Behind Closed Doors

by Carla Cassidy

  Her eyelids fluttered, then opened as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “That’s okay.” She stretched like a languid cat and shoved a cloud of hair away from her face. “What time is it?”

  “Early. Only six-thirty. Go back to sleep.”

  “No, I’ve got to get up and get ready for work.”

  Clay frowned. “Ann, can’t you take a leave of absence or something until this is all under control?”

  “No.” She sat up and grabbed for her nightgown strap as it slid off her creamy shoulder. Her gaze held no indecision, no wavering of emotion. “He’s taken away too much from me already. I won’t let him take away my work. It’s all I have left.” She held up a hand to still Clay’s protest. “I’m surrounded by people at the college. You’ve told me again and again this man is smart. Surely he’s smart enough to know if he tries anything there he’ll be seen.”

  Her strap slipped again, giving him a tantalizing view of the curve of her breast. He averted his gaze, trying to keep his mind on her safety, not on her sweet, unconscious sexiness.

  “Clay, I’ll be far safer at work than I would be here alone all day.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, realizing she was probably right. “Okay, but only if you let me take you and pick you up.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” she protested. “You have a job to do.”

  “And you’re my job.” He stood. “Give me ten minutes to shower and shave, then the bathroom is all yours.”

  A job, he reminded himself a few moments later as he stood beneath the shower spray. She’s just a job. Protect and serve, then get on with the rest of your life.

  He was almost grateful they hadn’t made love again, didn’t want to feel any more drawn to her than he already did. He sure as hell didn’t want to fall into the love trap, with all the trimmings of a thirty-year mortgage, bottles and diapers, and the sacrifice of adventure and fun.

  No, he absolutely refused to love Ann. He could and did admire her, respect her and desire her, but that didn’t mean he was in love with her.

  He closed his eyes, imagining himself on a warm beach sipping a rum-flavored drink. He waited for the resulting contentment the vision always brought.

  When it didn’t immediately come, he grunted in irritation and turned off the shower. No wonder the vision didn’t bring any kind of excitement or serenity. How could it when he had Ann’s life dangling in front of him.

  Until she was safe and the murderer was behind bars, Clay couldn’t take pleasure in thoughts of his retirement plans. Usually Mondays were his days off, but he didn’t intend to take another day off until he solved this case.

  He dried, then dressed quickly and left the bathroom. As he stepped into the hallway the scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. He followed it into the kitchen where Ann stood against the counter, sipping a cup.

  The early morning light crept into the window, lovingly caressing sparkling strands into her pale hair and radiating on her smooth skin.

  She saw him and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. I found the coffee in the cabinet and helped myself.”

  “Mind? I’m grateful.” He poured himself a cup and sat down on one of the bar stools. “What time is your first class?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “What about the rest of the day’s schedule? What’s it like?”

  “I’ve got classes until noon, then a two-hour break. My last class of the day is over at five.”

  Clay sipped his coffee thoughtfully, then looked at her once again. “What do you normally do during your break time?”

  She shrugged. “It depends. Usually I spend the time in my classroom grading papers.”

  “Until we find this creep, do me a favor and take your breaks in the student union where you’re surrounded by people.”

  There weren’t many women who wore morning well, but Ann was definitely one of the lucky ones. Her skin glowed and her eyes shone as a result of her sleep. Her hair, rather than being messy, curled around her shoulders in charming disarray.

  The silk robe did little to hide her feminine curves and instead emphasized her slender waist and the thrust of her breasts.

  “You’d better get dressed or we’ll be late,” he said more sharply than he intended, irritated by the swift boost of desire that rocketed through him.

  She nodded, placed her cup in the sink, then disappeared down the hallway. He breathed a relieved sigh. More than anything, he wanted to make love to her again. More than anything, he didn’t want to make love to her again.

  He sighed and picked up his coffee cup. Twenty-seven days. He had twenty-seven days to find a killer...and hang on to his heart.

  “Hey, Clay. Got somebody here I want you to meet.” Lieutenant Sanders gestured for Clay to enter his office. As he walked in, a tall, thin officer stood.

  “This is Officer Bob Linfield,” the lieutenant explained. Clay and Bob shook hands. “He’s the man going to take over for you when you retire. From now until you leave, I’d like him to tag around with you and Raymond, kind of get a feel for things here at our station.”

  “Sure, we’ll be glad to work with him.”

  “If there are no other problems, then get the hell out of here and get to work.” The lieutenant dismissed them both with a curt nod of his head.

  “Retirement, huh?” Bob said as they left the office. “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah. You’ll learn quickly that this is a small department, requiring the officers to wear a number of hats. Before I leave for retirement, I’ve got a case I’d really like to solve.” Clay looked at the man walking next to him. “I hope your fresh eye can give us some insight.”

  “What kind of a case is it?” Bob asked. They’d reached Clay’s desk. Clay hesitated a moment, then gestured Bob into his chair behind the desk. It was a conscious relinquishment of his space, and he felt a tiny stab in his heart as Bob sank down in the chair where Clay had sat for the past twenty years.

  Clay pulled up a folding chair and sat down at the edge of the desk. “The case began with a woman receiving threatening notes and calls. She’s a teacher, so initially we assumed it was some sort of student prank. Things escalated when somebody tried to run her down in a shopping mall parking lot and poisoned her cat. Last week it became murder. The perp killed the victim’s housekeeper. The housekeeper and the potential victim were approximately the same height and hair color.”

  Bob frowned. “It’s really wild, but this sounds like a case I was working on about three months ago. Threatening notes and nasty phone calls were a prelude to murder. As far as I know, that case is still open.”

  “We checked the computer for similar cases, why didn’t the one you’re talking about pop up?”

  Bob shrugged and smiled ruefully. “You should know the lag time between working a case and getting it fed into the central computer. I don’t know about you guys, but we ran six months behind in getting things into the computer.”

  Clay nodded, well aware of the inefficiency involved in computerizing crimes and information. “All I know is we need to get a break before Ann Carson winds up dead.”

  Bob stared at him. “Ann Carson?”

  “She’s the victim, the one the killer was after.”

  “Oh, man. This is wild. This is really wild.” Bob rubbed a hand across his chin and leaned back in the chair. “The victim in the case three months ago? Her name was Anntoinette Carson...all her friends called her Ann.”

  The information sent a wave of adrenaline shooting through Clay. “Ann Carson. It’s a fairly common name, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What do you suppose the odds of coincidence are that in a three-month period in a city the size of Kansas City, two Ann Carsons would be targeted for murder and the cases wouldn’t be related?”

  “Oh, about a million to one.”

  Clay nodded. “That’s kind of what I thought. Who do I need to talk
to in order to get the records of this Anntoinette Carson case?”

  “Roger Buress was the officer in charge. I can contact him and get copies of everything we had,” Bob offered. “Although there isn’t much. We didn’t have any leads, got no breaks at all with the case.”

  Clay gestured to the phone. “Why don’t you get on the horn right now and get us whatever they have?” A burst of optimism surged through him. Maybe they’d get lucky. Maybe this was the break he’d been hoping for.

  “Clay, got something for you.”

  Clay turned to see Raymond. He introduced Bob, then looked at Raymond expectantly. “What’s up?”

  “A little birdie whispered in my ear and told me Greg Thorton was charged with battery on his girlfriend before Ann.”

  “You’re kidding?” Clay grabbed Raymond’s arm and moved him away from Bob, not wanting to disturb Bob’s phone conversation. “What happened?”

  “Case was dismissed.”

  “Who was the birdie?”

  “Somebody in the prosecutor’s office.”

  “Did you get a name of this previous girlfriend?” Clay asked.

  Raymond grinned. “Name and address. Thought you might want to check it out.”

  “I’d love to check it out,” Clay agreed, although he still wasn’t sure whether his dislike of the slick lawyer had a basis in his cop instincts or in his male instincts. He disliked the man for making a stink with the captain, but he disliked the man more for emotionally hurting Ann.

  “Clay.” Bob called to him, his hand held over the mouthpiece of the phone. “They can either fax us what we want, or we can go down to the station and pick it up.”

  “We’ll pick it up,” Clay said. As Bob continued his phone conversation, Clay turned back to Raymond and quickly explained what Bob had told him about the previous case.

  “Wow. I can’t wait to get my hands on the reports and compare things with Ann’s case.” Raymond grinned. “I’ve got a feeling we just got closer to this creep.”

  Clay nodded. Yes, they were one step closer to finding the perpetrator, a step closer to guaranteeing Ann a safe life, and closer to the time when Clay walked away from her. He steadfastly ignored the small pang of his heart at the thought of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms again.

  Surely it wasn’t love he felt, nor was it regret for what his future held. It hadn’t been a heart pang at all, he decided. It had been a heart jump. Excitement, that’s what it had been. The excitement of closing in on his quarry. It had absolutely nothing to do with loving Ann.

  “You’re my job.” Clay’s words rang in Ann’s head all day, reminding her over and over again that loving him would only bring a new heartbreak. But it was too late for caution.

  He’d listened to her tell her childhood tales without recriminations, without judgment. Nor had he offered her useless pity. He’d validated her experiences, held her close as she’d recounted each and every one, then had spoken about strength and growth. And in those night hours in his arms, Ann had completely, irrevocably given him her heart.

  She’d long ago given up dreams of happiness, had always suspected that happiness would remain elusive in her life no matter how hard she sought it.

  Fate teased her, giving her brief moments of joy, days of contentment that eventually were always shattered.

  She knew better than to dream of a life with Clay. In the last couple of weeks she’d learned not to look for happiness, not to anticipate a happily-ever-after, but rather simply to exist, to survive. Day by day.

  A buzzer sounded, indicating the end of class. “See you on Wednesday. Don’t forget your papers are due then,” she reminded the students as they left the classroom.

  When the last student had drifted out Ann looked at her wristwatch. She had two hours before her next class, and she’d promised Clay she’d spend those hours in the student union, where she was surrounded by people.

  Gathering up her papers and purse, she tried not to think about Clay, about the fact that he’d be off the force in a month. What if the case wasn’t solved before he left? Raymond Misker would probably take over as lead investigator for the case, and he lacked Clay’s compassion, suspected Ann knew more than she was telling.

  She entered the student union and spied an empty table near the vending machines. Buying an apple, a package of cheese crackers and a soda, she looked around the crowded room. Several people waved to her and she waved back. She loved being a teacher, knew she was a good one and was respected and liked by most of the students she taught.

  As always, when she had a quiet moment to herself, she thought of the man who was after her, the man who burned with the need to get revenge. What had she done? What possible motive could this crazed man have for wanting to kill her?

  Was the motive trapped in those memories she could no longer retrieve? Was the identity of the man logged in the darkness of her past? God knows, she’d tried to sift through the nightmares, filter through the memories seeking some kind of an answer.

  She unwrapped her crackers and started to take a bite of one when her eyes locked with Barry Namath’s. He sat facing her across the room. Although he was some distance away, she could feel the intensity of his gaze. Angry, burning with emotion, it caused a shiver to race up her spine.

  The cracker stuck in her dry throat and she picked up her soda to wash it down. Was he the one? Had he poisoned Twilight? Killed Tina? The police had said he had a previous record. Apparently violence was no stranger to him. But why target her? Always the questions came back to why?

  “Ms. Carson?”

  She gulped and jumped at the deep voice right next to her. “Dean.” She forced a smile as he pulled his wheelchair up to her table.

  “I’m really glad to see you here today,” he said as he placed his books on the table. “I’d heard you’ve been having some problems and was afraid you might take some time off.”

  “No, no time off.” She smiled at him warmly. “I’m afraid the students won’t get rid of me so easily.”

  “I’m glad. This place wouldn’t be the same without you around.”

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” she said firmly.

  “I went by your house yesterday. I was going to leave you another story, but there was crime tape across the door and I heard on the news about the woman who was killed. You must be terrified.”

  She drew a deep breath, uncomfortable with the path of the conversation. “I’m handling it. It’s been rough, but I’m getting by.” She cleared a lump from her throat. “Do you have your new story with you now?”

  He nodded and pulled several sheets of paper from his notebook and handed them to her. He smiled apologetically. “It’s a murder mystery. Maybe you want to wait to read it. You know, until things are back to normal in your life.”

  She was beginning to wonder if things would ever be normal in her lifetime. “Thanks, Dean. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Ann?” The secretary to the president of the college approached. “Dr. Bainbridge would like to see you in his office right away.”

  Ann looked at her in surprise. “Oh, okay. I’ll be right there.” As the secretary walked off, Ann quickly gathered her things. “If you’ll excuse me, Dean.”

  As she hurried out of the student union, Barry’s gaze followed her. Walking toward the administration buildings, she dismissed Barry from her thoughts, far more concerned about the summons to the President’s office.

  “You can go right in,” the secretary said. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Ann entered the plush office and was instantly greeted by Dr. Bainbridge. “Sit down, Ann. I’m sorry to take up some of your break time.”

  “No problem.” She sat down and looked at him curiously.

  She could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken with Dr. Bainbridge in the time she’d been teaching at the college.

  “Ann, I received a disturbing letter today in the mail.” A frown etched deep across his forehea
d, marring his dignified attractiveness. “I got a similar one yesterday and dismissed it, but with the arrival of this one today, I decided perhaps I should speak to you.” He reached to hand her the letter.

  Ann read the contents, horror sweeping through her. She fought back a wave of frustrated tears and looked back at Dr. Bainbridge. “This is a vicious lie.” Ann’s face burned with the fires of humiliation and anger as she tossed the letter back on the top of his desk. “I would never do something like this. Never.”

  Dr. Bainbridge smiled sympathetically. “Ann, I never give any merit to a letter that’s sent anonymously. You’re an excellent, committed teacher and I know you’d never jeopardize your position here by indulging in an intimate relationship with a student.” His smile faded and his frown once again caused his forehead crease to reappear.

  He leaned back in his chair and Ann steeled herself as she saw regret darkening his eyes. “Ann, I’ve heard about the things going on in your life right now. Your housekeeper’s death. I think it would be best for the college if you’d take some time off.” He held up a hand to still her protest. “Ann, you’re a good teacher, one of our finest. But this letter, coupled with the personal problems you’ve been going through, makes me think perhaps a little time off would be good for you.”

  Ann knew better than to argue. She could tell by the expression on his face his mind was made up. “Can I finish out this week? That will take us to midsemester.”

  He nodded. “That will be fine. I’ll call in a substitute to begin next week.”

  She stood up, fighting an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. There was no doubt in her mind who’d sent the anonymous letter.

  “Ann, this is temporary,” Dr. Bainbridge said as she started for the door. “Your teaching position will be here when things are settled.”

  She nodded and left.

  She didn’t want to go back to the student union, would have preferred the quiet of her classroom to nurse the wounds from this latest blow. But, she’d promised Clay she’d spend her free time in the student union where she’d be surrounded by people.