The Devil She Knew

by Koontz, Rena

She returned an hour later to find Maggie standing in front of the television, gently rocking a fussy Jack on her shoulder, her attention glued to the broadcast. The local station had its helicopter in the air circling a wooded area where search dogs had led police.

  Cassidy put the milk and perishables in the refrigerator and stacked the pantry items on the counter, then joined Maggie. She had dark circles under her eyes and cereal in her hair. Cassidy reached to pick it out.

  “It’s so scary, so awful,” Maggie said, rubbing tiny circles on Jack’s back. “How could anyone hurt a child?”

  Cassidy shook her head slowly, equally as horrified as she watched the story unfold. “Have you been up since four o’clock?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “Did you have the chance to get a shower?”

  Maggie smiled. “No. When he’s fussy like this, I usually can’t put him down so sometimes, that has to wait until Dan comes home.”

  Cassidy cleared her throat. “I can watch him for you if you want to take one now.”

  Maggie stared at her, assessing the risk. Seeing her hesitation, Cassidy raised her hand. “It’s fine if you aren’t comfortable doing that. You look beat and I thought perhaps a hot shower would help. If you don’t need me to do anything else, I’ll go back to my place. I still need to figure out the bus schedule to get to work tomorrow.”

  She turned toward the door, but Maggie stopped her.

  “Cassidy, wait.” She stared at Cassidy as if choosing her words carefully. “You’re running from something. Why didn’t you get in my car and take off?”

  “What?”

  “You had a golden opportunity to disappear on a full tank of gas. What made you come back?”

  She hadn’t even considered running. Yes, she’d worn a cap to conceal her identity but the thought of leaving hadn’t occurred to her. Because of last night? Because she didn’t want to run anymore? Because she wanted Maggie’s life with a baby and a husband who came home to her every night? Tears pricked her eyes. Yes, she wanted all that and more.

  “Tell me what you are running from, honey, please let me help.”

  The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. “I saw a woman killed.”

  Maggie eyed her carefully. “In an accident?”

  Cassidy shook her head.

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “Yes. They can’t help me. Please don’t ask me any more questions, Maggie.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “You didn’t answer my first question. How come you didn’t take off when you had the chance?”

  “I, um, I promised Clay I would stay.”

  Maggie smiled. “That was a good decision. You’re welcome to use my computer in the office to search the bus schedule.” She eased Jack off her shoulder. “Here, see if he’ll go to you. He’s pretty tired. You’d be surprised how fast I can shower.”

  Cassidy took the child in her arms and he whimpered once then settled his head on her shoulder, his lips puckered in a baby pout. Warmth spread through her like honey pouring from a jar as she cuddled him, inhaling the sweet fragrance of baby shampoo and that wonderful scent babies possess of love and trust and dependence.

  Instinctively, she caressed his back with tiny circles. Maggie nodded her approval.

  Standing in the living room cradling Jack, Cassidy wondered if she’d ever have her own child to nurture, her own man to tend. Someday maybe, a tiny voice in her heart whispered.

  But first, you have to tend to Tony DelMorrie.

  Chapter Eleven

  A search team found the missing girl’s body in the brush along the highway shortly before midnight. Dan called Maggie to say he and Clay were stopping for breakfast and then would be home. Knowing she’d wait up for her husband, Clay stopped in before heading to his own apartment.

  Maggie and Cassidy had spent most of the day together, she said, repeating the brief details Cassidy revealed about her situation.

  Hearing that she’d used the computer to learn the bus route, Clay and Dan sat down to check the search history. She had navigated to the public transit site all right but, low and behold, she’d also searched an Arizona newspaper. Despite reviewing a week’s worth of papers, though, nothing they read hinted at why she checked there. She told Clay she was originally from Pittsburgh. So what was the connection to Arizona? Did it have something to do with the way she was always on the lookout, always scanning her surroundings?

  The three of them agreed to sit with Cassidy at dinner for an impromptu intervention. Except Clay didn’t want to wait until dinner. It was time to stop playing games.

  He didn’t take time to change out of his uniform, didn’t call first, and didn’t concern himself about waking her up. Never mind that it was after two in the morning.

  He pounded with a closed fist on Cassidy’s door. “Cassidy? Wake up. Let me in.”

  He knocked harder a second time. “Cassidy!”

  She looked through the security peep, undid the chain lock and opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw him in full uniform, and her hand clutched her heart. “What’s wrong?”

  He stormed past her, pointed to the sofa, and ordered, “Sit.”

  Cassidy closed the door but stood with her hand on the knob. “Are you here to arrest me?”

  He exhaled. The entrance might have been a bit forceful. “No.”

  “Then why the uniform, Officer Cestra? And a gun?”

  She was on the defensive again, her head cocked, one eyebrow raised. He regarded her for a moment, conceded she might be right, and strolled to the round oak dining table. Unbuckling his gun belt he placed it on top of the table with a clunk, dropped his hat on top of the pile, turned and spread his hands palms up. “Better?”

  She hadn’t moved. Why was she dressed? He eyed her bare feet. She wouldn’t take off without shoes, would she? Not likely. That at least bought a little time.

  “I’m sorry. I got home a short while ago and I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I didn’t take the time to change my clothes.”

  “Or to look at the clock, obviously.” Her voice held an icy edge.

  “I apologize if I woke you up. I know it’s late, but it’s important.”

  “Did you find the little girl?”

  “We located her body.”

  Her eyes widened, but she remained still.

  “I spoke to Maggie. You saw a woman get killed and you don’t tell anybody? Do you realize there could be a warrant out for you as a witness to a crime? What’s going on?”

  Her fingers tightened on the knob and his chest constricted with the movement. C’mon, honey, trust me. Her chest rose as she inhaled and lifted her chin. “That’s what’s so important that you barge in here in the middle of the night?”

  “Don’t change the subject, Cassidy. Tell me what you saw. Tell my why you are running away instead of cooperating with the authorities.”

  Almost imperceptibly, her shoulders straightened. “You don’t know what you are talking about and your information is not entirely accurate.”

  She tested his patience and he spoke more harshly than he meant to. “Well, then correct my facts. Please.”

  She stared at him, not moving.

  “I’m not the enemy, Cassidy. When are you going to realize that?”

  “What are you then?”

  It was a fair question, one he wasn’t sure he could answer. Might as well be honest.

  “As far as you are concerned, I, um, I … ” he started to laugh. “At the moment I am a bumbling idiot.”

  Well, at least that garnered a smile.

  He opened his arms wide and took a step toward her. “Meet me halfway?”

  She hesitated for one long, heart stopping minute and then she took a tentative step toward
him. In seconds, she was wrapped in his arms, all thoughts of chastising her evaporated. He was exhausted after working twenty straight hours, but his desire sprang to life beneath his fly. He was an addict and she was his fix.

  He pressed his lips to hers, dipping his tongue into her mouth hesitantly at first. When she responded, enclosing him in a hug, leaning her hips into his, and opening her mouth for him, he turned to putty in her hands. Jesus.

  “Were you asleep?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Not really.”

  “Why are you dressed?”

  She pulled back and looked at him. “Why don’t you take care of that, officer?”

  Heated blood coursed through him. Moving his hands to her sides he lifted her T-shirt over her head and marveled at the soft feel of her skin. Pulling her close he unhooked her bra and moved his right hand beneath the elastic to cup her breast, his words snagging in his throat.

  “I could hardly concentrate tonight. I wanted to be here.”

  He slid his left hand down her bare back and wedged his hand between her skin and her waistband, clutching her bottom. She moaned, heightening his already flaming passion.

  “I need a shower,” he whispered. “Will you help me wash my back?” Without waiting for an answer, he took her hand and guided her to the bathroom. While he leaned in to turn on and adjust the water, Cassidy removed two bath towels from the linen closet. He began unbuttoning his shirt, but she pushed his hands aside and while she worked the buttons he opened her jeans and sank his hand down the front of her pants to discover her desire matched his.

  Minutes later, they were kissing under the beating water, their hands traveling every inch of each other’s soapy bodies, touching, tasting, exploring. He turned off the water, handed Cassidy a towel, and dried himself, embarrassed by his obvious intentions. Once in bed, he devoured her until they both were at the point of exhaustion.

  Rolling off of her, he disposed of the condom and pulled her into his arms. He was dead tired. Maybe he was dead.

  That had to be it. He had died and gone to heaven.

  • • •

  Cassidy blinked awake, momentarily stunned by the sound of breathing behind her. Thirty seconds elapsed before her fluttering heart slowed to match the tempo of the soft snores on the pillow beneath her head and a slow smile crept across her face. Clay. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and focused on the shining alarm clock digits. Less than thirty minutes until she had to crawl out of the cocoon his arms safely encompassed her in. His body heat seeped beneath her skin like healing balm for achy muscles, warming its way to her soul. How she wished it could be like this always.

  The events of the last hours played to her mind’s eye as if she watched a favorite romance movie. Clay’s tender caresses, his fervent kisses, his whispered endearments. In his arms she was beautiful, soft as kitten fur and as bewitching as a temptress. Locked in a mutual embrace they whispered their dreams in between making love, two strangers coming together under the blankets with a physical as well as emotional need for one another. She hoped to be the mother of two kids someday, he wanted three. She fantasized about a bungalow with a small front yard and a white picket fence; he favored an old farmhouse in the middle of five wooded acres. He wasn’t sure about happily-ever-after but regarded Maggie and Dan as examples of what could happen. She remained non-committal, the nightmare that was her life shadowing her future.

  She would likely pay for the lack of sleep later, but right now, she was invigorated by the hours of intimacy. The sheet lay spread over his right thigh, barely concealing him, and she took advantage of his mostly naked state to admire him in the light peeking through the window blind. Even in sleep he was well endowed, magnificent to look at. He exuded power, like a sleeping lion one knew better than to awaken. And just hours ago, she’d had all of him beneath her fingertips, which somehow empowered her.

  Today felt like a new day.

  Easing out of his embrace, she marveled at the deep sleep Clay enjoyed. She hummed in the shower and tiptoed around the bedroom, quietly dressing so as not to disturb him. He slept like a rock in spite of her opening and closing drawers and searching unsuccessfully under the bed and through the dirty clothes hamper for her name tag for The Packing Place. Where the hell was it?

  One gentle kiss on his cheek and she was out the door, closing it softly behind her. The hike to the bus stop two streets away was easy. Hell, she could run a marathon this morning. The thirty-minute ride gave her time for introspection.

  As long as she kept hiding, Tony DelMorrie controlled her life, just as if he held his gun to her head. It was that simple. Her fear of him sucked the joy out of everyday things like going to work, shopping, or a simple burger and onion rings. Tony DelMorrie was a dark cloud hovering over her.

  Clay was the light. He infused her with strength, purpose, and, dare she entertain the thought? Love. Sleeping with him had been more than a physical act, it had been an escape from the darkness. She wanted to remain in his light, but to do that, she’d have to risk her life and stand up to Tony DelMorrie. Again.

  Jill Diamond had tried standing up to him and she was dead. It was funny how the women seemed to be on the same schedule most mornings, stopping in the convenience station grab-n-go market on the way to their respective jobs. Cassidy hadn’t even known where Jill worked, until she read it in the newspaper after her murder, didn’t know her last name. But their faces became familiar to each other and the casual greetings turned into brief comments and then mini conversations if there was a cash register line, Jill standing with her cigarettes and a diet soda and Cassidy balancing hot coffee and an energy bar. They had chatted about manicures and jewelry, laughed at the covers of the scandal magazines, delighted in girl topics. Jill Diamond always had a smile for Cassidy.

  She smiled at Cassidy the day she died. She and Tony DelMorrie had argued, the police discovered, and Jill threw a shoe at DelMorrie, smashing it into his foul mouth. The impact chipped his tooth and his anger erupted. He’d followed her as she drove into the fuel station on the way to her receptionist’s job. And when she’d relinquished the protection of her car to head inside, he’d strolled up as casually as if he were walking a dog and gunned her down at the front door.

  Cassidy watched the nightmare unfold as if in slow motion, spotting the gun in his hand as soon as he moved within eyesight. She’d opened her mouth to scream, but her vocal chords were paralyzed with fear. She turned to look at the clerk, with his back to the window, reaching for something from the shelves behind, and the other customers in line, all of them caught up in their own lives, texting, talking on their phones or otherwise distracted. And so she watched in stunned silence as Jill spotted her through the glass, waved and smiled while Tony DelMorrie shot the life out of her. If the others saw anything, they denied it. Only she stepped forward, recounting the horrific details and accusing DelMorrie of murder. Without Cassidy’s testimony, there would be no justice for Jill Diamond.

  And Cassidy would remain in the dark. She had to face him from the witness stand and end this life of disguise if she intended to start a new life, one that included Clay. The bus rolled to a stop and the folding doors opened, allowing a cool, fresh wave of air inside the vehicle. The time had come to confront the devil.

  • • •

  She arrived at The Packing Place at ten minutes to eight with her thoughts weighing heavy on her heart. The store lights were on and Amber’s car was parked in the rear beside Keaseling’s van. Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t relish a groping match with him first thing this morning.

  Stashing her purse in the cabinet and hanging her hoodie on the back of the bathroom door, she looked around the store for her name tag, but didn’t find it anywhere. Muffled sounds came through the closed office door, but she opted to stay at the front of the store and not interrupt. Maybe Keaseling wouldn’t notice the name tag wasn’t p
inned to her shirt. That was one of his store rules along with no cell phones during working hours and the ten-second greeting rule when a customer entered.

  At precisely eight o’clock, she unlocked the front door and waited for the day’s first customer. Within ten minutes Amber rounded the corner, her cheeks flushed.

  “Hey, Chickie. Good morning. You look whipped. Have a bad weekend?” Amber asked.

  “Um, not really. I just am short of sleep. I wasn’t sure anyone was here. What was going on in there?”

  Amber shrugged. “Don’t worry about him. He’s pissed because Leslie didn’t lock the safe when we closed Saturday afternoon.”

  “So why is he taking it out on you?”

  “Because he thinks I did it. I wasn’t going to say differently and throw her under the bus.”

  “Was he yelling at you?”

  Amber laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I guess you could say he was yelling.”

  Cassidy screwed up her face to look at her. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t fret, Chet. It’s handled.”

  Keaseling appeared behind her, tucking in his shirt. He nodded to Cassidy, then leaned against the far counter with his arms folded across his chest. “Amber,” he barked, “the hair?”

  She flashed him a wide smile, reached for a rubber band and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She turned to Cassidy and wrinkled her nose, moving to stand beside her at the counter.

  Only the low tones of the radio providing background music cut the cumbersome silence.

  “How was your weekend?” Cassidy finally asked.

  “Believe it or not, I stayed home. No wild parties for me.”

  Customers trickled in throughout the morning keeping the girls moderately busy. Keaseling remained leaning against the counter, manifesting a dazzling smile when a patron walked in but scowling when the store was empty.

  “Name tag, Miss Hoake?”

  “Um, I’m sorry, sir. I must have left it pinned to my other shirt.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a rules violation, you know. I could send you home to get it and dock you for the hours you miss,” he growled. “Fortunately for you, it’s busy enough today that we need the two of you here. Make sure you wear it tomorrow.”