Zack shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought she could change him. Maybe she hoped I’d have some influence. Who knows?” He shook his head. More times than he could count, he’d advised her that she was letting her cousin manipulate her and that eventually he’d do something that would get her into serious trouble. But she’d pleaded for him to understand, said they were raised together as children and that he was really a good person.
He pressed his palms to his closed eyes, remembering the morning he woke in his apartment, lucky to be alive. “She called me one day, said that we were going to celebrate our one-month anniversary of her moving in. She’d ordered my favorite pizza and while waiting for delivery, she handed me a glass of wine and shuffled me off to shower.” He glanced at Kacey, who quickly averted her eyes. “I downed the wine and the next thing I remember was waking up with a sizable gash on my skull and a nasty-ass headache.”
“Oh, Zack.” She started to touch him, and he pulled his hand away.
“No, don’t. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve been down that road and about a dozen others, believe me. I don’t want or need your pity.”
“To hell with pity, something horrible happened to you. You don’t remember how you hurt your head?”
“Only when I was able to get my bearings and take a look at the disaster that had been my home and realized that an old trophy from a Big Brothers football tournament was missing, along with a number of other items which likely wound up selling on Craigslist within the hour.
“And Jessica?”
“Gone. They found trace amounts of blood that they suspected were hers, leading to the trunk of my car. At one point, I became a suspect instead of a victim. How the hell they thought I’d staged hitting myself on the head, I still don’t get. But I was a cop and rumors were rampant—that’s when I discovered how deep into things Jessica’s cousin was. There was speculation that I’d been involved in crap on the side—a bad cop taking bribes to take care of his girlfriend’s connections—and that something had gone wrong and somehow I was involved in her disappearance.”
“My God, Zack.”
“Yeah, makes you think twice before getting involved with me, right?” He gave her a wry smile and looked away.
“Zack, I don’t know what happened. But I know you aren’t responsible for her disappearance.”
He looked at her face, so innocent, so trusting. It was hard not to blame himself. That had been the worst hurdle to deal with. He should have been more insistent she cut herself off from her cousin.
“Were you tested?”
“Tested? Oh, you mean the wine? Yeah, there was nothing traceable in my blood. But the glass disappeared along with Jessica.” He offered a heavy sigh. “So there you have it.”
She smiled then and he was able to breathe again.
“I’m sorry to say this, Zack, but it doesn’t sound like Jessica was a victim, other than being stupid enough to continue to help this guy.”
He nodded. “Eventually, that’s pretty much how it all shook down. It took me a long time to wrap my head around the truth, but I still have more questions than answers.”
Kacey nodded as she studied him. He could almost see the gears working in her head. “Ask.”
She tipped her head, looking pensive.
“Whatever is going on up there, go ahead and ask me.” He waited for the inevitable question, the one he’d been asked over and over until it was inked in his brain. Did you have anything to do with the disappearance of Jessica Consuelo?
She hesitated before speaking. “Do you still love her?”
He hadn’t seen that coming. Then again, after last night he could understand why she’d be curious. “I did, for a long time. I guess I wanted to believe she’d been a victim, that she’d been forced to leave, rather than think it had been staged, or that she’d somehow been a part of it.”
Kacey nodded. “How’d you finally decide she wasn’t a victim?”
“One of the guys assigned to the case discovered that I’d helped put away the brother of the drug lord her cousin worked for. They figured maybe Jessica’s cousin convinced her to help.” He looked away. “Or it was a set up from the moment we met.”
“By setting it up to look like you were responsible for her disappearance and ruining your credibility, which would effectively ruin your career.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I could be a cop.”
He chuckled, as if he hadn’t thought that very thing more than a million times in the past two years. But it had been Riley’s support, his tenacity in clearing Zack of any wrongdoing and continuing to search for the truth that had been his greatest inspiration to stay on the force.
“Why do you do it? Be a cop, I mean?”
He shrugged. “To get the bad guys. Save the damsels in distress. Help old ladies across the road. Just doin’ my job, ma’am.” He grinned.
“Zack, seriously, why?”
“I don’t know. Why are you a writer? I wanted to be a cop for as long as I can remember. Maybe I have an overblown sense of responsibility.”
She stood then and pulled him to his feet, taking his face between her hands. She kissed him lightly before stepping away, but her gaze held his. “Thank you. I’m glad that you’re here.”
At that moment, he remembered the way her body fit his so perfectly, the taste of her sweet mouth, the scent of her soft skin. And he knew that he wouldn’t survive losing her. Better to end any notion of long-term now. It’d be better for them both. “Let me get this.” He picked up the check and ushered her toward the door.
***
Their talk had only fueled her fantasy that he’d opened up to her on another level, meaning that he must trust a little bit in what was happening between them.
It was dark when they pulled into the drive beside the cabin. She’d left the lights on to make it appear she was home.
Zack turned off the car and they sat together in the still darkness. The rain had stopped and a full moon cut a bright path across the water, offering a serene view of the lake. “Would you like to go down to the beach?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “You go on. I’ll be along shortly. I want to call in and see if they’ve found out anything on those footprints.”
“I can wait, if you like.”
He smiled. It was a pleasant smile. Tolerant. “Go on, I’ll keep an eye on you from here.”
“Oh, I’m not… I--” She pressed her lips together to avoid total humiliation if she continued to beg. “Sure, okay.” She unbuckled and hurried across the yard, suddenly needing to be alone.
A breeze brushed against her face as she neared the rocky shore. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks never failed to soothe her spirit. Spotting a lone Adirondack chair scooted close to the water, she sat down, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She let the sound of the surf and the cool summer breeze pacify her.
A few moments later, she felt his hands, large and firm, settle on her shoulders, gently kneading away the tensions of the day. “That feels so good,” she said, appreciative of the impromptu massage. “If you ever get tired of this cop gig, you could open up a spa.”
She felt the heat of his breath as a deep chuckle sounded near her ear, and then he removed his hands.
“Hey, don’t stop yet. It was just getting good.” She opened her eyes and twisted around in her chair to look at Zack.
There was no one there.
She heard a sound and looked to see Zack coming across the beach, flashlight in hand. He must have gone inside first—
Kacey pushed to her feet and raced into Zack’s arms. “He was here,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest.
“What? Who?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
“Him.” Her body was shaking, her teeth chattering when she tried to speak. “I-I was sitting over there. I thought it was you… that you came over and started massaging my shoulders. I had my eyes closed. Oh, my God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“B-but he was here. He touched me.”
“Come on, let’s get inside. The police are on their way. Apparently there was a match to the pair of sneakers Andrew kept in the staff locker room.”
She pressed close as they walked up the short hill back to the cabin. “Are they sure, Zack? Absolutely sure?”
Once inside, he wrapped the afghan around her.
“Sit down and I’ll make you some tea,” he said heating up her K-cup coffee maker.
Kacey curled her legs under her as she sat on the end of the couch. The warmth of the cabin and the afghan helped ease her nerves. She accepted the steaming mug from him.
“I’m going to take a look outside. If anyone is still out there, it’ll be that much less work for the police to do when they get here.”
She nearly dropped the mug in her lap, trying to reach for him. “No, please, Zack, stay here. What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt?”
He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans where he’d hidden it beneath his jacket. “No one is going to hurt me. I checked the house when I got the flashlight. You lock the door behind me.”
She shook her head; her pleas for him to change his mind fell on deaf ears. “Zack, please, let’s just wait for--”
The air raid siren went off in his pocket and Kacey closed her eyes in silent gratitude.
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
She watched him pace, nodding periodically as he listened to the caller.
“Okay, I’ll tell her. She’ll be relieved to know. We both are. Thanks.” He disconnected and let out a sigh of relief. “Sounds like they caught our guy.”
“You mean Andrew?”
He sat beside her, drawing her to his side, holding her close. She welcomed the unexpected intimacy.
“They found him walking across the parking lot, coming from this direction.” He leaned his chin on the top of her head. “They’ll be taking him in for questioning, first locally, and then it’s likely he’ll be extradited to Illinois on other charges of cyber-stalking.”
She put her mug down and faced Zack. “Is it weird that I feel a little sorry for him? He’s so young.” She shook her head. “I guess I should be happier. It’s over.” She looked at him. “I guess that means your work here is done.”
He cupped her face, softly touching his lips to hers. “Not quite.”
She knew much later, as she lay in his arms listening to his steady breathing as he slept, that she’d wake up alone. There’d been no words spoken as he took her hand and led her to bed. No promises made as they undressed each other and took the time to explore, to touch one last time, to be one. She closed her eyes, knowing she would hold this night in her heart for the rest of her life.
Chapter Eight
With Andrew booked on suspicion, Zack realized that his work was done and Kacey’s was about to begin in earnest. He wasn’t the type for messy goodbyes. That’s why he’d left her early, before she woke up. God, she was beautiful. And he kicked himself a thousand times since starting the ignition that he hadn’t told her how he felt. He rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to loosen the tight feeling that he was walking away from something good. But he had to face reality. She needed to get on with her life, which was back in Chicago. His life was back on the force where he could pretend that he enjoyed coming home to a silent apartment with a brick wall view and cold pizza every night. Shit.
He took in the rows of tall pine along the river road, giving way periodically to the spectacular view of the lake. It was calm, its glassy surface reflecting the cool late summer morning. True, there’d never been any promises made. They’d been thrown together by strange circumstances, and he knew too well how gratitude could easily turn into infatuation. It’d happened to him on more than one occasion—close quarters, dangerous situations, only once pacifying the suffering housewife who found out that her husband had cheated on her. That ended poorly after the two reconciled and she politely thanked him for his services.
Still, he couldn’t shake the foreboding sense of loss when he’d closed the door this morning and walked across the mist-covered parking lot.
He swiped his hand over his mouth and rested his elbow on the window as he tried to turn his mind elsewhere. Lamenting like a schoolboy wasn’t serving to improve his mood. He glanced up as he passed by the sign for Betsy’s Pies and his memory leapt to the night he’d arrived and the mess of pie there’d been on the floor. One thought led to another and he saw the two of them in the glow of candlelight after making love, feeding pie to each other while still naked in bed. He cringed at the pain in his gut and lower still, remembering the softness of her fingers curled against the small of his back….
Zack took a deep breath and eyed the lake, considering the idea that he should dive in just to clear his senses. This moon dogging about a woman he barely knew was insane. What did he think? That a woman who took trips to Europe in the name of research would have anything at all in common with a gumshoe detective. He squinted at the winding road and clicked off a number of reasons why it’d never work.
First, she was bossy and not just a little, but in that “I am woman, hear me roar” kind of way. That would drive him nuts in less than a month, maybe less. She was a proverbial rabbit when it came to food. He liked big, stick-to-your-rib meals. She liked wine, for God’s sake—over beer? Come on. And she liked chick flicks, where he needed fast-paced action films to entertain him. When he thought about it, just what the hell did they have in common, except that she enjoyed walking along the beach lost in her thoughts and he enjoyed watching her? Hell, he enjoyed watching her do damn near anything. Like the way her eyes lit up when the idea for a scene popped into her head, or how she seemed fearless in the face of danger and genuinely concerned when she’d smacked him with that driftwood club.
He was pretty sure that was an accident.
He loved seeing her hunched over her computer the morning after they’d had the most mind-blowing sex ever. Her coffee within reach, the afghan wrapped around her shoulders, her feet tucked into those ridiculous wolf bedroom slippers. God, he hadn’t laughed so hard in years, felt as comfortable with someone, being so relaxed and… happy.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but it wouldn’t let go, not entirely. Most women couldn’t stand the stress of being in a relationship with a detective. Relationship? His brain did an immediate halt. What the hell? Less than a couple of weeks and a roll or two in the sack does not a relationship make.
Does it?
Zack wiped his hand over his face. This was crazy. He pulled into the rental parking lot, grabbed his bag, and forced his thoughts on catching his flight as he hurried down the seemingly mile-long trek to the rental counter. The area was virtually empty except for a balding man at the only counter. Zack dropped the keys on the counter and fished the hardcover book from the backpack he used as a carry-on. “Hey, listen, a friend of mine asked if I’d drop off this book for Cliff. Said it was for his wife. Is he still around?”
The bespectacled clerk glanced up, his blue-eyed gaze clearly puzzled. “That’s funny,” he said, tapping his finger on the cover. “That’s his wife’s name, too, and I understand she’s a writer as well.”
Zack’s stomach knotted. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Talked about her all the time. She stops here same time every year, rents a car, then heads up to the Superior lodge where he says she likes to hole up and write.”
Alarms went off in Zack’s head as he attempted to remain calm. “I thought Ms. Winters lived in New York.”
“Oh, yeah, they have an apartment there, too. You know how celebs are these days. Always wondered why Cliff stayed here, but he said since this is where they met, she wanted him to stay.” He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “He says it’s a game they play, pretending they don’t know each other.” He straightened. “Guess being a friend, you know a
ll about what kind of books she writes.”
Zack nodded. “Uh, yeah. So where’d you say Cliff was again?”
The man shrugged. “Guess he took a day or two off to spend some time up at the cabin. He does that from time to time, but he really tries to respect her writing time.” He reached behind the counter and pulled up a framed photo. Indeed, there was Kacey standing beside a man at Split Rock Lighthouse. He looked closer, seeing the professional detail to the Photoshop skills. Jesus.
He grabbed his keys. “I’m going to need another day. And you think Cliff has gone to the cabin?”
“Yeah, he said she’d emailed him last night and asked him to come up. We weren’t very busy today--”
Zack barely heard the man finish as he bolted down the hall. He called the chief as he hurried to the car.
“Riley,” he spoke winded into the phone. He’d run the length of the concourse to get back to the car, only to have to engage in a verbal scuffle with the attendant explaining the need for the car on police matters. “That Andrew kid, he’s not our guy. The suspect is one Cliff Bartholomew. He works at the airport rental agency and has everyone there believing that Kacey is his wife. Even to the point of supposed weekend outings with her. One of the clerks showed me a picture where he’d photo-shopped himself into a picture next to Kacey. I don’t even want to know how the hell he got that close.”
“You’re sure about this, Zack?”
“I’m on my way back up there. The guy said that Cliff had gotten an email asking him to come up for a couple of days.”
“I’ll call Duluth authorities for back-up. Be careful, Zack. This guy’s been living a delusional lifestyle for quite a while, it seems. That, and his obsession with the victim is a dangerous combination.”
“She’s not a vic, Riley, but the guy’s definitely a looneytoon. Kacey has been renting cars from this place the whole time. He’d have total access to her private information—emails, phone, addresses—everything.”
“Christ.”
“I’m going to call the lodge and alert them to the situation.”
Stranger in Paradise Page 8