Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

by Carla Cassidy

  “That’s why I told you how important it was—it is—that you stay on a normal routine as much as possible, that you don’t allow the missing to completely destroy you.”

  “But how do you do that?” Roxy asked.

  “One day at a time. When Tommy was taken, I never dreamed that two years later I’d still be looking for him. I never dreamed that the sun would come up each morning and the moon would appear each night, that life would go on despite my desire to make my world right again. And now I want to make your world right again, and I’m not sure how quickly we’re going to do that.”

  She wasn’t sure if he reached for her or she reached for him, but suddenly she was in his arms and his lips were kissing hers with an intensity that made everything else melt away.

  It was as if they were the only people on the face of the earth, the only two who mourned the missing in their lives, who understood the heartache of the other.

  Then the kiss transformed into something deeper, something different. It was no longer that of two people sharing the same life trauma; it was filled with lust and want that had nothing to do with loss.

  She found herself stretched out on the sofa, his body against hers as the kiss deepened and her desire for him spiraled higher.

  She wanted him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, as he filled her with heat, with fire, she was astonished to realize she wanted to make love to the surfer dude detective she’d once found so irritating.

  It was the recognition of her overwhelming desire for him that forced her back up to a sitting position. He immediately sat up, as well, eyeing her questioningly.

  “I forgot— I was supposed to warn you before I kissed you again,” he said.

  “I think maybe it’s best if you take me home before we both do something we might regret,” she replied, surprised by the tremor in her voice.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice sounding huskier than usual.

  Within minutes, they were in his car and he was driving her back to the police station, where Roxy’s car was parked. As she got into her car, he stood at her driver door. “We aren’t finished, Roxy. We’re going to find your aunt.”

  She desperately wanted to believe him, but as they said their goodbyes and she headed back to the Dollhouse, she couldn’t help but think that he had more motivation to find his own son than he’d ever have to find Liz, and so far he hadn’t been able to find Tommy.

  She instantly told herself it wasn’t fair to compare the two. Liz was a grown woman who had left the footprints of her life all around town. Tommy had been a little boy who hadn’t had the chance to make footprints.

  She could only pray that some day he would find his son, but at the moment she also prayed that he would find her aunt. At least they knew now that Edward Cardell had told the truth, that he hadn’t absconded with her to that dreadful cabin.

  She trusted that Steve and his partners would continue to look for leads, would do everything in their power to find Liz, and she also knew he was right. She had to try to keep her life as normal as possible while she waited for Liz to be returned to where she belonged.

  As she pulled into her parking place at the Dollhouse, she sat for a moment with her headlights on full beam, checking out the area to see if there was anyone lurking around.

  Before she got out of the car, she saw a police car slowly driving down the alley behind where she was parked. She remained in her car as the patrol vehicle pulled to a stop and Joe Jamison got out.

  His big frame was a comfort as he ambled to her door. She got out of the car to greet him.

  “Evening, Roxy.”

  “Hey, Joe. What are you doing hanging around in the back alleys of town?”

  “Steve knew I was on patrol and called me and wanted to make sure you got inside safe and sound.”

  Her heart warmed as she thought of Steve making the call to ensure that she got inside her place without any danger. “Thanks, Joe. I appreciate you and Steve having my back.”

  Joe laughed, the sound a pleasant rumble in the otherwise still night. “Heck, I can’t let anything happen to you. You’re the only one who makes me that special omelet stuffed with all kinds of mysterious goodies.”

  “It’s nice to know I’m good for something, and there’s somebody who wants to keep me safe,” she replied.

  “I’d say Detective Kincaid seems to have a desire to keep you safe and sound, since he’s the one who made the call to me.”

  Roxy was grateful for the darkness of the night as she felt her cheeks flame with color. “In any case, I appreciate the special escort.” She got the key to the kitchen door in hand. “Good night, Joe, and thanks again.”

  “No problem.” He remained standing by her car as she hurried up the walkway, confident that there would be no knives thrown at her with Officer Jamison on hand.

  She unlocked the door and then turned to wave at Joe. He returned the wave and headed back to his car. She closed the door and locked it, then placed her purse on a nearby cutting block, deciding that she’d pull out of the freezer a turkey that needed to defrost in the fridge for a day or two.

  As she opened the double-door walk-in freezer, the light inside blinked on, displaying an array of frozen items. Although she always tried to use the freshest ingredients possible, there were times when frozen had to be used.

  She shivered with the cold and could see her breaths as they created short clouds of condensation. She’d just grabbed hold of the turkey when the doors to the freezer slammed shut and the light blinked off. She muttered a curse, grabbed the blasted cold bird and headed for the door.

  She turned and used her back to push the doors open, but nothing happened. She tried again, and still the doors didn’t open.

  In the utter darkness, she placed the turkey on the floor at her feet, her heart beating so hard she heard it in her ears, resounding in the small frozen area.

  She shoved on the door, hoping that it was just a case of the vacuum seal sticking, but there was a tiny bit of give and no more.

  Frantic now, she used her shoulder to slam into it, putting all her force behind the hit. She smashed into the door again and again, until her lungs ached from breathing in the freezing air.

  She finally sank down to the floor.

  Trapped.

  Somehow she knew that something had been done to the door so that she couldn’t open it.

  There was no lock on it, but there had been dozens of times she’d been in there when both of the heavy doors had slammed shut behind her, and she’d easily shoved them back open.

  This time was different.

  She’d been so focused on Aunt Liz all day, she’d almost forgotten that somebody wanted to hurt her. She’d felt so safe at Steve’s home and then with Joe in the driveway, she’d never considered anyone might already be in her house.

  She’d made it easy for them. She’d left her purse with her cell phone on the table outside the freezer. There was nobody else in the house, and there was no way for her to call for help.

  Josie would come in to work around six in the morning, but by then Roxy would be dead of hypothermia. With this thought, she rose to her feet once again and slammed into the door with the hope of somehow saving herself.

  Still the doors refused to yield. She sank down to the floor again and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, already starting to feel the beginnings of the freeze taking over her body.

  She shivered, goose bumps rose on her skin and her lungs burned. She should have stayed at Steve’s. She should have never stopped their kissing and just let things progress in a natural way between them.

  If she’d allowed it, she knew right now she’d be in Steve’s bed, warmed by his naked body, flaming with his intimate caresses.

  And afterward she might have run a tub full of hot water and sank down in
the steaming heat with her head tipped up to view the stars through the skylight.

  Maybe for a single night she wouldn’t have thought about her missing aunt, and just maybe with her being there with him, he wouldn’t have thought about the little boy’s bedroom that lacked a little boy. Maybe for just a little while, he would have found some peace in her arms.

  If she’d just let herself go, followed through on her desires, she wouldn’t be locked in her freezer, slowly dying.

  Chapter 11

  Steve finished cleaning up the kitchen, and as he placed their coffee cups in the dishwasher his head remained full of Roxy. He’d been with a couple of women since he and Stacy had broken up, but nobody had stirred him in the way that Roxy had; nobody had made him want more than he had when they’d been on the sofa kissing.

  His heart had nearly stopped when she’d opened the door to Tommy’s room, and he’d known he’d have to explain. It had been a long time since he’d talked to anyone about Tommy. It hurt too much, and yet with Roxy it had been easier than he’d expected.

  He’d felt her compassion, but she hadn’t offered meaningless platitudes. She’d asked questions, but he hadn’t found them intrusive or offensive.

  Although he carried the grief of the loss of his son in his heart, along with the guilt that he hadn’t realized just how crazy Stacy really was, he also held a tiny seed of hope that eventually Tommy would be back where he belonged.

  He’d also recognized how hard Roxy had worked to make him laugh as they’d eaten dinner. She’d been charming and delightful, and he felt as if she’d given him a gift as she’d taken his mind off Tommy and that particular pain.

  As he left the living room, the first thing he saw was Liz’s pink sweater on the back of the sofa. Roxy had forgotten to take it with her when she’d left.

  He glanced at his watch. It was just a few minutes after nine, not so late that he couldn’t run the sweater back to her. He picked up his phone to call her, but then tucked it into his pocket, deciding not to bother.

  As he picked up Liz’s sweater and grabbed his car keys, he realized part of the reason he didn’t want to call was because she might say she’d pick it up the next day, and the truth was he entertained a little bit of hope that he’d get the opportunity to kiss her once again, to hold her in his arms one more time before the day officially ended.

  He wanted her, and he knew from the way she’d responded to him that she wanted him, too. He’d sensed her reluctance when she’d called a halt to their kissing, and there was a part of him that hoped when he returned the sweater they might take up where they’d left off.

  There was nothing that said they had to make any commitments to each other, but there was also nothing that said they couldn’t spend the night together, make love with each other as consenting adults. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t looking for any kind of a long-term relationship, and he certainly felt the same way, but one night of passion explored was a long way from a relationship.

  As he parked beside her car in the back of the Dollhouse, he also knew that there was every possibility that she would take the sweater from him, thank him and then send him back on his way.

  As he walked toward the back door, he noticed that no lights shone from the windows on the third floor. Odd, he wouldn’t have expected her to already be in bed. It hadn’t been that long since she’d left his house.

  The kitchen light was on. Maybe she’d decided to get a cup of tea or a snack before going upstairs to bed. He knocked on the back door, expecting to see her peer around the corner of the kitchen to the door.

  When he didn’t see her, he knocked once again, this time harder. He also pushed the doorbell next to the door that he knew would ring throughout the house, including in her private quarters. When he still didn’t get an answer, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in the numbers to her phone.

  He immediately heard the ring of her cell phone coming from just inside the door, and he noticed her purse on the table nearest the door.

  Why would she leave her purse there instead of carrying it upstairs with her? And why wasn’t she answering his knocks?

  A discordant clang went off inside his head. Something wasn’t right. He quickly punched in the numbers to connect him with Joe Jamison.

  “Jamison,” the big man’s voice barked.

  “Joe, it’s Steve. Were you here when Roxy got home?”

  “Pulled up right behind her in the alley. We spoke for a minute or two, and then I waited until she got safely inside before I left. Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t know. I’m at her place now, and I can’t get her to answer my knocking or the doorbell.” Steve tried to tamp down the anxiety that grew exponentially with each moment that passed.

  “Want me to swing by?” Joe asked.

  Steve hesitated. “Yeah, if you don’t mind,” he said. “If she’s in trouble I might need backup, and if I break this window to gain access and she’s not in trouble, then you can keep her from killing me.”

  “On my way.” Joe clicked off.

  Once again Steve knocked and rang the bell, praying that she’d answer, that everything was okay. Dammit, he’d allowed the search of the cabin and memories of Tommy to cloud his mind, to make him forget that somebody had attacked Roxy, as well.

  He still had the piece of paper she’d handed him earlier in the day, on which she’d listed people who might have a problem with her.

  Instead of lusting after her and inviting her to dinner, he should have been doing his job and protecting her.

  Thankfully it took only minutes for Joe to arrive on the scene.

  He got out of his car and joined Steve. “Still haven’t been able to rouse her?” he asked.

  “I’ve been knocking and ringing the bell, and nothing.”

  Joe shone his flashlight on the door. “I know she got inside okay.”

  “But you couldn’t have known if anybody was inside waiting for her.” Steve’s heart felt as if it were about to pound out of his chest. He pulled his gun from the holster and motioned at Joe to hit the window in the door with his flashlight.

  Joe used the back end of the light and tapped out a hole big enough for him to get his hand inside and unlock the door. Once that was done, Joe drew his weapon, as well.

  With a nod of his head Steve opened the door and stepped inside, Joe just behind him. A quick glance in the kitchen let them know Roxy wasn’t there, so they moved forward.

  “Roxy!” Steve yelled. He placed Liz’s sweater on the back of a chair as he and Joe looked around the mauve dining room. They turned on lights as they went through each room until the bottom floor had all been cleared.

  Steve started up the stairs, his heart banging painfully hard, making it difficult to draw a deep breath. Where was she? He yelled her name again. Why didn’t she answer? Why couldn’t she answer?

  He turned the light on in the second-floor storage room, wanting to clear every area before advancing upward. The room was crowded with tables and chairs, boxes and crates of miscellaneous dishes and such. He and Joe silently moved to look in every corner, check each and every shadow. It took several minutes to make sure that she wasn’t anywhere on the second floor.

  Finally they climbed the stairs to her private rooms. The door was unlocked, and as Steve pushed it open he prayed that they’d find her asleep in bed, or standing under the spray of a shower, unaware that they were searching for her.

  But there was no sound of water running, and it didn’t take long for the two lawmen to realize she wasn’t anywhere in the rooms.

  Gone.

  Just like Liz Marcoli.

  Vanished into thin air.

  Steve’s heart crashed against his ribs as panic rose up the back of his throat. “Maybe she went out with a friend,” Joe offered as they starte
d back down the stairs.

  “And left her purse here?” Steve asked, remembering when Roxy had asked him the same question concerning her aunt.

  “It’s possible. Maybe one of her sisters came by.”

  “I need to check her cell phone and see if anyone called her around the time she would have gotten home.” Roxy leaving the house at this time of night just didn’t feel right, especially after the long day they’d had. Nothing about this felt right.

  Steve reached the bottom floor and went into the kitchen to retrieve Roxy’s phone from her purse. A faint thump sounded. He looked at Joe. “Did you hear that?”

  The noise came again, a dull thud. “Roxy?” Steve yelled once again. As he reentered the kitchen, he noticed the mop that was between the two handles on the double door freezer, and it was from the freezer that the thuds came.

  “Roxy!” Steve grabbed the head of the mop and pulled it out of the handles, then swung open the doors. His heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw her curled into the corner, her teeth chattering and her body quivering uncontrollably. Her pale skin made her dark eyes look enormous as she gazed up at him in an obvious daze.

  “Joe, find some blankets or something,” he said as he raced to Roxy’s side and scooped her up in his arms. Her body was cold...so cold.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he said as he hugged her to him, hoping his body heat would warm her.

  “Turkey salad with green grapes,” she replied, her voice slurring as if she were drunk.

  “Sounds delicious,” he muttered as he gently placed her on the floor and began to briskly rub his hands up and down her arms.

  By that time Joe had returned with a black-and-white bedspread he suspected the man had pulled straight from Roxy’s bed. Steve wrapped it around her, and she closed her eyes and released a sigh of pleasure.

  “Cold...so cold,” she stuttered.

  “Make some hot tea,” Steve said to Joe as he continued to cradle Roxy against him.

  Joe opened and closed cabinets, finally finding tea bags, then quickly nuked a cup of water and dunked the bag. The cup looked dainty in his big fist as he carefully carried it to where Steve and Roxy were on the floor.