "And?"

  "Then Gerald or Alma go to your dad to try and talk him out of it."

  "Or tobuy him  off," Veronica said,  her heart pounding  at the  scenario.

  It made perfect sense.

  "Right.  And suppose your father wouldn't go along.  They were worried
about Gerald's reputation and about Eli's campaign."

  Veronica sank into the chair, her heart racing.  "Then Gerald or Alma
killed my father to keep him quiet."  Veronica hesitated.  "But why
kill my mom?"

  "She must have come in and seen the whole thing.  So they killed your
mom and made it look like a murder-suicide."

  "Oh,  no," Veronica muttered  under her breath.  "Do  you think Eli knew?"

  Nathan shook his head.  "I doubt it.  His mother said he was out of
town the day your parents were killed.  When he got Rtta Herron 19'/

  word, he rushed back."  He hesitated.  "Of course, they could have lied
about him being out of town.  It's been so long ago I'm not sure if we
can find out for sure."

  "He came to see me at the  hospital."  Veronica felt a chill creep up  her
spine.  "He couldn't have known, Nathan.  He just couldn't have.

  He's been so kind to me."

  Nathan started to go to her, but the phone rang and Veronica picked it
up.  "Hello."

  "Veronica, darling, it's Eli."

  "Eli."   Veronica's legs folded beneath  her.  Nathan helped her sit down.
· "Yes.  Tessa said she enjoyed having lunch with you."  "Yes,"
Veronica croaked.

  "That's great.  I'm calling to invite you and a date, of course, to my
house for a private dinner party tomorrow night.  Can you make it?"

  Veronica searched Nathan's face for support.  "I thought you didn't
want me becoming close to your family."

  "Veronica, honey, listen.  That was a misunderstanding."

  Eli's breathing became labored.

  "Are you all right, Eli?"

  "Yes, but I don't want you to be upset.  Please, I really want you to
come."

  Veronica hesitated.  "Just a minute, Eli."  She whispered an
explanation to Nathan and he nodded.

  "Fine, Eli.  I'll be there."

  "Good.  It means a lot to me.  Cocktails are at seven."

  "See you then."   When she hung  up the phone,  her hands were  trembling.

  "A family get-together?"

  "I suppose."

  "That should be interesting."  Nathan took her hand in his and stroked
it.  "Maybe we can find out more about Gerald and Mrs.  Jones."

  "Yeah."    Veronica  squeezed  his  fingers.   "But  first  I  have  to do
something."

  "What?"

  198 Send Me a Hero

  "I have to go back to the old house."  Once again, she looked to Nathan
for support.  His amber eyes glowed with understanding, and what looked
like admiration.  "Last time it didn't jog my memory, but maybe if I go
inside it will, and I'll finally remember what happened."  Then she
looked at Nathan and voiced another worry.  "But if it is Eli's mother
or his son, how will I ever tell him?"

  Nathan put his hand on her back.  "I don't know sweetheart, but I'll go
with you."

  A FEW MINUS LATER, Nathan had his hands clenched around the steering
wheel as he drove Veronica to her childhood home.  He wanted to find
out who was threatening her and see them rot in jail, and the detective
in him wanted to find it out at any cost.  But the man in him, the
person who cared about Veronica, didn't want her to suffer in order to
find the answers.  He wanted to protect her.  If she relived the horrid
memory she'd blocked out twenty years ago, what kind of an effect would
it have on her mentally?  Would she be able to handle the truth?

  Should he call a doctor to go with them?  He reached over and covered
her hand with his.  "You don't !i have to do this now."  "Yes, I do."

  She raised her delicate chin and he recognized strength and courage in
her profile.  Yet fear shaped her darkil brown eyes into pOOls of
liquid chocolate.  "I never came back here after they died.  My
grandmother took me away as soon as I left the hospital."  "I can
understand that.  I'd probably have done the same thing."  When he
parked the car in front of the overgrown yard and saw Veronica bite
down on her lip, he stroked the column of her neck and kissed her
gently on the cheek.  "You may not remember anything, even when you go
inside."  "I know.  But I have to try."  She opened the car door and
climbed out.  Nathan followed her, letting her set the pace as i he
mentally prepared himself for whatever might happen.  He needed to step
back and to become invisible inside the house Rita Herron 199 in order
to let her concentrate.  But if she struggled with her memory or became
too frightened, he'd have to step in.  He'd never be able to stand by
and watch her in distress.

  She looked cautious and thoughtful as she made her way past the
weed-filled patch that had once been a flower garden.  She paused and
glanced at a magnolia tree in the yard, and he wondered if she had any
recollection of it.  Of course it had to have been tiny when she lived
in the house.

  Gingerly, she reached out and wiped spiderwebs from the boarded
doorframe.  Nathan pulled the rotting boards loose, then tore the
boards from the windovs.  Sighing deeply, she gave him a slow smile
before she opened the door.

  As SOON AS THE DOOR squeaked open, Veronica thought she heard music
playing.  The familiar tune "Somewhere over the Rainbow" drifted into
her mind, but instead of the comforting, beautiful melody, the
screeching gyrations grated on her nerves, consuming the space in the
room and sucking the air from her lungs with the haunting clarity of
impending doom.  Her heart pounded, blood running hot through her veins
and roaring in her ears.

  The musty odor was a swift reminder that the house was devoid of life,
empty of love and laughter.  A cloud of dust and cobwebs streaked the
outdated Early American style furniture.  The avocado and gold colors
made Veronica painfully aware she'd truly stepped back in time.  Thick
rust-colored Shag carpet covered the floors, and a magazine rack filled
with old Life and Time magazines overflowed the wooden holder.  These
were her parents' old things.  The faded gold couch with the flowers,
the ruffled pea green chair, the worn vinyl recliner.

  Immediately her eyes were drawn to the ugly words vandals had painted
on the yellowed walls.  A mouse skittered out from the sofa and darted
into the corner.  A brown clay ashtray in the center of the table
surprised Veronica because as far as she'd known, neither of her
parents smoked, then she noticed the ashtray had been made of clay.  It
was a child's art project.  She must have made it for her parents.  Why
hadn't her grand 200 Send Me a Hero mother taken it from the house and
put it with the other memorabilia?

  She bypassed the table and paused to wipe the thick dust from a book on
the pine end table.  An old copy of Dickens.  Was it her mother's or
father's?  Or maybe they'd read 'it together.  A musty smell filled her
nostrils as she opened it and read the inscription.  "For my darling
wife.  With all my love on our wedding day."  Veronica's vision blurred
as she read her father's name.

  She clutched the book in her hands and walked slowly toward the
kitchen.  The strong scent of mildew lingered in the air and she
stopped to stare at the rusty porcelain sink.  Mouse droppings littered
the floor.  Something seemed familiar about the room--the yellow
gingham curtains, the dingy white appliances.  The kitchen was supposed
to be the heart of the home.  Had her family cooked and had nice, cozy
family dinners in here?  Had she thrown baby food on the floor or
helped her mother make cookies for preschool?

  Closing her eyes, she hugged the book to her chest and conjured up a
vision of her parents.  She could imagine them standing in the kitchen,
her mother baking biscuits, her father sipping juice and reading the
morning paper.  Or maybe her father had cooked and her mother had read
the morning paper?  No, it was all wrong.

  She tried to picture a Christmas tree in the den and the smell of
cinnamon or gingerbread, but her vision became foggy with images of
blood and the sounds of her parents' screaming.  Then she heard her own
voice as a child's.  She was crying and begging her parents not to die,
not to leave her.  The memory shook her to the core, and she began to
shiver.

  Dam it, why couldn't she at least remember some happy memories.  Surely
their family had had some.

  Opening her eyes, she gripped the counter and saw Nathan watching
her.

  "Are you all right?"

  She simply nodded, too stunned by the vivid memory to speak.  She
stared through the broken glass of the back window and spotted a
swing.

  It seemed vaguely familiar, but once Rita Herron 201 again no details
registered.  Gathering her courage, she walked down the hall.

  A room to the left a room to the right.  Which one had been hers?

  She caught a  glimpse of  blue and  rose wallpaper.   It seemed  familiar.

  Then she remembered the wrapping paper on the gift that had been sent
to her office and how she'd reacted to it.  This room must have been
hers.  And the person who'd sent her the music box had known.

  She heard Nathan's shallow breathing behind her and felt grateful he
was there, grateful also that he wasn't pushing her to talk.  She
sidestepped a section cfr the wall where vandals had painted
obscenities.  Her finger traced the small rosebuds, and she smiled as
she noticed a child's drawing on a small pink bulletin board.  It was
obviously supposed to be the sun, but if she'd drawn it, she must have
gotten carded away with the orange marker, for it looked more like a
giant pumpkin.  Then she realized that she didn't know if she'd drawn
it or if another child had given it to her.

  Anger filled her.  By forgetting that night and blocking out her
childhood, she'd lost some treasured memories as well as the bad.  She
had to get them back.  Spurred on by determination, she studied the
white French Provincial furniture and tried to imagine herself as a
child curled up in the bed asleep.  She picked up a worn brown teddy
bear and pressed it to her chest.  Had this been her favorite bear?  If
so, why hadn't her grandmother taken it with them?  She studied the
bear's floppy ears and the place where a button was missing, hoping it
would conjure up a familiar image.  But her mind refused to focus, and
her head started to pound.  She rubbed her temple and felt Nathan's
gentle hands massage her shoulders.

  "Don't push it.  You'll remember when you're ready."

  "No."   Veronica  let  anger  drive  her.  "It's  time.   I  just  need to
concentrate."

  She pushed past him and examined the small box of toys: a broken doll,
chalkboard, cards, blocks, puzzles and a sketch pad.  She opened the
pad and gasped in surprise.  The first few pictures vaguely resembled
the good witch in The Wizard of 202 Send Me a Hero

  Oz and oddly, she'd scrawled her mother's name above them.  She'd named
her father the Wizard.  A childhood drawing of a nasty-looking witch
filled several pages.

  She'd labeled a stick picture of a man "Eli."  To her surprise, the
picture had been colored over with black crayon.

  Why would she have done that?

  "I wonder if  you drew  those before or  after the  murder," Nathan  said.

  "And I wonder why the police didn't take them."  ' "It must have been
before," Veronica said.  "Grandma said she never brought me back here
afterward.  I don't understand why I would color over Eli."

  "Hmm,  interesting.  Maybe you didn't.   Another child could have done it.

  You know how kids are."

  "I suppose you're fight," Veronica  said, although a strange feeling  came
over her.  It was as if she knew she had drawn the pictures.  The dark, dank
air in the room closed  in around her, and she  noticed a shadow rise  above
her  from the  window frame as  the last  remnants of the  sun slipped away.

  She turned the page of the sketch pad, and fear completely clogged her
throat.  Someone had drawn a picture of a little girl kneeling over a
woman's and a man's bodies, and the little girl had a bloody knife
raised above her.

  WimN NATHUq SAW Veronica's face pale at the sight of the picture, he
decided he had to get her out of there.  Slowly, he tried to ease her
fingertips from the sketch pad.  "Come on, darling, let's go."

  Veronica shook her head, her eyes glazed.

  "You've seen enough today.  We can always come back."  She shook her  head
vehemently  and  her lower  lip  trembled, but  her voice  sounded amazingly
strong when she spoke.  "No, I have to see something."

  "What?"  Was she remembering?

  Her eyes still dark, her face as pale as the faded walls, she pulled
away from him and turned to cross the hall.  Im- , Klta tlerron zuJ
mediately Nathan realized she was going to her parents' bedroom.  The
room where they had died.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he watched her enter the room.  She
stared at the simple maple double bed.  The mattress and boxspring were
missing, but the chalk lines the police had used to mark where her
parents had died still remained on the floor.  Although the lines were
faint and marred with dust, the outline was clear.

  She inched toward the bed, touched the worn lime green chenille
bedspread piled on the end of the frame, then blew the dust from one of
her parents' oictures.  A small smile spread on her face at the sight
of her dad and mother holding her.  The idyllic expressions on their
faces made it clear they loved her.

  "Dr. Baits said my father was disappointed I didn't look like him,"
Veronica whispered.  "I think I might have his chin."

  Nathan took the photograph.  He couldn't see.  the resemblance, but
then he never had been one to notice things like that with families.

  He sensed it was important he confirm her thoughts so he smiled.

  "Yeah.

  Maybe you do."

  She pivoted, her gaze moving to the faded shag carpet where the chalk
marks served as an aching reminder of the tragedy that had taken place
in the house.  "Look at those pictures of them together.  You can't
make me believe they killed themselves," Veronica said quietly.

  He had to agree.  Domestic violence was common, but Veronica's father
had been an educated man, a pillar of the society.  And the glow on his
wife's face was evidently one of admiration and love for her husband.

  A lace doily covered the dressertop, its yellowed edges frayed.

  Veronica wiped a thin layer of dust from an antique music box that sat
on top of it.  He was amazed there was anything left in the room.  In
some cities, vandals would have robbed the place or the homeless would
have moved fight in.  The neighbor who'd kept an eye on the place must
have done a good job.

  2U4 'end Me a Hero Veronica opened the box and paused, the look on her
face strange when it started playing "Love Is a Many-splendored
Thing."

  Then she pulled out a small pin, and Nathan moved closer.  It was a pin
like the one the lady in the flower shop had mentioned, exactly like
the one Veronica owned.  Where had it come from?  Veronica said there
were only a few like it in the world.  "Can I take this and have it
fingerprinted?"  he asked.

  Veronica nodded, still dazed.  Then she surprised him by moving over to
the chalk marks and kneeling beside them.  "This is where they found
me," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.  "I was right beside
them."  A sudden chill swept through the air and the lacy curtains
ruffled.  The sky had darkened and Nathan wondered 'if a thun derstorm
was on its way.  He pulled the curtain back and peered outside.  One of
the window panes had been broken, and the wind whistled eerily through
the jagged glass.  In the distance he thought he saw a dark car skid
around the curve.  Had someone been following them?  When he glanced
back, Veronica was staring at her hands, her face ashen.  Then she
brought her hands to her head and pressed them against her temples.  He
raced to her and encir cled her with his arms.  "Veronica, come on,
let's go."  "My head hurts," she whispered.  "I want to remember, but I
can't."  "Shh, it's okay."  "No, it's not," she said.  She raised her
face to look at him, and the pain and agony in her eyes made his chest
ache.  "I have to remember.  I have to."  "You will, sweetheart."  He
started to pull her into a standing position, but she groaned and
pressed her hands tighter over her head.  "Make it stop.  Please make
it stop."  She closed her eyes and rocked herself back and forth in his
arms.  Nathan gritted , his teeth.  He didn't care if she remembered or
not.  He couldn't stand to watch her suffer.  Sweeping her up into his
arms, he carried her to the car.

  Rita Herron 205

  Once they arrived at her apartment, Nathan helped Veronica change into
a nightshirt, gave her two painkillers and tucked her into bed.

  "Stay with me," she said softly.  Her eyes were closed, her face etched
with fatigue, and although Nathan knew he should be working on her
case, he couldn't resist her simple plea.  He lay down beside her and
pulled her into his arms.  "Go to sleep, sweetheart.  It's been a long
day."

  Veronica nodded.  "I wish I'd remembered more."

  "It's a start,"  he said, stroking  her back to  calm her.  "Just  relax."

  He talked softly and contined to stroke her until she fell asleep.  For
a long moment, he watched her sleep, reveling in her beauty and quiet
strength.  She was dealing with past demons he could hardly imagine.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and she jerked in her sleep.  He stroked her
again and curled his fingers in her hair, once again soothing her until
she stilled.  Finally, when he was sure she was sound asleep, he eased
off the bed and went into her den to use the phone."

  After dialing his partner, he relaxed on the sofa with a beer and
contemplated the things he'd learned from the Pritchards and the former
police chief while he waited for Ford to get to the phone.  Could Eli's
mother or Gerald possibly be responsible for everything that happened
to Veronica--her parents' deaths, the threats, the attack, the music
box, the crushed flowers?  But if they had killed her parents and
didn't want her to remember, why send her things that might trigger
that memory?

  Unless...unless they thought she was unstable and might become so
distraught she'd take her own life.

  He certainly didn't like that line of thinking.

  "Dawson, Ford here."

  "Yeah.  What did you find out on the Falk woman?"

  "No  relation to anyone who lived in Oakland in the seventies.  Can't find
any connection or motive  as to why  she'd want to  hurt the Miller  woman."

  Nathan had to agree, but still she'd had access to Veronica's keys.

  "Maybe someone paid for her help."

  206 Send Me a Hero "That's a possibility," Ford said.  "She sure took a
cut in pay when she quit prostituting."

  "Yeah," Nathan said, wondering if Gerald or Alma Jones could have paid
her to help.

  "I'm  meeting her at Richard's.  Maybe  she'll open up over a few drinks."

  "Sounds like a plan," Nathan said.  "How about the hypodermic I dropped
off?.  Any prints?"

  Ford paused.  "Only one."

  Nathan swallowed hard.  "Veronica's?"

  "Nope."

  "So she didn't lie.  She hadn't given herself the shot."

  "She could have wiped them off."

  Nathan sighed in disgust.  "You're still determined to make her out as
a crazy woman, aren't you?"

  Ford laughed.  "I'm looking at all angles.  Remember, I'm not the one
thinking with my hormones."

  "Shut up," Nathan  growled.  "Now,  tell me  whose prints  you did  find."

  "They weren't registered."

  "Damn."  Nathan rubbed his face in frustration.  Every time he thought
he had evidence, it turned out to be incomplete.  Then he remembered
Eli's party the next night.  He would escort Veronica and find some way
to get Gerald and Alma Jones's fingerprints.  "Well, keep it on file.

  Maybe we'll find a match."  ' "All right."  Ford hesitated.  "And what
have you learned-other than Ms.  Miller's bra size?"

  Nathan cursed vehemently.

  Ford laughed.  "Settle down, man."

  Nathan reined in his temper and gave Ford the details about his visit
with Scroggins and what he'd learned from the Prit-chard family about
Gerald.  Then he briefly described Veronica's visit to her homestead.

  "I think you're barking up the wrong tree if you're looking at Gerald
Jones.  He's done nothing but good for this town,"

  Kita llerron Lu /

  Ford said.  "Everybody's got a few ghosts in their closet.  It doesn't
make them killers."

  Nathan bit his lip.  "You may be tight.  But if he isn't involved, we
have to find out who is.  And I damn well intend to do it, with or
without your help."  He hung up the phone and cursed Ford.  After
talking with him, Nathan felt as if he'd made no progress at all.

  A low moan came from the bedroom and he realized Veronica must be
having a nightmare.  Slowly, he opened the door and saw her tossing
from side to side, her eyelashes flut· f tering as she clutched the
covers with her fingernails.  He took off his shirt and jeans and
beeper and stretched out beside her, then pulled her into his arms.  He
wanted this whole ordeal to be over for her, yet he still didn't know
what would happen between the two of them once it ended.

  Would she go back to Florida or to Ron Cox?  Would she realize she'd
only been drawn to him because of the danger?  He was, after all, a
cop.

  And cops made lousy husbands.  He had a dangerous job, a profession
many women weren't able to accept· Would Veronica be able to tolerate
his crazy hours and the fact that when he left every day, they would
both have to face the fact that he might not come home at night?

  He knew he could.  He would live each moment with her as if it might be
their last· With that thought on his mind, he drew her next to him, and
closed his eyes.

  Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, the telephone jangled,
waking him from a deep, warm sleep.  Nathan jumped and reached for it,
his mind instantly alert in case it was another threat to Veronica.

  She bolted uptight and hugged the covers to her chest, her eyes wide in
the moonlight.

  He waited for the caller to speak.  "Hello.  Hello, this is Lieutenant
Stevens· Is someone there?"

  Lieutenant Stevens--how had he known where to find him?

  His already-agitated voice grew louder.  "Hello, I'm looking for
Detective Dawson.  Ms. Miller--" "Lieutenant, I'm here·" ena Me a Hero
"I'm not going to ask what in the hell you're doing," Stevens said.

  "But you need to get down here."

  "Why?"  Nathan asked, reaching for his jeans.

  "Your partner, Ford."  When Stevens paused, Nathan lost his breath.

  Your partner--the words reverberated over and over in his head.  Nathan
felt dizzy as d6jh vu struck him.  No.  It couldn't be happening
again.

  "What happened?"  he finally choked out.

  Stevens  sighed.  "I  hate to  tell you  this, Dawson.   But Ford's dead."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nathan felt his windpipe close.  "What?  How?"

  "Ran his car off a cliff," Stevens said.  "Happened a couple of hours
ago."

  "Damn."  Nathan scrubbed his hand over  his face and glanced at  Veronica.

  She looked frightened to death.  "What's wrong."?"  she whispered.

  Nathan shook his head, self-recriminations exploding fn his mind.  It
was his fault.  He shouldn't have been here in bed with Veronica.  He
should have been working with Ford.  "Any sign of foul play?"  Nathan
asked.

  "Not yet, but we've got a team going over the car right now.  Thought
you might want to be in on' it."

  "Hell, yeah."

  "Do  you  know what  Ford  was up  to tonight?   Were  you two  working on
something?"

  Nathan stared at Veronica, his chest clenching painfully.  "He was
supposed to meet a woman named Falk tonight," he said.  "Around ten at
Richard's Bar and Grill."

  Stevens mumbled something under his breath.  "I'll check it out, but it
looks like he was on his way when he had the wreck.  I don't think he
ever made it to the bar."

  Veronica clasped his hand.  He squeezed her fingers, guilt fogging his
mind.

  "who is this Falk woman, anyway?"  Stevens asked.

  210 Send Me a Hero

  Nathan paused, reluctant to say anything in front of Veronica.  She had
enough to deal with.  But then again, she was involved.  She had to
know.

  "She's Veronica Miller's secretary.  I asked Ford to check her out because
she had access to Ms.  Miller's keys."

  Veronica's eyes clouded with confusion.

  "I   see.   And  you  think  Ford's  accident  might  be  related?"  "It's
possible," Nathan said.

  "I'll see if we can locate Ms.  Faik."

  "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  Nathan lowered the phone and turned to Veronica.  The shock in her eyes
made his stomach churn.

  "What happened?  What about Louise?"

  Nathan took her hands in his, trying to ignore his own turbulent
emotions.  "My partner had an appointment with her tonight."

  The expression on her face turned to horror.  "Did something happen to
Louise?"

  Nathan shook his head slowly.  "No.  Ford never made it to see her.  He
had an accident."

  "Is...he all right?"

  He shook his head again, unable to speak.  Veronica wrapped her arms
around him, but he couldn't accept her comfort.  He didn't deserve
it.

  His first partner, Rick, had died because he believed in a woman.  Ford
had died doing legwork for him because he believed in Veronica because
he was in bed with her.

  "Nathan?"

  Her soft voice barely penetrated the coldness around him.  He had to
find the truth now.  Not just for Veronica.  But for Ford, the partner
he hadn't liked, the partner who hadn't believed him, the partner who'd
died because of him.  Hadn't he learned that police work and personal
relationships didn't go together?

  It certainly cast suspicion on Louise Falk, but like Ford said, what
possible motive could she have to hurt Veronica?

  Rita Herron 211

  "I have to go."  Nathan pulled away and stood, then reached for his shirt.

  Veronica's eyes shimmered with hurt.  She'd had a terrible night, and
he felt like a heel for leaving her, but he couldn't stay here--not
when Ford lay dead, and the person who'd been tormenting Veronica was
still on the loose.

  "Are  you all right?  I can  drive you," Veronica offered.  Nathan quickly
buttoned and tucked in his shin.  "I'm fine.  I'll call you later."  Then he
grabbed  his gun and headed for the door.  Before he closed it, he turned to
Veronica.  "Lock the  doors.  And  don't let  anyone in.   NoG anyone."   He
pointed toms beeper.  "And if you need me, call."

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, he was standing at the scene of the accident
watching a wrecker tow Ford's truck up the hill.  It would be taken in
for a complete workover.  By tomorrow they would know if the car had
any mechanical problems and if it had truly been an accident.

  "No witnesses?"  Nathan asked Stevens.

  "None."  The lieutenant leaned over and stared at a dark smudge on the
back of the bumper, then pointed to the street.  "Possibility the car
might have been helped off that cliff, though.  See the extra set of
tire marks?"

  "Yep.   And by someone who drives a black car."  Nathan examined the paint
spot.  He remembered Cox's black sedan.  Was he still in town?

  He recalled seeing another black car at Veronica's house the day
before.

  "Did you have someone question the people at the bar and grill?"

  Nathan asked.

  "Done," Stevens said.  "No one saw Ford.  And the waitress didn't remember
a woman coming in alone."

  Nathan scratched his chin.  "Any news on the Falk woman?"

  "She's not at her place.  And her apartment's been cleaned out."

  Nathan's thoughts swirled.  What in the hell did Louise Falk have to do
with all this?  Had Eli helped Veronica hire Louise?

  212 Send Me a Hero Was she just a paid assistant in someone's demented
game or was she some psycho who had planned the whole scheme to torment
Veronica on her own?  And why?  Even psychos usually had some twisted
logic.

  "I'll run a complete background check on her," Nathan said.  "I'm going
to find out everything there is to know about Louise Falk."

  "Get  on  it," Stevens  said.  "I  hate to  lose one  of my  men."  Nathan
swallowed.  And  as much  as he  disliked  Ford, he  hated to  lose  another
partner.

  VERONICA PACED the apartment, her nerves on edge.  She'd showered and
tried to finish some paperwork, but her mind raced with worry.  Nathan
had been upset when he left.

  And rightfully so.  His partner had been killed because of her because
he was investigating her case.  Death followed her everywhere she
went.

  Maybe she should just leave town and forget about her past.  If
Nathan's partner had been killed because of her, then Nathan was in
danger.  And she loved him too much to let him die.

  She collapsed onto the couch, brushing away the tears as nausea
overwhelmed her.  Why did everyone she cared about have to die?  Was
loving her some kind of awful curse?  Had she caused Nathan's partner's
death as she had her parents'?

  The shadows closed around her, clawing at her skin and screaming her
name over and over until she buried her face into a pillow and
sobbed.

  She wanted her parents back.  She wanted her grandmother back.

  And she would not lose Nathan.  At least not to death.  She wasn't
worth dying over.

  Making a hasty decision, she scrambled into her bedroom and started to
pack.

  ON THE WAY to the precinct Nathan swung by his apartment and picked up
clothes for the evening at Eli's.  If he ran short on time, he could
change at Veronica's.  Then he went to the Rta Herron 215 station and
found everything he could on Louise Falk.  She'd been born an
illegitimate child, lived with a drug-addict mother and carted from one
homeless shelter to another until she was fifteen.  Louise had run away
and lived the life of a prostitute until she was twenty.  After that,
she'd gone from one live-in relationship to another.

  She'd come to Oakland, volunteered on Gerald Jones's campaign, and
learned general office skills at a local business school.  From there
she'd taken the job with Veronica.  So her connection to the Jones
family was Gerald, not Eli.  Checking further, he discovered she'd
investedein Barrett Pharmaceuticals at the advisement of Gerald.  Had
she lost a bundle as well?

  Why hadn't he guessed Gerald was the key?  They could be lovers.  When
Veronica returned, Louise had helped him torment Veronica because she
was in love with him.  A logical reason for a poor, former prostitute
to help Gerald.

  He stuffed the information into a folder and headed to the car.  He
wanted to see Veronica, but he'd had a disturbing thought while driving
to the station.  He knew the sketches she had found at her old house
had bothered her, and they had concerned him, but he hadn't been able
to put his finger on it.  What if she had drawn the pictures after her
parents were killed?  Perhaps there was a clue to the murderer in her
childish sketches.

  He hurriedly drove to her old home.  Once there, he stared at the
decaying house.  It symbolized a host of horrible memories for
Veronica, memories that had almost destroyed her life as the termites
and weather had destroyed the paint and wood.  But she had inner
strength.  Enough, he hoped, to face the truth, if he found it.  And
strong enough to go on when they had to part.  He couldn't endanger
anyone else because of his own sloppy work or his personal ties.

  He went inside the house to find the sketch pad.  It was missing.  Why
would someone take it?

  Unless...unless Veronica had drawn the sketches after the murder.  When
he got back to her house, he would call the 214 Send Me a Hero
psychiatrist and ask.  He searched the house but discovered the teddy
bear and Veronica's mother's music box were also gone.  She would be
upset.  But not as much as seeing the brutal way her bedroom had been
vandalized.  Someone had completely slashed the comforter, then
shredded the curtains into a million pieces.

  Hurrying to the car, he fought the panic building inside.  What if they
had gotten to Veronica?  He'd left her alone--totally alone.  What if
Ford's accident had been a decoy and she'd been hurt?

  He pressed the gas pedal and floored it, zooming through traffic and
honking his horn for people to let him by.  Ten minutes later he raced
into Veronica's apartment complex.  Damn.  There wasn't a parking spot
in sight.  He didn't see her car and his pulse accelerated.  He skidded
to a stop, jumped from his car and left the engine running.  His heart
pounded as he ran toward her building.

  They were supposed to go to Eli's tonight.  She should be home getting
ready.  Earlier, he'd hoped to solve the case.  Now he just wanted to
know she was safe.

  He ran to the door and knocked, but no one answered.  He picked the
lock and rushed inside.  "Veronica, where are you?  Veronica, answer
me!"

  He quickly searched her apartment, his pulse racing when he noticed her
dresser drawers opened, clothes hanging haphazardly from the edges.

  Either she'd left in a hurry or someone had ransacked her place.

  His heart constricted as the silence in the apartment enveloped him.

  She was gone.

  VERONICA THOUGHT she was being followed.  She glanced in the rearview
mirror and tried not to panic as she turned onto Fourth Street and
drove toward her office.  The black car was still behind her.  Not
close enough for her to see the driver, but not far enough away for
comfort.

  Somebody wanted to antagonize her.  To scare her.  But who?

  If Nathan's partner had been killed because he was meeting Rita Herron
215

  Louise, his death implied Louise's involvement.  But how?  And why?

  She'd never met Louise before she'd come to Oakland.  What could her
secretary have against her?

  Then she remembered seeing Louise talking to Gerald at the campaign
party.  Were they romantically involved?  If Gerald wanted to hurt her,
that might make sense.  She glanced up and saw the black car still two
cars back.  A shudder rippled through her.  Dammit, she was tired of
all these cloak-and-dagger games.  She would go to Eli's dinner party
and find the truth herself.

  She slammed on her brakes to pull into the parking lot adjacent to her
office and stifled a scream.  A stream of smoke billowed from her
office.  Was the whole building on fire?  Panicking, she drove onto the
lawn, shoved the door open, and ran toward the building.  If the fire
was small, maybe she could save something.  She raced up the steps and
reached for the door, but someone grabbed her from behind, and she
screamed.  Something sharp and hard slammed against her head and
knocked her off balance, and a blinding pain exploded behind her
eyes.

  She reached for something to hold on to, but just like in her dreams,
darkness surrounded her and she went spinning and falling, then dropped
into a bottomless hole where there was nothing.

  A DULL ACHE spread through Nathan.  Where was Veronica?  Was she still
alive?

  He rounded the corner near her office going eighty-five and nearly
choked when he saw the smoke billowing from the building.  Tall orange
flames licked the roof and spiraled toward the sky.  He jumped from his
car and ran toward the building.  Please don't let Veronica be
inside.

  A small crowd had gathered on the lawn, and he ran up the steps,
ignoring their warnings not to go inside.

  "We've called the fire department!"  someone shouted.

  But Nathan shoved his weight against the door and burst inside.  Heat
enveloped him and the smell of burning wood

  216 Send Me a Hero

  seeped into his nostrils, but his eyes scanned through the haze of
thick smoke for any sign of life.

  "Veronica!"  He screamed her name over and over, then fell to his hands
and knees and crawled, coughing at the fog of smoke.  Someone at the
door yelled for him to come back, but he crawled past the burning desk
and gasped when he saw a foot.

  "Veronica."  She groaned and he slid on his stomach, dodging splinters
of broken wood and burning papers.  When he reached her, he dragged her
out of her office.  Most of it was already in flames and he could
barely see through the thick haze of smoke.  He coughed and jerked a
handkerchief from his pocket and covered her mouth.  Quickly he pulled
her toward the front door, then swept her up and ran outside.  The :!

  fire truck rolled up, sirens wailing.  People raced toward him but he
ran for the grassy area, for clean, fresh air, coughing and choking as
he carried her to safety.

  "Dear God, Veronica, come on.  You have to be all right.  You just have
to be," he said in a strangled voice.

  "Here, let me examine her."  A paramedic eased down beside him, and Nathan
relinquished  control  so  the  emergency  worker  could  give  her  oxygen.
Veronica tried to open her eyes, then brought her hand up to the back of her
head and moaned.

  "She has a gash on her head," the paramedic said.  "Some wood probably
fell and hit her."

  "No," Veronica said, reaching for him.  "Hit me before...before I went
in."

  Nathan clenched his.jaw in fury.  Someone had tried to kill her.  "Did
you see who it was?  A car, anything?"

  Veronica closed her eyes, her voice barely discernible.  "Thought a car
was following me...black."  The emergency worker pressed the oxygen
mask over her face.

  Damn, Nathan muttered silently.  "Is she going to be all right?"  he
asked, gripping her hands in his.

  "Yeah.  Her lungs  sound good.   She must not  have been  in there  long."

  Rita Herron 217

  Nathan's heart pounded with relief.  He leaned down and hugged her.  "I
was so scared," he whispered.

  Veronica pushed the mask away and gently touched his cheek.  "I'm
okay."

  "What about her head?"  Nathan asked.

  "A  bad lump.  She'll probably have a major headache for a couple of days.
But she'll be  all right.  We  should take her  to the hospital  overnight."

  "No,  please, not the hospital," Veronica protested.  Nathan read the fear
in her eyes and  wondered if it  related to her  childhood.  "It'll just  be
overnight," he said.  "You need to have medical supervision."

  "They already examined me," she argued.  "I'm fine.  I'm not going to
the hospital."

  Nathan and the paramedic exchanged worried looks.  "She seems fine.

  But someone should watch her overnight.  You can call the hospital if
she has trouble breathing."  "I'll take care of her," Nathan said.

  Veronica stroked his face.  "Thank you."

  "I'm so glad you're okay."  He kissed her again and she kissed him back
fervently.  "I'll be right back," he finally said, glancing at the
policemen.  He rushed over and ordered them to call the arson unit.  "I
want the place detailed," he said.  His gut clenched as he heard the
burning embers crash to the ground and saw the smoke billowing into the
dark sky.  Veronica could have died in that fire.  Once again he'd
failed to protect someone--and this time it was the woman he loved.  He
never should have left her alone.

  Guilt-laden, he hurried back to Veronica and knelt beside her.  In
spite of the smoke and her head injury, she smiled.  Nathan blinked
moisture from his eyes.  He loved her more than his own life.  How
would he ever say goodbye?

  VERONICA CLUNG to Nathan's hand, wondering if she would be strong
enough to let him go when it was time.  She'd planned to go to the
party at Eli's without him, but now...now, she didn't know.  She was
too weak to even stand alone.

  218 Send Me a Hero He helped her to a sitting position, and she fought
back tears as she watched the firemen hose down her office.  All her
files were destroyed.  She had backups at home, but this was the place
her father had worked.  The business she'd wanted to operate for the
rest of her life.  And it had gone up in flames.  Why?

  "Do you want to go home now?"  Nathan asked.

  She looked into his eyes and saw a wealth of understanding, a feeling
she'd never expected from a tough cop like him.  Tenderness for him
swelled inside, and tears blurred her vision.  He pulled her into his
arms and carried her to his car.

  "Do you want her bag?"  One of the firemen stopped Nathan.  He was holding
her suitcase.  "I found it when I had to move her car."

  He glanced at the brown suitcase, then back at Veronica.  She nodded
toward the fireman.  "Thanks."

  Nathan helped her in the car and scooted into the driver's seat, his
jaw clenched hard, his amber eyes flickering with anger.  "Where were
you going, Veronica?"

  She twisted her fingers in her lap.  "I don't know."

  He leaned back in the seat and faced her.  "Were you running away from
all this or from me?"

  How could she tell him she was running away to protect him?  "I thought
it might be best if I left town," she said softly.

  Nathan nodded.  "I see."  Then he cranked the engine and drove toward
her apartment.  He remained silent until they were inside.

  He picked up the phone and called Eli's.  A few minutes later, he hung
up.  "Eli is postponing the party until tomorrow night.  He really
wants you there."

  Veronica nodded, too weary to do anything else.

  His face softened slightly.  "Why don't you rest for a while, then
shower.  I have some phone calls to make."

  "Okay."  She reached for  her bag, but he  refused to relinquish  control.

  I'll put it in your bedroom."

  Rita Herron 219

  Veronica felt like weeping.  He looked so angry, so rigid and
untouchable.  She had to say something, to try and explain.

  "Nathan, I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."

  "What are you talking about?"  he asked.

  "Your partner."  Veronica's voice shook.

  "Is  that what this is about?"  He  grabbed her arms.  "Listen to me, Ford
didn't die because of you.   Cops face danger every  day.  It's part of  the
job.  You...you can't blame yourself."

  She tried to accept what he said.  She knew he was trying to absolve
her of guilt.  But she heardethe anger in his voice and wondered if he
really believed his own words or if he blamed her as well.  And if
anything happened to Nathan...

  She pushed the thoughts aside.  She would go to Eli's tomorrow and see
if she could figure out this whole mess.  And if that didn't work,
she'd go back to her parents' house--alone.  She would remember who
killed her parents; and then she could get on with her life.  And he
would be free to do the salBe.

  NATHAN WATCHED Veronica retreat to her bathroom and silently fumed.  He
wanted to hold her and make love to her so badly he ached.  But he'd
let her down.  He hadn't protected her, and he couldn't forget it.  And
he couldn't let his defenses down again.  If he did, this time the
person who was out to get Veronica might succeed.  And if that
happened, there would be no reason for him to go on with his own
life.

  He called the station.  "Any news on Ford's car?"

  "Looks like he was run off the road.  Rear-ended by a late-model black
car, paint job was high-class, custom job.  Most likely someone with
money."

  Alma Jones or Gerald fit that picture.  But was Alma strong enough to
hit Veronica over the head and drag her inside a building?  Maybe Alma
and Gerald had conspired to kill her.

  "Any  further information on the bloody knife or the syringe in the Miller
case?"

  220 Send Me a Hero "Definite DNA of another person on the bloody
knife.

  The syringe has been traced to a pharmaceutical company."  "Let me
guess, Barrett Pharmaceutical."

  "You got it.  There's more.  The  towel the second knife was wrapped  in."

  ' 'Yeah?"

  "Came from Italy."

  "Well, well, well," Nathan said.  That might prove helpful.

  "Think it was imported?"

  "We'll find out."

  Now who might have recently taken a trip?  Maybe he'd find out at
Eli's.

  "Thanks,  Lieutenant.   I  suppose there's  no  news  on the  fire  at Ms.
Miller's office."

  "Not yet, but it looks like arson.  I'll let you know."  Nathan hung up
and heard the shower dwindle to a stop.  Veronica would be stepping out
of the shower, her beautiful naked body glistening with water
droplets.

  He wanted to make love to her with a fierceness that almost overwhelmed
him.  Instead he slumped on the couch and dropped his face into his
hands.

  A few minutes later he tiptoed to the bedroom to check on her.  She lay
on the bed, sound asleep.  He felt her forehead, listened to her
breathing, then covered her and lay down beside her.  For a long time
he simply watched her sleep, thanking God she'd survived.  He'd
definitely let her down.

  Then he set the alarm so he'd wake every two hours and check on her.

  Reaching inside his pocket, he absentmindedly dug for a cigarette, then
remembered again he'd given them up.  He craved one so badly he thought
he would die.  Hell, that was nothing compared to how it would feel to
give up Veronica.

  THE NEXT NIGHT, Veronica dressed in a long black skirt and a white silk
blouse, added a simple gold bracelet, necklace and earrings and wound
her hair in a chignon.  She thought she'd never cleanse the smell of
smoke from her hair and body, but Rita Herron 221 finally she felt
clean.  She wanted to look her most poised to meet with Eli's family.

  Her stomach rumbled and she swal lowed to calm her nerves, pressing her
fingers to her temple to massage her headache.  Hopefully the
painkillers would kick in soon.  Tonight might be the night she
unlocked the key to her past.  And if it was, it would be her last
night with Nathan.  The case would be over, she would deal with the
past, and he would move on.  She blinked back tears and powdered her
face, then opened the door.  Nathan stared at her intently.

  "You look beautiful."  · "Thanks."  She rushed out of the room.

  "It won't take me long to shower," he called.

  "The towels--" "I know where the towels are," Nathan said in a deep voice.

  Veronica turned and met his gaze.  She knew they were both remembering
the last time he'd showered here.  Tonight though, the tension crackled
between them.  Nathan reached for the buttons of his shirt and Veronica
clenched her hands into fists so she wouldn't be tempted to help him.

  "Like I said, I Won't be long."  His gaze lingered a moment longer.

  She hurried into the kitchen and made tea, hoping to calm herself.  She
tried not to fantasize about Nathan's hard, muscular body standing
underneath the same shower head she'd stood under only moments
before.

  She'd been alone most of her life; she would survive without Nathan.

  Then he would be safe.

  She thumbed through the pages of her photo album, smiling at the
picture of her parents, once again curious at the missing
photographs.

  Then she spotted Eli and stared at his face.  He had been so good to
her over the years.  Even if his son Gerald had been involved in some
way in the deaths of her parents, Eli couldn't have known.  He was too
kind and loving.

  "How's the suit?"  Just as Nathan said, it had taken him only minutes
in the shower.

  She looked up and saw him standing in her den, freshly

  222 Send Me a Hero

  showered and dressed in a dark suit and navy tie.  He looked so
handsome she wanted to wrap her arms around him.  "Great."  Veronica
could barely speak past the lump in her throat.  His hair looked darker
with water still clinging to the ends and she detected the fresh scent
of her own soap on his body.  "Are you ready?"  he asked.  She nodded
and grabbed her coat.  On the drive Veronica mentally prepared herself
for confronting Eli's family mem bers.  When they walked to the
entrance of the mansion, she felt as if she were walking to her own
tombstone.  A maid greeted them at the door and ushered them into the
formal sitting area.  Eli came toward Veronica, his face aglow.  "It's
so nice to see you, darling."  He wrapped her in a warm embrace, and
all the doubts Veronica had had about him vanished.  Eli loved her.  He
could never do anything to hurt her.  Nathan stood in the background,
then shook hands with Eli when he finally let her go.  "It's nice to
see you, Detective Dawson."  "And you, Eli."  "Would you like a
drink?"

  Eli offered.

  Veronica shook her head.  "Club soda will be fine."  After taking the
painkillers for her head, she was afraid the alcohol would knock her
out.  And she wanted her wits about her for the duration of the
evening.

  Nathan smiled.  "The same for me."  Eli clinked ice into three drink
glasses and filled them, then turned with a smile.  "My favorite
also."

  He raised his glass.  "Here's to my goddaughter."  "Yes, she's lucky to
be here," Nathan said.  "Especially i after that fire yesterday."

  Veronica almost choked on her drink.  She hadn't expected I Nathan to
bring up the topic.  Eli's face turned ashen.  "My dear, are you
okay?"

  She felt a moment of guilt.  "I'm fine, Eli.  Really."  Eli Clutched
the chair edge.  "What happened?"

  Rita Herron 223

  Nathan spoke up.  "It looks like arson.  I have a team investigating
it."

  A butler rang the dinner bell.

  It took Eli a moment to recover.  "Were you there, Veronica?"' "When I
arrived the fire had already started.  I tried to save some files.

  Then Detective Dawson showed up."  She purposefully left out the part
about the attack.  She saw Nathan scrutinizing Eli.

  "You  shouldn't have gone inside," Eli said, dabbing at his pale face with
a napkin.  "You could lfave been killed, Veronica."' "Look, I'm fine.  Let's
talk about something else," she said.  The butler cleared his throat.  "Sir?
Dinner is served."  "Yes, let's go to dinner,"
Veronica said, taking Eli's arm.  When they entered the large, formal
dining room, Veronica tensed at the formidable-looking Alma Jones, who
stood at the head of the table.

  "Mother, you remember Veronica?"  Eli said.  "Certainly.  How are you,
Ms.  Miller?"

  Veronica forced a smile and ignored the sharp look the old woman gave
her.  "I'm fine."

  A surge of quiet voices echoed from the hallway, and suddenly Eli's
family filled the room.  Tessa gave her a hug.  "Hi, Veronica.  I'm so
glad you could make it.  I was sorry you had to leave our luncheon.

  Are you feeling better?"

  "Yes, thanks."  Veronica smiled, grateful to  have an ally in the  family.

  Nathan arched an eyebrow.  "Veronica wasn't feeling well and had to
leave early," Tessa explained.

  "Yes,  I'm  sorry," Veronica  said.   "But I'm  glad you're  here tonight,
Tessa."

  Gerald looked polished and neat in his three-piece suit.  He gave her a
peck on the cheek.  Veronica noticed Nathan's jaw tighten, but she
returned the kiss.  Her stomach knotted as she considered the
possibility she was kissing her parents' murderer.  And quite possibly,
the man who'd attacked her this 224 Send Me a Hero afternoon and burned
down her office.  Or was it Alma?  Or Louise?

  Eli's wife, Barbara, greeted her with a tight smile.  "Nice of you to
join us, Ms.  Miller."

  "Thank you for having me."

  The room grew suddenly silent.  Eli cleared his throat.  Tessa started
to babble about the elaborate menu to fill the awkward silence.  Sonny,
Eli's youngest son, stumbled in.

  "Hi,  Pops."   Sonny  slapped  his  dad  on  the  back,  then  hugged  his
grandmother.

  Alma winced.  "Remember my sore arm, dear."

  Veronica paused, her attention drawn to Alma.  The older woman's wound
was the same place she thought she'd stabbed her attacker.

  Eli gave Sonny a harsh look.  "It looks like you've been at it again,
son."  He wrinkled his nose.  "Smells like it, too."  "Eli," Alma
admonished.  "Sonny, we have guests."  Always the formal hostess,
Veronica thought, as Eli's wife pointed to their assigned seats and
everyone took their places.  Veronica had been seated between Sonny and
Gerald while Tessa and Alma Jones surrounded Nathan.

  "Bring Sonny some coffee," Eli told the maid.  "And make it strong."

  "No  way.  Get me a scotch,"  Sonny said, slurring his words.  The evening
couldn't have been more uncomfortable.  Veronica picked at the fancy seafood
dish  and listened to Alma Jones chatter about the latest society news.  She
made a futile attempt to ignore the foul smell of Sonny's whiskey breath and
his constant rude interruptions.

  Nathan asked about the antiques.

  "I  love Europe," Mrs. Jones said.  "Many of my antiques are imported from
France and Italy.  I brought in only  the best Persian rugs for the  house."

  Tessa smiled at Veronica across the table and helped ease some of the
tension while Gerald tried to change the topic of conversation to
politics; primarily his own campaign.

  "How's it going?"  Nathan asked.

  Ktta Herron ZZ3

  "Very well," Gerald said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.  "I think I
have support over most of the state."

  "Dessert  everyone.  Look,  it's chocolate mousse,"  Eli's wife announced.

  She turned to Nathan.  "Our cook makes the best mousse in Atlanta."

  The maid served each of their desserts, bypassing the elder Mrs.
Jones.

  "Aren't you having some?"  Nathan asked.  "No, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Jones
said.  "Grandma's diabetic," Tessa interjected.

  "Yes," Mrs.  Jones said.  "I must watch my sugar."

  "And take her insulin regularly," TEssa said with a shiver.  "I don't
see how Grandma gives herself shots."

  Veronica met Nathan's gaze over the table.  Was he thinking about the
hypodermic he'd found in her bedroom?

  Suddenly Sonny, who'd been thankfully silent for a few minutes, leaned
forward, his elbows on the table.

  "Well,  Dad, are you going to  tell everyone what this little dinner party
is all about?"

  Eli broke into a cough and Gerald slapped him on the back.  "Are you
okay, Father?"

  After downing a glass of water, Eli wiped his mouth and stared at
Sonny.  "I don't know what you mean, Sonny.  We're simply having a
friend over for dinner."

  Sonny chugged another scotch.  His words were slurred when he spoke.

  "Oh, come on, Pops.  I know why you invited Veronica.  You want us to
get to know her."

  "Well...that's right," Eli stuttered, his face turning red.

  "She was the daughter of a close friend of mine."

  Barbara glared at Eli.

  "A friend?"  Sonny sputtered.

  Alma Jones's spoon hit her plate with a thud.  Gerald frowned at
Sonny.

  "Must you be so rude?  We have guests."  Gerald turned to Eli.

  "Father, you really should ship him off.  He's an embarrassment to this
family."

  Veronica's fingers tightened around her spoon.  She looked at Nathan
and saw him studying the scene with a detective's eye.  All she could
see was humiliation on Eli's face.  His 3ena Me a Hero youngest son
obviouslyhad a drinking problem.  What a hardship for Eli.

  Sonny stood up, knocking the table.  Silverware clinked and Tessa
caught her water glass just before it overturned.  Sonny slapped the
table edge.  "You guys are such bozos.  You're so caught up in your
stupid politics and society pages, you don't even see it.  Dad's trying
to pull one over on all of you."  "What are you talking about?"  Gerald
asked angrily.  Tessa looked shocked at her brother's outburst.

  Eli gulped and reached for Sonny's hand.  "Sonny, let's talk in
private."

  "Shut up, Dad."  Sonny shoved Eli's hand away and waved his arm in the
air.  Alma Jones gasped.

  Eli's wife, Barbara, stood up.  "Now, Sonny--" "Mom, you aren't going
to let Dad get away with this, are you?"

  Staggering, Sonny tried to walk around the table but stumbled against
his mother's chair.

  "With what?"  Gerald asked.

  Sonny steadied himself and pointed his finger at Veronica as if she had
committed a crime.  "I just found out Dad's going to put her in his
will."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "No!"

  "What?  That's not possible!"

  "Dad?"

  The room erupted into chaos.  Veronica froze, too stunned to move as
Eli's wife, mother, Gerald and Sonny all verbally attacked Eli.

  "You can't do this," Alma Jones shouted.  "You'll disgrace us all."

  Barbara's face turned murderous.  "Eli, how dare you!"

  In a more calm but equally puzzled voice, Gerald jumped up.  "Father,
what is the meaning of this?"

  "She's not a part of the family," Sonny yelled.

  Tessa's expression was unreadable as she observed her family
fighting.

  "I think you're overreacting," she  said calmly.  "Father's probably  just
giving her a small token since her family is all gone."

  "Stay out of this, Tessa," Gerald snapped.

  "You  little gold digger," Eli's  mother said, pointing an accusing finger
at Veronica.  "You came back to Oakland to try and get money--"
"Mother, that's enough!"  Eli yelled.

  "Don't you  talk to  me that  way, Eli  Jones," Alma  snapped.  "I'm  your
mother!"

  The air in the room grew hot and heavy.  Veronica tugged at the
neckline of her blouse, unable to breathe.  Darkness de 228 Send Me a
Hero scended around her, and a haze covered the room, blocking !i out
all the faces.  She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the
anger and fury as the people in the room fought and cursed.

  But she still heard their voices.  The ugly names.  The people talking
about her as if she wasn't there, blaming her, telling her she wasn't a
part of the family, arguing about her.  Then, in her mind she saw the
distant image of a man's face, etched with grief and anger.  The man
stretched his arms toward her, but his face was distorted, his hair
hardly visible in the dim light.  Then music began to play "Somewhere
over the Rainbow," and the face moved closer, his eyes a gray mist in
the glow of the bedroom lamp.

  It was Eli.

  Her mother screamed, her father cried out in agony, Eli called her
name.  Blood dripped down her mother's face and arms and collected in a
pool on the floor.

  "No!"   Veronica screamed.  She wrenched  herself free from the memory and
stared at the people around her.  Apparently her outburst had silenced  them
all,  because  they  hushed and  stared  at  her, shocked  at  her emotional
display.

  "Veronica?"  Nathan reached for her, but she pulled away and ran toward
the door.

  "Veronica, wait!"  Nathan called.

  Her feet pounded the concrete steps, and she flew across the grass,
panting and heaving for air.  She had to escape.  She had to get away
from Eli.

  Suddenly someone's arms caught her, jerking her to a stop.

  Thinking it was Eli, she struggled against him.

  "Stop running."

  She struggled, but the person's arms tightened.

  "Veronica, it's me, Nathan.  Stop fighting me."

  His calm, soothing voice penetrated her panic, and she fell limp in his
arms.  "Let's get in the car.  Then we'll talk."

  Veronica sensed the others watching.  She heard Eli's concerned voice
as he asked Nathan about her.  Nathan promised he'd call him later,
then he climbed in and started the car.  His Rtta Herron zz breathing
sounded erratic and she noticed a scratch on his face.  Had she done
that?

  "Are you okay?"  he asked, once he'd pulled away from the house.

  Veronica nodded.

  "You want to tell me what happened in there?"

  Her jaw clenched, she twisted her fingers in her lap.  She was shaking
all over.

  "Sweetheart, come on, I'm trying to help you.  Trust me."  Veronica took a
deep  breath.  She'd come there to find out who her parents' killer was, and
now %he thought she knew.  Only it was too hard to believe.  She didn't want
to believe it.

  "You  remembered something, didn't you?"  Nathan's warm hand covered hers,
and he massaged her fingers.  "Take your time and tell me about it."

  Veronica waited until the house disappeared from sight.  Finally she
closed her eyes, hoping the image would disappear, too.  She had to be
wrong.  But the vivid image of Eli-remained.  "Tell me what you saw,"
Nathan prodded.  "Eli."  Veronica almost choked on the word.  "What do
you mean, Eli?"

  "He was there.  At my parents' house the night they died."  She stifled
a sob.  "I heard them arguing.  My mother screaming.  My dad.  The
blood."

  Veronica covered her face with her hands, and Nathan pulled her to
him.

  She was trembling so hard she felt like she was going to come apart in
a million ragged pieces.

  "Veronica, Eli was at your house a lot since he was friends with your
parents.  Could you possibly have things mixed up?  Could he have been
there another night and you're confusing the nights?"

  Veronica shook her head.  "I know what I saw.  It was the vision in my
dreams.  Only this time I saw his face."

  Nathan stroked her back.  "Honey, I have a hard time believing Eli
would have killed your parents.  He has an impeccable reputation,was a
great senator.  Besides, he wasn't in town that night."

  5ena Me a Hero

  Veronica tried to listen to logic.  "But I know what I saw," she said
quietly.  "The image was fuzzy, but I'm certain Eli was there.  Maybe
you should bring him in for questioning."  Nathan's hands tightened
around the steering wheel.  "I can't bring Eli in without some proof.

  He's a powerful and important man.  And don't forget, he helped take
care of you.  I'd have to have some strong evidence for anyone to
believe him guilty of wrongdoing."

  Nathan didn't believe her.  Veronica's heart squeezed.  "Maybe he
showed up after the murder.  I still think it's Gerald or Alma Jones,"
Nathan continued.  "Did you notice the animosity radiating from that
woman?"  Veronica nodded.  "From his wife, too."  "And I managed to get
Gerald and Alma Jones's finger prints," Nathan said with a smile.

  "I'm going to drop them off at the lab.  Alma is a diabetic and Gerald
owns part of a pharmaceutical company.  Either one had access to a
syringe."  "Yes, but Mrs.  Jones isn't that strong.

  I don't think  she could  have attacked  me."  "Maybe  not," Nathan  said.

  "But Gerald could have."  Na- than rounded the curve and glanced in the
rearview mirror for the first time.  He'd been so worried about
Veronica, then so caught up in the case he hadn't realized the dark car
was on his tail.  "Hold on.  I think we're being followed."  She
glanced back.  "The black car again.

  Who is it?"  "I don't know, but I intend to find out."  Veronica
cringed.  Nathan swerved and sped up, turned onto a side road and
screeched the car to a stop, then spun it around in the other
direction.  He was headed back down the small road when the i dark car
came barreling around the curve.  Nathan raced toward 1 it, but the car
swerved to the right.  Then it passed them at riproaring speed and a
gunshot exploded through the windshield.

  Veronica screamed.  Nathan winced and grabbed his shoulder as a bullet
pierced the area right above his heart.

  HELL.  HE'D BEEN HIT.  Nathan moaned and tried to steer the car, but
the blood seeped from his chest, and his vision

  Rita Herron 231

  blurred.  The gun fired again, and he floored the car and sped down the
road and onto the main highway.  Feeling dizzy, he blinked and reached
for Veronica.  She had her hand pressed to his chest, trying to stop
the bleeding, but her hand was soaked.  She ripped off the end of her
skirt and pressed it to his chest.  He felt weak and lightheaded.

  "Pull  over.  I'll drive," Veronica said, taking control.  Her face looked
white as milk.

  "Is the car still behind us?"

  "No, it went the other way," Verica said.

  He stopped the car and crawled to the passenger side.  The last thing
he remembered before he passed out was Veronica planting a heavenly
kiss on his mouth.

  SHE PEELED into the hospital parking lot and jumped out at the
emergency room exit.  "He's been shot, someone help me!"  Nurses and
doctors rushed to her aid.  They eased Nathan onto a stretcher and
wheeled him into the examination room, firmly pushing Veronica aside.

  Please let him live.  Veronica prayed the same prayer over and over
while she paced the faded floor of the waiting room.  The odor of
antiseptic and alcohol permeated her nostrils, and she willed herself
not to be sick.  At least until she found out if )Xlathan would be alt
right.  And if he wasn't...she closed her eyes, driving away the awful
images of his blood-soaked clothes.  He had to be okay...he had to.

  "Excuse me, miss?  Did you  bring Detective Dawson in?"  Veronica  swirled
around to see a dark-haired young doctor who looked as if he'd just finished
med school.  She forced her voice to work.  "Yes, how is he?"

  "I'm Dr.  Byrne.  We're  taking the  detective to  surgery to  remove  the
bullet."

  "Is he going to be all right?"  Veronica asked.  Her heart was pounding
so hard the blood roared in her ears.  She leaned against the dingy
wall for support.

  232 3'end Me a Hero

  "He  should be.  The  bullet missed his  heart, but we  need to remove it.

  I'll let you know when the procedure's over."

  A nurse approached her.  "We're required to report all gunshot
wounds.

  Is there someone you want me to call?"

  Veronica thought about the car that had been following them and wanted
to kick herself for not getting the license plate number.  She'd been
too frightened to even think about it.

  "Yes, Lieutenant Stevens."

  The nurse smiled sympathetically.  I'll phone him right away."  She
handed Veronica a foam cup.  "Go in the lounge and pour yourself a cup
of coffee.  It's not much better than the machine's but it'll take the
edge off."

  Veronica tried to sip the dark, rich coffee, but it tasted bitter to
her mouth.  The cup warmed her hands, though, and gave her something to
hold on to while she sat and stared at the lines on the floor.

  Lieutenant Stevens rushed in several long minutes later and went
straight to the nurses' station.  "Where is Dawson?  How bad is he
hurt?"

  The nurse explained his condition.  Veronica glared at the man.  When
she'd first gone to him complaining of the threats to her life, he'd
laughed her right out of his office.  She'd wanted him to believe her,
but not at Nathan's expense.

  Now she wanted him to find the person who had hurt Nathan.  "Lieutenant
Stevens, I can explain."  To her surprise, he listened patiently while
she rambled through her story.

  "And you weren't hit?"  he asked, glancing down at her blood-covered shirt
and torn skirt.

  "No.   I think the bullet was meant  for me, but it missed."  Veronica bit
her lip to hold back the tears  burning her eyes.  The lieutenant shook  his
head.  "Don't do that to yourself, Ms.  Miller," he said.

  "Dawson's a cop.  A cop puts his life on the line every day.  It's his
job."  Exactly what Nathan had told her before.

  His words gave no comfort.  Neither did they assuage her conscience.

  Nathan was more than a cop.  He was the man she loved.  Stevens ordered
a team to check her car for the other

  Ktta Herron /,OD

  bullet, then paced the waiting room.  Two hours and three cups of cold
stale coffee later, the young doctor finally returned.  Veronica's
fingers felt raw from wringing them together.

  "He's  lost some  blood and  he's weak,  but he's  going to  make it," the
doctor said.

  Veronica said a silent prayer of thanks, then begged the nurse to let
her in the recovery room to see Nathan.

  He was pale and so still that tears filled her eyes.  Nathan had been
hurt because of hen-the very thing she'd wanted to avoid.  She truly
was a curse to the people she loved.  Moving slowly, she tiptoed to his
bedside arid held his limp hand in hers, stroking the lines of his
fingers.  She pressed his hand to her cheek and kissed his palm, her
heart breaking at the sight of the bandage across his bare chest and
shoulder.  The nurses had shaved off part of his sandy blond chest
hair, and a dark bruise showed beneath the edges of the bandage.

  She glanced down at her own blood-soaked clothes, then closed her eyes
and whispered another prayer..But as she prayed, Nathan's image became
blurred, and instead of his handsome face, she saw her parents lying on
the floor of her old house, their blood covering her as she prayed for
them not to die.  The image was so strong she gasped for air and
clutched Nathan's hand more tightly.  The shadow hovered above
hen-Eli's face.  He was upset, calling her name, and her parents were
yelling at him.  They were all screaming and fighting.  Then he was
gone.

  Pieces of the night jumbled in her mind.  Her parents lay on the floor,
covered in blood, the knife sticking out of her father's chest.  She
heard her Own scream, saw herself pull out the knife, saw another
shadow hovering in the corner.  Sirens wailed, and then she was crying
and rocking herself back and forth over and over, begging her parents
not to leave her.  "Ms.  Miller?"

  Veronica started when a hand touched her shoulder.  She glanced up,
breaking herself out of her memories.  "I need to check his vitals
now," an elderly nurse said gently.

  Veronica nodded and kissed Nathan's hand, then slowly laid

  234 5end Me a Hero

  it down beside him.  She'd remembered more of that night.  She needed
to remember the rest.  Eli had been there, but was the other shadow Eli
returning or someone else?  She had to know.

  "He's going to be fine," the nurse whispered, giving her a pat on the
back.

  "Thank you," Veronica said.  She leaned over and kissed Nathan on the
cheek.  "I love you."  Then she slipped out the door.  He had almost
died because of her.  He'd jeopardized his career and his life for
her.

  She'd blamed herself for her parents' deaths all her life.  Anger and
rage stormed inside her.  She wouldn't let him take a bullet for her
for nothing.

  She was going back to her old house and see if she could remember the
rest of the story.  His love and support had gotten' her this far.  She
could do the rest on her own.  Then she could say goodbye to her past
and Nathan.  And he would be safe.

  NATHAN STRUGGLED to open his eyes, but they felt as if they'd been
pressed down by boulders.  And the rest of his body felt worse.  What
the hell had happened?

  Then he remembered.  The fight at Eli's.  Veronica's memory.

  The car following them.  The bullet.  He groaned and tried to raise his
arm, but one side was taped with a bandage, the other secured with an
IV.  Damn.  He couldn't move.  Then the white walls started closing in
on him.

  He couldn't just lie here.  Not when Veronica was in danger.  : Where
was she, anyway?

  He made a feeble attempt to call for help, but his words came out
garbled, and his eyes were so heavy he couldn't keep them open.

  Medication.  He must still be on the anesthetic.  God, he needed to
wake up and find Veronica.  He flailed his arms and legs, but nothing
happened and he realized the drugs were so strong he couldn't fight
their effects.  A heaviness weighted him down as his eyes drifted
shut.

  His mind screamed for him to get help, to tell someone to watch out for
Veronica, but the rest of his body wouldn't cooperate.  He fell into a
fitful sleep and dreamed that she was running from

  Klta tleFFon roD someone and calling his name.  But he couldn't find
her.  And he knew if he didn't hurry, it would be too late.

  THE POLICE WERE FINISHED with her car, so Veronica slid inside,
painfully aware of the bullet hole in the windshield.  She drove
slowly, checking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed.  So
far, so good.

  As she drove  down the  long country  road, dread  mushroomed inside  her.

  She wanted this to be over, but she realized the answers she found
would not be pleasant.  Before she went into the house, she paused and
grated a flashlight and Nathan's gun from the glove compartment.  She
stashed them in her purse and walked up the steps.  The minute she
opened the door, she knew tonight was going to be different.

  It was already after midnight, and darkness enveloped the house, so she
switched on the flashlight.  She almost stumbled over a loose board on
the porch as she entered the den.  She shone the light around the room
and saw the same sparse, dusty furnishings, then proceeded to the
bedroom, where it had all happened.

  Snatches of memories flashed through her mind--the music, "Somewhere
over the Rainbow," a woman's soft soprano singing a lullaby, her
father's deep rich voice calling her name.  The floor creaked behind
her and she turned to look out the window.  An opossum skittered across
the porch.  She passed her room and stopped, appalled as she noticed
the bedcovers and curtains had been demolished.  Who hated her enough
to do such a thing?

  She forged ahead, intent on remembering the past no matter what the
costs, and knelt beside the place on the floor where her parents had
died.  Then she heard the creaking of boards again and she smelled a
strange smell, something like gardenias.  She closed her eyes and
remembered it was her mother's favorite perfume.  The curtains
fluttered and a cool breeze ill-tered in through the broken window.

  The music in her mind suddenly stopped, and a chill swept through the
air, the moon 230 3ena Me a Hero fight outside fading as a shadow
formed behind Veronica in the doorway.

  Was it real or a shadow from her memory?

  She slowly turned and squinted in the heavy darkness.  An outline was
framed in the doorway, silhouetted by faint ripples of moonlight so the
features looked stark.  An image of Eli came to her mind and the
argument at his house, then another fight he'd had with her parents the
night they'd died.  Horrible angry voices, shouting, screaming, her
mother crying.  Her head pounded with the sounds.  Then she saw Eli's
back as he ran out the door.

  "It  was you," Veronica said as she looked into the doorway and recognized
the shadow, the one from her nightmare.  Except this time it was real.

  NATHAN PUSHED the nurse away and bellowed for her to remove his IV.

  Eli rushed in.  "Where's Veronica?  Was she hurt?  I came as soon as I
heard."

  Nathan saw the worry lines on Eli's face.  Veronica had suspected Eli,
but he still couldn't believe her godfather would hurt her.  "I don't
know where Veronica is," Nathan snapped.  "But if these nurses would
let me out of here, I'd find her."

  "You've just  had surgery,  young  man.  You're  not going  anywhere."   A
heavyset nurse folded her arms and glared at him.

  Nathan snarled.  "I'm a detective, and the woman I love is in
danger."

  }I "You're in love with Veronica?"  Eli asked.

  "Of course I am," he yelled.  "Now tell these people to let me out of
here.  I have to save Veronica."

  "What do you mean?"  Eli asked, his eyebrows drawn upward.

  "I mean someone tried to kill us after we left your house.

  And they're after Veronica."

  Eli dropped his face in his hands.  "Why?"

  "I have an idea," Nathan said, trying to control his impatience.  "But
I need to find her.  And we need to do it fast."

  Klta tlerron 23 /

  Eli motioned to the nurse.  "Why don't you have one of the doctors give
his officer in command a call?"

  The nurse nodded and left.  "If you help me, I'll fill you in on the
way."  Nathan yanked out the IV, wincing in pain as Eli helped him
up.

  "Get me some damn clothes."

  "This may be a mistake," Eli said.

  "No  way," Nathan  said.  "You  don't want Veronica  to be  hurt, do you?"

  "No."  Eli's voice broke.  He hurried out and returned seconds later  with
a surgical scrub suit.

  Nathan dressed, then Eli slid his under Nathan to give support and
opened the door.  When they were in the car, Eli paused.  "Dawson, you
said you love Veronica."

  "Yes, sir, I do."

  "Then that gives us something in common."

  "You really do care about her, don't you?"  Nathan asked, wincing again
as he tried to buckle his seatbelt.

  "Yes, I do," Eli said quietly.  "I love her very-much.  And I have to
tell you the truth, Dawson.  Veronica is my daughter."' VERONICA
CLENCHED the purse to her side as her memories crashed back in a
torrent of scattered, painful moments.

  "Tessa,  it  was you.   You were  here that  night.  But  why?"  The woman
Veronica had thought was her friend moved inside the room, her body as sleek
and  cunning as a bobcat in the  woods, but her voice sounded wild and razor
sharp.  "You knew it all the time.  You never lost your memory.

  You played this stupid game so you could come back and get Father's
money."  ' "What are you talking about?"

  Tessa waved a knife in front of her.  Her eyes blazed with hatred, and
she wore an all-black warm-up suit, a drastic change from the silk suit
she'd worn at the dinner party.

  Then a cold, eerie feeling crept over Veronica.  Yes, she had seen it
before.  Those eyes.  She'd seen that crazy look on Tessa's face the
night her parents had died.

  238 Send Me a Hero

  "You wanted Daddy's money," Tessa ranted.   "You came back to destroy  our
family.  You wanted to take him away from me, just like you would have years
ago."  She stalked around the room waving the knife in wide circles.

  "That's not true," Veronica said, pressing her hand to her temple as a
dull ache throbbed behind her eyes.  Then she saw it the horrible scene
between her parents.

  "But you're not part of our family.  And you never will be."  Tessa kicked
the  end table and sent  the lamp crashing to  the floor.  It shattered into
pieces at Veronica's feet.  "I was Daddy's little girl.

  Then Mama died  and he  married Barbara.  And  he forgot  all about  Mama.

  Then Barbara gave him sons.  Sons!

  "It   was  bad  enough  I  had  to  share  Daddy  with  Gerald,  then that
snotty-nosed brat, Sonny, came along.   He thought he was Daddy's  favorite.
But  he wasn't."  Tessa  was out of control.   Veronica froze, afraid to say
anything to add to her anger.  "I was Daddy's favorite.

  I should have all his money.  Not Gerald or Sonny.  And certainly not
you--you're his illegitimate baby."

  "I know I'm not part of your family," Veronica said, fighting her own
emotions.  "I never--" "Shut up!"  Tessa screamed.  "You were there.

  You heard what your mama said.  You saw Daddy, too, and he would have
taken you and then I would have had to share everything with you.  And
Daddy would have forgotten all about me like he did my mother."

  "Tessa, I don't know what you mean."   But Veronica did know.  It was  all
coming  back to  her.  The  fight between her  parents had  started when Eli
burst in.

  Eli was her father.

  A shudder racked through her at the realization.  That was the reason
her parents had fought.

  She could see her father crying.  "What do you mean she's not my baby?"
he'd asked in disbelief.

  Her mother had sobbed, "I was pregnant when we got mar-fled."

  "With my baby," Eli had said.  Then Eli had raged at her mother.  "Why
didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

  Her mother had broken down again.  "Because you were running for
senator.  Your mother threatened me.  She didn't want me to ruin your
career."

  "I don't believe that," Eli had yelled.

  The whole time her father had stood in disbelief.  And she'd hidden in
the corner and watched her family fall apart.  Her father had accused
her mother of lying to him.  Her mother had cried and sobbed until she
couldn't talk.  Eli had been furious.  He had said he'd just found!

  out the truth and wanted to claim Veronica as his own.  Her mother had
yelled that he would never get custody of her.  Her father had
threatened to leave her mother.

  Then Eli had stormed out.  But her parents had still been alive when
Eli had left.

  She glanced at Tessa, and the memory of her sneaking into the house
came back vividly.  Tessa had been young and beautiful, but the evil
she'd possessed had caused her to attack Veronica's mother.  She'd run
in, yelling that she wanted to see Veronica.  But her mother had told
Tessa to leave.  In a wild rage, Tessa had somehow grabbed the kitchen
knife and fought with her mother.  Her mother had been trying to
protect Veronica, to keep Tessa from finding her.  Then Tessa had
stabbed her mother, and her mother had fallen to the floor with a
scream.  Her father had rushed in, and Tessa had spun around and lunged
at him with the knife.

  The blood had spouted out, and even as a child she'd been amazed at
Tessa's strength.  Then Tessa, all wild-eyed, had come looking for
her.

  Veronica had hidden under the bed and watched, holding her breath,
knowing she was going to be next.

  Just like now.

  "Tessa, I didn't remember," Veronica said.  "All this time, I didn't  know
Eli was...was--" "Was your father?"  Tessa spat the words at her and brought
the knife up over  her head.  "Well,  you remember now.  I  can ,ena l¥1e  a
Hero  see it on your face.  That night I heard Dad arguing with Barbara.  He
had just found out  about you, and  Barbara was upset  he'd had a  mistress.
Daddy  said he was going after you,  that you should be a Jones, but Barbara
said your mother was  a cheap whore  and you weren't  coming to our  house!"

  A shudder coursed through Veronica as Tessa moved toward her, her eyes
crazed.  "I'm going to get rid of you once and for all," Tessa
screamed.

  She pounced and slashed the knife at Veronica.

  Chapter Sixteen Veronica quickly backed away.  She had to stall.

  "Tessa, I don't want your father's money.  I don't want anything--" "Be
quiet!"  Tessa barked wildly.  "You think I've gone to all this trouble
for nothing?  When Daddy first learned he had cancer--" "Eli has
cancer?"  Veronica felt the shock to her system as if she'd been
physically punched.

  "Yes.   That's when he changed his will to include you.  And you came back
to town.  Don't tell me you didn't know!"

  "But...but I didn't," Veronica stammered.  Why hadn't Eli told her?

  "Then he started inviting you over, wanting us to get to know you.  He
pretended you were his goddaughter when all along I knew the truth and
I hated you."

  Veronica swiped at a tear streaming down her cheek.  This was too
much.

  Eli was her father.  She barely knew how she felt about that, and now
she'd learned he might be dying.  "How long does Eli have?"

  "That's none  of your  business," Tessa  snapped, taking  a step  forward.

  Veronica tensed.  She had to stall a little longer, try to talk some
sense into Tessa.  "So you shot Nathan."

  "That bullet was meant for you.  Just like the knife."  "You broke into
my apartment and tried to kill me.  And De?la Me a llero all along I
thought it was a man who tried to stab me."  I even suspected Eli.

  "Of course.  All it took was a little padding.  And a little help from
my friend.  She kept drugging your tea."

  "What friend?"

  "Louise."  A sickening smile lit Tessa's face.

  The tea Louise kept making for her.  Veronica felt dizzy.  How easy it
had been for Tessa.  "So Louise was helping you?  Why, for money?"

  Tessa laughed, a hideous sound that turned Veronica's stomach.  Tessa
truly was psychotic.  "You idiot.  I didn't have to pay Louise.  All I
did was blackmail her."

  Snatches of small things flitted back to Veronica.  She remembered
Nathan saying Louise had a shaky history, but she'd never suspected
Louise was involved with Tessa.  She'd thought the connection was
Gerald.

  "I  see.   And she  took my  keys from  the office.   That's how  you kept
getting in."

  Tessa looked triumphant.  "It was a great plan.  Louise was so afraid
someone would find out about her past and she'd have to leave.  She
loved this stupid small town."  Tessa laughed.  "I thought we'd succeed
in making you go nuts before I had to kill you, but I guess you're
stronger than I thought."

  You've got that right, Veronica thought, digging her nails into the
side of her purse.  If she could get the gun, maybe she could ward off
Tessa.

  "When Louise drugged your tea at the office before our lunch, I was hoping
you'd fall asleep at the wheel."

  "But instead I showed up for our lunch meeting and got sick."

  "Right."  Tessa waved the knife around, laughing.  "And the red jacket
and pin?  The fire at my office?"

  "That  was  Louise's  idea.  She  got  nervous,  wanted to  cover  her own
tracks."

  "And that detective, Ford?"

  Ktta Herron 243

  Tessa giggled.  "He got in the way."  She narrowed her eyes.  "And
you--you're going to die just like your parents."

  Veronica sucked in a harsh breath.  Ironic, everyone had thought she
was the crazy one, when Tessa had obviously been unstable all her
life.

  She would not let Tessa kill her.  She would see her rot in jail or a
mental ward.  Tessa licked her lips like a predator coming in for the
kill, and Veronica knew the time had come to defend herself.  She
reached inside and pulled out the gun just as Tessa lunged for her.

  "HURRY!"  Nathan bellowed as Eli diced  down the road.  He used Eli's  car
phone to call for backup.  He'd wanted to explain his suspicions to Eli, but
he'd decided to  wait.  Maybe he  was wrong about  Gerald.  He could  always
hope.

  "Are you sure she'll be here?"

  "No, but it's our best guess.  She's been coming here to try and regain
her memory."

  When they turned the corner to the old homestead, a black customized
Cadillac sat in the drive.

  "Gerald's car?"  Eli said.  "What the hell?"

  Eli barreled into the drive and Nathan leaped out with Eli on his
heels, his bandaged arm pressed against his side.  Nathan stopped by
the car for his gun and quickly checked the glove compartment.  It was
gone.

  He prayed Veronica had taken it.  Putting a finger to his lips, he
motioned for Eli to be quiet as they padded up to the porch.  Just as
they made the last step, Nathan heard a scream.  Then a gunshot.

  Veronica.

  He bolted through the door, sending a fresh wave of pain jolting
through his shoulder.  He'd probably undone his stitches, but he didn't
care.  He had to save Veronica from Gerald.  He quickly scanned the
den, but saw nothing.  Then he heard sounds from the back.  He raced
through the hall toward Veronica's parents' room.  Eli hurried behind
him.  The sounds of scuffling brought another surge of panic.  He hoped
he was in time!  Bracing his good arm against the door, he inched into
the doorway.

  244 Send Me a Hero

  Only it wasn't Gerald who was fighting with Veronica.  Veronica was
struggling with Tessa.  Their heavy breathing filled the air.  Tessa
knocked the gun from Veronica's hand, and it fell to the floor.  Then
Tessa pushed Veronica down and climbed over her, raising the knife to
Veronica's neck.

  Eli ran in behind him.  Nathan kicked the gun aside, then grabbed
Tessa's arm and tried to drag her off Veronica.  Tessa struggled,
clawing at him with one hand while arcing the hand with the knife above
Veronica.  Veronica bucked upward, trying to dislodge Tessa.

  "Tessa,  stop!"   Eli shouted.   Eli  grabbed Tessa's  hand and  pried her
fingers from the knife.  Tessa stared at him as if she didn't recognize
him, her face etched with fury.  Veronica pushed Tessa away and Eli
managed to drag Tessa to the corner.  She kicked and screamed.  "No,
she has to die.  She has to?

  "Tessa, my God, what are you  doing?"  Eli said, choking on his  emotions.

  Tessa broke into hysterical sobs, and Eli took her in his arms and
rocked her back and forth.  Nathan rushed to Veronica and crushed her
to him, prodding her body with his hands to check for injuries.

  Veronica clung to him, her breath erratic.  He felt her heart pounding
as he hugged her.  "Are you hurt?"  "I'm okay," Veronica whispered.

  He spotted blood on her blouse.  "But you're bleeding.  Tell me where
you're hurt!"

  A soft nervous laugh escaped Veronica.  "It's not me.  It's you."  Her
voice broke on a sob.  "You undid your stitches."

  Nathan looked down and realized blood was seeping through his
bandage.

  His shoulder and arm throbbed, but it didn't matter.  Veronica was
safe.

  And the whole nightmare was over.  All his prior reservations about
marriage and his job faded when he looked into her eyes.  He wouldn't
be able to do his job if he wasn't with her.  Nothing mattered without
Veronica.  He kissed her hair, her face, her mouth, her fingers.  His
voice cracked as he said, "Dammit, why did you come here by
yourself?.

  I might not have made it in time."

  Klta rlerron Z43

  "You're  here now, that's all that  matters," Veronica said in a strangled
whisper.  He hugged her to  him and braced her face  with his hands to  kiss
her again.

  "Eli's  my  father," Veronica  said when  he finally  relaxed against her.

  "I...I didn't know."

  Nathan stroked her hair.  "I know, sweetheart.  I know."

  As SOON AS the police arrived, Tessa was taken into custody.  Her
frantic, hysterical sobs had died, and she looked like a shattered,
injured animal.  Veronica almost felt sorry for her.  Almost.  r "I'll
be there with you," Eli told Tessa.  "We'll get you some help."

  "We'll wait for you in the car."  Lieutenant Stevens escorted a handcuffed
and subdued Tessa outside.

  Eli's eyes were red and swollen and his expression wary as he
approached Veronica.  Nathan sat beside her on the old couch, holding
her hand.  She was still trembling from shock.  The memories that had
flooded back were painful, yet in the background of her mind,
occasionally a sweet memory surfaced.  She hoped in time she would
recall completely the precious little time she'd had with her
parents.

  And no matter what Eli or Tessa said, her mother and father were
dead.

  "I'm so sorry, Veronica," Eli said, kneeling in front of her.  He ran a
hand through his disheveled gray hair.

  "I  remember  everything,"  Veronica  said,  squeezing  Nathan's  hand for
support.  "I remember  all about  that night.   You and  my mom...and  dad."

  Eli lowered his face.  "I...I didn't know Tessa was there."  He shook
his head sadly.  "I swear I didn't.  When I left that night, your
parents were so upset, I honestly believed what Scroggins said."

  "You didn't know Tessa was disturbed?"  Nathan asked.  Eli cleared his
throat, his voice husky with emotions.  "She had problems as a child,
emotional ones after her mother died.  But I never knew it was this
bad.

  And I never realized my transgressions hurt her so badly."  He wiped a
tear from his 246 5entt Me a Hero cheek.  "I covered up her problems.

  She got in trouble with the law a few times, but Scroggins always
helped me cover it up.  And lately..."

  "Lately what?"  Nathan asked.

  "Lately  I thought she was doing better."  He sighed.  "I know I made some
mistakes, Veronica.  I hope you can forgive me."

  Veronica's throat tightened.  "You didn't know my mother was pregnant
when you broke up with her?"

  "No.  I was young and ambitious and foolish.  I had no idea."

  "And you didn't know your mother threatened her?"  "No.  I was caught
up in the campaign.  I allowed Mother to run my life.  Then when I
found out about you..."  He paused and squeezed her hand.  Veronica
stiffened, unsure how to respond.  "I wanted you.  But your parents
didn't want to make it public.  We argued.  And I left."  He paused
again, then cleared his throat.  "Then after they died, I wanted to
come for you.  But your grandmother was there.  And when I saw how
traumatized you were, I was afraid if you remembered, you'd blame me.

  I didn't think I could live with that."  "Then I didn't remember,"
Veronica said.

  Eli wiped tears from his cheeks.  "I decided that was for the best.  I
was so afraid you'd hate me."

  The sincerity in Eli's voice tugged at Veronica's heart.  She
remembered Tessa saying Eli was ill.  "Was Tessa telling the truth
about your illness?"

  Eli nodded.  "When I discovered my illness, I knew I had to make up for
lost time with you.  Then you moved back, and I couldn't stay away from
you."

  Veronica felt Nathan's arm tighten around her.  She pressed her hand
over his and squeezed it, thanking him for his silent support.

  Lieutenant Stevens poked his head in.  "We're ready to go."  He nodded
toward Nathan.  "They picked Louise Falk up a few minutes ago."

  Eli stood.  "I'd like to see you again, Veronica."

  Ktta Herron 24/ Veronica hesitated.  "Give me some time, Eli."  He bent
and kissed her cheek.  "I'll be waiting."  "What about the rest of your
family?"

  Eli smiled.  "They'll have to understand.  It's about time I took
charge of things."  Then he left to take care of Tessa.

  Veronica turned to Nathan and saw the blood still soaking his
bandage.

  He must be in pain, but he hadn't complained.  "We need to get you back
to the hospital."  She started to rise, but he pulled her back against
him.  "Not until we settle something."  "What?"

  Nathan cupped her face in his hands.  "I love you, Veronica.  I want
you to marry me."

  Veronica's emotions ranged from surprise to joy to fear.  "I can't."

  He winced as if she'd hurt him.  "why not?"

  Veronica bit her lip and moved across the room, distancing herself from
him.  "I love you, Nathan.  But...but I cause people to die."

  Nathan grabbed her with his uninjured arm and lowered his mouth to
hers.  "I'm still here."

  Veronica gazed into his eyes.

  "Ah, darling, you've given me back my life.  Don't you know, you're the
very reason I want to live."  Then he crushed her in his embrace and
there was nothing else for her to say except "Yes."

  Epilogue i:

  Veronica slipped her hand into the crook of Eli's arm, and he escorted
her down the aisle.  She couldn't control the smile on her face.  The
wedding was set in the small chapel in Oakland, and beautiful azaleas
flanked the front lawn.  Tulips and wildflowers lined the walkway
outside, and gorgeous white dogwood blossoms filled the trees.  Inside
she'd asked for pots of pansies so she could take them home and plant
them in her yard--the one she and Nathan would share--the one where
their children would run and play.

  Church organ music drummed softly, and she hugged Eli's arm, grateful
she'd made peace with her past and with him.  Then she looked up and
saw a wicked, sexy gleam in Nathan's amber eyes, and couldn't wait for
her honeymoon.

  At the end of the aisle, Eli kissed her and handed her over to
Nathan.

  "Hi, beautiful," he whispered.

  "Hi."  She  pulled him  close and  whispered in  his ear,  "I had  another
vision."

  A serious expression replaced Nathan's smile.  He'd been so kind and
understanding during the last month while she'd sorted out her past and
her feelings about Eli.  And while she'd dealt with a host of memories
that constantly grew.  Dr. Sandler had helped her understand that
she'd blamed herself for her parents' deaths because they'd been
arguing about her.

  Htta Herron 249

  They'd also talked about Ford's death and how they would handle
Nathan's job.

  Veronica smiled.  "It's a vision of our future.  With lots of little
Dawson babies in it."

  "Don't  scare me like that."  Nathan  dragged her into his arms and kissed
her.  "You're going to make a wonderful mother."

  Veronica smiled.  With Nathan's love and support, she felt confident
she would.  "I love you," she whispered.

  "I love you back."  He pressed his mouth to hers again.

  The judge cleared his throat.  "Weehaven't gotten to that part yet."

  Laughter erupted in the church, and Veronica clung to Nathan's hand,
ready to take the vows that would last for the rest of her life.

  V SILHOUETTE INTRIGUE COMING NEXT MONTH

  SOMEBODY'S BABY Amanda Stevens

  Lost & Found Nina Fairchild's baby was stolen from hospital just after
he was born.  Six months later, she sees a boy who is the spitting
image of her son--a boy Grant Chambers believes to be.his nephew!  Can
she prove her claim to the child when her medical records have
mysteriously disappeared?

  SPENCER'S SECRET Laura Gordon Undercover agent Logan Spencer returns
home to solve his friend's murder, and is reunited with the woman he
once loved--and left behind--Sarah Allen.  Sarah is now his friend's
widow, but Spencer is about to discover a secret she's never shared.

  Her four-year-old daughter is his!

  THE MISSING HOUR Dawn Stewardson Beth Gregory is having flashbacks--of
a murder committed twenty-two years ago.  What's more, she sees her
father's face--surely he was never a killer?  She hires Cole Radford to
investigate--hut what she really needs is a bodyguard.  Because someone
is determined she won't find out the truth!

  MYSTERY DAD Leona Karr When Mark Richards opens the door of his flat to
find two children, a baby, and a note asking him to care for them, he
hires private investigator Kern Kincaid to search for their mother.

  But the search turns into a dangerous game where the safety of the
children is at stake...