Читать книгу Shiver - Cynthia Cooke - Страница 10

Every natural-born cop instinct Riley had sang in tune. “Why are you rubbing your wrists?”

She didn’t answer and refused to look at him.

A telltale sign? His adrenaline kicked into high gear. “You won’t mind coming downtown to answer a few more questions, perhaps take a set of fingerprints?”

Her eyes shot to his. “What on earth for? I didn’t have anything to do with this woman’s murder. I didn’t even know her.”

“How do you know you didn’t know her? I haven’t shown you her picture yet.”

“Because I don’t know very many people here,” she said defensively and started to pace the room. “And I certainly don’t know any female police officers.” She stopped and looked at him with cold fear widening her eyes.

Gotcha, sweetheart. “I don’t believe I mentioned the young woman was a cop.”

She just stood there, staring at him.

“Right about now an explanation would be good,” he prompted. “How did you know she was a cop?”

A loud knock at the front door reverberated through the house. Devra jumped. Riley swore under his breath. “That would be my partner.”

“Oh,” she murmured, looking scared and relieved at the same time. He was aware of her soft step as she followed him through the living room and toward the front door.

How had this woman known Michelle was a cop? She’d been working undercover. Any bystander would have thought she was a prostitute. This woman knew a lot more than she was letting on. All he needed was a little more time alone with her and he’d have her singing.

He stood back and allowed her to open the door. Tony strode in, looking flushed and wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s hotter than Hades out there. Are you about done here? The captain just called and said he wants to see you pronto.”

Riley turned. “Devra Morgan, Detective Tortorici. Grab your purse, looks like we’re going downtown.”

Tony raised a questioning brow.

She sputtered a protest, outrage crossing her face. “I can’t go. I’m due at the Children’s Hospital for story time. I have to be there.”

“I’m sure they can find someone else to read Green Eggs and Ham this morning.”

Unyielding, she stood with her hands braced on her hips. “No. There isn’t anyone else. The nurses are too busy. The children look forward to my being there. It’s important to them and to me.”

Her sudden display of backbone interested him. Was it disappointing the kids that had her all charged up, or the fear of going to the station?

Tony stepped forward. “Why don’t I accompany Miss Morgan to the hospital, then bring her by the station when she’s done?” He offered one of his smooth Italian smiles. “That way, Riley, you can go see the captain and she can still read to the kiddies.” He gestured wide with his hands.

Always the diplomat, Riley thought, but this time it wasn’t going to fly. “I’ll take her to the hospital,” he insisted. “We’ll come in to the station right after.”

Tony’s mouth twisted with disapproval.

“I’ll get my purse,” Devra said.

Riley watched her hurry down the hall. Once she rounded the corner, he lowered his voice. “Look, Tony. You and I both know what the captain is going to say the moment I walk through the door.”

“Yeah, what I already told you this morning. You shouldn’t be working this case. You’re too involved to be objective.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m going to accompany Miss Morgan to the hospital. She knows something and she’s this close to breaking.” He pushed his thumb and forefinger close together. “I won’t let her out of my sight. After she’s done, I’ll bring her in to give her statement.”

“And what am I supposed to tell the captain?”

“You’ll think of something. I can’t let this slippery little fish slither off the line. Not after I so expertly baited the hook. She knows something, Tony, and I mean to get it out of her.”

AS RILEY parked the car, Miss Morgan leapt out and all but ran to the front of the building. He followed her into the hospital, easily keeping pace. She could run, but she couldn’t hide the truth from him for very long. Discovering secrets and solving mysteries were his forte and he wasn’t about to let this case be any different. He entered the sliding glass doors and followed her into the elevator.

She pressed the button for the fifth floor, then kept her gaze glued to the flashing lights as they rose. “How long have you been coming here?” he asked, trying to get her to open up. The more she talked, the more that deep sultry voice of hers gave away.

“Three years,” she answered without taking her eyes off the illuminated panel.

“Impressive.”

She didn’t respond.

“Which floor is the cafeteria on?”

She turned, irritation pursing her lips.

“You know. Coffee?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

“Don’t eat or drink?”

She turned back to the doors, ignoring him. He smiled at the back of her head. He was getting to her, making her mad. That’s when she’d give away the game. He’d give her a little line, let her think she was slipping away, then jerk back and reel her in.

The doors opened.

Placing a hand on her rigid elbow, he walked her to the door of the Child Life Center where a group of kids—some in pajamas, some in wheelchairs, some sitting on the floor—was expectantly awaiting her arrival. He tightened his grip before she could enter the ward. “Can I trust you alone for a minute? I need a cup of joe.”

Her gaze shifted slightly, and he knew she was considering bolting. But she nodded, her eyes locked on his, a beseeching vulnerability shining in their dark blue depths. The look unsettled him. She’d looked that way earlier, like a lost and scared kitten stuck high in a tree. And, for a minute, he wanted to rescue her, to cuddle her.

To protect her.

But he wasn’t in the protection business. No matter how tempting the idea sounded, no matter how tempting she was playing Little Miss Scared and Innocent, he would bet his lunch money she was anything but.

She pulled free from his grasp and entered the room, smiling briefly at one of the nurses. It was a nice smile that brightened her whole face. He watched as she transformed once again into a different person—warm and friendly, with sincere hugs and bright smiles. No little lost kitty here.

He was about to leave when a nurse with bouncy brown curls and a white cotton shirt stretched tight across her breasts walked into the hall, shutting the door behind her. “Are you waiting for Devra?” she asked.

He nodded, and smiled as he read the name tag pinned to her blouse. “I sure am, Betty.”

She smiled back, deepening her dimples to craters. “She’s wonderful with the kids. They really look forward to her visits.”

He leaned against the wall. “How long has she been coming?”

“Every Saturday for years now. She’s never missed a day.” She glanced over her shoulder at Devra through the glass. “The kids are very important to her, and vice versa. We’re lucky to have her.”

“She’s a very special person,” he drawled. “But then I think anyone who devotes their life to helping people is special,” he added, cranking his Irish charm up a notch.

“Aren’t you sweet to say so,” she cooed and flapped her hand at his shoulder.

“And Devra,” he prompted. “She’s just so busy with…”

“Oh, yes. Her writing, I know what you mean. And she must be a very good writer, too.”

“Really? Have you read…”

Betty’s mouth puckered into a pretty pout. “No, she promised to bring something in, but it must have slipped her mind. And I didn’t find anything under her name, so I assume she uses a pseudonym. I keep forgetting to ask her what it is, though.” She brightened. “Do you know what it is?”

“No.” He paused. “I just thought since you said how good she is…”

“Oh, well she must be because she entrances the kids so. They retell her stories to one another at night before they go to sleep, changing the endings and the characters, acting them out, just as Devra has encouraged them to do. And sometimes, for these kids, that kind of distraction is just what they need.”

“She sounds like a saint,” he said dryly.

The nurse laughed. “Saint Devra. Has a nice ring to it.”

Too bad he was having so much trouble hearing it. “She must have a lot of admirers. Other than the kids,” he prompted.

“Well, they certainly do love her. It’s funny you mention it, though. In all the time she’s been coming, I’ve never seen her with anyone. And here she’s had two gentlemen stop by in the past week.”

“Two?”

“Oh, yeah. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” A worried look crossed her face as she once again glanced over her shoulder at Devra through the glass.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “Miss Morgan and I are just friends.” He smiled and dug his hands deep into his pockets, giving her one of those I’m-available-if-you-are looks.

The nurse tilted her head coquettishly. “Well, then, I suppose it’s all right if I let the cat out of the bag.”

He gave her a wink of encouragement.

“Just last Saturday, a man stood right where you are, watching Devra work with the kids. He didn’t say much, just stood there and watched her with this weird expression on his face. He disappeared right before she was done. When I mentioned him to her, she seemed a little surprised and a touch agitated. She was afraid of him, wasn’t she? Is that why you’re here with her? For her protection?”

Heaven help her if she really did need protection. Look how well he protected Michelle…not to mention his mother. He shook off the thought. More than likely, Devra was agitated because she didn’t want anyone linking her with her mystery man. Perhaps an estranged boyfriend? Or an accomplice.

“Can you describe this guy for me?”

“Well…he was ordinary-looking—dark hair, slim, average height. In fact, the only thing memorable about him was his eyes.”

“His eyes?”

“Yeah, they were real dark and deep-set—a little intense and spooky-looking. To tell you the truth, he was a little creepy. I could see why Devra would be afraid of him.”

“Was she?”

“It wasn’t anything she said, just a feeling I had.”

Could Miss Morgan have known what the killer was planning? Perhaps he wasn’t pushing hard enough. Perhaps it was time to tighten the line. Riley took a picture of Michelle out of his wallet. “Have you seen this woman before?”

The nurse took the picture and studied it for a long moment, then handed it back to him. “Sorry,” she said. “She looks a lot like Devra, though.”

DEVRA WAS TRYING to concentrate on the children, but found herself hopelessly distracted. He was out there flirting with Betty. And Betty was enjoying it, laughing, her perfect curls bouncing, her long red-tipped nails flicking the air as she spoke. And it was bugging Devra to no end, though she couldn’t fathom why. She finished another page. She held the book up for the kids to see the pictures, then caught the detective looking at her. Quickly, she turned the page, and her attention, back to the book.

If she thought about it, she’d have to admit that he was handsome in a rugged, arrogant kind of way. She wondered what it would be like to have him look at her the way he was looking at Betty. But, after a second, she stopped herself. Thinking about that particular man in any capacity was dangerous. The sooner she put him out of her sight and her mind, the better.

She read another page. Someday, she would write books just for kids and leave the dark, ugly world of her nightmares far behind her. But, for today, she needed to say goodbye to the people she would miss the most when she left New Orleans—the children. Then she would hurry home, finish packing and disappear. Again.

She closed the book, gave the children extra-tight hugs as she said goodbye, then watched them pile out of the room. Everyone except Joey. “Did you get your necklace, Miss Devra?”

Confused, Devra looked down into Joey’s eager gaze. “What necklace is that, sweetie?”

“Your heart necklace.”

Her breath caught. Her locket. She glanced through the window into the corridor outside the room, but the detective was gone. He and Betty must have left to get that cup of coffee.

“I found it under the chair last week,” Joey continued. “I was going to give it to Nurse Jenkins to hold for you, but your friend said he’d give it to you.”

“My friend?”

“Yeah, the man that was here last week.”

Devra’s heart stilled at his words. She’d forgotten about the man Betty had mentioned. She had convinced herself the nurse had been mistaken. That he’d been waiting for someone else. What if she’d been wrong? What if he had been watching her?

“Did you get it back?” A tinge of anxiousness colored Joey’s voice.

Devra bent down so they were eye to eye and offered him a big smile. “I will very soon. Thank you for telling me.”

His smile went wide with pride.

“Can you tell me what this man looked like?”

“He was big.”

She gave him an encouraging nod. “Uh-huh.”

“And dark.”

“His skin?”

“No, his hair. And his eyes. He had the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. They looked…” He glanced down at his feet, then looked back up at her with uncertainty playing across his gaze. “They looked dead.”

Devra recalled seeing eyes like that once. The image flashed through her mind, her stomach turned. She forced a smile through gritted teeth. “Thank you, Joey.”

“Joey, it’s time for your therapy,” a nurse called from the doorway.

Devra waved as he ran through the door to join the nurse. Her knees were beginning to ache and she realized she was still crouched down, her legs locked with an irrational fear. Joey had given her locket to a man with dark eyes. Dead eyes.

The eyes of the devil.

She shook off the thought and the fear. Tommy’s death had been a lifetime ago and far, far away. It couldn’t be the same man.

His killer had never been found.

The thought whispered across her mind. She shivered. The world was full of killers, a fact she knew only too well. Why had this one taken her locket? Had he killed that poor woman and then left the locket for the police to find? But why lead the police to her? Did he know about her dreams? Did he know her secret?

Evil lives within you, child. We need to flush it out.

Tears of frustration filled her eyes. The police would blame her for this woman’s death, just like before. Just like Tommy. She had to get away from this town. But first, she had to get away from Detective MacIntyre.

“Miss Morgan?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts. On trembling knees she stood, smoothing down the front of her dress. Then she looked up into the detective’s face. He thought she was a killer, too. That’s why he wouldn’t leave her alone. He believed she was capable of the unthinkable. Just like everyone else, just like her family.

“Are you all right? Everyone’s gone.” Concern played around the edges of his voice, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t fooling her. He didn’t care. No one did.

She stiffened. “Of course. I’m fine.” She walked past him without a second glance. The quicker she got away from him, the better. She kept her head down as she entered the elevator, planning in her mind which boxes she would pack first, which rooms. By nightfall, she and Felix would be on the road to a new life. A new beginning. Again.

“Will we be at the station long?” she asked casually.

He looked at her, quiet speculation shining in his eyes. “Not long.”

“Good.”

Within twenty minutes, Detective MacIntyre pulled the blue Expedition into the underground parking structure at the downtown headquarters of the New Orleans Police Department. But instead of taking her through the garage entrance, he walked her around to the front of the building through the main double doors and into the air-conditioned lobby. The long way.

Devra fidgeted with impatience.

“Hello, Nicci,” the detective said and smiled a greeting at the young black woman sitting behind a tall wooden counter.

“Hey, Riley. I’m sorry to hear about Michelle.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Please sign in,” she said and, without looking at her, slid a clipboard across the counter.

Devra glanced questioningly at the detective, but he was too busy flirting with Nicci to notice. She scribbled her name on the sign-in sheet and slid the clipboard back across the counter. After another long minute of flashing teeth and big smiles, MacIntyre finally walked toward the elevator and pushed the Up button. It was amazing how women acted around him. Yeah, he was good-looking, but he was also the most infuriatingly arrogant man she’d ever met.

So what if he resembled Goliath with his bulging biceps and perfect pecs. The man was too cocky for words. He was exactly the kind of man any woman would love to see trip over his own shoelaces. As they entered the elevator, exasperation ballooned inside her. “Is this really necessary? I have things I need to get done today.”

“Yes. I believe it is,” he said without looking at her. He just stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the elevator doors.

“I already told you, I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Yes, you did.”

She gritted her teeth and bit back an expletive. She might as well be talking to a huge granite wall. Frustration burned inside her. “In fact, I know that I did lose my necklace at the hospital last Saturday.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch.

“Yes. Joey, a little boy at story time, told me he found it last week.”

“Really,” he drawled.

Never had the southern Louisiana accent bothered her more than it did when this man opened his mouth. “Really,” she responded and stiffened her legs to keep from stomping her foot.

He turned and pierced her with a look so cold shivers cascaded down her arms. She stepped back, her heartbeat accelerating. It was amazing the effect he had on her. Too bad it wasn’t the same effect he seemed to have on all the other women in town.

His eyebrows arched in cold speculation. “You expect me to believe this little boy, Joey, left the hospital in the middle of the night and walked down to the Quarter where he killed an NOPD officer, then hurried back to the hospital. But not before leaving your locket clasped around her neck?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He turned as the doors slid open and stepped into the hall.

Could he be any more obtuse? She took a deep breath and followed his long steady gait along the blue-carpeted corridor lined with cubicles on either side. At this point, she didn’t care who heard her, she just wanted him to stop and listen. She lunged forward, grabbed his bulging bicep and pulled.

It was like trying to move the Rock of Gibraltar.

“Excuse me,” she said through gritted teeth. This time, he stopped, and more than one head popped out from around a partition to see what the ruckus was about. “Joey told me there was a man at the hospital who said he was my friend. Joey believed him when he said he would return the locket to me. So, he gave the locket to the man.” She said the words as clearly and as succinctly as she could. Now all she could do was hope there was more to him than bulging biceps and a killer smile. Now all she could do was hope he’d focus on “the man” and leave her alone.

He stepped closer, looking down at her with that piercing gaze that made the oxygen suddenly evaporate from the space she was standing in. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier while we were still at the hospital?”

“I don’t know. I guess your charm overwhelmed me and I forgot.”

He took another step toward her and, for a second, she thought he was going to throttle her.

“All right, I’ll send an officer down to talk to Joey. Maybe he’ll remember what the guy looked like.”

“Dark eyes,” she responded and took a small step back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. At least, that’s the reason she told herself.

“What?”

“Joey said he had really dark eyes.”

“Hmm. I’ll be sure to write that down.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to forget.”

His jaw stiffened, and she held her breath while waiting for his response, but he didn’t answer. He just turned and led her down the hall once more. As they reached a row of desks next to the windows, he pointed to Detective Tortorici. “Would you mind going with Tony down to fingerprinting? I’ll type up your statement. You can read it over, sign it, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Fingerprinting?” she asked, her voice coming out in a squeak.

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. You have a problem with that?”

She straightened her back and took a deep breath to make sure the squeak was gone. “As a matter of fact, I do. Are you booking me?”

“Did I say I was?”

“Then I don’t agree to be fingerprinted.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Why not? You got something to hide?”

She threw up her hands. “I believe you’re trying to stomp all over my civil liberties, Detective MacIntyre, and I don’t like it.”

“Really? I thought you were more than willing to help with this case in any way you could.”

“I am.”

“Except for getting fingerprinted,” he said calmly, his gaze cool and slightly disbelieving.

“Exactly.” She clenched her teeth, refusing to budge an inch. “So, I really don’t see any point in my staying here.” She took a step back. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” He latched on to her arm.

She looked down at his hand, then back up into his dark brown eyes. Something lurched inside her—something…uncomfortable. “What?”

He released her and rubbed his face. “I’ll drive you.”

“I’d rather not.”

“It’s too hot to walk,” he cajoled.

She gave him an icy stare of her own.

“All right,” he relented. “If you don’t want to be fingerprinted, I can respect that. But can we hang out long enough to get the statement written up? Unless, that is, you don’t want to cooperate with the police after all?”

For a second she thought about it, then decided it would be better to cooperate than to have the whole department thinking she had something to hide. “Very well.”

“Good, ’cause the process of typing up my notes helps me put my thoughts together and it never fails that I always seem to remember something else to ask. It would help me out a lot if you were here.” He smiled at her. That stupid smile he used when he thought he was being charming. But he wasn’t. It didn’t work on her, not one little bit. She pursed her lips, and tried to rekindle her fading anger.

She gave her statement, then sat quietly as he typed away, his fingers moving awkwardly over the keys and slower than molasses in January. She squeezed her hands together to stop from insisting on typing her statement herself, then looked out the window, examined the clutter on his desk, then looked out the window again, anything to keep from jumping out of her skin with impatience.

Her gaze fell across a picture on his desk—the detective standing between and resting his arms on the shoulders of another man and a woman. Devra’s eyes widened as she took in the striking resemblance she shared with this woman—so much more so than with the others. So much more than she remembered from her dream. The sound of typing stopped. She looked up to find the detective staring at her, his eyes hard and unreadable.

“Have you seen that woman before?” he asked.

What could she say? That she’d seen her in a dream with her throat being slashed? They’d lock her up in the nearest loony bin. “She looks like me,” Devra stated.

Suspicion teemed in his eyes. And something else…something cold—rage. Fear zipped down her spine.

“And…” he prompted.

“She does look a little familiar,” she hedged. “Perhaps I’ve met her at the hospital. Does she have children?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She paused, swallowing. “Was she the one who had my locket?”

“In a matter of speaking.”

“The woman who was killed?” Nightmarish images flashed behind her eyes—bright beads twisting, pulling taut against white skin, blue eyes bulging with fear. He was getting more and more suspicious by the moment. She could see it in his face, could read it in his eyes. But she didn’t know what she could do about it.

Something twitched in his jaw. “Yes, she was.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

“So am I.”

“Well,” she stammered. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

Devra turned back to the picture, unable to face the hardness in his face, and noticed the strong resemblance between him and the other man in the picture. “Brother?”

“Yeah. Okay, done.” He grabbed the paper out of the printer and thrust it at her.

She scanned it, then signed her name on the bottom.

“Riley, what are you doing?” a man boomed as he walked through the door.

“Just getting a statement, Captain.” The detective stood and faced the man, then gestured toward her. “Captain Lewis, this is Devra Morgan. It was her locket we found on Michelle.”

Devra stood uncertainly, trying to hide her nervousness.

The captain took only a second to size her up, then turned back to the detective. “Have Pat finish up her statement. You need some time off. Go home and be with your family.”

Devra sat back down and pretended to be reading her statement. He was being taken off the case. She smothered a smile.

“Captain—”

“I don’t want any arguments about it,” his captain continued. “You’re too close to this case to be objective. You could do more harm than good.”

“I’ve been living the night stalker case for thirteen months. I know it inside and out,” he insisted.

“At this point, it doesn’t matter. This wasn’t the night stalker.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This one is different, hair and fibers don’t match up.”

“That’s why Michelle was out there. She was trying to flush this guy out. Are you telling me someone else got to her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Michelle was a good cop. Her death is a terrible loss for all of us. Do yourself a favor, Riley, go home and take care of your family. Take care of yourself.”

“There’s no way I’m dumping this case,” he said softly.

Captain Lewis gestured with the manila file folder clutched in his hand. “You don’t have a choice. The FBI is taking over.”

“Why?”

The captain glanced at Devra, took the detective by the arm and led him a few feet away. “The computer matched forensics with three other murders—one each in Portland, San Francisco and Miami. What we have is a killer who goes after blondes—blondes that look a lot like Michelle.”

Even though his tone was muted, Devra couldn’t help but hear him. Her eyes widened as he listed the cities. Cities she’d lived in. They’ve found out about the others. It would only be a matter of time before they discovered her connection with those cases, too. But what had he said about forensics?

“Are you saying they were all murdered by the same man?” The detective’s voice rose in pitch.

His words didn’t make sense. The same man? There was only one killer? The thought and its implications came crashing down around her. Only one? All this time? But she’d thought… It hadn’t been the victims she’d been connected to, it’d been him—a killer who murdered women who looked like her.

The room spun. Her stomach heaved. He’d known about her all along. He’d been following her. Terror seized control of her senses. She stood. She had to leave. Now.

Riley watched his suspect swing her purse over her shoulder and get ready to bolt. She’d heard something. Before she’d gone two steps, he gripped her arm and pulled her back. “What do you know about this case?” he demanded, his barely controlled fury rasping his voice.

“Nothing,” she whispered, her eyes widening with the fear of a trapped animal.

“You do!” he insisted. “Tell the truth.”

She cringed beneath his fury and fell back into the chair, clutching her purse against her stomach, refusing to meet his gaze—the little scared kitty again.

“Riley!” Captain Lewis warned, outrage crossing his face.

“She’s hiding something, Captain.” He’d seen it in her face. Something she’d heard had thrown her into a panic. All he needed was another minute to work her and she’d break.

“Get hold of yourself,” Captain Lewis demanded.

He wouldn’t get hold of himself, he couldn’t. His fury was too strong, too pungent; he could taste it with every breath he took. He was so close to the truth. He pulled the folder out of the captain’s hands and dumped the contents onto the desk for her to see. Pictures and papers spread haphazardly—pictures of three different women, all with long blond hair cascading in curls around their pale lifeless shoulders.

Pictures of women who looked like Michelle.

Pictures of women who looked like her.

His captain stepped forward. “Riley, we know how much Michelle’s death has affected you, but this behavior is unacceptable,” he warned. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that you’re skating on thin ice here, real thin.”

“The last murder took place in Miami, three years ago,” Riley said, his voice sounding cold and hard. “Where did you live before you came here, Miss Morgan?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with her round baby-blue eyes trapped in fear.

She should be scared, he thought. Real scared.

By now, everyone in the department was standing, listening, staring with curiosity alive on their faces. Riley swung the swivel chair she was sitting in, turning her around to face the captain and everyone else.

“Tony, where did Miss Morgan live before she came here three years ago?”

Tony opened his file. “Miami.”

“Whose locket did we find on Michelle?”

“Miss Morgan’s.”

Riley turned to his captain. “You think she doesn’t know something about this murder? You said we have a killer who goes after blondes—blondes that look a lot like Michelle.”

He turned and lifted the glasses off Miss Morgan’s shocked face, then released her hair from its clip. An audible gasp sounded throughout the room as long blond locks cascaded around her shoulders.

“Well, what do you all think about this?”