SEE HER DIE Read Free Page B

stared at the white handkerchief for several seconds before she reluctantly accepted it. “Thank you,” she murmured without looking at him. “I’m okay.”
    Another step disappeared between them. “Did you know him well?”
    Her head shot up. She looked straight into his eyes, then blinked. “What?”
    “Dr. Harrison,” he offered, coming closer still. Close enough to watch the pupils of her eyes dilate when she realized she was alone with a stranger who was suddenly in her personal space. “I mean,” he explained carefully, keeping his voice low, gentle, “you’re so upset. I thought perhaps you were family or maybe his girlfriend.”
    Her fingers clenched the white cotton. She didn’t even breathe—at least, not that Mac could see. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, frightened but too shocked to react. Her scent filled his senses. Not perfume. Soap or shampoo. Something soft and sweet, yet intensely appealing.
    She shook her head finally, the movement strained. “No. I’m... a former patient.”
    Mac shrugged. “I suppose losing your therapist can be overwhelming.”
    Her gaze narrowed at the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to let it slip out. She looked him up and down for the first time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
    He smiled, the one the ladies always told him they liked. All confidence and charm. If Miss Young liked it, she showed no outward indication. “Collin MacBride.” He offered his hand but she ignored it.
    Clearly suspicious, she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “Were you one of his patients, too?”
    Smart lady. She watched closely for signs of deception. Elizabeth Young might look like the naive librarian who needed to get laid, but she hadn’t fallen off the turnip truck just yesterday.
    “No,” he confessed. “Just a friend.”
    She shoved the handkerchief back at him without having used it. “Thank you, Mr. MacBride, but I should get back.”
    “Wait.” He stopped her before she could escape. She hesitated at the entryway to the nave and turned back to him. He cranked up the wattage of his smile. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
    Something flickered in those amber eyes, fear, anger, both maybe. “No,” she said, her voice tight. “I didn’t.”
    She left him staring after her. However smart she thought she was, whatever cover-up skills she’d learned since the last time she’d stabbed a man in the chest, it wouldn’t be enough. Mac would not give up until he knew everything she’d seen, said and done where Ned Harrison was concerned.
    His smile widened. She had until tomorrow morning and then she was his.

Chapter Two
    She’d had more than enough time for the shock to fade and the reality of Harrison’s death to steep into her conscience. That was assuming Elizabeth Young had a conscience. Considering the bout of tears she’d suffered at the funeral, Mac was relatively certain she still had one. Duncan had been right in that respect. Mac really didn’t see her as a coldblooded killer. But jealousy could drive people to do things they normally wouldn’t. Or maybe she’d found out what Harrison was doing with his videoed sessions. That would piss anybody off.
    It was eight a.m. and Mac had opted to leave Duncan back at Twenty-Six Federal Plaza to work on yanking Detective Brannigan’s chain regarding the origin of the murder weapon. Truth was, Mac preferred questioning a suspect alone the first go-around.
    He’d arrived at Elizabeth Young’s small Leonia apartment at seven sharp. On the Jersey side of the Hudson, the apartment was actually the attic-turned-living-space portion of an older home owned by an elderly woman who lived alone. According to the landlady, who acted as a sort of answering service, Miss Young had already left for the job site this morning. Another step in the wrong direction for Mac. The most effective interviews were conducted on the suspect’s home turf