Page 43 of In the Dead of Night

“And an unidentified perp who nearly pushed you off that cliff and left two threatening messages.”

Her gaze met his. Within the depth of her gypsy eyes Nick saw fear. But it was tempered with a firm resolve to do what she needed to do to solve a mystery that became more complex and grew uglier with each layer they peeled away.

“They were working on a book,” she said.

“A true-crime book that would have ruined Blaine Stocker.”

“He was killing women,” she said in that same hollow voice. “Filming it.”

“Selling it to the highest bidder as snuff.”

“That’s incredibly…evil,” she said.

But Nick’s mind was already jumping ahead with some very ugly scenarios. Not only of young women being killed, but of a young crime writer and a prominent Hollywood couple who might have been murdered for the knowledge they possessed. Knowledge they’d planned to expose in a very public way.

“This is almost too wild to believe,” Sara said.

“Stocker wouldn’t have wanted information like this becoming public,” he said carefully.

He knew it the instant his meaning registered. Her eyes widened. What little color was left in her cheeks drained. “You think Blaine Stocker is responsible for their deaths?”

“Think about it. Your parents and my father were about to ruin him in a very big way.”

“So he murdered them, and made it look like murder-suicide.”

“We can’t be certain, but it’s an angle definitely worth looking into.” He hit a key on the laptop and shoved it at her. “Have you ever seen him before?”

Sara looked at the photo of a young Blaine Stocker. He was in some upscale Hollywood restaurant with a laughing blonde on his arm. Sara stared at the photo as if transfixed.

“What is it?” Nick pressed. “Do you recognize him? Was he there that night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. He seems familiar, but I don’t know where I’ve seen him. I don’t even know if I’ve ever met him.” Lowering her head slightly, she rubbed at both temples with her fingertips. “Damn it.”

The urge to go to her, set his hands on her shoulders and massage away the aches was strong, but Nick didn’t move.

“Headache?” he asked.

“Not from the bump.” She glanced at him over her fingertips and offered a wan smile. “Frustration.”

He offered a smile. “Sooner or later this will come together.”

“I’m not so sure.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “If Stocker is responsible for the deaths of our parents, who’s the anonymous caller and what’s his motivation?”

Nick considered the question a moment and shook his head. “If Stocker was involved in the making of snuff films, maybe someone who knows about it wants him to pay.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why involve me?”

“I don’t know.” But a chill formed at the base of his spine. “Maybe someone is using you to find something. Someone else is willing to kill to keep that from happening.”

He didn’t miss the quiver that ran the length of her. “Do you think the man who assaulted me and the anonymous caller are two different people?” she asked.

“Possibly. Two people. Two different agendas. That’s what we have to figure out.”

Her gaze met his. He didn’t like the pale cast to her complexion or the way her hands shook slightly when she set them in front of her. “It’s been twenty years. I can’t help but wonder what the catalyst is.”

“Maybe that’s one of the questions Blaine Stocker can answer tomorrow.”