Blazing Hotter (Love Under Fire Book 2)

by Chantel Rhondeau

  When the lift reached the pavement, Frankie wheeled himself into place. The entire process was seamless, and they worked together as a team practically like they’d been going out and about the town for years instead of her wheeling him to and from the therapy room.

  Cassie flipped up the wheel locks and engaged the lift. “Where to next?”

  “You know where,” Frankie said, a stern look crossing his face as he narrowed his eyebrows and frowned. “We have the letters and the flowers from today. We’re taking them to the police station.”

  “You’re sure we shouldn’t try and track down our dancer first? I hate to bother the cops—”

  “Cassie, stop that right now.”

  Although she swallowed hard, fear of being laughed out of the police station still strong in her mind, she nodded. “It’s not like we can’t go track her down once we talk to the cops, right?”

  “I’ll do anything you want to,” he agreed. “First, we report this and get them looking out for you. Besides, if this is the guy killing other women, you might have an important lead and not even realize it.”

  He was right. Cassie owed it to the other women in this town to report anything she knew. If it helped catch a killer, she wasn’t only protecting herself. No matter how much she didn’t trust the police to help her, she had to try for the sake of all the women in Sayle.

  She pushed closed the sliding door and rounded to the driver’s side of the van, hopping inside and starting it up. While the van was old, the engine purred like a contented kitten and it ran great. What with newer tires and a wheelchair lift system that operated perfectly, Big Frank couldn’t have found Frankie a better vehicle.

  Especially now that Cassie wasn’t his doctor anymore and thus was free to be with him and help him get around town. He’d always need a driver, but she could imagine worse things than continuing to be a part of Frankie’s life.

  “You’re quiet,” Frankie noted from his spot behind the passenger’s seat after they’d driven most of the way to the station. “Are you scared?”

  She smiled up at him through the rearview mirror, hoping he wouldn’t somehow sense that her thoughts were in an entirely different mode than worrying about the cops for a few minutes as she imagined the life she could have with Frankie as her partner. “I’m okay, but thanks for asking. I don’t trust them and really believe they’ll brush off my concerns, but as long as you are with me, I can handle it.”

  “I’ll be right by your side,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere unless you say differently.”

  She glanced up at the mirror to meet his intense gaze. “So, if I said I wanted you out of my house, you’d leave?”

  Frankie nodded. “Once the killer is caught and I knew you weren’t in danger. I’d go right back to the rehab center until I can find a place of my own.”

  “So, you aren’t planning on living in the center anymore?” And was he saying he planned to stay with her long term if she allowed it?

  “You and Thayne are both right,” he said, another shock since those weren’t words she ever expected him to utter. “Shooting that gun today helped me realize that maybe I can handle the pain I have and do normal things. I need to start living life again. Sitting in my room, reliving every second of misery I’ve experienced in the last few years, replaying all the mistakes I made, that won’t change anything. It’s time I move on.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.” She reached back, patting his leg, which was the only part of him she could touch at the moment. “I’ll help you in any way I can, once this is all over and we figure out who’s behind the threats.”

  Frankie’s hand slid across the top of hers. “I want more from you than your help, but we’ll talk about that later. There’s the station.”

  Cassie removed her hand from his and pulled into an empty handicapped parking spot that had a no parking zone on the right-hand side so she could utilize the chair lift. As she helped him from the van, she couldn’t help but wonder what Frankie was saying.

  Did he mean that he wanted to try for a future with her, that his flirtations weren’t all bluster because she was the only woman he saw beside his nurses on a regular basis? Or was he talking about something more innocent and her mind was going toward a life with him because she was horny and lonely and loved snuggling next to him in her bed last night?

  After returning the van lift to its regular position, Cassie grabbed the flower box from this morning, which included both the threatening notes inside. Whether the cops listened to her or not, Frankie was right that they needed to try.

  She locked the van and looked down at Frankie, feeling her nerves build now that they were actually at the police station. “Here goes nothing.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They had been left in an interior waiting room for over an hour, and Frankie was about to explode. Didn’t the dipshit working the front counter realize they had possible evidence in the three murders? Cassie had explained that when they walked in, but perhaps she hadn’t been forceful enough.

  From the way she paced the small room they’d been put in, Frankie had a feeling she was getting ready to bolt. It was one thing to decide to report what had happened, but to be left sitting here all this time when she was already afraid they wouldn’t believe her... it was too much.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, heading for the doorway as he raised his chair to the standing position.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just sit tight,” he said, opening the door and heading left down the long corridor in the opposite direction that they’d been brought in. He’d find a damn cop to help him or else.

  He rolled out into a large room filled with desks and offices along the outer wall.

  “Sir, what are you doing back here?” A black woman in a business suit sitting at the nearest desk stared him down. “This is homicide, and we don’t have time to babysit people who are lost.”

  “I’m not lost,” Frankie all but growled. “We’ve been waiting for an hour to speak to someone, and I’m assuming the homicide department is exactly who we need. Didn’t someone tell you we have possible information regarding those three women who were killed?”

  The woman didn’t roll her eyes, but Frankie could tell she wanted to. She rose from her chair, sticking out her hand to shake his. “I’m Detective Emily Rogers.”

  Frankie held up his burned hand, showing her the scars to clue her in that he wouldn’t be shaking hands. “Look, Detective Rogers, I’m sure you’re busy, but my girlfriend is being threatened, and she’s a dead ringer for the pictures of those women who were killed. They could all be sisters.”

  “Sir, I’m sure you’re worried, and I understand. The entire city is worried. We’re doing all we can, but we don’t have time right now to speak to every single person who comes in claiming to have information. I’m sure one of the junior cops will be by soon to take your statement, if you’ll please go back down the hall.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Frankie said, his voice rising in volume to match the rise in his temper. “Cassie already doesn’t trust this police station because you blew her off once before when she was being stalked, but she is in real danger here, and I’m not letting you do it again.”

  Detective Rogers took in a visible breath, blowing it out slowly. “Look, I know you must be stressed. We all are. We’re doing everything we can to keep people safe, but right now it is more important that I follow leads that look promising. The entire department is working on this case, I promise you. We will do everything we can.” She pointed back toward the hall. “Wait for an officer to take your statement, and if I think it could be helpful, I’ll call you when I have a spare minute.”

  “Hey, little Emily,” called a detective sitting at a nearby desk. “Need me to take care of this for you?”

  If Rogers was inconvenienced by talking to Frankie, she was downright hostile toward the other detective. “Why, Briggs? Because you’re a big, strong man and that’s
what all us women need?”

  The statement shocked Frankie. Isn’t that what he’d just done to Cassie? Telling her to stay put while he did the manly thing and took care of the police? He wondered if it pissed her off as much as it pissed Detective Rogers off. He was only trying to be helpful. Then again, the other detective was condescending, calling Rogers ‘little Emily’ rather than giving her the respect of her title or last name. Detective Rogers must have a big struggle making it work in a department that seemed to be run by a bunch of male dickheads.

  “Detective Rogers, I’m not trying to make your job any harder,” Frankie said, cooling his tone and infusing all the respect he could into it. “But my girlfriend has received red roses two days in a row now with a threatening note in each. I’m not bullshitting you when I say she could be sisters with the other victims. I think this is a lead you shouldn’t ignore.”

  “Roses?” Her eyes widened slightly. If she was irritated and distant with Frankie before, he had her full attention now.

  “Once yesterday at work. It had a sweet little threatening poem written by an obvious psycho. We tried to track down who sent them, but that led to a vague description of a possible exotic dancer.” Encouraged by the fact she didn’t stop him, Frankie continued. “This morning, there was a box of roses left on her porch. Whoever is behind them wasn’t happy with the fact that I went home with Cassie and stayed there.”

  “Roses, damn it,” she muttered, almost to herself. She shook her head. “All our victims are single and live alone. Why would he stray from his pattern?”

  Perhaps Frankie had been a bit too bold in calling Cassie his girlfriend. “Cassie is single. I want her to be my girlfriend, but we aren’t really dating. Last night was the first time I’ve ever stayed at her house. I did it only to protect her. From what she told me, I don’t think she has much company to her house.”

  “You’re right, I can’t ignore this lead.” She glanced over at Briggs’s desk, seeming relieved about something. “I’m glad you came to me. I could really use a break and show up that asshole over there. Go get your girl. I’ll clear a room for us.”

  Frankie nodded, turning around to retrieve Cassie. He had to wonder how much shit Detective Rogers put up with on a daily basis from men like Briggs. Was that how Darwina Jones, one of the only women firefighters in the entire city, had felt when she first joined? Frankie had been one of the people to scoff and say a woman couldn’t do the job, that it was man’s work.

  Hell, he’d been such a spoiled prick. Darwina was not only great at her job, she’d risen up the ranks and last he’d heard become a captain on one of the shifts at Frankie’s dad’s firehouse. All that after she’d been burned in a fire by the same arsonist who’d caught him and Thayne.

  Making a mental note to call Darwina and apologize for anything he might have said to discourage her back when he first joined the fire crew, he opened the door to the room where Cassie waited.

  She turned immediately to face him, a moment of stark fear in her eyes before her shoulders relaxed. “It seems I don’t like being alone, what with some crazy after me.” She forced a laugh. “Did you find someone?”

  He nodded. “Detective Rogers is ready to interview us, and I think she’s open to listening to what we say.”

  Cassie gathered the box in her arms. “That’s a relief. I wasn’t sure I could stay here another minute.”

  “You could have,” Frankie said, returning his chair to the more comfortable sitting position now that he didn’t need the macho man act he’d tried with Rogers. “You’re such a strong woman. Brave, funny, and more capable than most other people I know. You can handle this.”

  She gave him a sideways glance from the corner of her eye as she walked with him down the hallway. “Where did that come from?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve made a lot of assumptions in my life, and I’m learning most of them aren’t true. No matter what happens after this bastard’s caught, I want you to know I respect you. I’m in awe of your strength.”

  “Just when I think I’m figuring you out, Frank, you do something to totally blow that out of the water.” She giggled and shook her head. “Let’s get this over with and then grab lunch. Turns out firing a gun and spending your morning worrying in a small room can work up an appetite.”

  She could blow it off as though this wasn’t a big deal if she wanted to. Maybe it helped her deal with her fear. Whatever she needed to do, Frankie knew she could do it. Not only did he want this woman to be his girlfriend like he’d told the detective, he could see even more than that. Learning about the real Cassie instead of the one he knew inside the rehab center only made him like her that much more.

  ***

  Cassie was somewhat distracted by Frankie’s odd behavior, but that was nothing compared to the reaction of the detective when they met face to face.

  “Your boyfriend here said you looked like those girls, but this is crazy.” The woman shook her head and let out a small whistle before sticking out her hand. “I’m Detective Emily Rogers.”

  Cassie shook her hand. “Cassie Flick.”

  “And I’m Frankie Hernandez.”

  Rogers narrowed her eyes, tapping a finger against her lips. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “I was a firefighter during that big arson case a year and a half ago,” he said.

  “Ah, you and your partner were caught in the last fire and were actually instrumental in catching the people responsible. I remember now.” Rogers sat, indicating the far side of the table with a sweep of her hand. “Please, sit down and tell me what you’ve brought.”

  Cassie hurried to comply, and Frankie parked his wheelchair next to her. She set the flower box on the stainless steel table. “These were left on my doorstep this morning. There are two notes inside. One of them is from the first batch of roses I received yesterday, and I hate to say it, but Frankie and I probably destroyed any evidence that might have been on that card. We put it in a plastic bag, but that was after we’d both touched it.”

  Rogers looked at her, seeming to have all the time in the world despite how long it took her to see them. “And the one from this morning?”

  Cassie shook her head. “We didn’t touch it directly. I used plastic gloves and then put it inside a sandwich bag before we came here.”

  As quickly and succinctly as possible, Cassie described everything that had happened since receiving the first batch of flowers. Her voice shook and there were times she was certain Rogers thought she was crazy, but the woman took down her story, making notes as Cassie spoke.

  “Why didn’t you report this yesterday?” she asked when Cassie ran out of words. “I would think a threat like that would be called in immediately.”

  Cassie glanced at Frankie before turning back to the detective. “I didn’t think you’d believe me, and I thought I knew who sent them.”

  “Go on,” Rogers encouraged.

  Knowing everything was about to come crashing down now, Cassie launched into her explanation of thinking it was Dr. Morgan and why she didn’t think the police would believe her.

  “You think a doctor is behind these killings?” The disbelief was clear in the detective’s voice.

  Now that she’d told her story, Cassie wasn’t going to be put off so easily. “Is he exempt from being a killer because he has an education?”

  “On the contrary, serial killers are usually quite intelligent,” Rogers said. “Only one part of your story doesn’t add up. Why did he stop after the police got involved if he was the stalker and not you?”

  Cassie shrugged, realizing that would be the question everyone asked just like Frankie had this morning. The truth was, she’d never worried too much about why it happened and was just thankful that Morgan had stopped.

  “He took out a restraining order against me, maybe not realizing that it went both ways. He did me a favor by filing it because he couldn’t come around anymore. After a while, he found a girlfriend. Another nurse, blonde
like me. I guess he has a type. I still get calls to the house from the hospital where someone is simply breathing on the other end of the line. I know it’s him, but I can’t prove it. His girlfriend broke up with him recently and moved out of the state, and the calls have increased since then.”

  “When did the girlfriend break up with him?” Rogers asked.

  Cassie shrugged. “Around the time of the first murder.”

  Frankie leaned forward in his chair, finally deciding to get into the conversation after such a long time in silence. “I heard on the news that the victims’ bodies and faces were mutilated by knife wounds. Is there any evidence to support someone with a medical background doing the mutilation?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Rogers chided. “But I can tell you I’m taking your concerns seriously. We’ll put a police watch on your house since the perp seems to know about the security cameras and has an idea on how to avoid detection. We’ll be especially vigilant in the early morning when the sun makes the image poor.”

  Cassie felt breathless. “You believe me?”

  Rogers nodded. “About all of it, including the fact that the doctor stalked you before finding his girlfriend. It fits. We haven’t released this detail to the press, and I’d appreciate you keeping quiet, but the roses are a trademark of the person we’re dealing with. In the first two cases, both women had a bouquet of red roses found in the trash of their homes. There weren’t any notes, but maybe the killer is upping his game. He probably gets off on causing his victims fear.”

  “They had only one bouquet each?” Cassie asked.

  “What about the third victim?” Frankie asked at the same time.

  Rogers shook her head. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but from the state of the flowers, we believe each woman had been killed the day after receiving them. Having Mr. Hernandez stay in your house might have saved your life. The third victim didn’t get flowers as far as we can tell.” Rogers shrugged. “I think he’d already delivered the flowers to his victim... to you. When he couldn’t kill you, he found a replacement.”