Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

by Carla Cassidy

  Roxy snaked a hand from out of the blanket and took the cup from him, and Steve was grateful to see that the intense trembling of her body was gone. She took a couple of sips of the warm drink and then leaned weakly back against Steve’s chest.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice sounded stronger, more normal.

  “I came to bring you back your aunt’s sweater. You left it at my house earlier,” Steve answered. “When you wouldn’t respond to the doorbell or my knocking, I got worried so I called Joe. We broke your door window to get inside and searched the place, but we couldn’t find you.”

  “I was having a moment in the freezer with a big bird.” She took another sip of her tea. “And you’re going to pay for that broken window.”

  It was at that moment that Steve knew she was going to be just fine. He got to his feet, and together he and Joe helped her up and off the floor.

  “I guess the door stuck or something. All I know is I was in the freezer to get a turkey, and the door slammed shut and I couldn’t get it back open.”

  “You couldn’t get it open because somebody stuck a mop through the handles, making it impossible for you to get out,” Steve explained.

  She stared at him, and he thought it was impossible for her chocolate-brown eyes to grow any darker, but they did as she looked to the floor where the mop had landed when Steve had removed it.

  She began to tremble again, and this time he knew it wasn’t from an outside cold, but rather from an inward chill. “So somebody was waiting for me when I got home,” she said softly.

  “It would seem so. And now we’re going to go upstairs, and you’re going to pack a bag. I’m taking you back to my place for the rest of the night,” Steve said. He turned to Joe. “Would you give Frank and Jimmy a call and get them over here and help them process this kitchen as a crime scene? I want to get Roxy out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “Got it covered.” Joe began to dial numbers on his phone while Steve and Roxy went upstairs to pack her a bag.

  “It’s just for one night,” she said as she pulled a small overnight bag from the closet and set it on her bed. “Just for the rest of tonight—that’s all.”

  “We’ll see,” Steve replied. He certainly wasn’t eager to have her here alone for another night, for another attack that might take place.

  It didn’t take her long to pack what she needed, and by the time they went back downstairs, both Jimmy and Frank had arrived.

  “Joe filled us in,” Frank said. “We’ll fingerprint the mop and the front of the freezer, check for the point of entry and anything else that might give us a clue as to the identity of the perp.”

  “Let me know what you find,” Steve said. He could feel Roxy’s anxiety and realized she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  “Go on, we’ll take care of this and touch base with you in the morning,” Frank said.

  Minutes later they were in his car and headed back to his house. “I thought I was going to die,” she said, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

  “I’m so sorry, Roxy. I should have known that it wasn’t safe for you to be home alone, especially since somebody had already attacked you by throwing knives at you.”

  “You couldn’t have known anyone would be in my house waiting for me tonight,” she said.

  “But I should have considered the possibility,” he countered, a touch of anger in his voice as he remembered that horrible moment when he’d seen her curled up on the freezer floor.

  He might not be able to find her aunt, he may forever grieve the loss of his son, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone get close enough to Roxy to hurt her again.

  * * *

  Roxy paced the carpeting in Steve’s guest room, unable to halt the shivering that overtook her every few minutes. As she thought of the time she’d spent in the freezer, she felt as if she’d never get warm again.

  Who had been in the kitchen with her? Who had crept into her house in the dark of night and waited for her?

  What would the person have done if she hadn’t made it so easy by walking into the freezer? Would she have been stabbed by the knives that had missed her before?

  And if somebody wanted to kill her, then why not just stab her with the knives? Why hadn’t she been bashed over the head or stabbed or shot?

  As a new shiver overtook her, all she could think about was Steve’s bathtub and submersing herself in a tub full of hot jetted water.

  She and Steve had said very little on the ride, and he’d immediately brought her up to the bedroom, given her a quick hug and told her good-night.

  That had been about thirty minutes ago. Was he already asleep? Would he mind if she took a bath in his tub? She’d almost died tonight. Surely she deserved a bath.

  She grabbed her nightgown and opened the bedroom door. Peering down the hall, she could see a light still on in Steve’s bedroom.

  Before she could change her mind, before she chickened out, she marched down the hall and lightly tapped on his half-open door. “Come in,” he said.

  She stepped in to find him propped up in bed, his bare chest a glory of smooth muscled skin that gleamed in the glow of the lamp on the nightstand.

  “Roxy, is there something you need?” he asked, half rising out of the bed.

  You. I need you. The words slammed into her head as she motioned for him to stay in bed. “Don’t get up,” she said hurriedly, wondering if he was naked beneath the sheet. “I was just wondering if you’d mind if I took a bath in your bathroom?”

  “Knock yourself out,” he replied. “Towels and washcloths are in the cabinet just to the left of the tub, and if you need me to scrub your back, just let me know.” He gave her that slow, sexy grin that used to drive her insane—only now she realized that she’d missed seeing it over the past couple of days.

  “In your dreams, buster,” she quipped and went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She started the water in the tub and grabbed one of the thick bath sheets and a washcloth she found in the cabinet. She sat on the commode and waited for the huge tub to fill, the air around her growing steamy. A bar of soap sat in a white soap dish on the side of the tub.

  A night-light was plugged into a nearby outlet and she turned off the overhead light, knowing that this would allow the stars in the skylight to be more visible.

  The night-light provided plenty of illumination, and once the water had filled to a point where it covered the jets in the sides of the tub, she undressed and eased down in the warmth.

  She’d almost died. She turned on the jets, swirling the heat of the water around her as the tub finished filling. She turned off the water and lay her head back against the porcelain, staring up at the stars.

  If Steve hadn’t decided to return Liz’s sweater tonight, she would have died in the freezer before Josie would have found her in the morning.

  She sank lower in the water, submerging the tops of her shoulders. If she’d died, she would have died with a heart full of regrets. Her thoughts as she’d sat on the floor slowly freezing to death had been of her sisters and how, since Liz’s disappearance, she’d isolated herself from them, afraid that they might see her weak and vulnerable.

  She thought about the friends she hadn’t made because she’d been too busy building the Dollhouse, making sure everything in her life was as perfect as possible.

  Perfect was lonely, and while she didn’t want a man in her life trying to make her something she wasn’t, trying to mold her into his idea of a wife and forcing her to make bad decisions, she wouldn’t mind having somebody to wrap her in his arms, somebody to make love to and feel a connection to for a brief time.

  She thought of the man in the bed in the next room. While she’d been in the freezer, one of her regrets had been that she hadn’t allowed their kissing to lead
them into his bedroom. She’d been sorry that she’d stopped him from deepening their intimacy.

  The stars twinkled down as the water warmed her, and yet she wanted more. She wanted Steve, and this time she recognized how short life might be. She didn’t want to face death again with regrets.

  “Steve?” She called his name before she could change her mind.

  There was a moment of silence and then he answered, his voice just on the other side of the closed bathroom door. “Need something?”

  She pulled her legs up to her chest, hiding most of her nakedness. “I think I’ll take you up on the back wash after all.”

  Again there was silence; then the door crept open. He stepped inside, clad only in a pair of navy briefs. He looked amazing, his body perfectly proportioned with wide shoulders, slim hips and long, muscled legs.

  It was his eyes, glittering with undeniable desire, that held her gaze, trapped her in a sensual warmth she wanted to fall into.

  “My back,” she finally managed to say and motioned to the washcloth on the side of the tub.

  “My pleasure,” he replied. He knelt down beside the tub, picked up the washcloth and dunked it in the water. He grabbed the soap and rubbed it on the wet cloth, then began to smooth it across the expanse of her back.

  It was heaven. It was more than the smooth caresses down the length of her back; it was the faint scent of Steve that filled the room, the sight of his near nakedness so achingly close.

  He caressed from her shoulders to her hips...up and down as she sighed in pleasure and felt the stir of a different kind of heat curl in the pit of her stomach.

  He slid his lips across the back of her neck, and in response she turned and grabbed him by the shoulders. Unbalanced, he fell into the tub with a respectable splash.

  She laughed at his look of astonishment, but the laughter faded as he pulled her naked body against his and took possession of her mouth.

  It was the most erotic experience Roxy had ever had, the feel of Steve’s hands moving over her naked body coupled with the pulsing spray from the jets and Steve’s hot mouth plundering hers.

  He’d abandoned the washcloth and instead caressed her body as if he were blind and attempting to get a visual picture in his mind through his fingertips.

  He finally broke the kiss, but only long enough to remove his briefs and toss them to the tiled floor next to the tub. Then she was back in his arms and his mouth and hands were everywhere, stirring a lust inside her that she’d never known before.

  He was fully aroused, and she encircled his hardness with her hand beneath the water. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Roxy,” he whispered against her neck.

  “I want you, too. But I don’t want it to mean anything beyond right now, this moment in time.” She felt the need to set boundaries, to let him know that she didn’t want or need anything else from him.

  “Just tonight,” he agreed as he nuzzled her neck.

  For the first time since she’d been pulled out of the freezer, Roxy was warm...heated from the inside out as he alternated his kisses from soft and tender to masterful and demanding. Their caresses grew more intimate, more fevered, until suddenly he stood and grabbed the towel she’d laid out on the nearby counter.

  “I want you in my bed,” he said.

  She stood, her body trembling from what they’d already shared and the promise of more pleasure to come that shone from his eyes.

  As she stepped out of the tub, he wrapped the big bath sheet around her and dried her as if she were a precious piece of china. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed.

  Immediately his body covered hers, his mouth plying hers with fire as his hands cupped her breasts. Their tongues battled as he teased her nipples, making them taut with want. As he moved his lips down to capture the tip of one, a moan escaped her and she tangled her hands in his glorious hair.

  “My Foxy Roxy,” he murmured against her skin. For the first time she didn’t mind the silly nickname, but rather loved the fact that he thought of her that way.

  She was an active participant in their foreplay, running her fingers down his flat stomach and teasingly touching him on his inner thighs. He groaned at her tormenting avoidance of touching him where he most wanted her.

  “Two can play at that game,” he said with a husky laugh and ran his fingers down her stomach, across her hips and to and from her left inner thigh to her right. She arched, laughing in frustration and yet needing him to caress her where she most burned for his touch.

  Then he was there, stroking her intimately, and a rising tide inside her grew bigger and bigger and then drowned her in a sea of pleasure.

  While she was still breathless, boneless, he moved on top of her and eased into her. Braced by his elbows on either side of her, he gazed down, his blue eyes like the ocean, drawing her back in, stirring new life, new desire inside her.

  He moved his hips back and then deeper into her and she gripped his firm buttocks with her hands, wanting to pull him into her forever.

  Their gazes remained locked as he moved faster against her, into her, and the room filled with their moans and sighs of desire.

  Roxy felt him pulsating, and her own climax came at the same time as his. She felt as if they melted together, became one soul and one heart as he gasped her name and then collapsed to the side of her.

  The only sound in the room was their efforts to regain normal breathing. “Please keep me in mind anytime you want your back washed,” he finally said.

  She laughed and turned on her side to face him, loving the way the light from the nightstand caressed his handsome features. “I must say, you do a very good job.”

  “I aim to please,” he replied and lightly touched his finger to the tip of her nose.

  She started to rise from the bed, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. “Stay here,” he said. “Sleep here with me tonight. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe and sound in my arms.”

  His words stirred her on a level that both thrilled and frightened her, and yet she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be for the rest of the night.

  “Let me get my nightgown,” she said. She rolled from the bed and back into the bathroom, where she let the water out of the tub and then pulled her nightgown over her head.

  She stood for a moment and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were slightly swollen. She looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly loved.

  Not loved, she corrected herself. Sexed. It had been nothing more than hot sex. And as wonderful as it had been, it would never happen again. It had nothing to do with any real feelings she had for Steve.

  She didn’t believe in love, and he’d told her time and time again that he wasn’t looking for any long-term relationship. “Just sex,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror and then turned and went back into the bedroom.

  The bed was empty, but by the time she’d grabbed the towel off it and tossed it into the hamper in the bathroom, Steve came back into the room, clad in a fresh, dry pair of black briefs.

  Together they pulled down the navy bedspread and got beneath the white sheets that smelled faintly of his cologne. He pulled her back into his arms, and she melted against him.

  For just this one night she’d pretend it hadn’t been just sex but something more. Roxy had never believed in fairy tales or magic, but for just this single night she wanted to believe that what she and Steve shared was magical.

  The harsh light of dawn would bring her back to reality, and the reality was that she and Steve meant nothing to each other, that her aunt was still missing and somebody wanted her dead.

  Chapter 12

  Steve awakened with Roxy’s warm body cocooned against him. It was early; dawn wasn’t even a thought in the eastern sky, but he felt
rested and knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

  He remained in bed for a few minutes, remembering the pleasure of making love to Roxy. She’d been the kind of lover he’d expected her to be...impulsive, exciting and unbelievably sexy.

  And somebody had tried to kill her last night.

  It was this thought that drove him out of bed. He carefully disengaged from her, not wanting to awaken her, and slid from the bed. He grabbed a white terrycloth robe from the back of the bathroom door, then the slacks he’d worn the night before, and quietly left the bedroom.

  He hoped Roxy slept late. The past week had been so filled with stress and turmoil for her, he hoped her body had crashed after their phenomenal sex and she got some extra rest before facing another day.

  Barefoot, he padded down the stairs to the kitchen, where he fixed a pot of coffee and retrieved from his pants pocket the list of names Roxy had prepared for him the day before.

  As the fragrant scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the room, he checked his cell phone for any messages that might have been left. There was nothing from Frank or Jimmy or Joe, indicating to Steve that they’d probably found nothing at Roxy’s place so important it couldn’t wait until morning to discuss.

  When the coffee was ready, he poured himself a cup and stood at the window, staring out into the darkness as he thought of the missing Liz, the night before and the woman who remained in his bed upstairs.

  Even though the cabin Edward Cardell had stayed in had come up clean for evidence of Liz being there, that didn’t automatically take him off the suspect list. Unfortunately, they had no real evidence to tie him to her disappearance or to get a search warrant for his home. And unfortunately he was the only lead they had to follow in the case of the missing woman. They were at a dead end where Liz Marcoli was concerned.

  He carried his coffee to the kitchen table and sat down; the list of people that Roxy had written was folded in front of him. These were the people she thought might have a problem with her.