Night Shift by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

a pad of paper. “A radio habit,” she said. “The phone rings and I start writing.” She wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t want to repeat the conversation out loud. “Some of it’s in O’Roarke shorthand, but you should get the drift.”
    He took the pad from her and scanned the words. His gut muscles tightened in a combination of fury and revulsion. Outwardly calm, he handed the note to his partner.
    Cilla couldn’t sit. Instead, she stood in the center of the room, twisting her fingers together, dragging them apart again to tug at her baggy sweatshirt. “He’s pretty explicit about what he thinks of me, and what he intends to do about it.”
    “Is this your first call at home?” Boyd asked her.
    “Yes. I don’t know how he got the number. I— We’re not listed.”
    Althea put the pad aside and took out her own. “Who has your home number?”
    “The station.” Cilla relaxed fractionally. This was something she could deal with. Simple questions, simple answers. “It would be on file at the college. My lawyer—that’s Carl Donnely, downtown. There are a couple of guys that Deb sees. Josh Holden and Darren McKinley. A few girlfriends.” She ran through the brief list. “That’s about it. What I’m really concerned about is—” She spun around as the door opened behind her. “Deb.” Relief and annoyance speared through her. “I thought you had evening classes.”
    “I did.” She turned a pair of big, smoldering blue eyes on Boyd and Althea. “Are you the police?”
    “Deborah,” Cilla said, “you know better than to cut classes. You had a test—”
    “Stop treating me like a child.” She slapped the newspaper she was carrying into Cilla’s hand. “Do you really expect me to go along like nothing’s wrong? Damn it, Cilla, you told me it was all under control.”
    So she’d made the first page of section B, Cilla thought wearily. Late-night radio princess under siege. Trying to soothe a growing tension headache, she rubbed her fingers at her temple. “It is under control. Stuff like this makes good copy, that’s all.”
    “No, that’s not all.”
    “I’ve called the police,” she snapped back as she tossed the paper aside. “What else do you want?”
    There was a resemblance between the two, Boyd noted objectively. The shape of the mouth and eyes. While Cilla was alluring and sexy enough to make a man’s head turn a 360, her sister was hands-down gorgeous. Young, he thought. Maybe nineteen. In a few years she’d barely have to glance at a man to have him swallow his tongue.
    He also noted the contrasts. Deborah’s hair was short and fluffed. Cilla’s was long and untamed. The younger sister wore a deep crimson sweater over tailored slacks that were tucked into glossy half boots. Cilla’s mismatched sweats bagged and hit on a variety of colors. The top was purple, the bottoms green. She’d chosen thick yellow socks and orange high-tops.
    Their tastes might clash, he mused, but their temperaments seemed very much in tune.
    And when the O’Roarke sisters were in a temper, it was quite a show.
    Shifting only slightly, Althea whispered near his ear. “Obviously they’ve done this before.”
    Boyd grinned. If he’d had popcorn and a beer, he would have been content to sit through another ten rounds. “Who’s your money on?”
    “Cilla,” she murmured, crossing one smooth leg. “But the sister’s a real up-and-comer.”
    Apparently weary of beating her head against a brick wall, Deborah turned. “Okay.” She poked a finger at Boyd. “You tell me what’s going on.”
    “Ah …”
    “Never mind.” She zeroed in on Althea. “You.”
    Biting back a smile, Althea nodded. “We’re the investigating officers on your sister’s case, Miss O’Roarke.”
    “So there is a case.”
    Ignoring Cilla’s furious look, Althea nodded again. “Yes. With the station’s cooperation, we have a trace on the studio line. Detective Fletcher and I have already interrogated