Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  He looked down at his watch. Ten. Had Marise gone to bed yet? How had he gotten emotionally involved so quickly? He never became emotionally involved with a case. Never.

  “Hey,” Todd said as he peered through the window.

  “What is it?” Cassidy asked. He wanted to crowd next to the window, but then the movement might be seen.

  “A truck. Can’t see what kind. It’s stopping at your house.”

  Cassidy swore. He really hadn’t thought their man would try something again today. He used his cell phone to call the house.

  “Truck in front of the house,” he said, when Manny answered.

  “We’ve spotted it.”

  “I’m on my way back. I’ll be coming through the back door. I want you with Marise. I don’t want anyone opening the door until I get there.”

  “You got it.” The phone went dead.

  “I’ll go with you,” John said.

  Cassidy shook his head. “Stay here with Todd. Keep an eye out for any cars. This might just be a feint to see what happens, learn our defenses. If you notice anything, I want John to check it out. There’s a patrol car just three blocks from here. Call them if you see anyone going near the house. Even a car slowing down. A woman walking a dog. I want it checked out.”

  Todd had not moved his gaze from the window. “Right,” he said.

  Cassidy ran down the steps and started for his house.

  A deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers had just reached the front porch, when Cassidy darted across the street and wound up behind his house. He gave three swift knocks. Sam let him in.

  “Manny’s with Miss Merrick,” he said.

  The bell was still ringing, probably because lights were on in the house. Cassidy checked the gun in the holster attached to his belt and opened the front door.

  The deliveryman had just turned toward the car, a large oblong box still in his arms. He turned back with a grin. Until he saw Cassidy’s grim face and the gun in his hand.

  “Delivery,” he said, “for a Miss Merrick.”

  “Come in.”

  “I just have to have this signed.” He held out a clipboard.

  Cassidy displayed his badge. “Come in,” he said again. “And keep your hands around that box.”

  The deliveryman obeyed, stepping into the hallway. He was white, medium height and thin. Certainly not muscular. Young. College age. And bewildered at the moment. “I…I…don’t—”

  Cassidy cut him off. “Anyone with you?”

  The man—no, more a boy—shook his head.

  “Go into the room on your left and lay the box on the table,” he said.

  The boy did as Cassidy said. Sam Preston appeared then. “Put down the clipboard and place your hands against the wall,” he ordered.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Just do it,” Cassidy said.

  Sam frisked the boy, then shook his head. “Nothing on him.”

  Cassidy put the pistol in his holster, then went over and opened the box. Roses. Red roses. Tied together with a white ribbon. He left them on the table, then returned to face the deliveryman, taking the clipboard from Sam. His gaze went to the three names listed. The third was Marise’s. Next to it was his address and a notation: Deliver at eleven p.m. Nothing else.

  He walked out of hearing distance and used his cell phone to call Todd.

  “See anything?” Cassidy asked curtly.

  “There’s nothing moving.”

  Cassidy swore.

  “Cass?”

  “The florist was told to deliver at eleven. There has to be a reason.”

  Silence on the other end.

  “Keep watching.” Cassidy clicked the phone off and returned to where Sam and the deliveryman stood.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bryan Cooper.”

  “Full-time job?”

  Cooper shook his head. “I’m a student at Georgia Tech. I do evening deliveries.”

  “Who sent these?”

  “There should be a card.”

  Cassidy didn’t see one. “There must be a record of who sent them.”

  The young man shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the florist. I just deliver.”

  Cassidy scanned the form again. No florist’s name at top. It was just a lined sheet of paper with names of recipients, addresses and any special instructions. In this case, there was the detail that the flowers be delivered at eleven.

  “Do you usually deliver this late?”

  “No, but then, people want strange things. Sometimes it’s an anniversary and the hour they proposed, or something.”

  “What’s the number of the florist?”

  “It’s closed.”

  Cassidy sighed. “You must have another number in event of an accident. Or a problem.”

  Hesitation.

  “Come on, Bryan. This is important.”

  “Mrs. Wydale gets to the shop early. She doesn’t like to be disturbed at night.” Then, evidently seeing the expression in Cassidy’s face, he quickly gave a number. “Can I go now?”

  “I think not,” Cassidy said. “A couple of officers will be here to take you down to the station. We want a statement.”

  “But…I don’t know anything.”

  “You might know more than you think.”

  “I just picked up the orders at six. I went to the hospital and delivered one, then had a delivery to a hotel. I got something to eat before coming over here.”

  “Is there an extra charge when a special request is made?”

  “Yeah. A big one.”

  He used his cell phone to call the owner. A sleepy and angry woman’s voice answered.

  “I’m Detective MacKay with the Atlanta P.D. You sent out an order tonight. Roses. To be delivered at eleven. Can you tell me who made that order?”

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and this is a murder investigation. Two officers are on their way to your home now.”

  “I don’t think I can help you.”

  “It must have been unusual enough to stick in your memory,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice.

  “It came by messenger,” she said. “Two hundred dollars cash and instructions.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “Of course.”

  “The officers will take you over to the shop to pick it up. I’ll meet you there.”

  “But—”

  He hung up.

  A police car drove into the driveway then, and two officers came inside. Cassidy asked them to take Bryan Cooper to the station to make a statement. “They will take you wherever you want to go afterward,” he said.

  The student just nodded and followed the officers out. Cassidy called the watch commander to have two officers meet him at the home of the florist. He was hanging up when Marise entered the room followed by Manny. She was in a track suit.

  “I couldn’t keep her in there any longer,” Manny said apologetically.

  Marise’s eyes went to the roses, to the big white bow that surrounded them. Her eyes widened. She knew exactly who they were from.

  “He’s daring us, isn’t he,” she said.

  “He’s trying to scare you.”

  “He’s already done that,” she said softly. “But why?”

  His fists clenched. At this very moment, he hated this man as he’d never hated anyone before. In other cases, he’d always been able to keep a certain professional distance. Not now. He felt her fear. And anger. This shouldn’t happen to her. Hell, it shouldn’t happen to any civilian.

  Rage filled him, and he fought to control it. Rage didn’t help anything. “You can still go to Seattle,” he said. “I’ll ask the authorities up there to give you protection.”

  “And if they say no?”

  “It’s worth asking.”

  “No. He wants to terrify me. Maybe he wants me to leave so that later…” She stopped. “He’s not going to do that. I’m stronger than he is, and I’m
going to let him know it.”

  Cassidy didn’t like the gleam in her eyes.

  “I want to do a press conference,” she said. “I want to tell them what a coward the attacker was. How…inept he is.”

  Cassidy shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I do. You want to make him come out in the open. I have to get back to skating.”

  He studied Marise again. She seemed remarkably composed. And determined. He wondered whether the totality of events was numbing her. “I’ll talk to the captain about it,” he said, “but I think we might want to consider other possibilities first.” He turned to his partner. “Manny, can you stay here tonight?”

  “I’ll take the sofa in your office.”

  “Thanks,” Cassidy said. He picked up his keys from the counter next to the door. He wanted to turn back, but he was afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t leave.

  He closed the door softly behind him.

  Chapter 9

  Marise watched the door close behind him. She felt the eyes of the other detectives on her.

  Manny was shaking his head. “I’m with Cass on this one. You don’t tug the tail of the tiger.”

  “Is it any more dangerous than standing in the jungle waiting for the tiger to pounce?” she asked. “At least when you pull the tail, you know he’s going to strike and can prepare yourself for it.”

  She stood her ground, knowing all she had to do was pick up the phone; media from across the country would flock to attend a press conference. Especially if it had something to do with stalking.

  They loved stories like this.

  She had to do something.

  It wasn’t fear that prompted her suggestion. It was Cassidy.

  She knew he was avoiding her. She knew she should be avoiding him. But the pleasure that flooded her when she saw him tonight, his dark eyes full of concern, his brow furrowed, was irrepressible.

  Did one fall in love in a few days? She had been infatuated before. But she’d never experienced this depth of feeling. Not the heart pounding, explosive, trembling need, nor the warm wonder of just being with him.

  She herself knew how impossible it was. She had commitments for the next two years. She had a moral commitment to other people for much longer. She couldn’t desert Paul. She knew how difficult it was to find a partner. If she left him, it could end not only her career, but his.

  Then there was her mother’s dream. No, her life.

  And finally, there was Cassidy MacKay, who had his own life. While she knew he was attracted to her, everyone around her seemed to let her know in one way or another that he was not a man for commitment.

  The best thing for everyone would be for her to leave. As quickly as possible. And the only way to do that was to bait the killer and draw him out into the open.

  Her eyes went back to the flowers. She already realized, of course, that the killer knew where she was. The attempt to run her down this morning told her that. But sending flowers to the door? That had a personal touch to it. Bitch. She heard that word in her mind again. Although the voice itself had been muffled by the surgeon’s mask, the venom behind the expletive had not been.

  She shivered.

  Manny evidently saw it. “What about some hot chocolate?” he asked.

  Hot chocolate was a comfort food she usually avoided. Now it sounded wonderful. “Is there some?”

  “I live nearby,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  “I’m going, anyway,” he said. “I have a few things to get.”

  “Then, I would love some.”

  She looked at the clock. Twelve-thirty. But she knew she couldn’t go to sleep now. She wanted to wait, in fact, until MacKay returned. She wanted the comfort of his presence. The safety that she felt with him.

  Maybe that was it. Safety. Protection. Gratitude. Nothing stronger. Nothing more dangerous. Emotionally dangerous.

  She heard the door open and close as Manny left. One of the other detectives was making coffee. The other was at the window. He didn’t try to hide himself now.

  She went to the window and looked out. Most of the lights in the other houses had been turned off. The street seemed full of shadows.

  She wondered whether her world would now always be filled with shadows.

  Cassidy waited at the florist shop for the owner. Mrs. Wydale had been more than a little unhappy about going to her shop and opening it. But Cassidy wanted a copy of that order.

  She finally arrived at two in the morning. The order, she said, had been messengered. She didn’t remember which messenger service; she had been in the back when it arrived, and an assistant must have accepted it. The envelope had gone into the trash; the two officers who had picked her up went through the Dumpster outside and finally found it.

  The address had been printed on a computer label. They would have to find the killer to find the computer.

  Several hours later, they found the messenger service, and again came up empty. A call had been made to the service to pick up a package at a mid-town address, which turned out to be that of a vacant building. The package and fee were taped to the door.

  Cassidy had sent the envelope and order to the lab. He would bet his last dollar, though, that the technicians wouldn’t find any fingerprints.

  Everyplace they turned, they ran into a dead end.

  Momentarily defeated, he returned to headquarters and called Captain Haynes. It was 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning but he needed a face-to-face meeting to discuss Marise’s proposal.

  When the captain came in two hours later, he was not in a good mood. After hearing what MacKay had to say, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Does she know what she’s doing? If he didn’t want her before, he will really go after her now.”

  “Dammit, he’s tried twice, and now those roses. I don’t think she believes it can get any more dangerous.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t like it, and I told her so.”

  “You know we can’t keep this kind of manpower on the case indefinitely,” Captain Haynes said. “It’s either this, or turn her loose and urge her to go to Seattle.”

  After a moment Cassidy nodded. He knew the department’s budget problems as well as anyone did. He’d even been surprised that he’d gotten as much support as he had. But then, a world-class figure skater was news, and her murder would be darn poor publicity. “I don’t know if he would give up even if she leaves.”

  He saw the captain’s look, saw him toy with the idea of getting rid of an expensive problem, and his gut knotted. “And it will be our problem,” Cassidy said, “if anything happens to her in Seattle. We wouldn’t have done our job, and everyone will know it.”

  The captain played with a pen on his desk.

  Cassidy continued, “This has turned personal for the killer. He can’t let her go now. It’s a matter of pride as well as self-protection. That’s what the psychologist said.”

  “So you woke him as well as me?”

  Cassidy didn’t reply. The psychologist was on call to the police department. He’d already been brought in on the case to help with the profile being drawn by the FBI. Cassidy had called him after talking to the florist.

  “Nothing on the roses or the letter?” the captain asked now.

  “No.”

  “Why the hell did he ask that it be delivered at eleven?”

  “Either he was watching from someplace we couldn’t see him, or he was having a little fun with us, trying to trick us into placing more importance on the time than there really is.”

  “I really want this bastard,” the captain said.

  “No more than I do,” Cassidy said bitterly.

  “Where are we on personnel records?”

  “Eighty people joined the P.D. in the three months prior to the first attack, a hundred and thirty in the six months before the attack. The hospital had three hundred. They’d just undergone an expansion and were hirin
g. We’re intensifying the background checks on those people. We already have people checking duty rosters to eliminate any of our people who were on duty the nights of the murders.”

  “Okay,” Haynes said. “We’ll continue with that. You really think this press conference thing might work?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “I don’t like it. But if you’re thinking about turning her loose, then I think we should try this first.”

  The captain frowned. “It’s risky. But I’m beginning to agree with you. He won’t give up now. I’ll need to check upstairs, but let’s go ahead and plan it.”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “Any idea where we should hold it?”

  “The hospital,” Cassidy said. “I still think that’s where the killer is. He might well try to attend or slip in. I want cameras covering the entire area.”

  Haynes nodded. “He probably thinks he’s smarter than all of us. Most serial killers think they can’t be caught. It’s worth a try.” He toyed again with the pen. “How do you think he knew where she was staying?”

  Cassidy knew he worried about the attacker being a member of the department. “Easy enough,” Cassidy said. “He could well know that I was the lead detective. We questioned a number of people at the hospital. When Miss Merrick disappeared, he might have looked me up in the phone book. Maybe he intended to follow me that morning and just lucked into us jogging.”

  Haynes didn’t repeat the obvious: that it had been a dumb thing to do. But his silence said it for him.

  “It won’t happen again,” Cassidy said.

  Haynes changed the subject. “When do you want to do this?”

  “Monday morning at nine?” That would also give Marise a chance to change her mind.

  “All right. But make sure she understands the risks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “I’m going to get some sleep,” Cassidy said.

  “Can you do that with a houseful of people?”

  “Yep,” Cassidy said. “Right now, I think I could sleep anywhere.”

  “Check in later. And get a shave.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After he left the office, he rubbed his right cheek with one hand, feeling its roughness. He knew he must have circles around his eyes. Yet he hated to take the few hours’ sleep he knew he had to have.