Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  Then the furrow deepened. He knew her thoughts were returning to the person who wanted her dead. And the upcoming press conference.

  “Why at the hospital?” she asked.

  “We’ll have cameras there. I’m hoping our perp can’t resist attending.”

  She stilled for a moment, as if frozen, then seemed to steel herself. “I can do it,” she said.

  He didn’t want her to do it. He could scarcely imagine her standing in front of a group of people, wondering if one of them was the person who’d been trying to kill her. “You still have time to change your mind,” he said for the third or fourth time.

  This time, she merely tried a smile. It was almost, but not quite, convincing.

  She looked around the kitchen, and his own gaze followed hers. He had remodeled it with high hopes for his marriage. He and Laine had picked out the rich dark cabinets and speckled off-color tile countertops. Laine had filled it with whimsical kitchen accessories: a lady pig cookie jar, bright colored pans, greenery. Laine had taken them all when she left, and he’d never had the incentive to replace them. Now, for the first time, he realized how very empty it looked.

  “How long have you been divorced?” she asked softly, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Three years.”

  She was silent, but he saw her look around the kitchen again. Puzzled.

  “I’m not here much,” he said by way of an explanation. But it was more than that. The house had represented hope, then failure, and yet he’d never been able to leave it. He’d built other things, but never anything like this. He’d created it out of very little.

  Yet he’d also run from it, working around the clock, then going to his sister’s cabin on days off to work on the boat.

  A shrink would have a good time with him.

  He rose from the table, uncomfortable with the conversation, unnerved by her blue eyes that probed him as well as any psychiatrist.

  Well, turnaround was fair play.

  “And Paul?” he asked. “He said you were going to marry him.”

  “No,” she said. “Perhaps at one time I thought it…could be a good thing.”

  She had gotten to her feet, too. She had the furrowed, puzzled look again. It was so incredibly endearing, as he looked down at her.

  He wondered why he’d always liked tall women before. Her diminutive height was just right.

  She’s a child, he reminded himself.

  She’s twenty-four and has the maturity and discipline of someone many years older.

  His hand went up to her face, his fingers touching her cheek lightly. She tipped her head so it leaned into his hand, rested there.

  Cassidy’s chest ached almost unbearably. The gesture was so trusting. His cynicism faded, giving way to a warmth too long missing from his heart. That such a vulnerable gesture came from such a strong woman humbled him. If anything happened to her…

  He bent his head and his lips touched hers. He hadn’t meant it to happen. It was just…inevitable.

  Her mouth was soft, and her arms went around him. Her lips responded to him and her body leaned into him. She fitted there, against him. She felt as if she belonged there.

  Against every rule he’d ever followed, he deepened his kiss. Their lips melded into each other, and her lips parted slightly. He groaned softly as a certain part of him strained against his trousers. She obviously felt it, because her body instinctively melded more firmly into his.

  His world rocked, the world he thought he knew so well. The world that he’d tried to make into a sane, cautious place.

  The phone rang. Sam shouted his name from the other room. Reality intruded. Yet he was loath to let her go, to lose the warmth that had been missing from his life.

  It was she who stepped back. Her hand stayed on his arm, though, and trembled slightly. Her mouth was slightly swollen by his kiss.

  She was in his care. She was a victim.

  How could he possibly have let this happen? He’d just broken the cardinal rule of police work. Never get personally involved in a case. But the kiss had been pure magic. Seductive and sexy and sweet.

  He ached. He ached with the knowledge of the stupidity of his attraction to her, how completely inappropriate it was. He had taken advantage of his position. Of course, she felt gratitude even if, so far, it was vastly undeserved. He’d made one mistake after another, each time putting her in more danger.

  Worst of all, he ached with the knowledge of how much he wanted something—someone—he couldn’t have. He swallowed hard, hoped a certain part of his anatomy would behave, then went into the other room to get the phone.

  Marise was stunned. Struck by lightning. So it wasn’t just a cliché. It happened.

  She’d been affected earlier. But this was different. That had been pure sexual attraction, or so she’d thought. This was more. Much more.

  She went into the sunroom, the room she liked so much. The backyard was full of trees, but the sun filtered through the trees.

  The house itself was the kind of home she’d always envied. It wasn’t large, or luxurious, but it was tucked in a neighborhood where people cared about each other and looked after one another. There was a relaxed comfort that made her feel instantly at home.

  Then she became aware of MacKay’s presence again.

  She turned.

  “You look pensive,” he said.

  “I like your house.”

  “It must be modest compared to what you’re used to.”

  “What? Hotel rooms? They all look alike. Even in Europe. And when we’re there, we’re practicing. There’s little time to wander about and explore. Your house—it feels like…a home.”

  “It hasn’t felt like that to me for a long time.”

  She felt the quiet pain in him. She wondered about the circumstances of the divorce. He’d said only that being a cop and marriage didn’t go together. She suspected it went a great deal deeper than that.

  Just knowing he was in the room sent warmth—and pleasure—surging through her. But he looked grim. “I’m going back to headquarters,” he said.

  “Has something happened?”

  He shook his head. “There’s a task force meeting.”

  She wanted to go. She didn’t want to stay here and wait for a killer to strike again. Even with Sam and Dan as company.

  “You’ll be safer here. Sam and Dan are here, and we have someone in the captain’s house. I’ll be back later. Feel free to use anything in the house or try any of the books. My house is your house.”

  Something of what she felt must have reflected in her face.

  “It won’t be long, Marise.” He paused, then looked at her for a searching moment. “Have you ever been fishing?” he asked suddenly.

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t suppose…”

  “I would love it,” she interrupted. She wasn’t sure whether she would or not. She didn’t think she wanted to catch a fish. She didn’t like killing things, not even a spider. But the thought of spending some time with MacKay—learning more about him—was appealing. More than appealing.

  “It’s a date, then,” he said lightly. “Tomorrow.”

  She felt a stab of disappointment at waiting another day, then remembered she was to hold the press conference Monday. He probably just wanted her to relax. Nothing more.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked.

  “A fishing pole.”

  His lips relaxed into a slight smile.

  “There are some extras at the cabin.”

  “I’ll practice,” she said.

  “Practice what?”

  “Fly casting. Isn’t that what you do?”

  He grinned. “Not me. I just drop the line in the water.”

  She liked that smile. It was what she wanted to coax from him. It was what she needed. And worth every bit of the effort. She tried to analyze it. Perhaps one reason she liked it so was its very rarity. One lip cracked first and turned upward,
then the other reluctantly followed suit. The area around his eyes crinkled. Then he looked a little abashed at being caught doing something he didn’t usually do.

  She wondered when he’d stopped smiling. When he’d gotten the divorce?

  Then she realized they must look foolish standing there smiling at each other. She really wanted him to do something else. Like kiss her again.

  Instead, the smile disappeared from his face, and he backed away as if she were a stick of dynamite.

  She felt like a stick of dynamite. More than ready to ignite.

  He turned around and headed toward the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  He turned around. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I like the house. I appreciate everything you are doing.”

  “If I had put a guard on you immediately after this happened…”

  “I hate ifs,” she said. “I lived a lot of my life on ifs.” She suddenly realized how true that was. She didn’t want him to do the same.

  He was looking at her curiously.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she promised.

  He gave her a slight nod, then disappeared through the door. She heard him talk to someone, probably Sam, then she heard the door close.

  Marise went into the other room and looked out the window. She watched the car back out of the doorway.

  Manny met him downtown. He was already in the room that had been appropriated for the task force. Three men and two women sat at computers. Two others were on telephones.

  “Find anything?” Cassidy asked.

  “We found one possible,” one of the men said as he put down the phone. “One of the hospital orderlies has a record. A sexual assault conviction. He didn’t put it on his application.”

  “How long ago?” Manny asked.

  “Eight years, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “How long has he been with the hospital?”

  “A year,” the detective said with a triumphant grin.

  “Do we have a picture?”

  “We’ve sent someone over to the hospital to pick one up.”

  “Don’t they check the backgrounds of their employees?” Cassidy asked.

  “They say they do. Sometimes one slips through. Apparently his last reference checked out.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Boston.”

  “Any unsolved murders there?”

  “None on the VICAP. We’re asking if they have any unsolved murders of young women dating from before the past year.”

  Cassidy nodded. “Description?”

  “White. Five feet nine inches, according to his driver’s license.”

  “Was he on duty during the time of the attacks?”

  “We’re checking that, too.”

  “I’m going to run over to the hospital,” Cassidy said.

  “We have two people interviewing staff now.”

  “I want to be there,” he said. He had faith in himself, and his instincts.

  The detective nodded. “You’re the boss.”

  “Manny, stay here and try to get someone in Boston. I want to talk to people at the hospital.”

  “Should we call Marise?”

  “Not until we’re sure we have the right guy,” Cassidy said.

  He grabbed his keys. It was going to be a long day and evening.

  Paul called at eight. “I miss you, Mare.”

  “How’s Mother?” She felt hypocritical saying she missed him, too. The truth was, she didn’t. Although she was little more than a prisoner here, she nonetheless felt a freedom she hadn’t known in years.

  “She’s fine. She misses you, too.”

  “How’s the rink?”

  “Fine. We’ll have to make some adjustments.” A pause, then, he said, “We need the practice time, Mare.”

  “I know. But this is more important.”

  “Is your detective…friend there?”

  “No,” she said. “He’s out detecting.”

  “You’re not alone?”

  “I have two other detectives in the house with me,” she said. “Another is watching from an upper floor of a nearby house. I couldn’t be safer.”

  “I don’t understand why there aren’t female detectives,” he said plaintively.

  She hadn’t thought of that before. Now she did.

  “How much longer before you join us?” Paul asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Your mother wants to talk to you.”

  Her mother’s voice came on the line. “If you don’t come up here, I’m coming down there.”

  Marise sighed. “No,” she said. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

  “I’m getting calls. The press wants to know where you are.”

  Marise hesitated, then plunged in. She’d never been devious. She couldn’t start now. “There will be a press conference Monday. I’m going to explain what happened.”

  “I’ll fly down tomorrow.”

  “No,” Marise said sharply. Then she softened her voice. “I want to do this myself. Please.”

  A silence, then Cara Merrick said, “I’m your mother.”

  “And I’m an adult, and this is my problem.”

  “I worry about you. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, too.”

  Marise wondered whether the “too” was deliberate. She’d been aware for a long time that her mother was not beyond manipulation. Still, the familiar guilt started nagging at her. But the pattern had to be broken sometime. She’d made the first step when she decided to stay here. She’d made the second when she told MacKay that he couldn’t go through life worrying about ifs. She knew now that it had been aimed at herself rather than at him.

  And skating. Did she really want to continue the vagabond life, moving from one city to another, from one country to another? Training? Practicing? Performing? She enjoyed skating. She was good at it. But she didn’t want it to be her entire world. Not any longer.

  Her mother was talking on the other end of the line.

  “Mom,” she said, “I have to go.”

  “Marise, I really want to come back there.”

  “Just a few more days, and I’ll join you there.”

  “Paul…”

  “Mom, you won’t change my mind.”

  “Because of that detective?”

  There was more truth in that accusation than she wanted to admit. “I am not going to spend my life looking over my shoulder.”

  “Well, if you’re not here by Wednesday…”

  “Then, you can send Paul after me.”

  “If anything happened to you, I…” Her voice faded away.

  “It won’t. Good night, Mom.” She very gently put the receiver back into the cradle.

  Cassidy looked at his watch. Midnight. The suspect still looked promising. He usually went on duty at midnight. The attacks had all occurred before midnight, except for the attack in the hospital. And that happened right at the shift change. Charles Norris had checked in by twelve but no one remembered seeing him at that particular hour.

  Cassidy needed more before pulling the guy in. He didn’t have any real evidence. Everything he had was circumstantial. If he arrested the man, and Norris was released for lack of probable cause, then he would probably flee the city. If he were indeed the killer, he would continue to be a danger to Marise.

  Cassidy couldn’t let that happen.

  He assigned men to examine every detail of Norris’s life. He checked again with the Boston P.D. Still nothing.

  Then he headed home. He had faith in the detectives who would be checking out Norris. His responsibility was Marise’s safety.

  And home had taken on a more important meaning again. With Marise there, it really did seem to be home.

  And that was a dangerous thought.

  A blast rattled the windows of the house, startling Marise as she read in bed. Then came a shout. Voices inside the
house. The door slamming.

  She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a top and ran into the other room. Sam was near the window.

  “What happened?” she asked, moving toward him.

  “It could be a diversion.” Sam’s voice was sharp. As he said the words, he moved between her and the window.

  Fear prickled along her spine. She wanted MacKay.

  She also wanted to know what was going on.

  Another noise—a sharp crack—came through the sound of sirens. She saw blood blossoming over Sam’s chest as he went down.

  She grabbed his radio and pressed the button she’d seen him press. She knew the words from television shows. “Officer down,” she said. “Officer down. Need ambulance.” She suddenly realized she didn’t know the address. “Detective Cassidy MacKay’s home.”

  Then she kneeled next to Sam. He tried to move, and she held him. “No, don’t move,” she said. She heard sirens, but they didn’t stop at the house.

  “Don’t…answer the door until you know…who…” His mouth clenched with pain.

  She ran to the kitchen and found a towel, returned and unbuttoned his shirt, pressing the towel on the wound.

  His breathing was ragged. Her own mouth was dry. She knew to press down, to try to stop the bleeding. She didn’t know what else to do. Every second seemed like hours. This was a neighborhood of cops. Where were they? Where was Dan?

  Then she heard a pounding on the door. She got up for a moment and looked out the window. Dan and someone else.

  For a moment she hesitated. What if the someone else had a gun on Dan?

  But she also knew that Sam could be bleeding to death. She went to the door and opened it.

  Dan rushed in, the second man behind him. The latter—who looked to be in his fifties—knelt next to Sam. Dan grabbed her and pulled her out of view of the window.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “He was looking out to see what was going on,” she explained. “A shot came through the window. What was the noise?”

  “A vacant house down in the next block blew up.”

  Flashing blue and red lights made a kaleidoscope of the scene. Sirens grew louder as the cars approached and squealed to a stop outside. Dan left her to go to the door.

  Paramedics and two uniformed officers came into the room. One knelt next to Sam, taking vital signs.