Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

by Carla Cassidy

  He held her gaze for an endless moment. “You know that’s not a good idea. You wouldn’t want to put your sisters in any danger.” He paused a long moment. “What did my mother say to you?”

  “Nothing.” She cast her gaze away again, unable to look him in the eye and fib.

  “Roxy.”

  She forced herself to look at him. “Your mother is worried about our relationship.” She felt the warmth that crept into her cheeks. “She thinks you’re falling in love with me.”

  “I am.”

  Those two words, so stark, so simple, turned her already topsy-turvy world upside down once more. “You can’t be. We said neither of us wanted a relationship.”

  “I didn’t think I was ready. I hadn’t planned it to happen.” He leaned forward, close enough to her that she could smell the scent of him mingling with the faint pine off the mountains. “I thought all my heart could hold was grief over my missing son, but I was wrong. There’s space for you there, Roxy.”

  She got up from the chair and walked over to the deck railing, as if she could remove herself from what he was saying to her. “What about those phone calls you get that you’re so secretive about? Are they from some woman who’s wondering what happened to you? Somebody waiting for you to say those things to them?”

  “Roxy, what am I going to do with you?” he asked with a hint of impatience. “Those calls are from Tanner Cage, the private investigator I’ve got working on finding Stacy and Tommy.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Don’t love me, Steve,” she said, keeping her back to him. “Your mother is afraid I’ll break your heart, and I will if you love me.”

  She heard his chair scoot back, and she tensed as she sensed him coming to stand just behind her. “If you’re about to tell me that you don’t care about me, then I won’t believe you,” he said, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

  She closed her eyes and remained facing outward, not wanting to turn and look into his beautiful blue eyes, afraid she would be vulnerable to him. “I do care about you,” she admitted. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about a man, but that doesn’t change the fact that I never intend to invite a man into my life.”

  His hands fell on her shoulders, and she allowed him to turn her around to face him. “What are you afraid of, Roxy? Why are you so afraid to love...to be loved?”

  She shrugged off his hands and moved several feet away from him but remained facing him. “Love destroyed my mother’s life. Men forced her to make bad decisions that destroyed any hope I had of family. She stole and did drugs, she dragged me around like a dog on a chain and sometimes forgot to bring me in from the rain because she was so focused on loving some boyfriend.”

  “And so your mother’s downfall was all due to men. She had no part in it,” he said softly.

  Roxy stared at him, her heart in a turmoil she’d never felt before. She’d never wanted to look at her mother’s own culpability in the mistakes she had made. It had always been so much easier to blame her disastrous errors on the men in her life.

  “Roxy, I’m not like any of the men in your mother’s life, and you definitely aren’t your mother,” he said. Without waiting for her to reply, he grabbed his coffee cup from the table and went back inside.

  Roxy remained on the deck, tears burning her eyes. How she wished Aunt Liz was there to talk to, to tell Roxy that everything was going to be okay.

  But at the moment she felt as if nothing was ever going to be okay again, and the worst part was she didn’t know if she didn’t trust Steve to be the man she needed, or if she didn’t trust herself to be the kind of woman she’d always thought she was.

  Chapter 16

  He’d told her he was in love with her. Steve sat at his desk the next day, trying to forget the awkwardness of the night before.

  Sunset had passed by the time Roxy came in from the deck, and she had gone immediately to the guest bedroom and hadn’t emerged until morning.

  They’d had coffee as if the conversation the night before hadn’t taken place, although the tension between them could have been cut with a rusty knife.

  He’d been afraid that he’d have to talk her into continuing to stay at his place, but she hadn’t said anything about changing up the game when he’d dropped her off at the Dollhouse.

  But he knew she wouldn’t stay at his place forever, especially now that he’d spoken out loud of how he felt about her. He’d seen the fear that had leaped into her eyes, but he’d also seen a flicker of wistfulness, of yearning.

  It was obvious from what little she had told him that she’d seen her mother as a victim and men as the victimizers in Ramona’s life. It was as if she’d never considered Ramona’s guilt in the choices she had made.

  There was no way in this life or in another one that Roxy would ever be a victim of any man. She was Amazon strength and beauty in a pint-size package. She was too savvy to allow any man to push her around for any reason.

  And Steve didn’t want to push her around or change her. He loved who she was, brash and outspoken, tempestuous and sexy. He loved how she looked at him with those dark chocolate eyes and that take-no-prisoners expression.

  He looked up as Frank ambled over to his desk and sat in the chair facing him. “What’s up?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Steve replied. There was no way he was going to share with Frank his feelings for Roxy, because any further relationship didn’t appear possible.

  “We’ve hit dead ends everywhere,” Frank said, his frustration mirroring how Steve felt about the current investigations.

  “No sign of where Ramona Marcoli might be?” Steve asked.

  “The only thing I know for sure is that she isn’t dead. No death certificate is listed in any of the fifty states, but that’s all I’ve managed to learn.”

  “And there’s still been no movement on Liz’s finances,” Steve added.

  Frank frowned. “I’m feeling like we’re not going to have a happy ending where this is concerned. Late last night I remembered something that doesn’t bode well for Liz Marcoli.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Two years ago a sixty-year-old woman named Agnes Wilson vanished from her home, and to this day she’s never been found.”

  Steve stared at Frank. “I don’t remember anything about this. Where was I?”

  “You were crazy. It was during the first weeks that Tommy was taken. Jimmy and I worked the case. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it until last night, but I came in this morning and pulled the file.”

  “And?” Steve asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  “And the cases are very similar. Agnes was divorced and lived alone. She had no children. Her next-door neighbor, Nancy Williams, came over every morning to share coffee with Agnes. One morning she came over as usual, and Agnes wasn’t there. Her car was in the driveway, and so Nancy eventually called out an officer to do a well check. The officer, Wade Peters, went into the house but found no signs of anything criminal. We investigated, but the case went cold. Agnes was just gone, and she’s been gone ever since.”

  The sick feeling in Steve’s stomach deepened. “I want to see the file. Maybe somehow there’s a connection between the two women.”

  “They were in the same age bracket. It might be a weak lead, but at least it’s something to explore,” Frank said. He got up from the chair. “I’ll get you that file.”

  An hour later, Steve was immersed in the details of an investigation into a woman who had been missing for a little over two years. Agnes Wilson shared a lot of common characteristics with Liz Marcoli.

  Like Liz, Agnes had led a relatively quiet life, enjoying working in her yard and cooking for her church, which provided potluck dinners twice a month for members or anyone else in need of a hot
meal.

  The investigation had turned up no men in her life, no reason for anyone to want to harm her, and in the past two years her finances had remained intact, indicating that wherever she was, she wasn’t spending a dime.

  It’s hard to get to the ATM if you’re dead, Steve thought.

  Her house had been paid for, and a younger brother had cut all but the minimum utilities and had kept the taxes on the property paid up. The circumstances of Agnes’s disappearance in far too many ways mirrored Liz’s.

  It was just after noon when Jimmy and Frank insisted he go with them to grab some lunch. They wound up at a Chinese restaurant not far from the station, where they ordered enough food for an entire task force.

  While Jimmy and Frank ate as if they hadn’t seen food for days, Steve picked at his sweet and sour chicken, his head filled with thoughts of Agnes and Liz.

  “We need to check out where these two lives might have connected,” he said, giving up on eating and setting his fork down by his plate. “Did they share the same lawn service, go to the same beauty shop? Were they friends with the same people? At some point it’s possible that both of them connected with the wrong person, and we need to figure out who that person is.”

  While the idea of a woman missing for two years was horrendous, Steve was encouraged that perhaps by comparing Agnes’s and Liz’s lives, they might actually come up with something that had previously been overlooked.

  “Are we going to tell any of the Marcoli women about Agnes?” Jimmy asked.

  Steve knew that Roxy would react poorly to the news. She wouldn’t see it as an opportunity to broaden the investigation; rather, she would see it as a horrifying possibility.

  “I think it would be best if we keep it to ourselves until we do a little more digging,” he replied.

  For the remainder of the meal, Jimmy and Frank kept up a running conversation about Wolf Creek High School’s chances to have a decent football team that year, while Steve’s head rumbled with thoughts of Roxy.

  He’d crossed the line in challenging her about her mother, but he had a feeling that Roxy’s belief that her mother was nothing but a helpless victim to horrible men was what kept Roxy from reaching out for any real happiness in her own life when it came to a relationship.

  She was so afraid to relinquish control, to simply let go and allow any man to get too close. He understood. He’d been there, but in the past almost two weeks of close contact with Roxy, he’d realized that despite the grief he held in his heart for his missing son, there was still room for a new love to blossom.

  He wasn’t ready to get down on one knee and propose to her, but he wanted to build on the love he already felt for her, give them time to explore that love and see where it eventually led them.

  But he couldn’t do that if she wasn’t willing. He didn’t know how to show her that she could trust him. He didn’t know what else he could do to make her understand that she would never make the mistakes that her mother had made, and he certainly would never be the kind of man who would use or abuse her in any way.

  “Earth to Steve,” Jimmy said, jarring Steve from his thoughts.

  “Sorry, got lost in my head,” Steve said as he looked at his younger partner.

  “I asked if you wanted to get a to-go box. You barely touched your food.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll make up for it at dinnertime.”

  “Must be nice to have one of the best cooks in the county making your dinner every night,” Frank said as they walked out of the restaurant.

  “Yeah, I could definitely get used to it,” Steve agreed. He could definitely get used to having Roxy around all the time. But he didn’t just want her in his guest room. He wanted her in his bed every night. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms every morning.

  The sunshine had disappeared as they’d eaten lunch, usurped by a low, heavy-hanging cloud bank that made it feel more like evening than midday.

  “Looks like we’re in for a big rain,” Frank said.

  Steve nodded. The darkness of the day mirrored the inside of his heart. All he could think about was the one and only time he’d made love to Roxy and how much he wanted to make love to her again, how much he wanted her to give them a chance to build something together.

  But the ball was now in her court, and he had the terrible feeling that she intended to foul out rather than play the game of love.

  * * *

  All day long Roxy had played and replayed the conversation she’d had with Steve on his deck the night before. He was falling in love with her, and she knew in her heart she was in love with him.

  But that didn’t mean any happily-ever-afters. She’d never planned on love. It had no place in her life. Besides, she was still trying to process what he’d said about her mother.

  It had always been so easy for her to blame and hate the men who’d been integral parts of Ramona’s life. It had been so easy to believe that all the bad choices her mother had made had been the fault of bad men.

  But he was right. Ramona’s tragic life and choices, her drug abuse and illegal behaviors, hadn’t all been because of whatever boyfriend she’d been dating at the time. She’d made choices. She’d ultimately been responsible for the direction her life had taken.

  Steve had also been right in that Roxy wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t anything like her mother. She would never make the kinds of choices her mother had made, no matter how important the man in her life.

  She’d spent her entire life trying to justify why her mother hadn’t wanted her, and while there had been days she’d hated her mother for abandoning her, most of the time she’d managed to convince herself that her mother had only made that decision because a man had forced her to make it.

  Now, stripped bare of that justification, she was left with the bitterness of knowing the truth: her mother’s decision had been her own. Ramona had been the captain of her own ship and had willingly relinquished control of it.

  What would happen if Roxy relinquished control, if she allowed Steve into her heart, into her soul in a true, meaningful way?

  He was a man who loved his son, who, despite the two years’ absence, continued to fight for his return. He was a man who had told her she didn’t have to change for anyone, that he loved her for the woman she was, not the woman she’d try to be for his benefit.

  “Roxy,” Josie said, a touch of irritation in her voice. “For the third time, what do you want to do about the afternoon meal? Barbecue chicken or chicken and noodles?”

  Roxy shoved herself away from the counter where she’d been leaning, lost in thought. “I don’t care. You pick.”

  Josie raised a dark eyebrow in surprise. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not sure I’m okay,” she admitted.

  Josie looked at her with concern. “Has something happened? Have you heard something about your aunt?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Roxy assured her. She drew a deep breath. “I think I’m in love with Steve.” Hearing the words spoken out loud jammed them home into her heart.

  “Roxy, that’s wonderful!” Josie grabbed her and pulled her into a quick hug and then stepped back. “Do you know how he feels about you?”

  “He told me last night that he’s in love with me.”

  “Then it really is wonderful,” Josie exclaimed.

  Roxy stared at her as she felt her heart expand with the love she’d tried so hard to deny that she felt. Somehow the surfer dude detective had managed to get beneath her defenses, make her realize that her thoughts about men, about love, had been skewed by the actions of her mother.

  As she embraced what was in her heart, a lightness swept over her and a warmth imbibed her. She was in love with Steve Kincaid, and he loved her back.

  “I haven’t told him yet,” she said to Josie. “I’ll tell hi
m tonight when we get to his place.” Her cheeks burned as she thought of the night to come. She had a feeling that once she told him what was in her heart, she’d be in his arms and eventually in his bed. And that’s exactly where she wanted to be.

  At that moment a large group came into the restaurant for lunch. For the remainder of the afternoon Roxy focused on waiting tables, delivering orders and visiting with her patrons.

  Outside the weather had turned for the worst; darkness crept in as rain clouds filled the skies. But the nasty weather couldn’t take away Roxy’s happiness as she thought about Steve and the night to come.

  There was only one thing wrong at the moment. She wished that she could share her feelings for Steve with her aunt. The absence of Liz in their lives resonated like a discordant bell in her head.

  She knew Steve and his partners were doing everything in their power to find answers, but she didn’t need Steve to tell her that the case had gone cold....In truth, it had never been hot.

  There had been no breaks in the case of who had attacked her, either. Her best guess was still Michael Arello. He’d been so angry when she’d fired him, and he hung out at Ling’s Studio, which meant he might know other students who were proficient at knife throwing, friends who might be willing to give her the scare of her life.

  She couldn’t explain how anyone might have gotten into the restaurant to push her into the freezer without breaking in, and she didn’t believe that any of her staff members who had keys were responsible.

  She supposed it was possible that when the restaurant was open, Michael had come in and hidden until the place closed down, and then he’d waited for her to return.

  But suspecting wasn’t knowing, and the only thing she knew for certain at the moment was that she was in love with Steve Kincaid and couldn’t wait to get to his place and let him know what was in her heart.

  She imagined telling him at sunset on the deck, where he’d spoken of his love for her the night before. It would be a beautiful moment...if she could wait until sunset, and if the dark clouds managed to disperse in time for a view of a lovely setting sun.