Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  “Almost immediately,” the woman said. “Paul had finished changing clothes, and we were looking for the security guard to call a cab. We couldn’t find Marise or the security guard. Then we heard the sirens and I…I knew it was her. We followed an ambulance around the corner and saw her. She was so…still. Her blood…”

  “Did she say anything? Anything at all?”

  She shook her head, then seemed to remember her manners. She held out her hand graciously. “I am Marise’s mother, Cara Merrick.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, but the doctors said she suffered a concussion. She hasn’t awakened yet. The doctor thought she would be conscious by now. He told us…”

  Cassidy’s heart sank. He’d hoped that she would be conscious by now. He knew that traumatic head wounds often caused at least temporary amnesia of events that occurred just before the injury. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Merrick,” he said.

  “I plan to take her to Seattle as soon as the doctors say she can leave,” she said. “I have been looking into charter flights…”

  “She’s a witness,” he said. “We think her attacker has killed at least four other women. We need her here.”

  The woman stood and drew herself up tall. And as she did, he immediately knew his first instincts had been wrong. This was not a weak woman. She wanted people to think she was, but she wasn’t. “No, Detective,” she said simply.

  Cassidy looked at his partner. Manny mouthed something like “charm.”

  “And you?” Cassidy turned to the man sitting on the window ledge.

  “David South, their coach.” The man straightened, and Cassidy recognized the loose grace of an athlete. “The doctors say they don’t know when she will wake. Or if she will have permanent damage when she does. The bastard cracked her skull against the pavement. We had to withdraw from the Challenge today. But we have the Sectional in three weeks. She shouldn’t miss it. Hell, she can’t miss it and stay in competition.”

  Cassidy exchanged looks with Manny. They had been together so long now, they needed nothing more than a blink of an eye, a shrug of a shoulder, a tightening of the mouth to communicate.

  Cassidy was beginning to feel very sorry for the princess. Everyone seemed to care more about getting her back to competition than about her well-being.

  “We’ll wait here,” he said, leaning against a wall. Manny took up a position on the windowsill next to Mrs. Merrick.

  “I tell you, she is unconscious,” the younger man insisted. “And as soon as the doctor says she can be moved, we will leave this…city.”

  Not if Cassidy had any say in it.

  “Why did she go out alone?” he asked the mother. “Was there a…quarrel of some kind?” The attack had occurred at ten o’clock. What had made a young woman wander by herself in a less-than-safe area? Not, he thought wryly, that there seemed to be any safe ones these days.

  “There was no quarrel,” Cara Merrick said. “We were almost ready to leave after practicing all evening. It was very odd for her to just…disappear without telling anyone.”

  Not really. Cassidy somehow knew that.

  “Had anyone approached her? Stalked her, perhaps?”

  Cara Merrick shook her head.

  “And the security guard who found her didn’t see anything?”

  “You will have to talk to him.”

  “I will,” he said. “But I want to know if you heard or saw anything, either before or after the attack. If you have any idea why she went off alone, whether she intended to meet anyone…”

  “Absolutely not,” the mother said. “We didn’t know anyone in this city. There had been no threats. No one with an unusual interest in her.”

  “But still,” he persisted, “why would she be wandering alone?” He turned to her partner, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at the questions. “Would you know, Mr.… Richards, is it?”

  “It is, and I have no idea,” Richards said. “She probably just wanted a breath of air. We’d been practicing for hours.”

  Cassidy studied him carefully, then turned back to the older woman. “Mrs. Merrick, as I said, we believe the man who attacked your daughter has killed at least four women. She was very lucky to escape tonight. Your daughter might be our only lead.”

  The door opened then, and he turned. Two orderlies were wheeling a gurney into the room, and for a moment he felt as if all the breath had been sucked out of him.

  A blond woman lay on the gurney, her eyes closed. A bandage was wrapped around her head, and she had a huge bruise on her cheek. Lush dark eyelashes contrasted with the fine blond hair. Manny had said she was a stunner. He had not exaggerated. Despite the bandage there was no mistaking that this was a very pretty woman. She also looked young and vulnerable and, God help him, as if she were indeed a princess from a fairy tale. Hell, Manny had put that nonsense in his head.

  He tried, instead, to go back to being a detective. She was blond. The other victims had been blond, too. That might mean the killer was looking for blondes, not specifically prostitutes. Maybe the prostitutes had just been targets of opportunity.

  He watched as she was moved, along with an IV, onto the bed. She appeared small, weightless. She’d probably appeared vulnerable to a killer.

  “As you can…see, she can’t answer your questions,” Mrs. Merrick said. She went over to the bed and took her daughter’s hand in hers. “Will you please leave?”

  He glanced at Manny and nodded. “We’ll stay in the lounge outside,” he promised.

  She returned his gaze. “We don’t want her to stay in this city one minute longer than necessary.”

  Cassidy looked back down at the sleeping beauty who’d been shifted onto the bed. She’d been strong and smart enough to survive—or had it just been luck? More to the point, had she seen the attacker?

  He watched the older woman loom over the patient as if warding off evil spirits. “I have some more questions.”

  “The other officers have all the necessary information,” she said curtly. “And I think I asked you to leave.”

  Obviously his charm wasn’t working. Well, it seldom did. Still, he wasn’t going to let the injured woman go without talking to her.

  “We’ll be waiting outside, Mrs. Merrick. She could save lives.”

  Then he turned to his partner. “Let’s go, Manny.”

  Hours went by. Cassidy had learned patience a long time ago, but now the stakes were very, very high. He’d asked the nurses at the station to alert him if there was any news. He also kept an eye on the door. He and Manny took turns getting coffee and sandwiches. Noon came and passed. Then a nurse hurried into the room, followed, a few moments later, by a man who was obviously a doctor.

  When the nurse came out, Cassidy approached her. “Anything wrong?”

  “She’s awake,” the nurse said.

  “Does she remember anything?”

  She looked apologetic. “Sorry. I can’t talk to you about it.”

  He and Manny exchanged glances. Damn, but he wanted in that room.

  But Cassidy also felt relief for her. He felt an odd tug somewhere inside that he feared had nothing to do with his current case. He told himself that he merely wanted whatever information the skater might have. That was all. He couldn’t even think of anything else. He stayed away from women these days. Especially women like her. She was so far out of his league as to be on another planet.

  Then he wondered why he’d even harbored that fleeting thought. Even if by some miracle she agreed to stay in town, she wouldn’t look at him twice. And he sure as hell wasn’t interested in a relationship. Any relationship.

  “Whatcha think?” Manny asked.

  “I think we are going to have to be very convincing.” While waiting, he read over the preliminary crime report. He’d been surprised at her age. Twenty-four. She’d looked younger. Born in California. The report was ridiculously void of details about her, and he was hungry for more. Most of all he wanted to know how she’d survived the attack and whether she had seen
her attacker’s face. As usual there was no other evidence. No fingerprints. No strands of hair. Only the victim.

  He tried to think of her that way. The victim.

  The doctor left the room, closing the door behind him. Cassidy strode toward him and displayed his badge. “How is she?”

  “Conscious. She’s in a lot of pain, but that’s usual with this kind of injury.”

  “Can I see her?”

  The doctor hesitated.

  “She might have seen her assailant,” Cassidy said. “We think it’s the same man who’s killed four women.”

  “I’ve read about them. But weren’t most of the victims pros…working girls?”

  “Yes. But now I’m wondering if he specifically targeted prostitutes or if they were just more vulnerable.”

  The doctor nodded. “You can see her if her family approves. They want me to discharge her today so they can fly to Seattle.”

  “Should she be moved this soon?”

  The doctor shrugged. “We would like to keep her another night, but we can’t force her to stay.”

  “Does she remember anything?”

  “She’s a bit hazy about what happened. There’s no permanent damage, but sometimes there is amnesia concerning events immediately preceding a head injury. Now, excuse me.”

  Cassidy stood aside as he left.

  Manny came up to him as the doctor disappeared down the hall. “Ready to breach the lion’s den?”

  “Lioness,” Cassidy corrected as he strode to the door and knocked.

  The mother opened it and blocked the door. She looked at her watch, then back at him. “Do you never sleep, Detective?”

  He tried again to give her a charming grin. “I’m told your daughter is awake,” he said.

  “She’s ill and shouldn’t be disturbed,” Mrs. Merrick said.

  “Mrs. Merrick,” he added patiently. “Perhaps you didn’t understand what I said earlier. Women have been killed. She’s the only one who’s survived an attack by this man, and she’s all we have. We need her help.”

  Their eyes met. “Then, you don’t have anything. She didn’t see a face,” Mrs. Merrick finally said.

  “Come in,” came a soft voice from within the room.

  Cara Merrick looked startled, then dismayed.

  “Mother, let them in.” The voice was stronger this time.

  Reluctantly, the woman opened the door and stood aside, as Cassidy and Manny entered.

  The curtains were closed and the room was dim. The figure in the bed looked fragile and small. Her hair was long and the color of honey, and her eyes were as blue as a summer’s evening sky. And they were intent on him.

  Their gazes met, locked. An odd flash of recognition passed between them.

  No. He didn’t believe in immediate attraction. Or whatever you called it.

  Still, he almost stopped breathing. For one of the few times in his life, he was nearly tongue-tied. He told himself that the twitch in his heart was merely male admiration for a pretty woman. And for her courage.

  He went to the side of her bed, as she pushed a button raising the head of the bed and bringing herself to a sitting position. “You said other women were killed?” Her eyes looked tired and her face was pale. He saw her wince as the bed moved.

  He nodded. “I’m MacKay, a detective with the Atlanta Police Department. This is Manuel Sharman. We believe the same man who attacked you has killed at least four other women.”

  Something flickered in her eyes. She had not known. His eyes went to Cara Merrick. The expression in her mother’s face did not change.

  “He wanted to kill me,” Marise Merrick whispered. “I could feel it.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “He was wearing a face mask, but I tore it off,” she said slowly. “It was too dark to see much. I don’t think I would recognize him.”

  Cassidy’s heart was beating faster. At least she’d seen something, and she probably knew far more than she realized.

  “I could have a police artist here later today.”

  “I don’t think I saw that much.”

  “Will you try?”

  She nodded, despite a protestation from her mother who had moved to her side.

  Cassidy’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “Height? Weight? Race?”

  “He was tall. Perhaps Paul’s height, which is six feet,” she said, then smiled again. “Everyone looks tall to me. Bulky build.” She looked at Manny. “And he was white.” She hesitated. “He was wearing gloves like the nurses wear here.”

  White. Tall. The first building blocks.

  “Clothes?”

  “Dark.” She closed her eyes as if trying to remember. “Track clothes. Like mine. Something else,” she said. “An odor. Almost sweet.”

  “Could it have been medicinal?” Cassidy asked.

  “I don’t know…it wasn’t familiar.”

  She moved, and he saw her grimace.

  “She needs rest,” her mother said, reaching out to push the call button.

  Her daughter stopped her. “No,” she said. “If I can help…”

  But Cassidy realized she was in pain. For a moment, he regretted that he had to do his job, but he pressed ahead. “Could you tell me anything else? Even impressions?”

  “I don’t think so.” She moved again, and this time pain was evident in her face. “I wish I could help you more.”

  “Do you think you might have seen him before? Could he have been following you?”

  Her body seemed to shudder. “No. I…don’t think so.”

  “Why were you outside—alone?”

  She hesitated. For the first time Cassidy saw something secretive in her eyes. Then she shook her head. “Just fresh air,” she said.

  “We’ll have the police artist over here,” he said. “Try to remember everything you can.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment, then fluttered back open, and he saw exhaustion in them. He had more questions but they could wait a few hours. After she had some rest.

  “You won’t be leaving?” he asked.

  Cara Merrick started to say something, but the woman in the bed stopped her. “No,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you want. I want him caught.” There was sudden strength in her voice. Determination.

  “How did you get away?” he asked.

  “I kicked him in the crotch,” she said. She grinned. Weakly, but it was a grin.

  He was momentarily stunned. It was the last thing he had expected to hear.

  “I have strong legs,” she added, as if unsure whether he believed her.

  “I imagine you do,” he said.

  “Did you find the knife?” she asked.

  “Knife?”

  “He dropped it when I kicked him. But maybe he picked it up when he left,” she said.

  Cassidy turned to Manny. “I didn’t see anything about a knife in the report.”

  “He had it…at my neck,” she added.

  Which could be why the other women hadn’t appeared to have fought back. But they had been strangled. There had never been anything indicating a knife. He looked at Manny. “I think we had better ask for a second search. Just in case.”

  Manny nodded.

  Cassidy turned his attention back to Marise Merrick. “How did you…”

  “I waited for my chance. He couldn’t untie the knot in my track pants. He lowered the knife to cut it.”

  “That was very smart,” he said.

  “Not really,” she said. “I knew the alternative.”

  And she had. He saw the knowledge in her eyes.

  “Thank you for cooperating,” he said, forcing a curtness into a voice that felt suddenly brittle.

  She looked at her mother as if guessing exactly how little cooperation he and Manny had received from her. “I’ll be here when you return,” she said. “And if we have to stay a few days we—I will.”

  Cassidy glanced at her mother and saw the set lips. The boyfriend—or partner—was frowning. Marise M
errick was going to have another fight on her hands.

  Cassidy nodded and stepped toward the door.

  Her voice stopped him. “Good afternoon, Detective… MacKay.”

  He was oddly pleased that she had remembered his name. And angry at himself for feeling that way. He nodded to Mrs. Merrick, then abruptly turned around and headed out of the room.

  Chapter 2

  “You look like you’ve been struck by lightning,” Manny said.

  Cassidy readjusted his face into his usual expressionless facade. “I was just surprised,” he said.

  “Me too,” Manny said equably. “I don’t think princesses usually go around kicking people in their—”

  “Don’t go crazy with this princess stuff,” Cassidy warned. “She’s a figure skater. Not a princess. She’s just another athlete.”

  “Not exactly,” Manny said. “And I liked her. She’s got guts.”

  Cassidy had liked her, too. That fierce determination, the way she’d stood up to her mother and fiancé. But how long would it last? Why had she allowed them to dominate her as they seemed to do?

  He still didn’t know why she had gone outside the auditorium last evening. He instinctively knew that he would have to get her alone to draw the reason from her. Although he was ninety-percent sure the attacker was the one he’d been hunting, there was a ten-percent chance that someone just knew the serial killer’s M.O. Maybe it was a stalker. Or someone she knew. He had to eliminate that possibility.

  Cassidy didn’t like loose ends.

  “Let’s get an artist from the department,” he said.

  “Do you really think she will stay?” Manny asked. “That mother of hers…”

  “Anyone who can cold-cock a killer should be able to make her own decisions.”

  “I wonder why…”

  “It’s none of our business.” Cassidy said, cutting him short. Hoping to cut short his own thoughts.

  The police artist was unavailable until the next morning. He and his computer program had been loaned out to another jurisdiction. Instead, Cassidy and Manny went to the crime scene and scoured the place for a knife. Nothing.