The Devil She Knew

by Koontz, Rena

  Rosie must have had a rotten weekend as well, because she was relentless in her criticism, at one point making Cassidy mad enough she considered quitting. She resolved on Tuesday to kill Rosie with kindness, asking her loads of questions and admiring her knowledge of the business. It seemed to work, although today, Wednesday, Cassidy’s nerves as well as her confidence were frayed.

  Rosie was General Patton with breasts and she considered this store her store. She had worked for the company for more than ten years and seemed reluctant to give up the old ways for newer technology. She avoided any of the computer shortcuts Amber taught Cassidy, such as pushing the one-, five-, or ten-dollar bill buttons on the touch-screen cash register, opting instead to plug in the amounts using the individual digits.

  “You have to do it this way,” Rosie chastised the first time Cassidy touched the five-dollar key.

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s the way it’s done.”

  “But Amber … ”

  Rosie bristled. “I’m teaching you the correct way to operate in these stores. Don’t follow Amber’s lead or you’ll find yourself making mistakes and getting into trouble.”

  It didn’t make sense and confused Cassidy. Thrust into a different store layout with new customers, she fumbled around looking for items she easily located at the Greenbrier store. Under Rosie’s constant eagle eye, she made ledger mistakes and was slow at packing items.

  It was only mid-week and it felt like she’d already logged forty hours, especially since she wasn’t sleeping well. She eyed the clock. Less than thirty minutes and Rosie would go home.

  Her relief was brief. Through the rear door window she watched Wayne Keaseling parking his van. She braced herself for his inevitable attentions.

  “Well hello, Cassidy. Rosie says you are doing well. How do you like working at this store?” He stepped beside her and ran his hand down her back. She stiffened and stepped away.

  “It’s fine, sir.”

  He jerked his head backward. “Sir? How about Wayne?”

  Cassidy smiled but remained silent.

  “Rosie tells me you’ve beat her into work every day this week. I’m impressed. No one ever arrives before Rosie.”

  “I take the bus to work. It gets me here early.”

  He raised his eyebrows, greeted a familiar customer, then nodded at Rosie to handle the shipment. He put his hand between Cassidy’s shoulder blades.

  “Let’s go into the office and talk.”

  Her stomach clenched and she choked back the question on the tip of her tongue. Was she in trouble? Did he know about her?

  Keaseling sat down at his desk and waved to a folding chair, the only other place to sit in the room.

  “You don’t have a car?”

  “No.”

  “Where do you come from that you ride the bus?”

  “It’s actually two buses to get to this store. I’m temporarily staying around Fortieth Street.”

  He didn’t react as if he recognized the area. “Two buses to work all the time? Is that a hardship?”

  “Only two buses to this store. I ride one bus to get to Greenbrier. But it’s not a problem.”

  He paused, studying her, eliciting goose bumps on her arms as if it were winter and she was outdoors without a jacket. His eyes traveled down her legs and back up to her face, pausing momentarily on her breasts.

  “Getting to work would be easier if the schedule kept you at the Greenbrier store, correct? Would you like me to arrange it?”

  Warning bells sounded in her head. It was the way he looked at her, taking her measurements with his eyes, mentally stripping her of her clothes.

  “I don’t want to put anyone out. Thank you.”

  “You wouldn’t be putting anyone out. I’m sure you and I could make an arrangement that would keep you scheduled at the other store. You know, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

  She stopped breathing.

  He waited.

  She noticed his hands for the first time, long bony fingers with fingernails longer than a man should wear. He slowly tapped his forefinger on the desk, waiting.

  A knock and Rosie thrust her head inside the door. “It’s pretty busy out here. I could use some help.”

  Cassidy was never so happy to see Rosie’s scowling face. She jumped up and followed Rosie to the front of the store. Faced with a steady stream of customers, Keaseling eventually left without further scheduling discussions. Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief, although she suspected it was temporary.

  Business slowed to a crawl after the dinner hour. Cassidy was vacuuming when Amber strolled in wearing a too-tight tank top, madras shorts, and flip flops despite the cooler evening temperature. She had added a neon green streak to her hair.

  “Hey!”

  In spite of her sour mood, Cassidy smiled. “Nice color.”

  “Thanks. I’m green, like environmentally safe. Get it? How’d it go today?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “I’d much rather be at Greenbrier with you. She tells me everything I do is wrong. She makes me make mistakes.”

  Amber laughed. “She’s on a power trip. Don’t let her get to you.”

  They walked into the back and Amber hopped onto the packing table, crossing her legs.

  “What are you doing here?” Cassidy asked.

  “I, um, I was close by when I remembered you worked tonight. I figured I could give you a lift home so you wouldn’t have to take two buses.”

  “Amber, you don’t have to put yourself out for me.”

  “I’m not, don’t worry.

  “Close by where?”

  “Just close is all.” She eyed the schedule hanging on the wall and chuckled.

  “Rosie works a half-day tomorrow. You’ll only have to endure four hours of torture. It will be like a holiday.”

  Cassidy looked at her and tugged on her right ear lobe. “Yeah. Now if only Keaseling will stay away.”

  Amber straightened, more alert.

  “Why? What happened?”

  Cassidy recounted the office conversation regarding the schedule. “I don’t think he’ll let the subject drop.”

  Amber jumped off the table and straightened her clothes. “Don’t worry about him, I’ll take care of it. C’mon, let’s lock up and get out of here.”

  • • •

  Dan’s database search was a dead end. No record found for a Cassidy Hoake, including variations on the spelling of her first and last name. That meant Cassidy had not had a parking ticket nor a misdemeanor of any sort on record throughout the state and didn’t possess an Ohio driver’s license. If Clay wanted information run on her nationwide, he’d have to send her name through the FBI’s National Crime Information Center and that would raise too many red flags. It was one thing to check her out as a phantom passenger in a car accident, but messing with NCIC was a no-no.

  Clay reviewed his options en route to The Packing Place to pick her up. He’d just have enough time to run her home, drive back to his own apartment to change into his uniform, and report to work by eleven thirty for his midnight shift. But maybe, while she was locked in the front seat with him, he could learn a little more about her. It was crazy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d even dreamt about her and woke up with a hard-on, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. He didn’t try to recall the details of the dream, too afraid of what he might remember.

  He’d barely had contact with the woman and yet she was consuming his waking thoughts and now invading his sleep. Here he was driving to pick her up when she probably wouldn’t show the slightest gratitude for the gesture. Of course, if she did, which would he prefer? A handshake or a kiss? Jesus. Where did that come from? He was only concerned about her safety. After all, he was a public
servant and it was his duty to help citizens in trouble.

  He pressed the buttons to roll down the windows in the truck. If he was going to help this particular citizen, he needed to get rid of the bulge in his pants first.

  • • •

  Thursday breezed by for Cassidy without a hitch. It was the end of the month and Rosie spent her hours working on ledgers and billing the monthly charge accounts. Keaseling never made an appearance. By eight o’clock that night, feeling certain that the coast was clear, Cassidy exhaled a lungful of air it seemed she’d held all day.

  Filing the day’s shipments in the office while Leslie balanced the cash registers, they groaned simultaneously when the door chimed. Late customers were the worst. Usually they were in a rush and most times inconsiderate of the hour. If this was a complicated shipment that kept them at the store late, Cassidy would miss her bus. She plastered on a forced smile, emerged from the back room and gasped.

  “What are you doing here at night?”

  Clay Cestra smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

  “We’re about to close. If you have something to ship, it won’t go out until tomorrow.”

  He spread his empty hands wide. “I’m not here to ship anything. I’m here to chauffeur you home.”

  His words so stunned her she took a step backward. “I, I don’t need a ride, but thank you.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not an option you have to exercise, ma’am. Are you ready to leave?”

  Leslie emerged from the back office in time to hear his question. “We’re balanced and the safe is locked. All we have to do is clock out and turn out the lights.”

  Clay circled the counter and walked toward the back door, which only the employees used. Cassidy’s stomach lurched. Apparently he’d been in the back room before. With Amber? Just the two of them? What made her think that? Why did she care?

  The women clocked out, turned off the lights, and locked the door. Clay waited outside with his hands tucked in his jean pockets. When Cassidy turned away from the door, he reached for her elbow and escorted her around to the front of the building, crossing the parking lot to his truck.

  “I really don’t want to ride home with you. I’m fine taking the bus.”

  “Get in.”

  He opened the door and all but hoisted her into the passenger seat. He jumped into the driver’s side, turned the key in the ignition, and put the truck in gear. She jumped when the automatic locks clicked into place.

  They traveled in silence. She’d be damned if she was going to make small talk with him. He had no right to bully her like this, although when two police cars zipped by with sirens blaring, heading in the direction of her apartment, she couldn’t deny a twinge of relief that she wasn’t on the bus and wouldn’t be forced to walk the two blocks to her apartment.

  From beneath half-closed eyelids, she watched his right hand shift gears. A strong hand tensing and releasing muscles that flexed to full biceps. A little farther to the left, she observed his thigh tighten when he engaged the clutch. More muscles.

  She swallowed a mouthful of air in an effort to calm the butterflies in her stomach, detecting the slightest hint of soap and patchouli or musk. He smelled clean. He wasn’t unattractive either with his short dark hair and mustache. What color were his eyes? She’d never noticed.

  Clay broke her reverie. “Busy today?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You ever work in retail before?”

  Warning bells turned the butterflies into angry hornets buzzing in her stomach. “Not like here.”

  “Where’d you work before?”

  “Um, I worked in a convenience store. It was mostly just cash register work, nothing like what I do now.”

  “Where?”

  She turned to look at him. “Why do you want to know?”

  He shrugged. “Just asking. Making polite conversation. You know, like civilized people do?”

  She didn’t respond and they continued the trip in silence. Up ahead, police cars blocked Fortieth Street. Clay cruised to the officer standing in the street detouring traffic and leaned out the window.

  “What’s up, Pat?”

  “Hey, Clay. What brings you down here? Double murder in those apartments down there. We’re not letting anybody through.”

  Cassidy gulped. Now what?

  Clay gestured with his open hand. “My friend here needs to pick up a few things. Will you let us down there? I’ll keep an eye on her for surveillance sake and we’ll be in and out in ten minutes tops. I’ll log an incident report explaining it.”

  “Wait. No.” Cassidy grabbed his arm then jerked her hand back quickly as if electrocuted. She hadn’t meant to touch him.

  He turned to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

  Words escaped her. Her hand tingled from the touch and her pulse quickened. From fear? Or something else?

  “What apartment number you headed to, Clay?” Pat Tatman asked.

  Clay stared at her, waiting for an answer.

  She couldn’t find her voice. She didn’t want him in her apartment. She didn’t want to be this close to him even now. If she didn’t stay in the rat hole tonight, she had nowhere to go. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Cassidy. What’s the apartment number?”

  She blinked. “One twelve.”

  Clay spoke again to the officer and he motioned for one of the cruisers to move. They crept slowly through the barricade and down the street. Cop cars were everywhere. In front of her building, a sheet covered a bulky form on the sidewalk. A body?

  Clay stopped in the middle of the street up a ways from her building, parking beside another patrol car. He mumbled for her to stay put, jumped out, and walked around the rear of the truck.

  She heard him acknowledge someone before he opened her door and extended his hand. “This is a crime scene so stay beside me and don’t touch anything. We’ll have to be quick. Let’s go.”

  In a daze, she took his hand and a hundred bolts of electricity shot through her arm. He held it as they moved up the sidewalk. At the door he acknowledged another policeman and explained their mission.

  Then they were inside, walking down the short set of steps to the bottom floor and her apartment door. Clay stood expectantly when they halted in front of one twelve.

  Her heart stalled in her throat. She didn’t want him inside, didn’t want him to see what she had sunk to.

  “Do you have your key?”

  She turned watery eyes to him. “Can you wait out here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  This was definitely a low moment in her life. She took a ragged breath, shoved her glasses up her nose with her index finger, removed the key from her purse, and unlocked the door. She regularly left a light on in the kitchen, casting the living area in shadows. But not dark enough to conceal the hideousness of the place.

  Clay grasped her upper arm and walked farther into the apartment, glancing first into the kitchen, and then to the floor, no doubt noticing the braided throw rugs as he moved across them to the bedroom. He switched on the overhead light and crinkled his nose at the mattress in the corner.

  “Why do you live here? Do you like this?”

  Her temper flared. “Of course I don’t like it,” she snapped. “I’m down on my luck right now. This is all I can afford.”

  “Get your stuff. All your stuff. You can’t stay here.”

  She yanked her arm from his grasp. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  She sensed his demeanor soften. “Don’t you have any friends here?”

  Her breathing was faster than usual, partly from anger and partly from fear.

  “No.”

  “Why is someone like you all alone?”

  Her head snapped up. “What
do you mean someone like me?”

  For the first time he smiled. Straight white teeth that gleamed right up into his gray eyes. “Take it easy, Cassie. You always act like you’re ready to fight with me. I didn’t mean it as an insult. More of a compliment.” He raised his chin toward the closet.

  “Get some things together. I’ve got a place you can stay tonight and as soon as the area is clear we’ll come back and move you out of here.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m not staying with you.” Although after looking at him in tight blue jeans and a polo shirt that clung to his body like skin, the idea didn’t seem too repulsive. Maybe under different circumstances, in her former life. But he was a cop and she was a fugitive.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t invite you to stay with me. Gather your stuff. I have a business proposition for you. I’ll tell you in the truck.”

  She moved uncertainly toward the clothes closet. “I can’t afford higher rent.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Hurry up. We should get out of here.”

  She yanked her duffel bag from the closet shelf and tossed in most of her clothes. She tucked her laptop safely in between the jeans and shirts and moved into the bathroom for her cosmetics and a few linens. Clay watched from a distance, turning only when the mantel clock chimed.

  “Would you mind grabbing that, please? I don’t want to leave it here.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t let you out of my sight. Crime scene, remember? You’ll have to get it.”

  “But the crime didn’t happen here.”

  “That’s a technicality, hon. Sorry.”

  Her heart fluttered. Hon.

  Within minutes, practically everything she owned was stashed in the duffel. She gingerly took the clock from the mantel, wrapped it in a bath towel and eased it into a shoulder bag.

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a pen?”

  “In my purse.” She reached in and retrieved a pen from The Packing Place. Clay picked up the duffel and slung it over his shoulder. He took the keys from her hand and locked the door, then turned and scrawled the time, the date, and his initials on the wall beside the door frame.

  Back at his truck, he helped Cassidy inside then spoke to an officer, reviewed a page on a clipboard, and signed. As they drove slowly out of the parking lot, Clay nodded and waved to several different policemen. And then they were on the highway.