Undaunted by Kate Douglas

landlord’s house and ducked under the yellow CAUTION tape stretched across the front porch. She was aware of O’Rourke following silently behind her and had to stifle a grin when one of the officers allowed him through but restrained the fuming landlord.
    She wasn’t prepared for the mess that greeted her. “Oh my God.” Once again a strong hand at her elbow steadied her. She heard the sharp hiss of in-drawn breath.
    “You’re not going to be sick again, are you?” His voice was so close she almost jumped.
    She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
    “That’s a relief. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you did throw up. This kind of wanton vandalism would make anyone ill.”
    “Gee, thanks.” She tugged her arm free of his grasp and stepped away. Damn! She’d loved this place in spite of her slimy landlord. A quiet, furnished little house that actually had some character to it. Now it was splashed throughout with painted vulgarities and threats, not done with a spray can but brushed on thickly, red paint over wallpaper and cabinets, across the appliances in the kitchenette.
    Red paint. Dripping bloodred paint.
    A fire had melted the small plastic trash can near the sink and black soot streaked the walls. Long cobwebs hung from the ceiling, invisible until the soot had given them substance. Greasy black smears covered every unpainted surface where investigators had dusted for prints.
    Sandy tapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll need to get Mr. O’Rourke’s prints so we can figure out which ones don’t belong here.”
    “Different O’Rourke.” Kat’s hand went to her belly, consciously cradling the life she carried. “Sandy, meet Riley’s brother, the other Mr. O’Rourke. Riley was killed in a car accident four days ago.”
    “Ah, gee, Kat. I’m sorry to hear that.” He held his hand out to the man beside her. “Sandy Wilson, SFPD,” he said. “Kat and I have worked on a number of cases together since she transferred to the San Francisco office. I assumed you were Riley. You look just like him . . . we only met once before. I didn’t know he’d been killed. I am truly sorry for your loss. He seemed like a helluva nice guy.”
    “Seamus O’Rourke.” O’Rourke shook hands with the officer. “Riley and I are . . . were fraternal twins, but other than our eye color we were almost identical. Your confusion is perfectly understandable.” He gestured toward the vandalized kitchen. “What’s going on here?”
    Kat glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice. He’d dismissed Sandy’s sympathetic remark about his brother’s death as if they discussed a stranger. This guy was definitely nothing like Riley.
    “Kat’s got a stalker.” The police captain frowned, his frustration evident. “We figure it’s someone she helped arrest somewhere along the line . . . there’s been reference to a few things in his, um, writing.”
    Seamus glanced once again at the stained walls, the room littered with filth. Anything to take his mind off thoughts of Riley. His brother had obviously spent time here, in this room. Had most likely made love to the beautiful blonde. Maybe there, on the couch? Seamus blinked away the image just as Wilson patted Kathleen on the back. The friendly act made him bristle.
    “You got someplace to go tonight, kid?” Wilson’s hand still rested, much too comfortably, on Kathleen’s shoulder. “You can’t stay here until it’s cleaned up and the fire damage repaired.”
    She shook her head. The thick blond hair swung softly with the slight motion. “I’ll get a hotel room. Thanks anyway, Sandy.”
    “You know you’re welcome to stay with us. Jane loves having someone to fuss over.”
    Kat smiled sadly at the captain and shook her head once again. Sighing audibly, she turned away to inspect the damage.
    “How about you, O’Rourke? Got an extra room at your place?” Sandy watched Kat as she poked