Cassidy and the Princess

by Patricia Potter

  Reporters swarmed into the room. Cassidy eyed each one of them carefully as they took a seat. He knew most of them. Crime reporters as a whole. There were some shiny new faces that obviously belonged to television stations. One in jeans he’d never seen before.

  All of them seemed to have small recorders and stenographers’ pads. Some had the bored expression of one who has seen it all, and others were youngsters who thought they wanted to see it all. He looked around for hospital personnel. They would have badges. Would their murderer think it worth a chance? He would want to. Cassidy knew that to the bottom of his soul.

  Word had been leaked out Saturday night in the hospital so that everyone would hear of it. He’d learned long ago that the hospital grapevine was as accurate and fast as any he’d encountered.

  The public information officer stood and introduced himself, then Marise.

  Her back stiffened as she told about the assault, but her face remained composed. “I wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone at the hospital,” she said, “and the police department that has been extraordinarily supportive.

  “I also wanted to say a few words about my attacker. I’ve stayed here in Atlanta in hopes that he would be caught. He is a coward, a man so sick he has to attack those he believes weaker than himself. He might think he’s terrifying, but he ran—just like any other bully—when I hit back.

  “I just wanted the city to know what kind of man you call the Rose Killer. It gives him far more dignity than he deserves. The Cockroach would be a better name. They scurry away with the light of day. And now I will entertain questions.”

  The first one was expected. “Did you see your attacker?”

  “There’s no other reason for me to stay in Atlanta,” she said softly.

  “How long are you going to stay?”

  She hesitated, then said, “As long as I can do some good.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “I think the police have already given out a description.”

  “When are you going to return to skating?”

  “There’s a competition next week. I’m planning on being there.”

  “What do you think of Atlanta, after what happened?”

  “Every city has its share of bullies and deviants and cowards. I think you have a beautiful city, and so many people have been really kind. Now I know why they brag about southern hospitality.”

  She fielded question after question easily. It was all Cassidy could do to watch the door of the room, the people who came in and stood against the wall. He had seen a photo of Norris. He would swear the man wasn’t in the room. Could he be lurking outside?

  After twenty minutes, Captain Haynes stood up. He thanked her for her cooperation and answered a few more questions, then called an end to the conference.

  Marise walked over to Cassidy. “How did I do?”

  “I think you accomplished your purpose. You just sent an invitation.” His voice was rough. Even a little unsteady. He had agreed to this reluctantly because he didn’t want her to be a target in another city when there was no protection. Now he wondered whether he hadn’t just made another very large mistake.

  Her gaze looked uncertain, as if she might have let him down.

  He didn’t dare touch her, though he wanted to take her in his arms. Instead, he smiled slowly. “You were magnificent,” he allowed. And she had been. He didn’t add that caveat that she might have gone too far. It was too late now.

  Her face lit.

  “Ready to go?”

  She nodded.

  She smiled at the remaining reporters as she left, but she didn’t stop to answer their shouted questions. She had done what she’d intended.

  She had staked herself out the way a hunter might stake out a lamb to lure a tiger.

  Chapter 15

  Cassidy drove the three of them to the police station. The drive was a tense one.

  “How long until we can see the footage?” she asked.

  “Thirty or forty minutes for the tapes. The film will have to be developed.”

  “I saw the cameras,” she said. “Wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he avoid them?”

  “There were others you didn’t see. We had some obvious ones, and some not-so-obvious ones in areas he might have thought safe. Where he thought he might just get a glimpse of you.”

  “Like the theory of the firebug staying at the scene of the fire he set?”

  “Exactly,” Cassidy said.

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “Depends on whether Norris—our main suspect at this time—is in any of the film, or whether you recognize anyone.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then, we’ll pull Norris in and start asking questions.”

  “But you said it might spook him.”

  “It might. But if you’re really determined to leave, we have to make things happen. After your challenge today, I don’t think the killer will let you go.”

  “Did I go too far?”

  Cassidy was afraid she had. He knew she had planned to call the killer a coward. But she had gone a step further. Everything she’d kept bottled up had come spilling out in front of the cameras. He only now realized the depth of her anger; she’d been adept at keeping her feelings in check, in masking the fear and rage.

  And contempt. That would have been the worst for the killer. He wanted fear. He probably even liked anger. Contempt was something else altogether.

  At his silence, she said, “I thought the idea was to lure him out.”

  The idea had been to see if the killer would show up at the press conference, not to incite him.

  Manny had been extraordinarily quiet. Marise turned around in the front seat and looked back at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think you have a lot of guts. But I wish you hadn’t done it.”

  “Manny, I had to make him come after me now. While I’m in Atlanta.”

  “What if he doesn’t surface before you leave?”

  “I’ll be careful. I’ll hire a bodyguard if necessary.”

  Manny mumbled to himself.

  Then they pulled into the police department parking lot. Manny was out and opening the door for Marise almost the second Cassidy put the car into park. She was sandwiched between the two of them as they walked into the building.

  Cassidy took them to the detective offices and to his and Manny’s desks. He looked at Sarah Henning, one of the detectives working there. “The captain in yet?”

  Sarah nodded and surveyed Marise curiously.

  Cassidy turned back to Marise. “I’m going to see Haynes,” he said.

  Manny raised an eyebrow in question.

  Marise looked apprehensive, as if she knew exactly what he was going to do. And say. She started to go with him.

  “Stay here with Manny,” he said.

  He saw the rebellious look again.

  “Please,” he added.

  She hesitated. Then nodded.

  He walked to Haynes’s office and knocked on the closed door. “Come in,” said Haynes.

  The captain was sitting down, and now he leaned back in his swivel chair. “MacKay?”

  “The tapes should be ready in thirty minutes. We might want someone from the D.A.’s office there.”

  “I’ll call.” Haynes waited. “Your girl put on a good show this morning. Gutsy performance.”

  “Too gutsy,” Cassidy said.

  The captain straightened in his chair. “Second thoughts?”

  “A lot of them. Maybe we should have just sent her on her way.”

  “We didn’t. Now we have to use what we have to protect her.”

  “It shouldn’t be me,” Cassidy said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve become personally involved.”

  “You?” Haynes said. “Cass MacKay?”

  Cassidy didn’t say anything.

  “You want off the case?”

  “No. But I thought you should know about it.�
��

  “How does the lady feel about it?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Haynes studied him. “I don’t like it, Cass. I should take you off the case.” He took a cigar from a box on his desk and stuck it in his mouth. This was a no-smoking area, and he didn’t light it. Instead, he chewed on it. “This could hurt your career,” he said.

  Cassidy didn’t respond.

  “You’re the best I have,” Haynes said. “You have the instincts. I don’t want to lose you. And I sure as hell don’t want to lose her.” He chewed on the cigar. “Any suggestions?”

  “No.”

  “Ask her to come inside.” Haynes took the cigar from his mouth. “And MacKay, that was a really stupid thing to do.”

  “I know,” Cassidy said softly as he exited the office.

  Marise’s stomach churned. She guessed why Cassidy had talked to the captain. She also knew that she felt safe only with him.

  She watched as he left the office and walked toward her. “He would like to talk to you,” he said.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Not everything,” he said, his lips turning up in a wry grin.

  She smiled back. She felt much better.

  The captain was chewing hard on a cigar when she entered the office.

  He stood. “Miss Merrick,” he said, “I have a detective who says he’s become personally involved with you. He should be removed from the case.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Are you involved with him?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “It’s very much my concern. It could put you in more danger. It impairs judgment.”

  “Not his. I’ll risk it.”

  “The Atlanta P.D. can’t.”

  “I feel safe with him. And Detective Sharman.”

  “You know what you did today. You goaded a killer.”

  “I know.”

  Captain Haynes chomped down on his cigar. “Let’s go see if we have anything on tape.”

  “Will you let Detective MacKay stay on the case?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He seemed to be avoiding the question she dreaded. If he did, she knew Cassidy would be taken off the case.

  He stood and went to the door. “The tapes from the hospital should be ready in the conference room. The other members of the task force will also be there. They’ve interviewed employees at the hospital and might recognize someone who had no business being there.”

  She nodded, relieved that the interview was over. At least temporarily.

  She followed him out of the room, and he gathered Manny and MacKay, then several other detectives he introduced. Rich. Britt. Harry. And the woman she’d met coming in. Sarah.

  They entered a room with a television, a blackboard filled with columns and scribbling, a bulletin board with photos pinned on it. She went over to it. Five women. Their bodies were sprawled out in what looked like alleys. They all looked the same. They were naked. A rose tied with a white ribbon rested over their left breasts. All had long blond hair.

  There were computers. A man and a woman were using two of them, but they stopped when Marise came in.

  “This is Miss Merrick, everyone,” Haynes said. “This is the rest of the team—at least, those who are working now. Several others worked overnight and have gone home.”

  “Anything?” he asked the two.

  “A dead end,” said the man at the computer as he glanced at her, then quickly looked away. “If he’s struck anywhere else, there’s no record of it. We’ve checked every large police department in the country. Now we’re working on smaller ones.”

  “Keep enquiring,” Haynes said.

  The door opened, and a woman entered with a handful of tapes and placed them on the table.

  Haynes introduced her as an assistant district attorney who was going to sit in.

  She nodded to everyone, then took a seat. “If Miss Merrick sees anything, I want her to speak up. If any of the rest of you see anything, note it and tell me later. I don’t want Miss Merrick to hear it. It could taint the case. I don’t like doing it this way, but I understand that time is of the essence.”

  Haynes put the first tape into the VCR. “Settle down, ladies and gentleman. This is going to take a while.”

  Marise tried to keep her eyes on the screen, though she was aware of Cassidy, who had taken a seat on the other side of the table. The captain had been right. It had taken a while.

  She tried to concentrate. She studied every figure the camera captured, whether they were walking down the hall, stopping to look at the reporters going into the room, or the reporters themselves.

  She had a sick feeling in her stomach. She had caused MacKay trouble. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he was taken off the case. And they didn’t seem any closer to catching the killer than they had the morning after the original attack.

  They stopped after two hours for a quick break, then resumed ten minutes later.

  Her eyes were glazing over. She asked several times that the captain freeze the screen, and she studied the faces and bodies of the people in the frame. Then she shook her head.

  It was the third time that she hesitated.

  “Anything? Anything at all, Miss Merrick?” Captain Haynes asked.

  She paused, then said, “Just a feeling when I saw the man in the green scrubs. Glasses. Dark hair. But I can’t really tell you why. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just…wanting to see something.” She was frustrated. A feeling of failure—defeat—rolled through her.

  “Mark it,” Haynes said. Then he started running the tape again.

  It was past four when they finished. None of the detectives had said anything or indicated they recognized someone, though she noticed they occasionally made notes.

  “Okay,” Captain Haynes said. “That’s it for you,” he said to Marise.

  He opened the door. “Britt, take over,” he said. “Compare notes. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  He led the way back to his office, Cassidy, Manny and Marise following him. He checked at the secretary’s desk, picked up several messages and leafed through them. Then he turned back to them. “I’m going to keep MacKay and Sharman assigned to you. But I need MacKay here for a while. He can rejoin your protection team later, Miss Merrick.”

  “Where?” she said.

  “I’ve made arrangements for a safe house. A condominium.”

  “What about Detective MacKay’s house?” she asked.

  He looked surprised. “It’s been compromised.”

  “Isn’t that what we wanted? Don’t we want to trap him?”

  “He’s come too close, Miss Merrick. I don’t like the way he’s outwitted us thus far.”

  She knew it was hard for him to admit that.

  “I think we should just go back to pavement-pounding police work. You’ve given us some leads now. You’ve more than done your part.”

  She remembered the smashing of the window, the blood spreading out over Sam’s chest. But that was where she wanted to go. It was Cassidy’s home. And close to Manny’s. Where both men probably wanted to be. And it should be safe now. A distraction wouldn’t work again. “I would prefer Detective MacKay’s house.”

  The captain hesitated, then relented. “All right. Dan will go with you and Manny Sharman. I’ll have someone in the window across the way again. MacKay, who else do you want?”

  “Britt. He’s not married.”

  The comment was like a blow. Sam. He had a wife. “How is Detective Preston?”

  “He’s out of critical care.”

  “I would like to see him.”

  The captain stared at her as if she were mad. “No,” he said flatly. “I don’t want you anywhere near the hospital.”

  She started to protest but knew she had probably exhausted his patience already. She didn’t want him to reconsider his decision to let Cassidy stay with her. “Are you going to question the orderly?”


  “Yes.”

  “Can I be there?”

  “No,” Haynes said. “If it goes to court, the defense could tear us apart. Neither is it going to help if the defense thinks one of our detectives has gotten too close to the victim.”

  A very definite warning.

  She decided not to push again.

  “Oh, and Miss Merrick?”

  She turned. He was thumbing through the messages he’d just picked up. “Your mother has called. So has your fiancé.”

  She closed her eyes. They must have been contacted by reporters or seen something on the news. She’d avoided thinking about that. And Paul was still telling people they were engaged. She had to put a stop to that. But she didn’t want to explain. Not now. “Thank you. I’ll call them.”

  “There will be more calls from the news media. I’m sure they’ll want to know where you are staying.”

  “There’s no reason to tell them.”

  “They might well camp out at Cassidy’s home. They know there was a shooting there. A reporter got it off a police radio.”

  She hadn’t thought about that. All the neighborhood needed was to be invaded by hoards from the press. But she wanted to talk to MacKay first. “If it happens, we can move,” she said.

  The captain nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements for the condo, just in case.”

  “Norris wasn’t on the tape,” Cassidy said as he reentered the task force room. He had seen the man’s photo.

  “No,” the captain said. “We all agree on that.”

  “Who is the man Miss Merrick pointed out?”

  “Beats me,” one of the detectives said. “He didn’t look familiar.”

  “He’s in scrubs. Does that mean he’s a doctor?” said another.

  “Let’s get our people to zoom in on him. He had an identification badge. Maybe we can get a name. If not, we can compare it with the personnel photos.”

  “Okay.”

  “But she still wasn’t sure whether it meant anything,” Haynes cautioned. “She didn’t know why she stopped at his photo.”

  “Still, it’s more than we had before, and he obviously tried to stay out of sight of the cameras.”

  “We really don’t have anything,” one of the detectives said.

  “And time is running out,” Cassidy said. “She’s leaving in three days.”