Cold Comfort by Ellis Vidler

cup, staring into the whirlpool as if it had answers. "If there are two of them, it's definitely not an ordinary stalker—they don't come in pairs. Maybe the one who searched your house found what he wanted, and now someone wants you dead."
    Here she sat, in the middle of the night, drinking tea with a man she'd met a few hours ago and discussing who might want her dead. Not one, but two men? It just wasn't possible. "Maybe they think I'm someone else."
    "No, not after all this. They'd have figured it out by now."
    Surely someone made a mistake, but wishful thinking wouldn't save her life. What could she do? Let Riley do his job, she guessed, and hope he'd come up with something soon.
    She put her dish in the sink and lifted the lid from the cake container. "Would you like another piece?" She blinked at the missing quarter.
    He nodded and poured another coffee while she served the cake.
    When they sat down again, he started. "Did you know someone's been in your files — the desk in the dining room?"
    "My files?" She paused with the fork midway to her mouth. "No. I didn't notice anything." She pushed the cake away and reached for the teapot. The possibility gave her the creeps, but knowing someone had been in her house, touched her things, violated her privacy— Her skin crawled. "You found something? Some evidence?"
    "Fresh scratch marks around the lock. I also found some at the back door where he got in. Slick, but careless. Since he didn't take anything obvious, he didn't expect you to raise an alarm. He messed up the bed on impulse, a sadistic gesture he couldn't resist."
    She knew the sense of violation reflected on her face: her skin felt taut, her eyes too big. He watched her the way a cat watches a snake — fascinated but cautious, aware of the danger. "It's okay," she said. "I'm not going to start screaming or anything."
    "Good." He still looked suspicious. "Will you go through your files, see if anything's missing or disturbed?"
    "Yes, of course," she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "I can't imagine what I could have that would be of any interest to anyone."
    "Neither can I. Are you going to eat that cake?"
    Neither can I? How boring was she?Maybe she should listen to Mary—she really needed to get a life. "Here." She pushed the cake across the table to him. The man had more storage capacity than her refrigerator.
    When he met her eyes, she saw his were dark blue, not brown as she'd thought. She couldn't hide her smile, and his shoulders relaxed a little.
    * * *
    "Come on." Riley pushed his chair back and stood. Might as well get on with it.
    "Now? It's the middle of the night."
    "Why not? You're up, I'm here. By the way, what's your interest in wetlands? I saw the newspaper article on the coffee table," he said from the dining room.
    Claire followed, stopping in front of the file cabinet. "I wanted something useful to do after..."
    He saw her swallow and take a breath before she went on.
    "After my mother died. We used to go to the shore on weekends, bird-watching, just walking. I took her back when she got sick, but houses, a hotel, and condominiums, even a shopping center, lined the shore. No marsh. One of Elton Burley's mega-developments." Her voice dripped scorn. "So now I write letters, address envelopes, whatever needs to be done to support Senator Jennings's bill. I hope he recovers from his surgery soon. Burley's lined up a lot of support."
    She took a key from a book-laden sideboard and unlocked the file drawer, began flicking through the folders. "Everything seems all right." She paused, frowning.
    "What is it?" He glanced over her shoulder. Jesus . Where her robe had fallen open, he could see a patch of deep purple on the pale skin, too old to be from the alley. No wonder she favored her right arm. He didn't realize she'd been hurt other than the cut on her head. The sight of the angry bruise sent a fresh wave of rage through him. Nadia's battered face flashed before him. He shut her out