Snowfall

by Sharon Sala

  Subconsciously she’d substituted disapproval for desire. She wasn’t his type. She would have to get over it. But how, when he had set himself up as her bodyguard?

  Darn Aaron’s interfering hide. It was all his fault Mac was here. She could just as easily have hired a professional. Lord knows she had the money. And, unless something drastic happened, this stalker situation could go on indefinitely. Torn between the memories of their passion and her predicament, her thoughts raced, discarding scenario after scenario.

  She glanced at the clock. It was just after two in the morning. She would think about it some more after she’d gotten some rest, so she turned in Mac’s arms, snuggling herself close against his chest and taking comfort in his presence—even though she knew it couldn’t last. And she dreamed.

  “But, Daddy, Charlie is a nice boy. Why can’t I go out with him?”

  Caitlin held her breath, waiting for her father’s response and praying it would be different this time.

  Devlin Bennett looked up from his desk, distracted by his daughter’s interruption. He had to get these papers ready before the hour was over or he wouldn’t be ready for his conference call.

  “Look, Caitlin, I told you why last week, and my answer is still the same. He’s just not our sort. Surely you understand?”

  Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears, but she wouldn’t cry. Devlin hated it when she cried, and she needed his good favor to win her case. If he didn’t let her go to the prom with Charlie, she was just going to die.

  “His father owns his own insurance company.”

  Devlin’s chin jutted angrily. “And it’s going into bankruptcy.”

  Caitlin’s cheeks suddenly blazed with color.

  “How do you know that?”

  Devlin shrugged. “I made a few calls. I will not have my daughter associated with failure.”

  Caitlin’s fingers curled into fists. “It isn’t Charlie who’s failing, Daddy. He’s at the top of his class.”

  Devlin glared. “Don’t mince words with me, Caitlin. I’ve given you my decision.”

  Caitlin stood without moving, staring blindly at the man who was her father. She loved him, but at the same time, she often resented him. His obsession with social status and perfection was impossible to live up to.

  “I’m busy,” Devlin said shortly.

  Caitlin flinched as if she’s been struck, then lifted her chin.

  “Then I’ll leave you to the important things in your life,” she said, and hurried out of the room.

  The moment she was gone, Devlin knew he’d done the wrong thing, but before he could call her back, the phone began to ring. Torn between fatherly duties and the desire to close another big deal, his choice was easily made as he picked up the receiver.

  Caitlin ran through the rooms of her father’s house, blind to the opulence of the decor. By the time she’d reached her bedroom, she was numb. Throwing herself onto her bed, she began to sob. Nothing was ever good enough for her father—not even her. The only thing he really loved was money—and power. Always the power.

  She cried until her head was throbbing and her eyes were almost swollen shut. Twice the housekeeper knocked on her door, and both times she called out for her to go away. There was nothing to be said that would take away the pain in Caitlin’s heart now, but she knew that someday things would be different. One day she would be grown, and then no one would tall her what to do. She would find someone who loved her for herself and not for Devlin Bennett’s money. They would get married and have babies, and she would never be alone again.

  Caitlin woke with a start to find her cheeks wet with tears. She rolled over on her back and covered her face with her hands. It had been years since she’d thought of that incident. So why the heartache? Why the tears?

  As she lay there, she became aware of the sound of running water in her bathroom and suddenly remembered.

  Mac!

  They’d made love. And oh, what love they’d made! Tenderness coupled with a heat that had seared her very soul. She felt cleansed and, at the same time, filled with a joy she’d never known.

  Was this the way it happened? Falling in love? Being blindsided by a man she thought she hated? But what did she feel for him—apart from an overwhelming gratefulness that he hadn’t turned her away? Was she falling in love with Connor McKee, or was what they’d shared last night simply a byproduct of the tension between them?

  She rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes, savoring the memories of last night. She didn’t know what was truth, but she knew how she felt. Connor had made her feel things she’d never felt before. He’d made her feel safe, and he’s given her joy. Oh God, if only he was the staying kind.

  Eleven

  The answer to her problems came in the middle of her morning shower. And it was so simple, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Of course it was going to pose a risk to her personally, but she was already at risk. If she was right and it flushed the stalker out of the shadows, it would be worth a few more anxious hours.

  Anxious now to put her plan into motion, she got out of the shower and quickly dried and dressed. With no more fussing than running a comb through her wet hair, she slipped into her robe and a pair of warm socks and shoes, and headed for a phone.

  “Breakfast is almost ready,” Mac called.

  “I’m going to make a call and then I’ll be right there,” Caitlin answered, as she entered her office.

  It was only after the phone began to ring that she looked at the time and realized Kenny wouldn’t be in his office for at least another hour. Unwilling to wait to set things in motion, she hung up before the answering machine came on and dialed his home phone instead. He answered on the third ring, and she knew she’d interrupted his breakfast from the chewing sounds in her ear.

  “Kenny, it’s me, Caitlin.”

  Instead of his usual welcoming hello, there was a moment of silence. She sighed. He was pissed at her, and with good reason.

  “Thank you for the chocolates you brought the other day.”

  She heard him grunt.

  “You know they’re my favorite,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Is there something you need?”

  “Yes, but you have to swear to keep it a secret.”

  Kenny swallowed quickly, almost choking as he did. A secret? Just between them? He liked that. He liked that a lot.

  “What kind of a secret?”

  Caitlin glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone, and then lowered her voice.

  “You know about the letters I’ve been receiving and the police and everything?”

  “Barely,” he drawled.

  “Okay, I deserve that,” she said. “But don’t quit on me now, Kenny. It’s not like there was anything you could have done, and at first I didn’t want everyone to know.”

  “I’m not everyone,” he muttered.

  “I know. I know. It was cowardly of me, but I think I didn’t tell anyone because, if no one else knew, then I could pretend it wasn’t happening. Only things have gotten worse. The day you came…when the police were here…”

  “Yes?”

  “He had sent something else in the mail…something awful.”

  Now Kenny was getting interested.

  “What?” he asked.

  “A rat…chopped into pieces, along with a picture of me and a note that said I was next.”

  “Caitlin! I had no idea it was this bad. I’m sorry…so sorry.”

  “And that’s not all. Hudson House has been receiving threats from him, too, including a bomb threat. I was scared, Kenny. Can you understand that?”

  She heard him sigh and knew he had relented.

  “Yes, oddly enough, that makes a strange sort of sense. So how can I help?”

  “I want it leaked to the papers that I’m being stalked by a crazed fan. I want the media to know that I was hospitalized due to a bungled attempt at murder.”

  Kenny�
��s voice rose an octave in shock. “Why?”

  “Because then they will call for interviews and—”

  “But you don’t like giving interviews. You’re always on me for scheduling too many. Surely you aren’t going to use this to sell more books? That doesn’t sound like the Caitlin I know.” Then he chuckled. “It sounds more like me.”

  Caitlin smiled. “I’m not responding to that,” she said. “Anyway, the reason I want them to know, is that when they ask me for a statement, I’m going to humiliate that psycho.”

  “What if it sets him off? What if he comes after you big time?”

  “Then I’ll have succeeded, won’t I? I’m sick and tired of hiding. I want this over.”

  “Good God, Caitlin, I will not be a part of this. What if he kills you? I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “But, Kenny, he’s already tried. Frankly I don’t think I can live with myself unless I start to fight back.”

  There was another, longer, moment of silence, and then a sigh. Caitlin chewed her lower lip, awaiting his decision.

  “Kenny?”

  “All right, all right. But we’ve got to be careful. Leave it to me. I’ll make a couple of calls. It will be all over the news before night, so get ready.”

  “Thanks, Kenny. I owe you.”

  “Just make sure you stay alive to pay up,” he muttered. “Are you going to tell the Hulk what you’re doing?”

  “Hulk? Who’s the Hulk?”

  “That gladiator clone who seems to have attached himself to your side like the wart that he is. Are you going to tell him?”

  “No, but he’ll find out eventually. Now I’ve got to go. Just do your thing for me, please. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he drawled and disconnected with a click.

  Caitlin sighed. It was going to take more than a thank-you before he got over being miffed, but she couldn’t let it bother her. She’d done what she set out to do.

  Her steps were light as she headed for the kitchen. She was scared, but, in a way, she was also exhilarated at being back in control. She wasn’t Devlin Bennett’s daughter for nothing. She should be able to flush one sick bastard from the wormwood that he’d made of her life.

  Mac turned as she came into the kitchen.

  “You look pleased with yourself,” he said.

  She flashed him a smile. “Thanks to you,” she said shyly, then gave him a kiss on the cheek before she noticed what he was cooking. “Yum, pancakes.”

  Mac grinned, relieved that she wasn’t embarrassed by what she’d initiated last night.

  “Yes, pancakes. As for last night, believe me, it was all my pleasure.”

  “Not all,” she said, then arched an eyebrow and gave him a serious once-over.

  A pleased grin replaced the frown. “Well, in that case, here, take all the pancakes you want.”

  She laughed.

  They ate in leisure, a little uncomfortable with the change in their relationship, but willing to look for common ground. Caitlin savored the momentary peace, knowing that by nightfall, everything would change. And in a way, that made her sad. Connor McKee wasn’t the settling down kind, but if he was…and if he were so inclined, she might let herself fall in love with him.

  “Fourteen days until Christmas and we’ve got this on our plate,” Sal Amato said as he ducked under the crime scene tape and headed for the small store where the latest victim had been found.

  “Yeah, and nothing much to go with it,” Paulie countered.

  “Don’t remind me,” Sal said, looking beyond the uniformed officers to the woman coming out of the building. “Hey, Booker, wait up a second.”

  The young forensic pathologist paused on her way to her car.

  “You boys aren’t doing your part,” she said. “By my count, this is the third vic by the same perp.”

  “Another voice heard,” Sal muttered. “And you just answered my question.”

  “As to what?” Angela Booker asked.

  “If this was the same perp. I take it she was cut the same way?”

  “Oh, yes, and dead before he cut her. Only this one wasn’t raped.”

  Sal’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re sure?”

  “Her clothes hadn’t been removed, and I don’t think she’d been raped and dressed again. At least, that’s not been the M.O. I’ll know more after I get her back to the lab.”

  “Do you think it’s a copycat?”

  Angela shrugged. “You’re the detectives, but how could it be? To my knowledge, the papers haven’t picked up on the fact that you’ve got yourself a serial killer, so who would know to do this except the man himself?”

  “Yeah, right,” Sal said, stomping his feet to keep them warm. “Send me a copy of your report as soon as it’s finished, okay?”

  “You got it,” she said, and headed toward her car.

  Sal glanced at Paulie. “Let’s go get this over with,” he said.

  They entered the building, eyeing the set-up of the store as well as the old man who was crying at the back of the room.

  “Who’s he?” Sal asked the uniformed officer at the door.

  “The owner. His name is Ari Dubai. He found the body this morning when he came to open up. She’s his daughter.”

  “What’s her name?” Sal asked.

  “Angela Dubai.”

  Sal nodded. “Where’s the body?”

  “Aisle three,” the officer said.

  Bracing themselves for what they knew would be another grisly scene, the two detectives rounded the corner of the aisle just as two men from the coroner’s office were bagging the body.

  “Hey, wait a minute, guys. Let me have a look.”

  “It ain’t pretty,” one of them muttered.

  “Death never is,” Sal said, and unzipped the top of the body bag just enough to see the woman’s face. Like the others, it had been slashed and quartered. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled and unzipped the bag further, checking Angela Booker’s read on the rape aspect. The woman’s clothing was rumpled and blood-soaked, but it didn’t appear to have been removed.

  “Paulie?”

  Sal’s partner nodded. “Yeah, it looks the same to me.”

  Sal zipped the bag and nodded to the men.

  “She’s all yours,” he said. “Take good care of her.”

  “Let’s go talk to her father,” Paulie said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  The old man was sitting in a chair, his shoulders bent, his hands covering his face.

  Sal touched the man on the back. “Mr. Dubai?”

  The old man looked up.

  “I’m Detective Amato, and this is my partner, Detective Hahn. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Ari Dubai’s eyes welled, his chin quivering as he spoke. “I would like to ask some questions, too. I heard an officer say that other women have died like my Angela.”

  Sal frowned. Damned mouthy street cops. Why couldn’t they have kept their comments to themselves?

  “Well, not exactly. Until we know more from the lab, we can’t be sure if—”

  “There were other women who were cut like my daughter?”

  Sal sighed. He couldn’t lie—not to this man.

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “Two, sir, but—”

  The old man stood. “We saw nothing in the papers.”

  “We didn’t want to alarm the citizens until we were—”

  “Had we known this danger existed, I would never have allowed my daughter to close the store alone.” He straightened, his dark eyes flashing with anger and pain. “I am old, but I am still a man.” Then his voice broke. “A parent should not outlive a child. It isn’t right. It just isn’t right.”

  “No, sir,” Sal said. “And I’m sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.”

  The old man shuddered, then dropped back into the chair.

  “When did you last talk to your daughter?”

  “Last nigh
t, as she was closing the store. It would have been around midnight. We’ve been staying open later because of the holidays, you know.”

  “Yes, sir. So you spoke to her then?”

  “Yes. She said she was locking up. That she’d put the daily deposit in the safe and that she would see me in the morning.”

  “She doesn’t live with you?”

  “No. She has…had…her own place about five blocks from here.”

  “Have you had time to check and see if anything is missing? Has the safe been tampered with?”

  “The safe is fine. The meat case was open, but that was all.” His voice cracked again. “Except for my baby…my poor baby.”

  Sal glanced at Paulie and then back at the old man.

  “The meat case?”

  The old man drew a shuddering breath.

  “Yes, it has sliding doors…. One of them was open. I can’t believe that Angela forgot to shut it. All the meat has spoiled. She wouldn’t do a thing like that.” And then he started to cry. “Why do I care? Spoiled meat is nothing. My daughter is no more.”

  Paulie looked at Sal and then pointed upward with his chin. Sal’s gaze followed, his eyes widening in sudden understanding.

  “Sir? You have a security camera on the premises?”

  “Yes, but just the one in front is working. I’ve been meaning to call and get this one fixed, but what with the holidays and all, I haven’t had time.”

  “But you do have one in operation?”

  The old man nodded. “The one near the front door.”

  “May we have the tape? Maybe there’s something on it that will help us catch your daughter’s killer.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “Anything that would catch this terrible fiend.” He headed for the back room, returning moments later carrying a video cassette. “This is the one. The time and date show up at the bottom of the picture when you view it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dubai. You’ve been most helpful.”

  The old man grabbed Sal by the wrist as they started to leave.

  “You catch this man. You catch him fast…before he does this to another woman.”