Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

by Carla Cassidy

  He led her to his car and opened the passenger door. She said nothing as she shoved his latest car trash off the seat and onto the floor. Once she was seated, he shut the door and hurried around to the driver side.

  He remembered this. He remembered crawling into himself in the weeks after Tommy had disappeared. It had been when the fear and the anger could no longer be sustained, and all he’d wanted was to be left alone to wallow in his own misery. He couldn’t let her go there, not now and definitely not alone.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “A little,” she replied, not looking at him as her fingers dug deeper into the pink sweater on her lap. She kept her gaze out the passenger window, disconnected not just from him, but apparently everything.

  He didn’t try to have any more conversation with her. He hoped when he got her to his place, she would come around and be as okay as she could be under the circumstances.

  As he drove up the mountain road that led to his home, her silence broke his heart just a little bit. Roxy wasn’t made to be silent. She wasn’t meant to have dark hollowness in her eyes, her lush lips slightly downturned.

  Before the night was over he intended to figure out a way to bring her back to life, even though she still faced a missing loved one and a potential threat.

  She roused herself as he pulled into his driveway. “This is your house?”

  “All mine,” he replied.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I worked with a friend who’s a contractor to get it just right so that we disturbed as little of the surrounding forest as possible. He framed it in, and then Frank and Jimmy and I worked during our off time on the inside until it finally all came together.”

  They both got out of the car, and Roxy continued to gaze at the front of the home. “It looks like something out of a magazine.”

  They walked up the steps that led to the front door. “You’re actually the first woman who has ever been here, other than my mother, so I’ll be interested to hear what you think.”

  She eyed him dubiously. “I’m the first woman who has ever been here? Tell me another funny story, Detective Flirt.”

  There was the spark of life Steve had wanted to see, shining from the depths of her dark eyes. He grinned and then turned to open the door before looking back at her. “Detective Flirt, hmm, I like it. But it’s the truth, Roxy. I’ve never brought a woman here before.”

  She searched his features, as if looking for a lie. “Then I’m honored,” she finally said.

  As they stepped into the entry her gaze went everywhere, and he wasn’t sure if she was admiring the woodwork and high ceilings or looking for some woman’s frilly panties hanging from the ceiling fan or peeking out from a couch cushion.

  She placed Liz’s sweater on the back of the sofa. “Do I get the full tour?”

  “Sure,” he replied, although there was one room upstairs he had no intention of showing her.

  As he led her around the lower level, which consisted of the great room, the kitchen and a bathroom, he noticed that she was beginning to show more life. He was grateful that whatever fog had struck her at the cabin and on the way home appeared to be dissipating.

  While they were in the large kitchen, he grabbed a package of steaks out of the freezer. “I’ve got a grill on the deck.” He pointed out the kitchen door to a deck with an umbrella table and a barbecue grill. “We’ll just toss these on when we’re ready, and they shouldn’t take too long. If it’s still warm enough, we can eat outside. Otherwise we’ll eat in here.”

  “Sounds fine. It would be nice to eat outside. The weather has been so pretty.”

  He nodded. “But once the sun goes down, it still gets pretty cool. Come on, and I’ll show you the upstairs.”

  He wasn’t sure why, but he was eager to show her the master suite, with the deck overlooking the stream and the bathroom with the jetted tub big enough for two.

  As she climbed the stairs, her hand caressed the smooth banister and Steve fought off thoughts of what her hands would feel like stroking his chest.

  He mentally smacked himself. The last thing he needed to think about now was how much he’d like to kiss her again, how strong his desire was growing for her.

  They reached the top of the stairs, and he ushered her into the large room that was his, grateful that he’d actually made his bed that morning and that there were no stray boxers or briefs anywhere in sight.

  “It’s nothing like what I expected of you,” she said.

  He grinned. “You were maybe expecting a round black velvet bed that revolved to music and mood lighting?”

  Her lips curved upward, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Something like that,” she replied. She walked to the French doors that led out to the upper deck and peered outside, where the golden rays of the setting sun painted the forest in a rich glow. “What a stunning view.”

  “I spend a lot of evenings sitting on the deck when the weather is nice,” he said.

  She gasped in delight as she entered the adjoining bathroom with its big tub and the skylight above.

  “A bubble bath and a sky full of stars,” she said, more to herself than to him. She turned to look at him. “This is all so lovely.”

  He hadn’t realized that her opinion really mattered until now, and pride filled him as he led her to the next room. “This is where my mother stays when she decides to spend the night here.”

  It was a pleasant guest room decorated in shades of pinks and mauves with a double bed and a dresser with a pretty fake floral arrangement adorning the top.

  “Does your mother stay here a lot?” she asked.

  “Maybe once every couple of months or so,” he replied. “And then only if I insist. She likes her own bed in her own condo.”

  He wouldn’t tell her that there had been a time when his mother had spent the night often, when this house hadn’t breathed of the grief it now contained.

  He walked to the window and stared out, remembering when his mother and father had both spent so much time there, when laughter had filled every corner and love had been alive and well.

  He turned his head and realized that Roxy had left the room. He hurried into the hallway and saw her at the closed door at the end of the hall.

  “Roxy!” he said at the same time she turned the knob and opened the door.

  Steve froze, as did Roxy as she stared into the room. She turned and looked at him, her gaze curious. “And who belongs in this room?”

  Steve’s chest expanded with a heavy weight, and as always the guilt and grief he felt when he thought of Tommy was nearly overwhelming.

  “That’s Tommy’s room,” he finally answered, vaguely surprised that his voice sounded raspy.

  “Tommy?”

  “Tommy is my son. His mother kidnapped him two years ago, and I haven’t seen him since.” The grief that was never far from the surface fought to consume him, but he battled against it.

  He had brought Roxy there in an effort to assuage her emotional turmoil, not to air his own, but by opening that door she’d opened Pandora’s box, and now no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stuff his grief back inside.

  He forced a smile. “Come on, let’s head downstairs and see about some dinner.”

  Chapter 10

  The steaks were on the grill, and Steve stood next to Roxy as they worked on making a salad together. She was still stunned by the news that he’d had a son.

  “Why doesn’t anyone else in town know about Tommy?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve never heard any gossip at all about you having a son.”

  He hesitated a moment, obviously reluctant to talk about it. “There aren’t very many people who knew about Tommy. His mother, Stacy, lived in Hershey. We met and dated mostly there. We’d been dating about six months when sh
e told me she was pregnant,” he said as he tore up the lettuce. “I was surprised, but I immediately asked her to marry me. I was willing to make a go of it, of building a family unit together, but she turned me down.”

  “That must have been a shock.” Roxy paused with her paring knife in the air and the green pepper she’d been slicing on a cutting board in front of her. “I mean, most women want to marry the father of their child.”

  “Stacy wasn’t most women.” He tore up the last of the lettuce with more force than necessary. “We continued to see each other through the pregnancy and for about a year after Tommy was born. Then she told me that while she wanted me to continue to be a presence in Tommy’s life, she didn’t want me to be a presence in hers.”

  “And you were okay with that?” Roxy finished slicing the peppers and dumped them in the bowl of lettuce. She knew she was pushing him, but it was easier to focus on his trauma than her own, and besides, she couldn’t help the fact that she was curious, that she cared about what had gone into making him the man he was now.

  “I had to be okay with it. Things had gotten strained between us, and I realized we weren’t meant to be a couple. I was never really in love with her, but I did love her as the mother of my child.” He shrugged and picked up a tomato. “I figured lots of people have children and share custody, and I loved Tommy more than anything else on the face of the earth. I was determined to make it work.”

  She saw it there, shining from his eyes—pure, unadulterated love—and for a moment she wished she saw that in somebody’s eyes, she wished somebody felt that kind of love for her. She grabbed the tomato from him, irritated by her own thoughts.

  “And so the two of you shared custody?” she asked, wanting to focus only on the topic at hand and not her growing feelings for Steve.

  He nodded and grabbed one of the bottles of beer he’d pulled out of the fridge for them before they’d started making the salad. “And for the first couple of years it worked out just fine. Stacy kept him during the week, and he spent his weekends here with me. Tommy was about four when I started noticing troubling changes.”

  He paused and took a long sip of his beer, and Roxy felt his growing agitation as darkness filled his blue eyes. “When I’d go to Stacy’s apartment to pick him up, there were people hanging out there who didn’t look like they were solid citizens, and Tommy was usually dirty and unkempt, often hungry as a wolf. I suspected Stacy had fallen into drugs and a bad lifestyle that I certainly didn’t want for Tommy. So around that time I petitioned the court and was granted full custody of him.”

  “How did Stacy handle it?”

  “Stacy had always been overly dramatic, driven by emotions, and at first she was livid. But I think she was also secretly relieved, and I promised her that she could come here whenever she wanted to visit with him.”

  Happy memories leaped into his eyes. “I loved having Tommy here, waking up in the mornings with him jumping on my bed, getting him dressed and ready for the school bus. My mom was here to greet him when he got home, and then when I’d get home from work it would just be me and Tommy.”

  The light of memories faded from his eyes, and Roxy’s heart ached once again as she saw the hollow grief that deepened their color. “Stacy came by occasionally to see him, but not often, and when she did show up she was usually high or just plain crazy. Although I didn’t like her hanging around, I also didn’t want to deprive Tommy of an opportunity to have some sort of a relationship with his mother. It was the worst mistake I ever made. I trusted her.”

  “So what happened?” Roxy grabbed her beer and took a drink to fortify herself for the story of his broken heart.

  “One day my mom was here waiting for Tommy to come home from school, and as the bus lumbered up the hill she realized Stacy was parked along the street. Before my mom could get outside, Stacy was gone with Tommy, and I haven’t heard anything from them in the last two years.”

  Roxy set down the bottle she’d been holding, her need to comfort him suddenly overwhelming as she saw the raw emotion in his eyes. But before she could move close enough to embrace him, he headed for the door.

  “I need to check on the steaks,” he said and disappeared outside.

  She finished cutting up the tomato and sliced a cucumber as she waited for him to come back inside. Her entire impression of him had been wrong. Just like Roxy used her anger and her frankness as a guard to keep people from getting too close, Steve used his flirting and easygoing attitude to hide what had to be a near-devastating heartache.

  Two years. Two long years of not knowing where his son was, of what was happening to him or how he was living. Her heart positively ached for him. How did he survive each day? Her aunt had only been missing for a matter of days, and she was a basket case.

  He came back through the door with the steaks still sizzling on a plate. He set it on the counter next to her. “I’ll grab some plates and silverware, and we need to eat these while they’re still good and hot.”

  It was obvious he’d gotten his emotions under control, and he was ready to move on to a new topic of conversation. As he set the table, Roxy tossed and dressed the salad, and then together they sat down to eat.

  They didn’t talk about Tommy or Liz; they didn’t speak of Vampire knives or crime of any kind. For the first time in a very long time, Roxy tried to entertain a man.

  She found herself telling him about the humorous trials and tribulations of establishing the Dollhouse, of recipes gone horribly wrong and the crazy people who had applied for jobs there over the years.

  She was satisfied that his eyes had lightened, and he laughed with her as she stretched her tales to make each one of them funnier and more outrageous than the last.

  When they’d finished with the meal, he reached across the table for her hand and she curled her fingers with his. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  “For what?”

  “For bringing laughter back into this house, for pulling me back from the edge of an abyss.”

  “I’m just returning the favor,” she replied. They released their joined hands and she leaned back in her chair. “When we left the cabin this evening, I had already plunged into the abyss and you somehow managed to pull me out of it.”

  She got up, fighting against the press of anxiety in her chest as she thought of her missing aunt. She grabbed their two empty plates as he stood and collected the glasses and silverware they’d used.

  They were both quiet as they quickly rinsed and placed in the dishwasher everything they’d used for the meal. “How about some after-dinner coffee?” he asked.

  It was getting dark outside and she knew she should go home, but she found herself nodding instead. “That sounds good,” she agreed.

  “Why don’t you go relax in the living room, and I’ll get the coffee.”

  Roxy went into the living room, where again she was vaguely surprised by how warm and inviting it was. It wasn’t the living room of a single, superficial man; rather, it was a living room that belonged to a family.

  The sofa was a comfortable overstuffed one in a chocolate-brown color. A matching chair sat nearby with a reading lamp behind it. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall above a beautiful stone fireplace, and bookshelves held an array of books, photos, puzzles and games that caused Roxy’s heart to flinch with pain for Steve and the child he’d lost.

  She’d had years and years with her Aunt Liz, but Steve had really only had one year to fully parent and enjoy his son. What kind of woman stole her son from his father? What kind of person stole a woman like Aunt Liz from her loved ones?

  She smiled as Steve came into the room with a small tray that contained their coffee and a platter of store-bought cookies. “I can’t get over how beautiful your home is,” she said as she settled back in the sofa cushions with her coffee cup in hand.

  He s
at next to her. “Thanks. I bought the land on the day Tommy was born. Before that I’d been living in a bachelor apartment, and when I saw that baby I knew my life had changed forever.” He looked across the room to the bookshelves where the puzzles were stored. “Tommy was the best son, and I tried to be the best father possible for him. He loved horses and cowboys and wanted to own a ranch when he grew up.”

  She took a sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. When she was finished, she set the cup back on the tray and leaned toward him. “Don’t you ever think about trying it again? Falling in love, getting married and maybe having more children?”

  “That’s what my mother wants for me, but I’m not interested.”

  “How do you do it? How have you survived the last two years without knowing where he is?”

  “I didn’t think I would survive the first week,” he admitted. “I went more than a little crazy. I went to Hershey and searched everywhere I thought Stacy might be, talked to every creep she’d ever known, but nobody knew where she had gone. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I was possessed with the need to do something, to make something happen that would bring Tommy back to me.” He offered her a soft smile. “Sound familiar?”

  “Painfully so,” she admitted. “Are you still looking for them?”

  “I’ll never stop,” he replied fervently. “I’ve hired private investigators, have police officers in a dozen other counties and cities keeping an eye out for them, and I do a monthly check on Stacy’s social security number to see if I can find a place where she’s working. Frank and Jimmy help me with checking schools to see if we can find one where Tommy is enrolled. It’s an ongoing process that will never stop until he’s back with me where he belongs.”

  He took a drink of his coffee and then set the cup on the tray as she had. He scooted closer to her and leaned forward, bringing with him the scent of barbecue smoke and his sandalwood cologne.