Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  Now it was, and it would put Marise in even greater danger. Or it could flush out the killer, and she would leave Atlanta.

  If she was safe, he could live with that. He thought.

  He wanted to give her at least a couple of days away from fear.

  “I’ll tell Haynes when we get back.”

  “And when is that?”

  “Monday morning.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  Cassidy sighed. “In the meantime, we have you as a chaperone.”

  “You sure you don’t want someone else assigned?”

  “The fewer people who know we’re here, the better,” Cassidy said, wondering whether he wasn’t manufacturing reasons for staying with her.

  Dammit, but he was tied in knots.

  He heard the shower running in the bathroom, and he could picture her there. He’d seen her now, all of her, and he knew he would see her that way the rest of his life. The thought was not lustful, though he would be lying if he said lust did not exist here. But there was also a purity in his memory. She was so darn beautiful.

  “Hoppy?”

  He looked up.

  “I lost you just there. What if your mind is wandering when the killer strikes again?”

  It was as much of a reprimand as Manny had ever given. What made it worse…he was right.

  Cassidy’s gaze swept the view beneath him. The road, the woods, the boathouse. That had been stupid, too. Anyone could have approached.

  “You’re right, Manny. It won’t happen again.”

  “You know that I want you to find someone again. The timing’s just rotten.”

  “I know. Not only my timing. My reach.”

  Manny looked at him sympathetically.

  “Maybe we should think about leaving in the morning. I’ll call the captain, see if he can’t find a safe house.”

  Manny didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll take a look around,” Cassidy said.

  What he really needed was fresh air. He needed to think.

  They played poker that night. The three of them.

  Poker was safe.

  Nothing was safe.

  Marise’s eyes were questioning. Filled with questions he couldn’t answer, filled with desires he needed to stay away from.

  They had spaghetti that Janie had sent with them. The sauce was made and just needed to be heated. Cassidy cooked the spaghetti.

  And he watched her eat with fascination. She was not an expert spaghetti eater. Strands kept falling off her fork. She had little spots of spaghetti sauce on her face that he longed to lick off.

  Better not to think of such things.

  After supper they played poker for several hours. Manny won this time. Cassidy was cleaned out. Literally. Figuratively.

  He took one last walk around the cabin, going to each of the nearest residences and making sure no one had disturbed their locks. When he returned, Manny reported that Marise had gone to bed.

  He and Manny talked for several hours, all about unimportant things. They both avoided the subject of the killer, but he was there.

  Then Cassidy went to bed.

  The call came the next morning.

  Cassidy hadn’t been able to sleep. He lay awake most of the night, knowing he’d made major mistakes. Knowing he might not see Marise again after they returned to Atlanta. He finally rose at dawn.

  She was already up drinking coffee on the porch, watching the sun rise.

  He restrained himself from going out to join her. He was afraid of what would happen. He’d lost confidence in his own control. It had been all he could do last night to keep from touching her. Only Manny’s presence had prevented it.

  He didn’t know whether she was aware of his presence or not. She didn’t turn around, not until his cell phone rang.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “He struck last night,” Captain Haynes said. “A young woman. An American Beauty rose was next to her.”

  “He always struck on Wednesdays,” Cassidy said.

  “There was a note,” Haynes said.

  Cassidy heard the weariness in his voice and steeled himself for the words.

  “‘Thought I would wait? I might have, had you not interfered. But I will have Miss Merrick. No one can stop me.’”

  Cassidy felt as if his veins had been infused with ice. “Are you sure it’s our guy?”

  “Yes. The rose was placed over her left breast. We never released that information.”

  “Nothing on the note?”

  “No fingerprints. We’re trying to trace the paper, but it’s so common I don’t think we’ll have any luck. We’re also checking all charge slips for office supplies stores to see if any familiar names appear. But I doubt our man charged it, in any event.”

  “I was thinking about bringing Miss Merrick back to Atlanta today. I was hoping you knew of a safe house.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s too open here,” he said. It was a terrible excuse. But he couldn’t give the real reason yet, that he didn’t trust himself to be alone with her. It was a hell of an admission, one he would confess later to Haynes. But not now. He knew he would be relieved of the assignment. He wasn’t ready for that.

  “Have you seen anyone?” Haynes asked.

  “No.”

  “I think you’re safer there at the moment,” he said. “Now, we really need that press conference in the morning.”

  Cassidy hesitated. He was aware that Marise had entered from the porch and was standing close to him. Listening.

  He couldn’t say anything now. Or perhaps that was just another excuse.

  “Do you need anyone else?” The voice on the phone brought his attention back to the conversation.

  “I think the more people who know, the more dangerous it is,” he said. “Where can we go after the press conference?”

  “Back to where you are,” the captain said. “I’ll send more men with you.”

  That was the last thing Cassidy wanted. He couldn’t stay, nor did he feel he could leave her here. In a safe house, perhaps. Out here was different. He knew the cabin and the woods around it almost as well as he did his own neighborhood. He knew the residents and the cars they drove.

  “Cass?”

  “I think it would be a good idea to have a backup,” he finally said. “Can you find another location as well?”

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Haynes said.

  “The woman,” Cassidy said. “Who was she?”

  “A student at Georgia Tech this time.”

  “Blond?”

  “Yes.”

  “He started with pros,” Cassidy said. “They’re an easy target. He’s gaining confidence.”

  “Let’s hope that makes him careless,” Haynes said, and hung up.

  Cassidy slowly put his phone away.

  “Another one?” she said softly. “He struck again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he missed killing me?”

  He looked at her. She was biting her lip, and her eyes were wide with horror.

  “He wasn’t going to quit, Marise, whether he succeeded with you or not. He’s going to keep killing until we stop him.”

  “Still…”

  He fought to keep from touching her, from taking her into his arms. He couldn’t do that. He’d made too many mistakes already. Instead, he sipped his now-cold coffee.

  “Have you seen Manny this morning?”

  She nodded. “He went to bed when I came out. He said you would be up at dawn, and I swore I wouldn’t leave the house or unlock the doors.”

  “You wouldn’t have to,” he said more roughly than he’d intended. “Someone could shoot through that screen as well as a window.”

  She looked at him indignantly. “I was watching.”

  He shook his head, then went back into the kitchen. She followed and watched while he opened the fridge and surveyed the contents. There wasn’t much but it should last them through today. There were
staples in the cupboards. Canned stuff mostly, and coffee. Thank God for Janie’s care package.

  His mind was running over logistics so they wouldn’t wander back to Marise. She was wearing slacks this morning, and a blue sweater. Although it was loose, it couldn’t hide the curves of the body he remembered only too well.

  “Tell me more about the woman,” she said.

  He didn’t have to ask what woman. “She was a college student,” he said.

  “So I wasn’t a fluke,” she said.

  “You mean you weren’t mistaken for a working girl?” he said. “I don’t think you ever were. I think the first women were targets of opportunity. They were easier to find, easy to lure into some dark place. You’re small. You probably looked like an easy victim.”

  “How can you ever catch someone like him?” she asked. “No clues. No fingerprints. No witnesses.”

  “We have a witness,” he said. “He made one mistake. I think he made another when he sent the roses. Someone saw him. It’s just a matter of finding that someone.”

  He finished the cup of coffee. “I’m going to go out and look around,” he said.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I think it would be better if you stay inside,” he said.

  “I don’t.”

  She had a determined look on her face.

  He hesitated. Manny would not approve. Heck, he didn’t approve. But if they didn’t go near the boathouse…

  Was it safe? He thought so. But then, he’d thought jogging the other morning was safe, too. Yet he’d seen no sign of anyone. He couldn’t imagine how the killer would discover their location, particularly after…last night.

  He looked at her, at the large eyes that still reflected the horror of hearing of last night’s murder.

  But he didn’t feel comfortable in taking her alone in the woods. Instead, he would wait until Manny woke. “Wait until Manny is up,” he said, “and we’ll go out on the lake. I’m just going to take a quick look around.”

  She still looked rebellious.

  “Please,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “I’ll be back within thirty minutes. Stay inside with the door locked.”

  He checked his pistol, then went outside. He duplicated last night’s search, circling the property, looking for new tire tracks. Fresh footprints. Anything that indicated someone was lurking nearby.

  There was nothing.

  It was going to be a beautiful day again, one of the warm fall days that made Atlanta a great place to live. He took one final panoramic view, then returned to the cabin, knocking at the door.

  Marise peered out, then opened it. “No villains?” she said lightly. But there was no smile in her eyes.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Yes.” He knew he was being curt. He had to force himself to be impersonal—because if he didn’t, he would destroy his ability to be effective on this case.

  “We have cereal and cereal,” she offered.

  “I’ll take the latter.”

  “Wise choice,” she said.

  They ate their bowls full of breakfast food. By silent consent, they refilled their coffee cups and went out on the porch. She sat, while he looked around again. Nothing unusual.

  Then he sat, too.

  “It’s so peaceful here,” she said. “It doesn’t seem as if anything could disturb it.”

  He knew better, but he didn’t say anything.

  He took a sip of coffee. He searched for something impersonal to say, to break that connection that was so strong between them. “When did you start skating?”

  “When I was four.”

  “You said both your parents skated. Did you want to skate or did they want you to skate?”

  She hesitated a moment too long. “A little of both.”

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  Her mouth bent into a frown and her eyes clouded over.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry.” But he did. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. For a moment he didn’t think she would answer.

  Then she said, “I had a brother. He was killed in the car accident with my father.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Nine.”

  “And your mother never married again?”

  “No, she rebuilt her life around me. And my skating.”

  He understood a lot more now. “And you? Was it what you wanted?”

  “What young girl doesn’t?” she said lightly.

  Too lightly.

  He came close to reaching out to clasp her hand in his. Instead, he knotted his into a fist. “You said you had tutors. How long?”

  “Since the sixth grade.”

  “Did you miss school?”

  “A little.”

  “So it was your mother and you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Until Paul?”

  She nodded.

  “And you?” she asked, obviously trying to divert the conversation. “You said marriage and being a detective didn’t go together. Did you ever think about another occupation?”

  “For a moment,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be happy, so it probably wouldn’t have worked, anyway.”

  “Do you like being a detective that much?”

  “I don’t know if like is quite the word,” he said. “It has some really bad moments. But I’m usually pretty good at it. When I’m not distracted,” he added wryly. “I like puzzles.”

  “And your ex-wife didn’t?”

  “No. She thought she would. She liked the idea of danger. She didn’t like the reality of it. It’s hard on a wife. The hours are terrible.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she said. “But Janie seems to manage.”

  “Janie is unique.”

  She was silent for a long time. “What about children?”

  She’d hit the sore spot. Laine had been taking birth control pills without telling him. He’d found them in her pocketbook when he’d been looking for a set of keys. Laine said she hadn’t wanted to be left a widow with children. That was the first time she’d revealed any reluctance to get pregnant.

  He’d been praying for a child. He’d believed they both were.

  That had been the last wound they’d inflicted on each other.

  He’d given up his hopes then of having children, of having a stable marriage in which children would be loved and safe, and wouldn’t be Ping-Pong balls batted back and forth between parents.

  “I have my nieces,” he said. “And my godchild.”

  Her eyes met his, and he saw the deep longing in them. She obviously wanted children. But she was living for her mother out of a sense of duty. And, he supposed, love.

  “Will being away hurt your chances to win?” he asked suddenly. He hadn’t given much consideration to that. He should have.

  He hadn’t given much thought to anything but catching the killer.

  “I know the program. Ten days of practice should be enough.”

  “How important is the competition?”

  “It’s the Sectional. We need to place to advance to Nationals. We could be invited to the Nationals, anyway, but placing in the Sectional makes it a sure thing. The medal winners in National go to the Olympics and the World Championship.”

  “Have you been in the Olympics before?”

  “Paul and I made the team last time, but he was injured in practice. We had to withdraw. This is probably our last chance.”

  He was a fool to think even for a moment he could compete with that. Or with Paul. No matter what she said about not being her partner’s fiancé, they had the same interests, the same goals. The thought was like a sword piercing him.

  He told himself he was a homebody. He liked his job, his boat, his house. He liked working with his hands. He had a job he was usually damn good at. He had friends. But he hadn’t realized how lonely he was, how much he yearned
for children of his own, particularly a little girl that looked like Marise.

  He had shoved all those feelings aside when Laine left. He’d been grateful then that there were no children.

  He heard a motor and looked back to the lake. A speedboat was bouncing over the water. He stood and watched until it disappeared out of sight. Still, he didn’t like it. The cabin was tucked in a cove, and they often saw fishing boats but they seldom saw a speedboat.

  The car was not visible from the lake, and the boathouse was closed. He didn’t think anyone could see them on the porch, and there was no fireplace, no smoke curling from the roof.

  He watched as the boat came close by the boathouse, then headed back out of the cove.

  “Do you see anything?” A small tremor was in her voice. It belied her seeming nonchalance about her own safety.

  How many other emotions did she hide?

  But the moment for confidences had passed. He was the protector. She was his charge.

  “I’m going to make some more coffee,” he said.

  “Now, that is something I can do,” she said.

  She stood, and their hands brushed.

  Every reaction from yesterday afternoon flooded back. The sun suddenly paled in comparison to the blinding electricity between them. He couldn’t move for a moment, caught between wanting to take her in his arms and wanting to push her away.

  He felt rooted to the floor as her eyes met his, and his chest ached almost unbearably. He had to hand her off to someone else. He told himself that, as tension leapt between them, filling the air with expectancy.

  Buffeted by emotions, he forced himself to take a step back. He held the door open for her, unwilling to leave her alone on the porch.

  She looked up at him. “Cassidy?”

  “Inside,” he said a little too sharply.

  To take the sting from his word, he put a hand at her back. She turned and looked up at him.

  His fingers touched her cheek. “You wring every ounce of sense out of me,” he said softly.

  She lowered her gaze. “I wish we were just two ordinary people who had just met.”

  “But we’re not. You have your career. I have my job. And then there’s your life, and I’m not doing a very good job of safeguarding it.” He hesitated, then added, “And when this is all over, when we’ve found the killer, this will all just be a nightmare.”