Brazen Virtue

at him over the rim of her own glass. “I like you, Detective Paris.”
    He grinned and, leaning over, touched his glass to hers. “I like you too, Gracie.” He glanced up when Ed’s phone rang. “While you’re answering that, see if you’ve got anything to eat in the kitchen that isn’t green.”
    “Amen,” Grace murmured into her glass. After glancing over her shoulder, Grace spoke again. “You won’t believe what I ate over here the other night. Artichoke bottoms.”
    “Please.” Ben shuddered. “Not while I’m breathing.”
    “Actually, they weren’t nearly as bad as I thought they’d be. Has he always been this way? Eating roots and things?”
    “That man hasn’t had a hamburger in years. It’s scary.”
    “But sweet,” Grace added and smiled into her glass in a way that had Tess speculating.
    “Sorry,” Ed began as he walked back in. “We’ve got a call.”
    “Christ, can’t a man even celebrate childbirth?” But Ben automatically set his drink aside.
    “It’s in Montgomery County.”
    “Over the line? What do they want us for?”

    Ed glanced at Grace. “Attempted rape. Looks like our man.”
    “Oh God.” Grace jolted to her feet so that wine sloshed over her hand.
    Tess rose with her husband. “Ed—the victim?”
    “Shaken, but okay. Got her hands on a butcher knife. Between that and the family dog, she held him off.”
    “Let me have the address. I’ll drop Tess off and meet you there.”
    “I’m going with you.” Before Ben could object, Tess laid a hand on his arm. “I can help, not only you, but the victim. I know how to handle this, and it’s almost certain she’ll be more comfortable talking to a woman.”
    “Tess is right.” Ed walked to the closet off the hall to get his gun. It was the first time Grace had seen him with it. She tried to equate the man who so easily strapped it on with the one who’d carried her through the rain. “This is the first woman we know of that he’s made contact with who’s still alive. Tess might make it easier for her to talk.” He pulled a jacket over his shoulder holster. Grace’s long, speculative look at him, and at his weapon, hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I’m sorry, Grace, I don’t have any idea how long we’ll be.”
    “I want to go. I want to talk to her.”
    “It’s not possible. It’s not,” he repeated, taking her shoulders as she started to move past him. “It won’t help you, and it would only make it harder on her. Grace …” She had a stubborn chin. Ed cupped a hand under it until her gaze met his. “She’s been badly frightened. Think about it. She doesn’t need more people around, especially one who would remind her of what might have happened. Even if I bent the rules, going there wouldn’t help.”
    She knew he was right. She hated knowing he was right. “I’m not going home until you get back and tell me everything. I want to know what he looks like. I want a picture in my head.”

    He didn’t like the way she made the last statement. Revenge almost always bit the one who held it the tightest. “I’ll let you know what I can. It could take a while.”
    “I’ll wait.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Right here.”
    He kissed her, lingering over it a moment. “Lock the door.”
    M ARY BETH DIDN’T WANT a tranquilizer. She’d always had a morbid fear of pills that had prevented her from taking anything stronger than aspirin. She was, however, holding on to a snifter of the brandy she and Harry saved for special guests.
    The children had been sent to a neighbor’s as soon as Harry had gotten a grip on what had happened. Now, he was sitting as close to his wife as he could manage, his arm around her waist and his hand stroking wherever he could reach. He’d always known he loved her, but until tonight he hadn’t known she was the beginning and the end of his world.
    “We’ve already talked to the police,” he said when Ed showed his identification. “How many times does she have to answer the same questions? Hasn’t she been through enough already?”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Morrison. We’ll do everything we can to make this easier.”
    “The only thing you have to do is get the bastard. That’s what cops are for. That’s what you get paid for.”
    “Harry, please.”
    “I’m sorry, baby.” His tone changed instantly as he turned to his wife. It was more difficult for him to look at the bruise on her face than to think about what might have been. The